Although I learn very quickly (I’m one of those annoying people who’s ‘good at everything’), up to last month I was a pretty novice snowboarder, having only had about six days of experience.

One evening, my friends Shah and Fay said, “Hey, we’re going to Chamonix in two-and-a-half weeks and there’s a spare spot, wanna come?”

“Okay!”

I hadn’t been to Chamonix before and I was super excited. I was thrilled about being able to get on the snow again. We were going to Les Grands Montets, which I knew nothing about so I thought I’d do some Googling. My research led me to reading things like:

“..the home of professional extreme skiing”
“..notoriously steep and not very beginner-friendly”
“..the blues are pretty much reds and reds are pretty much blacks”
“..has a reputation for offering some of the steepest slopes in Europe”

What……………

I started to get bit nervous. So I went ahead and bought a good pair of Dainese padded shorts, made sure to include a helmet in my equipment hire, and paid for winter sports insurance. I was set!

I never knew getting to Chamonix was so easy. London to Geneva in about 1.5 hours, and then a ground transfer for about €30 – also about 1.5 hours long. Boring info: I used AlpyBus going and Mountain Dropoffs returning – both were good.

I got there earlier than my friends, so I chilled out at our Airbnb apartment while I waited. Well, actually I was getting some work done. Contrary to popular belief, I DO work. The bonus is that I can work remotely so this is how I get ‘soooo much time off”, for those wondering. I’m also not bound to annual leave allowance.

Anyway! Our accommodation was situated at the foot of Les Grands Montets (super easy access to the lifts), in Argentière. It was a magical scene from the balcony:

If you thought that was good, this is what it looks like on a sunny day:

On our first day out, we decided that we should take the shuttle to the next resort, Domaine De Balme, so we could get accustomed to our hired boards/boots/skis. This resort was meant to have ‘kinder’ slopes.

We arrived quite early in the morning, when the pistes were freshly groomed. It was really slippery and with the new board that I wasn’t quite used to, I caught an edge and had a mighty fall quite early on. I landed on my front like a rag doll, banging my head (or rather, helmet – see, good decision!) onto the hard snow. I was in a daze for a minute and the pain was a shock, but naturally I picked myself up and continued snowboarding the rest of the day.

The rest of the beautiful day!

I loved Domaine de Balme. It wasn’t too challenging and had offered some peaceful yet fun runs surrounded by pine trees.

And at the top of the mountain.. it was stunning. Ignore the skiers :p

Below the clouds, the scene was magic in its own way..

There’s a certain excitement in snowboarding or skiing in low visibility. It’s scary = it’s fun! See what I said about my finding a LOT of things fun..

The next morning..

I woke up with the right side of my ribs feeling soooo bruised from the fall I had the previous day. So I just popped an Ibuprofen and off to the slopes I went!

I had a three-hour private lesson that I booked through ESF (€180) so I could improve more quickly. It was excellent. I requested ‘an instructor who’s cool and funny’. Freddie was cool and funny. I was happy.

By the afternoon, I was having so much fun coming down the difficult slopes at Les Grands Montets. And the VIEW! Descending through the clouds.. it was freaking awesome.

I fell a few more times.. but they were fun falls! It was more painful doing up my bindings because being in that position squished my bruised ribs. Sometimes I had to pathetically ask Shah to do them up for me. Luckily, he’s such a patient guy that he always obliged.

I am aware that I look like a boy child on a ski trip with his parents.

We stayed on the slopes until it closed and I had to be rushed down by one of the staff through the fog at the bottom. I looooooved it!

Oh here are some snaps of food: confit de canard, rillettes de canard (our daily staple), and french onion soup. It was great to be in France.

Anyhow, I am so grateful for that day because, turns out it was my last day of snowboarding for the season. That evening, I was beginning to have trouble breathing – it started to hurt each time I inhaled deeply.

WHAT IS THIS PAIN

After a terrible night’s sleep STILL with pain around my rib area, I awoke in the morning thinking ok MAYBE.. something is wrong.. maybe it’s not just a bruise after all because, there is in fact, no visible bruising.

So instead of putting on my gear as usual, I sadly had to stay back and wait for an appointment at the clinic nearby. And waited I did. It took bloody three hours in the waiting room before it was my turn! Eventually, this was the situation:

“You’ve cracked two of your ribs”

“So what do I do now?”

“I’ll give you some painkillers”

“If I take enough painkillers can I go snowboarding tomorrow?”

“No”

“Are you sure”

“Well you can but it will be painful”

“Aha! But you said I CAN.”

“Just stay at home and read a book”

So yeah that was that. Turned out I cracked some bones with that fall on the first day. But hey at least I did enjoy two fantastic days of snowboarding (with fractured ribs yes but ah.. ignorance really is bliss isn’t it??).

I proceeded to the pharmacy, picked up my meds, and went back to the apartment. I guess I was pretty excited to take the meds because the pain was getting pretty sharp and awful, and I couldn’t breathe comfortably.

ALMOST-DEATH BY TRAMADOL

I was prescribed a combination of Dafalgan (1g Paracetamol) and something called Tramadol. I’ve lived pretty much a medication-free life, so I’d never even heard of Tramadol. Little did I know that it was about to make my life HELL.

It was too strong for me! I barely even weigh 50kg and I was given 50mg tablets.. Obviously at the time I didn’t even consider that it might have been too much so I took one, got high off it, then went to bed.

By early morning, I was DYING. I was so nauseated I could barely even move. Also added one more item to my Life CV – projectile vomiting. That was interesting. But try vomiting with TWO CRACKED RIBS.. it’s fucked up man. I pretty much spent the entire day crawling between sofa and toilet and feeling like death. I couldn’t even hold down two sips of water. I was drowsy. Being horizontal so much of the time made me lethargic and left me feeling like absolute shit.

Eventually I recovered from the sickness, but I never touched another tablet of Tramadol since.. I’d rather put up with the pain than to go through THAT again.

Fortunately, the next day I was on a flight to my favourite Porto for some recovery-time in the sunshine 🙂

BONUS STORY – GENEVA AIRPORT NIGHTMARE

If you like hearing about bad things happening to other people, here’s one for you:

So I got to Geneva Airport to catch my flight to Porto, still feeling weak and unable to carry anything heavy (y’know, it’s a bit difficult when you’ve cracked your ribs). I could only take very shallow breaths, too, and without any strong pain meds this was a real challenge.

I get to the check-in desk and inform the lady at the counter of my situation and asked if I could get any assistance should I need it. She says ‘no’. No big deal, I thought.. I’ll just go really slow.

I approached the security check like an old lady, dragging my heavy backpack along the floor since I couldn’t really carry it with the straps. Sometimes, I could carry it in front like a baby, but for brief amounts of time. By the time it got close to my turn, I was feeling awful and out of breath; face pale. The staff could see me clearly struggling, but no one so much as asked me if I was okay or if I needed any help.

No matter, I thought. I’ll manage. Then I got told to hurry up. Other passengers, instead of helping me, started to cut in front of me. I stayed patient and didn’t let it bother me.

Once I got through, I looked for my gate and saw that it was a 20 minute walk. And that mean 20 minutes or normal walking, not 20 minutes of my old-lady-walking.  I saw an information counter just ahead, so I thought I’d better ask for some help. Breathing was getting really difficult and painful.

“Hi, do you think I could get some help with my bag? I’ve had a snowboarding injury so I can’t really lift it and I have trouble breathing. I’ve cracked my ribs.”

“Sorry, no. You should’ve asked earlier at check-in.”

“I did tell the lady but she said she couldn’t help me there, and I did think I could manage.”

“I can’t do anything, sorry.”

“Is there a trolley I can use at least?”

“No, no trolleys are allowed here.”

“Please, I only need some help with my bag. I can still walk, I just can’t lift my bag.”

“Exactly, I can’t call for assistance for you. It’s not like you broke your leg! You can still walk!.”

I was looking so pale and pitiful at this point that the best this mean lady could do was tell me ‘the fastest route’ to my gate. I could barely even understand what she was saying because I’d started to feel lightheaded. Actually I felt bullied. And helpless. I hated this lack of independence.

I nodded my head and walked a few steps away and hid behind a pillar. In a moment of weakness, I started to cry. BAD DECISION. The sobbing made it even more painful, and my breaths even more shallow. I tried to slow down and compose myself, but I couldn’t. I felt SO BAD.

Eventually, a French family saw me and came to ask if I was alright. In my amateur French I managed to tell them about my injuries and how I couldn’t get help. I’m still grateful for them because they then went over to the mean lady at the desk and demanded that she request assistance for me.

I did get help in the end, but not before the mean lady came over to me to say, “I’ll call for someone, but there’s no guarantee, so if you miss your flight don’t blame me.”

THANK YOUUUUU mean people of Geneva Airport.. I’m now a much stronger person. But bigger thanks to the kind family who cared enough to check on me.

The post Went to Chamonix and Had a Great Fall appeared first on SMALLCRAZY.

Yeah right! London is so fantastically awesome that almost eight years later, here I still am. It didn’t happen overnight, but after all this time I’ve come to realise that ‘damn, I love this place!’

It seems not everyone is a fan of London.. and yeahhhhh I admit, there was a period when I wasn’t too fond of it either. From the stories I’ve heard from my many fellow immigrants (haha), most start out hating it!

BUT. Here are the three big things I LOVE about the city I now call home. This is the stuff I blab on about – very animatedly and very loudly – whenever I get asked why I live here

London has no nearby sandy beaches, but we have some of THE MOST BEAUTIFUL parks and green spaces! A multitude of them too, despite the city being so dense with concrete.

In the summer, I pretty much live on the grass. Some of my friends in Europe think it’s silly to wear a bikini at the park. But do Londoners care? Nope! We need all the sunshine that we can get and if the sun’s blasting then.. all plans cancelled; we’re having a picnic. And when you find long grass to lay on, your bed (and life) is made.

^I like my picnics colourful. Photo taken in leafy Richmond, where there are plenty of picnic spots by the river.

Being ever-so-fortunately born in the summertime, my birthdays in London are also celebrated with a big picnic at the park.
Photos above taken at Hyde Park in 2013 😉

Speaking of Hyde Park, there is this AMAZING UMBRELLA/WATERFALL TREE that you can climb all the way to the top. I love it and always make a stop whenever I’m there skateboarding as it’s near the Serpentine lake, where a lot of people skate ‘cos it’s flat and wide.

Anyway, the tree. Enter the curtain of leaves and it’s like a maze of old twisted, warty branches going upwards.. like something out of The Enchanted Wood! It’s magic. The view from the top of course is delicious. You can see my friend Luis poking out in this pic:

^And this is what the tree’s like during the cold season..  just.. bare branches. Haha! And squirrels! I LOVE the squirrels of London.. some of them are so bold and have no qualms about walking all over you like a mat and trying to steal your food. I really enjoy that.

Of course, I enjoy other things outdoors as well..

..Like playing with my ukulele on a tree. This was at Regents Park.

Sometimes I sing, too. Or fly a giant kite with friends. Or.. swim in the Thames and get sick subsequently. Do not go swimming in the Thames.

^Playtime with the lovely Emma. Last winter we spent an afternoon at Hampstead Heath. It’s my favourite natural space, after Regents Park/Primrose Hill as they’re my local ones (local bias, right?).

When the leaves fall, the Heath is a feast for all your senses. The ground is thick and the air rich with the smell of fallen leaves. Crispy leaves! Ohhh how I would love to be rolled around on that crunchy bed of autumnness.. like a sausage being tossed around in a pan of sizzling chopped garlic. But without the heat. Or the oil. Sorry I’m so weird.. let me get back on topic..

No doubt maximum park enjoyment is during the summer.. when there are loads of festivals, and other events/pop-ups going on.
For example, Rekorderlig built a Swedish summer house in Victoria Park once, and it was superb:

You could get food and cider served by cute boys dressed in shorts and suspenders 😀

Other than these huge parks, there are also smaller, more intimate places to enjoy some greenery. E.g. the Dalston Eastern Curve Garden, nestled between the two Dalston overground stations. In their garden they have soil beds for local residents to plant food! There is a kind of hippie, chilled-out vibe to it. And if I remember correctly there was a quirky old rocking horse at the back, too.

^The wooden pavilion is sometimes used for creative workshops, food markets, or kids’ programmes. I’ve created some rad crayon art there myself..

There’s always stuff to do in London’s bazillion open areas, even during the freezing winter. There are the obvious Christmas markets and fairs. Then there are the less touristy activities too, like climbing up to Parliament Hill (at Hampstead Heath) to set off fireworks on Guy Fawkes’ Night (SO MUCH FUN), or trekking south-west to Syon Park to see the Enchanted Woodland (SO MANY LIGHTS). The low temperatures don’t stop people from swimming in the icy park lakes, either!

As for the summer.. hmm, this could take ages. Let’s skip to Thing #2.

This is the beauty of London.  There is SO MUCH COLOUR in its inhabitants. You’re free to express yourself creatively no matter how ridiculous it may look or sound and I LOVE THAT. The variety of characters you can find here is immense.. The whole world is here! Whatever language you speak, you’re quite sure to find someone else who speaks it. Whatever weird, obscure activity it is that you enjoy doing, you’ll find a club for it. YOU CAN BE WHOEVER YOU WANT. 

Most importantly, freedom of expression yields… crazy people. My favourite kind of people. Why do I love being in a city full of crazy people?
Because..

I can walk into a theatre and meet a bunch of smurfs:

^And get photobombed by a ‘normal‘.

I can wear this hideous, freaky, big-nosed mask that I got from Venice (it’s actually part of a plague doctor’s costume worn in centuries’ past), and prance around Piccadilly Circus at night like a mad tourist:

I even managed to get my caricature drawn!

We also went into a busy McDonald’s to see if we could successfully feed each other fries through the gaps in our beaks. It was not a success.

^The real tourists loved us 🙂

I can get on the tube wearing my fox onesie:

^No one gives a shit!

I can have a picnic with a bag over my head (and walk around the park chasing strangers with it on – I have a video somewhere) and have fruits as my guests, but hey it was my birthday:

I did have human guests too but they weren’t quite as exciting as the fruits.

And then there’s this scary clown putting down his newspaper to have a conversation with a cyclist passing by:

^Oh and me traipsing around Oxford Street with a guitar and balloons tied to my bag.

You can find restaurant menus like this:

^And end up in places where they teach you how to crochet… a sperm.

Now THIS is how you ‘Boris Bike’:

Oh I love that mask. It still sits in my desk drawer now. I do like Boris (for those unaware, he’s our Mayor) – he seems to enjoy getting involved with the community and isn’t afraid of looking silly. I don’t have enough knowledge about politics so I can’t say much more than that..

>>

But YES, being surrounded by so much creative energy, openness, an eccentricity in London has helped shape who I am today. I can be ME! I can be as silly as I like. Strangeness is mostly embraced here. I could start a one-person dance party on my street with no music wearing only my underwear and it’s fine. I could pull out a potato from my handbag and have a dance with it next to a street jazz performer – I have, in fact, done this (video is also somewhere..).

This freedom of expression was particularly instrumental in my personal development. I grew up in Malaysia, where society was a lot less accepting and less.. exposed. I felt rather limited there. Being in London OPENED UP THE WORLD TO ME.. It was like.. the drug of life (does that even make sense?).

Onto Thing #3!

When there are so many wild/crazy/creative people.. there will be special occasions for us all to be crazy together, OBVIOUSLY.

My favourite?  LONDON SANTACON!
When else can you have a Christmas dance party on the streets, dressed as Santa, with thousands of other people also dressed as Santa?

Just look at these weirdos! I love them:

You can read about my first Santacon experience here.

My second favourite? WORLD ZOMBIE DAY!
It’s pretty much the same as Santacon, except you dress up as zombies instead, and the music is less cheerful..

Some of the costumes you see on the day are freakin’ AMAZING. I really need to up my game next year, man..

^What a beautiful bunch of dead mimes!

The kind of things you can see at an East London club on Halloween weekend:

^A super cool bloodied fox. And then there’s me, with two My Little Ponies and.. a box of Pocky. Haha!

There are SO. MANY. EVENTS. There’s a day for you to ride the tube with no pants. Race people while flipping pancakes (next month!). Run 5k in an inflatable sumo suit. Get your dance on at a silent disco festival. Cycle naked. Go to the Science Museum to be a cockroach. You can even smash stuff up for fun. 

And here, play with a insane amount of coloured powder at one of London’s Holi Festivals (there seem to be a few now – Google will disclose details):

^THAT was so much fun..

In Sweden and other Nordic countries, they celebrate the crayfish harvest season by throwing a Crayfish Party. So why not have one in London too, right? I went to a Swedish Crayfish Party last year organised by Ocado and it was hilarious!

Basically, everyone gathers to eat mountains of crayfish together. Along with other stuff, like a delicious selection of herring, salmon, cinnamon buns, and Swedish candy. Washed down with cider. And schnapps. You also have to wear crayfish hats and bibs, and sing some funny Swedish songs!

Life in London to me has been extremely enriching. There is an endless amount of learning and experiences available. So many different cultures and people to EMBRACE! Oh and the diversity of food that that comes with..  we really are spoilt for choice. If I had to narrow down London’s best quality to one word, it would be OPTIONS.

THANK YOU LONDON for being such a fantastic playground and classroom. I have grown so much while living a such a vibrant, full life. So obviously, you’re my favourite city 🙂

The post Three Things I FREAKIN’ LOVE about London appeared first on SMALLCRAZY.

I booked a place for myself on a desert safari.. and here are my photos from it!

You’ll have to excuse the poor quality of the images since I was using some kinda crappy compact camera of that.. era.

Looking back, I can’t believe what an amateur traveller I was.. but I’m also amazed at how much I’ve grown and changed since. I’ve invested so much in myself! This is what I tell my parents or people who question the amount of time and money I spend on travelling: “It’s an investment in MYSELF. Personal development!”

I am now awesome – I am confident, happy, and I can speak to anyone about anything.

Anyway, back to this desert safari.. I chose this day to write about as it was my favourite thing about my trip. Something I loved much more than the skyscrapers and all the other modern, shiny stuff that’s normally associated with Dubai.

^
^Just a scene along the way to the desert

I was amazed by how… ORANGE it was!

Once we arrived at the desert, the tyres of the cars (or jeeps?) had to be deflated before we could do the ‘dune bashing’, a.k.a. driving around the soft mounds of sand in a ridiculous, crazy way to produce as many jerky, rollercoaster-like movements as possible. Supposed to be fun!

See! I’m not the only crazy one.. I was so pleased to see these people rolling down the hill, without a care about sand getting into their clothes.. or even their mouths.

We had a chance to explore the area before the ‘dune bashing’ began.

I wandered around taking a few photos before sitting down with my own thoughts; shoes off. I remember thinking that just 24 hours before, I had been with my family. I don’t know why I thought that, because obviously it just made me sad again as I started missing them and wishing they were there to enjoy the beautiful view with me. But hey.. homesickness, it really takes over your mind (and your heart) when you have it.

I was lucky to have Dino as company.. his bright pink body really helped liven things up a little!

I can’t remember how long the ‘dune bashing’ segment lasted, but it was indeed really fun. It wasn’t as crazy as I’d hoped it to be, but then again, I AM kind of a crazy person who can endure a lot of.. motion, so… (the other people in the car said it was ‘mad’)

After the ride, there was a stop for camel rides.

I’d ridden one in Egypt before so it wasn’t such a novelty, but of course I went and had a go anyway..

I remember that a Brazilian couple kindly took these photos for me. How kind of them! I was a bit shy to ask back then, and they noticed I was alone so they offered their help with the camera.

Riding a camel is like riding a tall and wonky horse. It feels more unstable.. but it’s fun, cos you’re higher up! Also, you get to sit on what looks like a carpet.. Haha

Soon, the sun started to descend and we were driven to a place where everything was already set up for us to have a nice BBQ dinner and watch some belly dancing.

I had the opportunity to befriend a bird.
But I was shy even to speak to birds, especially as I didn’t speak Bird (I still don’t).

See THIS is why I take pics of food! I was trying to remember what the food was like.. and simply couldn’t. But then this picture popped up and I was like ‘Aaaaah THAT’S what I ate’.

I can’t remember if it was amazing or not, but I know I didn’t complain.

Music was playing all evening and the sky was clear. I sat next to a French family. I think the thing that made this experience so ‘intimidating’ for me was that there were no other solo travellers in the group. It was mostly families and couples, and maybe some groups of friends. I totally felt like the odd one out.

I sat quietly and ate my meal alone, while taking the occasional video of the entertainment around me. I remember being annoyed at my non-iPhone phone having such terrible reception that I couldn’t even call or text my friends.

I let myself wallow in my own loneliness for a few minutes.

And then I looked around and up at the stars, realising what a GREAT day I’ve had and what a beautiful night it was. There I was, having dinner, in a desert, somewhere in the Middle East, with a bunch of strangers. It was fab and I told myself to refocus my mind on the NOW.

It was tough, but I tried my best (I’m a pro at it now).

Plus, I got to enjoy a most magnificent sunset.

Obviously, if I were to have this experience now, in 2013, I would’ve ended up with a bunch of new friends and a collection funny photos!

I do plan on re-visiting Dubai, this time armed with ME V2 and a better camera. Emirates operates flights to Dubai from all over the world. I could easily stop there for a few days on the way to Malaysia. In fact, I’ve recently booked my flights for January with them – they’re my preferred airlines to go home with because I quite like breaking up the travel time into two halves. AND Dubai airport is quite an enjoyable place to be spending one or two hours – good shopping, and free wifi 😉

I might also add that Emirates uses the A380 for that route and offers in-flight wifi..

Have you been to Dubai before? What did you think? 

The post Dubai – Braving the Desert Safari Alone appeared first on SMALLCRAZY.

It’s really a very simple song.. “complete with bird sounds and wind effect”

This was the first full song that I learnt to play! I don’t think of myself as a great singer at all.. but I do enjoy it and I guess for the most part, I don’t care how I sound. Which is why.. this video.. is here….

The grass was SO GREEN I wanted to EAT IT. Sometimes I get really tempted and put a few blades near my mouth. But mostly I just put my face really close to the grass and smell it. It’s so good. I love grass!

The scarf I’m sitting on is vintage.

MY WEEKEND

I spent the weekend getting super messy (read: messed up) at the London Holi One Colour Festival. It was a giant heap of FUN. At one point, my entire face/neck was blue and people called me an alien. Or Oompa Loompa.

Besides that, I’ve been enjoying the company of my friends and ‘doing nothing’. Reena introduced me to this new Netflix series called ‘Orange is the New Black‘, which is about a mid-thirties woman who surrenders herself to jail for a decade-old crime she committed with a a drug-dealing lesbian lover. I’m hooked! It’s been MONTHS since I sat in front of a screen and watched something that’s not YouTube.

NEED MORE HOURS

If I had more hours to spend in a day, I’d be finished with other shows I started (but never had the time to complete) – Revenge, 2 Broke Girls, Modern Family, etc. Maybe even play some GAMES! I used to enjoy my Nintendo DS (sorry baby I haven’t the time now) and Little Big Planet or Guitar Hero (I LOVE THIS) on the PS3.

When I was at uni, there was a period when I’d get through a few hours a week playing fun computer/pc games with my male flatmates. If you click the link you’ll be able to see what’s new these days.. There’s gonna be a new Sims coming soon! Back then I played with stuff like ‘World of Warcraft’ or ‘Counter Strike’.. totally geeky (and kinda embarrassing). A friend recently told me that he’s been hooked on some new title called ‘Darksiders 2’. I googled it and all I saw were pics of an angry-looking horse..

Though.. if I REALLY did have extra hours in a day.. I reckon I’d be a pro at electric guitar, have learnt a new language proficiently, and will have properly manicured nails (not these horrible chipped things I currently have growing wild on my fingertips). The most likely scenario though, I hope, would be that I’d have so much more time to dwell and plot and plan that I’d be travelling even more frequently.

Hmm, y’know what, I loved Orange is the New Black so much that I think I’m gonna have to MAKE TIME to watch it. I’m also gonna try out some games from the app store (iPhone). Hello less sleep and puffy eyes!

Please do tell if you have any recommendations for TV shows or games n stuff. Other than Spongebob. Cos I already have that (obviously).

The post Hyde Park Singin’ appeared first on SMALLCRAZY.

Waking up in Haarlem was a delight. Anja’s guest room was comfortable, inviting, and bright! I had these two large windows next to the bed, allowing lots of sunshine which I needed. A lot. I woke up HAPPY and wished that I could spend the day exploring Haarlem with Anja. But no. I had grown-up things to do.

See how thoughtful my wonderful host was?

She left me two options for pjs – a nightie and a set of trackies. I chose the nightie. There were towels, a glass for water, and she also provided a toothbrush.

It was not until that morning as I was getting dressed that I felt the effects of losing all my stuff in that  suitcase. From the unfamiliarity of the strange new toothbrush I had to use and  having to wear the SAME CLOTHES, to the fact that I had to go out with.. no eyebrows.. (hey I’m just not very hairy, ok) – it all started to become annoyingly real.

My make up. My expensive Shu Uemura makeup palettes. My vintage sequinned jumper (you can see it here). All my CLOTHES. My best underwear! My kaleidoscope from Porto. The lovely new French Connection shoes that were gifted to me in time for the trip (luckily I did take pics, you’ll see them soon. Thank you Spreaditfast). My favourite parka from Copenhagen. My best bangles from SEA. All my funky headbands and ACCESSORIES. Macbook/camera chargers and Apple magic mouse. All the business cards I’d collected at the conference. ETC ETC ETC.

It was just so sad to think about it. 

And so there I was – dressed in yesterday’s clothes and looking blah. You know when you look just terrible, you kind lose the bounce in your step? I lost my bounce that day.

That is, until Anja pulled out a mysterious pink carrier bag from the backseat of her car as she dropped me off at the train station.

“It’s a little goodie bag I put together to cheer you up”

Seriously how sweet is this woman?? I LOVE HER! We then hugged goodbye. I wish I could’ve hugged her for longer!

^The contents of Anja’s goodie bag.

There were some of her own handmade jewellery, compact mirror, a couple of Estée Lauder eyeshadow palettes, a holographic postcard, pretty paper towels, toys, and even biscuits!

It reminded me of my high school days when my friends and I used to exchange gifts of random items we thought would make each other happy – be it crayons, a pot of fake slime, sweets, earrings, or simply a card that read ‘I Love You!’.

BACK TO THE HAGUE

I was lucky enough to have a friend from London make some calls to the Malaysian Embassy at The Hague for me, so they were expecting my visit and assured me that I would be able to obtain an emergency passport on the day.

One of the plus sides of this tragedy (I like to be dramatic) is that I got to see The Hague on sunshiny day.

I enjoyed the tram rides towards the Embassy. The whole city was rather green.. so green that the air smelt green. Do you know what I mean?

^Just outside the Malaysian Embassy. Like in London, it was located in a nice area full of.. other embassies.

It was about noon when I arrived. Just like back home, everything was rather informal.. there weren’t many people there. I had to fill in this form that was completely in Malay, and where the date field had a pre-printed ’19 _ _’ . THAT’s how old the form is. Of course, my Malay is so terrible that I had to ask the officer if I could please write my answers in English.

Then.. I had to take a 20-minute walk to the nearest studio for some passport-sized photographs.

^On the way there, I stumbled upon The Peace Palace (Vredespaleis), which houses the International Court of Justice (the principal judicial body of the United Nations).

It was so pretty, especially the grounds. There were a couple of groups of tourists crowding around the gates with their cameras.

Once I had my photographs taken and dropped them back at the embassy, I took a tram back into the city. I wanted to go back to the Escher Museum (I love that guy.. his art is so trippy!) to re-buy some souvenirs that I’d lost in my luggage. I had to! There was a cool 3D viewer and  large, colourful feather pens. If you know Escher’s work.. just imagine seeing those in 3D. Whoa man.. I couldn’t leave without it.

^I was so lucky that it was a beautiful day with blue skies.

I thought this photo was just so Dutch, with the bicycle, the tram tracks and the bazillion windows in grid formation typical of their architecture.

^This is Lange Voorhout, lined with lots of trees and leading up to the Escher Museum.

^Russian art sculptures being set up.

The Hague is hosting over 100 contemporary sculptures from Russia’s best known artists until 9 September 2013 on Lange Voorhout, as part of Russia-Netherlands Year 2013.

^Me, not really looking by best, with some of the sculptures.

I was so excited to find that a big flea market was taking place in the area. I browsed like EVERY STALL.. picked up a couple of cool things too 😉

^Front of the Escher Museum (will write about this in another post).

Do you think they should clean the walls?? Looks rather black to me.

After my little half-day sightseeing walk, it was time to journey back to the Embassy to collect my emergency document (€15). And do other crappy things, like ring up my insurance company to see if I could make a claim. I got into a bit of a fight with the operator – you know how these people are horrible; they try and make it as difficult as possible for you when it comes to making a claim.

I also contacted British Airways. Unlike the insurance company (it was INSUREANDGO, btw), they were extremely helpful and supportive. I explained that I’d missed my flight to London and why. For only £27, I was given a new ticket for a flight departing that same night. THANK YOU BA for your understanding and kindness – it definitely made my ordeal much easier to deal with!

HELLO AGAIN ROTTERDAM

Feeling much better knowing that I’d be on my way home soon, I arrived in Rotterdam again. It was my fourth time that trip/that week…

Above you can see construction going on around Rotterdam Centraal Station. It was cool! I took some time to walk around and marvel at their tall, shiny buildings.

I admired the buildings for a long time. Very long time. Just couldn’t get over how shiny this building was, too!

I had some time to kill, so I turned to Twitter and asked this girl (Kim) that I met during the conference who worked with Rotterdam Marketing. She mentioned a place called BAR (NEW BAR) that recently opened at Schieblock (a < ten-minute walk from the station). So off I went…

The vibe was really cool and relaxed, kinda like the cafes we have here around East London. There were only a few people.. or hipsters rather, lounging around with their juices and MacBooks.

Naturally, I joined in.

I had an AMAZING meal.. I love how it’s a lot more normal in the Netherlands to have a fried egg in your sandwich/burger. It sealed the deal, you know?

I hung out and had some Me Time at BAR until it was REALLY time to go. I was so exhausted from the last 24 hours and I’d been carrying my heavy pink backpack with the whole time. So, as I was on the way to the bus stop to get the airport shuttle, I pulled out what had been my saving grace that day: a joint (hey I was in Rotterdam hehe). It saved me all the way until outside the airport.

^Goliath posing for a goodbye pic.

Despite the shitty circumstances, it really was a beautiful day when I left.

I pretty much passed out completely during my short flight.

Had no problems whatsoever at Heathrow Airport immigration. I only had to wait for about five minutes while the officer went to check on the system to verify my UK residence visa.

It was kinda strange to arrive home from a week away without a suitcase. When I got into my room, I just thought, “Hmm, at least I don’t have to unpack!”. That night seems a blur to me right now.. but I think after having a shower, I crashed into bed straightaway.

THE BEGINNING OF A NIGHTMARE

It wasn’t until the next day (Thursday) when I tried to get back into London life that I had the opportunity to reflect and put some real thought into the consequences of having my luggage + passport stolen.

These were the problems I now faced:

• I had a flight to Toronto departing in less than seven days.
• I had no passport.
• The Canadian Embassy had not even approved my SECOND application for a visitor visa, which I re-submitted in Rotterdam based on my OLD passport number.
• The coming Monday was a bank holiday (i.e. the embassies would be closed).
• The cost of replacing my UK visa sticker was £860. 
• Completing the tedious paperwork for my insurance claim.
• I had to go shopping (i.e. go broke) for new toiletries, makeup, clothes, MacBook/camera charger, etc.
• I lost my online banking security key.

The first thing I did that morning was go to the Malaysian Embassy in London. I was hopeful. So you can imagine my face when the officer there told me bluntly, “There’s no way you can get your new passport in time. It normally takes at least four weeks. You need these supporting documents to apply *pulls out LONG LIST of documents I could never secure at such short notice*. I advise you to cancel your trip to Canada”

Literally, I burst into tears outside his office. I was just so STRESSED from everything! I sat on a bench outside for ages, not wanting to leave and still refusing to believe that I COULDN’T get my way. With tremendous help of a great friend who made some calls and found out the name of a person I should speak to within the Embassy, I dried my tears and marched back inside.

I asked for this person and we spoke in a private room about my situation. With the help of my very pathetic face, I got the list of supporting documents cut in less than half, and the permission to email electronic copies of what they needed directly to his email address. He said that if I could get it all through by Tuesday (after the public hol), I could have my new passport by Wednesday. My flight departs on Thursday morning.

OKAY. I took a deep breath and went on my way to work.

When I got home that evening, it was cold and rainy. I got to my flat and attempted to open the door with the set of keys that my flatmate had kindly copied for me in advance. THEY DIDN’T WORK.

The frustration and dejection at this point were so much for me to take that I just slumped onto the floor and sat there staring into space for a while before my face was covered in my angry tears. I was so ANGRY. WHY was this happening to me? WHY did I have to encounter such an asshole of a person who had nothing better to do than steal my ENTIRE SUITCASE and RUIN EVERYTHING for me??? I HATED HIM. I HATED HIS GUTS and his STUPID FACE and wished him all sorts of horrible things.

So there I was on the floor: terribly dressed (feeling ugly), with flat hair, no makeup, puffy eyes, and wet from the rain. I was like this wet scraggly rat with no home.

I let myself cry for a few minutes until I just couldn’t bear the patheticness of my own behaviour. I had to pull myself together. I knew I WASN’T an angry, sad person. I was a happy, positive person.

Once I was done crying, I rang my friend Reena and went to her house to wait for my flatmate to get home. I was fine. I just had to wait a bit, that’s all. I had to focus on my one main goal for the week:

Get what I need to make my trip to Toronto.

This was only the beginning..

*Next up: My (HELLISH) Journey to TBEX Toronto 

By the way, you can find me on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram. Let’s connect!

The post Losing My Luggage & Passport in a Foreign Country – Part 2 appeared first on SMALLCRAZY.

*Fast forward one week – I was on the final day of a post-conference blog/press trip at The Hague (Den Haag in Dutch), ready to return to London full of happy memories and new friends.I had just taken a surfing lesson at the beach – in 10 degrees centigrade weather no less – and was feeling super awesome from it.

^Some buildings near Scheveningen, where we stayed. I was walking towards the nearest tram stop when I snapped this photo. It was a beautiful day.

I was walking with my post-conference trip group to the nearest tram stop, where we were to hop on one that would take us to the mainline train station so everyone could get to their next destinations. My plan was to go to Rotterdam and drop my bags off at Mainport Hotel (they were nice enough to let me do this) so I can wander around the city for a while before catching my late-evening flight to London.

^This was the train I boarded.

As with many European trains, the carriages had an upper and lower deck.

I sat in a ‘table seat’ on the lower deck, three rows from the steps leading to the train doors. I left my 20kg suitcase at the bottom of these steps, where I could see it – I was really only about 5 metres from it.

However, as the train started approaching Rotterdam Centraal, I got up to carry my bag up the steps in preparation to exit only to realise that my bag was NOT THERE. The space was empty. I’m not one to panic, so at first I simply thought that maybe someone had moved it.

I inspected the surrounding areas. Upstairs. Downstairs. In the luggage rack.

NOTHING.

There wasn’t even another bag of similar size in the carriage to indicate that perhaps someone had taken mine by mistake (this has happened to me before). It was at this moment that I felt my heart sink so low and heavily that it could’ve come out my bum, dropped to the ground and made a hole in it.

After interrogating the other passengers seated next to my bag, they described that a young boy had been standing near the steps previously. At Scheidam Centraal, the stop before mine (Rotterdam Centraal), he exited the train when the doors opened. During this time, many other people milled around the aisle and steps as they made their way out. It was a busy station. AND THEN, just as the carriage doors were about to close, the boy had run into the train and grabbed my bag up onto the platform. There wasn’t time for anyone to stop him.

I can’t recall the number of curse words that ran through my head at this point. But rest assured there were billions.

Once at Rotterdam Centraal, I ran up to the nearest train staff I could find on the platform. They couldn’t do much. I decided that I would try and go back to Scheidam Centraal. I didn’t know what I’d do there, but I just had to get back there. But first, I had to buy a goddamn ticket. This was when I learnt that the Dutch ticket machines did not accept foreign credit/debit cards, and if you wanted to pay by cash, you had to do it in coins ONLY.

I made a dash for the ticket counters. There was a massive queue. Now, I was officially in panic mode.

I just had my entire suitcase stolen!  How could they make me LINE UP?? 

I had to get back to Scheidam Centraal IMMEDIATELY, and there it was.. a long line of people who.. did not have their luggage stolen. HELLO I HAVE AN EMERGENCY!

But guess what? A young Dutch girl standing nearby saw my state of distress and asked me what I needed. I explained my situation to her briefly. She then ran to the ticket machine, gesturing me along. She then bought and paid for my ticket back to Scheidam Centraal, asking nothing in return even when I offered.

At Scheidam C., I went straight to the Lost Property counter to file a report. I gave them very precise information about what happened, including the exact train I was in. There was nothing much they could do other than be in touch in case anything surfaces.

I walked out of the room feeling super dejected.. and then it dawned on me.

MY PASSPORT WAS IN MY LUGGAGE.

A further bazillion curse words ran through my mind before I ran back to Lost Property to reiterate the urgency of the matter, asking if they could check the CCTV for clues. I don’t know what I was hoping to get from this, and it was only until I was on the platform ready to head back to Rotterdam that I realised: DUH, call the police.

*Note – my passport was in my luggage because earlier that day, I had to use my backpack to go out somewhere and so I transferred it into my suitcase… and I later forgot to move it back in my haste when packing/checking out after surf class

^View from inside the police van.

Half an hour later, I was in the back of a police van on the way to the station to file a formal report.

Let me tell you that it’s really handy to have all the details of your passport in your head. That made the process so much quicker. My passport number was put on some sort of international blacklist, in case someone else tried to use or travel with it. The Dutch police were extremely helpful and empathetic. They even helped me source the number for the Malaysian Embassy (I still use a Malaysian passport although I am a UK resident). Sadly, the embassy was closed by the time I tried to contact them.

Later, I made my way back to Rotterdam. In the rain. Yep, I was feeling pretty damn miserable by now. I cried tears of frustration/sadness/tiredness.

***************

I stopped by the Mainport Hotel as previously planned, but this time I asked if I could have a room since I couldn’t get on my flight back to London without my passport. Unfortunately, even with the media rate, it was much too expensive for me. I spent the next hour in the lobby, charging my phone and trying to sort myself out for the night.

I was on Facebook when I noticed Anja, an older lady that I had only met briefly during the conference, was online. Within two minutes of explaining my situation to her, she had invited me to stay in her guest room at her house in Haarlem. Aren’t people AMAZING?? She hardly even KNEW me. I thanked her and said I’d be on my way.

As I left, I bumped into one of the hotel staff, whose name I very much regret forgetting – but I was in such a state, it’s excusable, right?? I think it began with R, so I’ll use that for the purpose of this post.

R, probably sensing my blah mood, tried to talk to me and cheer me up. When he heard what happened, you know what he did? He offered me a room in his family home, with his wife and kids. I was a complete stranger to him, and there he was, trying to help me out. I was so touched by his kindness that I asked for a photo so I could remember the moment. Once I’m done writing this, I’m going to email the hotel to pass on a special thank you to this lovely man 🙂

During my trip, I had been slightly upset that I didn’t get to see Rotterdam’s famous ‘cube houses’. And when my stuff was stolen, my plan of hopefully doing so before heading to the airport was pretty much destroyed.

Anja’s directions said to get a train from Rotterdam Blaak.. and as I arrived there via Metro, I looked up to see none other than THE CUBE HOUSES. It was so unexpected. I couldn’t help but smile and do a little jump despite the gloomy grey backdrop!

^On the way to Haarlem – the journey took about an hour.

I counted my blessings and felt grateful that at least I had all my gadgets – phone, camera, laptop – in my backpack.

^Haarlem Station

Anja kindly picked me up from the station in her car. I couldn’t thank her enough. I was so happy just to see a friendly face after all that had happened!

And then I stepped into her house..

WHAT AN AMAZING, QUIRKY, COLOURFUL HOUSE!

She collects toys and ornaments and THINGS from all over the world. She liked stickers and colours and light-up toys. She’d decorate boxes and other things she had, and call it ‘pimping’. She was my kindred spirit. Everything about her house reminded me of my own room back in London. It also reminded me of my friend, Joyce, who’s very much like me too. And she had a sweet little cat (if you look closely you can see him on the chair by the window).

I felt that I had stumbled upon a rare gem of a person in Anja. Our types are not easy to come by!

She made me a lovely dinner, poured me a glass of bubbly and we had a chat while I ate. We talked about being weird, not fitting in, and being socially awkward. I used to be very socially awkward, but I guess I’m much better now :p  We spoke about our toys, travelling, and we shared bits and pieces of our lives with each other. I loved hearing about her life.

I went to bed that night feeling a whole lot better and ready to face the crazy day I had ahead of me. It was hard, but I kept reminding myself of all the GOOD that I had witnessed that day – from the girl who bought my train ticket, the man who offered me his house, and to the police who showed genuine care for me.

*CLICK HERE FOR PART 2 – The Beginning of a Freaking Nightmare *

The post Losing My Luggage & Passport in a Foreign Country – Part 1 appeared first on SMALLCRAZY.

People always ask me, ‘WHY? HOW?’ What did you DO?’ with immense curiosity. Here’s how.

When I arrived at the rather rural Castelnaudary train station, Blanche, the woman who owned the farm, came to pick me up with her car. From the moment we met, I knew she took a certain disliking to me. I could tell by the way she looked at me and by her body language. You know when you just KNOW?

She clearly wasn’t interested in me or in getting to know me. I endured a super awkward car ride that lasted 20 minutes. Nevertheless, I filled my mind with only positive thoughts and convinced myself that she simply wasn’t the talkative type.

When the car pulled up in the driveway, she got out and.. left me there. Again, no matter.

“I have arms and legs.. it’s fine I’ll carry all my bags up myself!”

I was then distracted and struck by how eccentric and pretty the whole place was (click here for more). I met Bernard, her French/Moroccan husband. He had been a chef for over 30 years and was quite the quirky man. He was friendly and funny and warm, unlike Blanche the iron woman.

I felt slightly disappointed that there were no other volunteers like myself at the farm. BUT, after unloading my things in the bedroom upstairs I sauntered down to get familiar with the house and surroundings; and Bernard introduced me to a German guy called Axel.

Axel was sort of a long-term volunteer who helped out at the farm in exchange for food, water, and electricity. He was a nomad. He lived in a caravan happily planted on a plot of land next to the farmhouse with…… his donkey, with whom he had travelled over 10,000km through Europe on foot!!

He also had quite a bushy beard and so I couldn’t help thinking of him as ‘Jesus’ in my mind…

Anyway, Axel was so friendly and accommodating, you would think that HE was the host. He showed me around the whole area and pointed out important things I should know. I met the two resident cats, the dog, and the old horse who lived close by.

After my ‘orientation’ was over, I got changed into some bathers (it was a sizzling 35 degrees celcius) and went along with Axel to take his donkey for a walk up and over a nearby hill. It was fun! I’d never walked a donkey before..

Eventually we reached a medium-sized lake. It wasn’t the most picturesque lake, but good enough for a quick swim while the donkey grazed on.. dried up shrubbery nearby. In that heat, getting into the water was like heaven!

On the way back, Axel told me more about his donkey (whose name I’ve clearly forgotten..so I’ll just call him Donkey) and the places they had been together. We had a nice chat about some serious things (like his decision to live nomadically) and some nonsense things (donkey poop). According to him, all he needs is himself and Donkey. He later showed me the little enclosed area he had built for Donkey near his caravan, and how Donkey would sometimes be cheeky and try to break through the fence… which was not even a real fence unless you consider two horizontal strings a fence, haha.

DAY 2

The next morning, as instructed by Blanche, I woke up and got ready very early. Had a rather awkward breakfast in the kitchen where she expected me to know where everything was. Luckily, I was saved by a cheerful Bernard who joined in soon.

I spent my first day working on one of the vegetable patches with everyone.. and boy was it hard work.  Hard, sweaty work. And who knew there were such a thing as gardening gear? Special rubbery shoes, gloves, hats, etc.

By the end of the afternoon, I was freaking knackered. I felt totally beaten down by the blazing sunshine. Like the sun had taken the form of a giant HOT shoe and stamped on me. ME, the sun-lover..

Anyway, sensing that I must’ve been a bit lonely without other young people around, Axel suggested that we walk to town to grab a drink, with Bernard. By ‘town’, it literally means one street, with an all-in-one cafe/bar/restaurant, one shop, and some essential amenities. It was the kind of place where everyone knew each other.. and their families. The cafe owner was really friendly and quite the entertaining clown 😉

We ate and drank and talked and stared into the night sky. As Blanche was rather cold and Bernard spoke little English, I spoke mostly with Axel. He liked to read a lot. He enjoyed the sound of thunder. He liked cold showers. He told me a bit more about his caravan and his nomadic life. He didn’t know where he was going next – I loved this fact about him. I was slightly envious. The four of us also shared a joint (this is an honest blog!), and so I have to say: it was a very nice night.

DAY 3 – KICKED-OUT DAY

On this morning, the men had gone away with the car to do some shopping. It was about 10am and I was working on the same vegetable patch, when Blanche comes up to me and abruptly tells me that she wanted me to leave.

In shock, I asked her why. She said some rather odd things, like ‘I don’t think you’re enjoying it’, and ‘You’re not doing it right’. I figured that they were all excuses for the simple fact that she didn’t like me, so I agreed that I would go by the afternoon (her terms). But who knows, maybe she was right – maybe I WAS really terrible at farm work! When the men returned, I could hear them having an argument with Blanche, questioning her actions. It was a little dramatic, and traumatic.

I admit I did cry a little in my room. I felt dejected, confused, and I didn’t know the answer to the most important question: WHERE TO GO/WHAT TO DO NOW?? 

My return flight was two weeks away and I had never really travelled solo before.

I logged into the one house computer with an internet connection and started researching. I emailed my close friends and looked at nearby farms I might be able to move to, but without much luck.

I later found comfort in Axel’s caravan. He’d invited me there so we could discuss the situation privately. He said he was sorry that this happened and that he was also as puzzled as I was.

Sensing that I was deflated, he started pulling out various maps and spread them all out on the table. I noticed that he kept a LOT of maps with him (well of course). We considered a number of options: I could travel farther inland up to Toulouse and then Bordeaux. Or I could go the coast, to Narbonne, down through Perpignan into Spain. He shared with me places he had been before where you could stay for free – such as a yoga/meditation retreat somewhere.. or a monastery. He knew heaps of things and lots of names of places I hadn’t even heard of! He was so kind, calm, and encouraging.

As I listened to him talk about my options, I realised something. I realised that.. THIS WAS AN OPPORTUNITY.

Suddenly, it became exciting. It was still a bit sh*t, but exciting. I saw the bright side.

I was free. I didn’t have to spend every day doing farm work. 
I could go off an EXPLORE!

^It was just you and I from here on, Goliath!

That afternoon, I packed my bags and said goodbye. Bernard gave me a long hug and whispered, ‘i’m really so sorry’. I told him I wouldn’t forget all those nifty cooking tips he’d given me. I thanked Axel being such a wonderful presence in my short-lived farm experience and wished him lots of luck on his next journey, wherever it might lead to.

At Castelnaudary train station, I politely hugged Blanche goodbye and thanked her for having me.

THE NEXT TWO WEEKS

I spent the first night in nearby Carcassonne.

^I went on a canal cruise and stopped to take pictures at a vineyard.

^I stopped in Marseilles for a while.

^I ended up in beautiful Nice, where I was fortunate enough to stay at the most fantastic hostel, Villa St Exupéry Gardens (thank you Ulf for having me).

^I learnt how to bake macarons (now a forgotten skill).

^I went canyoning in the Verdon Gorge (amazing).

^I went swimming by the Promenade des Anglais

^I made a day trip to Eze Village, one of the prettiest little towns in Europe.

^I went scuba diving at St Jean Cap Ferrat.

^I made friends and partied with three Australian girls.

^I sunbathed and swam in Cap D’Ail, a cute little beach just west of Monaco.

^I visited Monaco for the second time in my life.

^I finally got to see the leaning tower of Pisa.

^I fell in love with Florence (can you believe this is part of the riverbank there?).

^I met Tania and Ana, two South Americans whom I asked to please share a 1kg Bistecca Fiorentina (Florentine steak) with me.

^I went to Siena and watched the town prepare for Il Palio

^I climbed up a hill in San Gimignano, which was also home to ‘the best gelato in the world‘

Thank You Axel

The post The Summer I Found Myself appeared first on SMALLCRAZY.