Searching for gelato in December.
26 May 2012 1 Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: CInque Terre, Genova, Torrino, travel
- The port city of Genova.
- Riomaggiore, one of the 5 villages in Cinque Terre.
- It was like the sun was shining just on this place, the sun existed to just shed light on its beauty.
- So surreal yet real people live here, with laundry outside the stacked up houses.
- The equally incredibly surreal meeting of Gadis Rempah.
- Makes me want to be a fisherman and live a quiet life here.
- Gadis Rempah approached these uncles after the photo was taken, asking for gelato.
- What do you do with such a beautiful backdrop? Camwhoring of course!
- Some evidence of an ongoing danger nearby.
- Our little pre-dinner treat at a restaurant in Riomaggiore. Always accompanied by the oranges and a glass of wine.
- Torrino, a serious business city with serious looking monuments.
- The park that we finally discovered provided us with a pleasant afternoon.
27th Nov- 1st Dec 2011 Genova/Cinque Terre/Torrino
when we arrived at the train station in Genova, we got out of the train and in slow motion ran into the arms of gadis rempah. Well not quite, we waited for a while before she turns up with one of the many housemates of the host. Although I was so very excited, seeing my dearest friend again made me feel like it was just yesterday I last saw her. Funny how our memories and emotions work, it felt like she was plucked out of the Malaysia album (of my memory) and plonk in Italy simply by the click of the mouse. So surreal and so …normal. The human ability to adapt to changes is quite astonishing but I was glad to see her.
We all went back to our temporary home here in Genova (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genoa) to homemade hot stew. The small kitchen was filled with 8 people, 5 of those living there and the 3 couchsurfers. It was a warm, bubbly and passionate house of people. After our crazy hitch-hiking adventures and also finally meeting up with gadis rempah, me and jamban basically just hung about at home the next day, recuperating and doing our laundry. We went out just as the sun set for a brief walkabout this quaint old city to get some grocers for gadis rempah to make some spicy indian dish (it is not curry but I don’t remember the word now, she will kill me!!) for the house. I cannot express the joy of eating someone’s else Malaysian cooking.
The next day we ran (literally ran across the town because we were late) to catch the train to one of the village in Cinque Terre. A few weeks back, we found out that 2 of the villages were affected by flood, we didn’t let that deter us from trying anyway. We went to one of the other villages, Riomaggiore, and had a lovely time strolling along the cliffs and exploring the nooks and crannies of the the little village, ending up in the only open restaurant for a light snack before heading home. We also tried looking for gelato, but when we ask some local old men, they shiver and say it’s ‘freggo’ cold! No gelato! I guess it’s only a summer thing here for ice cream. We’ll get some back in Genova city. Upon arriving home, we were greeted with homemade pesto (with pasta of course) and apparently the best gelato in Genova. It was a truly Genovian meal, as pesto is suppose to originate from here.
Jamban volunteered to stay back and apply for couches in Venice the next day while me and gadis rempah went to Torrino (Turin in English, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turin) for a day trip. We were very astound by the very grid-like urban planning of the city which dated back from the late 1800. you can see down to 10 other parallel streets and cross junctions from one cross junction. Usually a modern day phenomenon but Torrino is one of the earlier industrialised city, home to Fiat. Walking among the square, old and intimidating buildings, we went searching for a park for a rest. In the quest for a toilet, we managed to wiggle into a royal palace (who knew, all the buildings look equally old and grand) which we eventually were sternly but politely invited to leave when we were found without tickets. Onward to the park! It took us another hour before we found something that resembled a park, but it was worth it. I lay down my head on my friend’s lap while she read, and I doze off in the midst of falling gold leaves and chirping birds. It was an idle autumn afternoon in old Europe with a dear friend. Although one of the more uneventful moments of my trip, that picture is framed with much affection in my mind. After a while, grumbling stomach took us across town towards the river and a little cafe for some hot lasagne and wine. Then a stroll along the beautiful river, followed by coffee, then home to meet Jamban. Jamban had a good news for us, he found a family an hour away from Venice whom will take us in tomorrow. I went out to get simple ingredients for a quick noodle stir fry dinner. In the morning while my fellow travellers are still asleep, I went to walk around the neighbourhood, then found myself a nice spot for people watching, I ordered a capuccino and some focaccia ( really good and cheap local bread that is flat like pizza dough with toppings) and watched old italian people walking about, chatting with the bakers, the butchers and drivers in passing vehicles. In love with the world, I got some fresh bread back for the sleeping beauties. Then off we go, another train, another place. Life as time travellers never stop.
Have you ever slept outdoor in late Autumn? well…
14 May 2012 3 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: travel, hitch-hiking, France, Italy, sleeping outdoor
Montpellier to Genova, Italy
26-27th November 2011
We took the tram to the last stop, as informed by hitchwiki website. Then we tried looking for that petrol station which we just couldn’t find. It took us 2 hours to find that bloody station, we ran across busy highways and climbed dividers. It was dangerous stuff and we do not recommend people to try that at home, only in desperation. Then when we found it, I was so tired, I just plonk myself down with that sign to Marseille/Toulon/Nice. Jamban was by now a pro-hiker, so he went to talk to people at the station. Finally a guy took us on and brought us to Marseille. He was originally from Albania, he loved playing his music loud, luckily it was reggae which both me and jamban liked and he doesn’t speak much English either but he was really nice and dropped us in Marseille where there were roads leading to the highway. Unfortunately, what we and possibly him too, didn’t know was it was the kind of neighbourhood that people would rather put a knife in you than do you a favour. Luckily, the next guy that picked us up knew that and quickly brought us to a nicer neighbourhood where he assured us it would be easier to get a ride from. His assurance was in vain, the stereotypes about class failed to deliver as it was as difficult to get a ride from the nicer neighbourhood too, eventhough a lot more people smiled apologetically at us. Finally, we discovered some flowers on the floor and jamban held it up with the sign with such debonair that a pretty young lady stopped for us. If we knew that we would have had flowers and grasses sewn onto our bodies! This lady said she could drop us in Toulon, where we could take a bus or train to Genova if it’s getting late. It was late, and we were supposed to meet the gadis rempah today in Genova, Italy and with the sun going down so fast, I had a sinking feeling that might not happen. The feeling sunk with a bang when our driver hit the car in front while lining up for the toll. It was a gentle bump but the 3 hormonally charged young man wanted to show their buckness by demanding payment. We ended up in police station with Jamban, who was the front seat passenger, as one of the witness. Our driver who had put up a strong front before the boys finally gave in in tears after making the police report. We knew we couldn’t ask for more favors. She was already late for her work in Hyeres and she told us there is an airport there. We thought we’ll just sleep in the airport for the night and leave for Genova the next day.
After dinner near her workplace, we tried to look for the airport. Road signs in France are as good as Malaysian’s, which mean they are dead confusing. When we stopped and asked some nice folks, they decided to drive us there. However, the day of misfortunes had not ended for us. The airport was shut. It was one of those budget airline airport that only open in the day. Airport should be like hospital, always open! Anyway, we had to park our butts somewhere and it might as well be here. Jamban went around scouting for sheltered grounds while I watched the bags. The guard came and told us we can sleep in the basement carpark. Jamban was sure he only made that as a suggestion and so we went to sleep on the first floor of the next building. The guard came and chased us back to the first spot. So after the hide and seek with the guard, we camped out with our sleeping bags and tried to sleep. What with jamban snoring like a train, the cold hard floor and just the idea of sleeping out in the open made my sleep a difficult one. I stayed up mostly reading the book, peeing by a tree three times and feeling quite upset at the condition of things. And then I thought to myself, I could have been alone and that would have been a lot worse. I look at the snoring jamban affectionately and thought, thank the universe at least I have a friend here. A friend whose constant positivity makes any misadventures feel like a one off experience one would tick off a bucket list. Sleeping outside an airport in cold winter Europe, TICKED! Played hide and seek with a guard, TICKED! Bang a car with angst-y young man while hitching a ride, TICKED! Sleep in the house of the person who picked us up, TICKED! I think I told him this, having Jamban around definitely heighten my sense of adventure and whenever I come to roadblocks or junction of decisions, I’d think, what jamban would do now. Whatever he’d do, he would serve it up with a big smile and generous portions of giggles.

There’s a little walkway tunnel from the carpark that goes to the airport, we took shelter there as it was somewhat less drafty. that is Jamban snoring away in his hive of sleeping bag and his magic pillow.
I could not be happier when dawn came, the airport open at half past 7 and we were right there as soon as the door opens. We soaked in the warmth and I even took a nap while Jamban used the toilet. In the end, we took the bus back out into Hyere’s town. We managed to grab a quick breakfast at a quaint café in the pretty little town. The morning was cheering us on with bright sunshine and I felt that today would be a good day. We have decided to take the bus to Toulon, then train over to Genova. Last night drama and hard floor has left me wanting a little more comfort and convenience for today. In Toulon, we met the rudest person over the counter. We asked him if we could get train tickets and he told us off for not knowing that this is the counter for the metro, not the train. And when we asked where we can get bus tickets, he scolded us again. It was utterly bizarre why he was so rude when we were asking questions nicely. But we will not be deterred from enjoying the lovely morning, after getting the train ticket, I filled up on my first sushi on the trip while Jamban checked out the winter festival. On the train, I was thinking that finally, we are on the way to Genova today to meet our lovely friend Gadis Rempah. We changed train in Nice and witness beautiful coastline all through our train journey. Then evening came, and the train stopped, we were all asked to get out of the train. Me and jamban were a little dazed. We asked the guys working at the train station and discovered that we are in the last stop in France. The train is no longer going to Genova and we had to take a cab to the next town in Italy in order to catch the next train to Genova. As we were the last 2 people to get off the train, by the time we got out of the station, we saw that everyone else was already queuing up for the cab and it was a long line. We thought we won’t be able to make it if we wait in line. The rebellious Malaysians walk out to the main street and tried hitchhiking again. Then Jamban saw a cab on the other side of the road and I rushed over, running across busy street to the cab with Jamban shouting ‘careful!’ I told him our destination and he gestured for us to wait at the other side. It was with a big urgency that we haul our backpacks into his cab and informed him that we need to be at the next town’s train station in 30 minutes or we’ll miss our train. He assured us he’ll get us there in 20 minutes. We drove through the deserted immigration checkpoint between France and Italy and arrive at the train station in 20 minutes. We had 10 minutes to pay him, check for our train departure gate and get ourselves in there. Oh but the surprises has not stopped, when we look up at the train departure board, all the trains were cancelled. Our hearts sank, and Jamban saw that there is one train that is still due to depart and it was ours! We doubled checked and triple checked with our tickets, and truly our strings of misadventures had resulted in one good event, we will be going to Genova tonight after all! Jamban even got us a nice piece of warm pizza each for the train ride. Although the train was thoroughly packed, we were very relieved that finally something was going to plan. PHEW!! WHAT AN ADVENTURE THAT WAS!! Now I could sit back and laugh about our hitchhiking adventures with Jamban.
May this rock your South East Asian boat!
26 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: electronic, Indonesian, music, wayang kulit
I’ve never been a fan of electronic music but this one has a lovely classical Indonesian twist to it that I just have to blog and rave about it! Also completely captivated by the music video. Being a Kelantanese, I find it’s a crying shame that I’ve never watched a Wayang Kulit in a kampung somewhere, old school way. Enjoy!
Hitch-hiking Episode 1 (Barcelona-Montpellier)
25 Apr 2012 3 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: travel, hitch-hiking, South Europe, Montpellier
23/11/2011
This is my 2nd time hitch-hiking, the first was in Malaysia with 3 crazy oddballs, somewhere between KL and Ipoh. Jamban has not hitched before. After scouting the website for tips, we went towards the beach where we found the mentioned gas station. After half an hour of holding the destionation sign and no one approached us, we took turn approaching drivers with our non-existent Spanish to ask for a ride. Finally, Jamban scored a ride from a lady who took us to a town before Girona. From there, I scored a ride from a young man to Girona. From Girona, a couple picked us up to Perpignon. It was dark when we reach Perpignon, but we continued trying our luck to get to Montpellier tonight itself. Finally, a beat-up van stopped and told us, it was late and no one is gonna pick us up so come on in! after rearranging the plants and woods in the back of the van, we had just enough space to lump our backpacks in there and hop on in front with him. I forgot his name but it was a very French name, he told us that he lived in a village outside of Montpellier city and he could drop us at a gas station if we want, but it’s late and it would be hard to find anyone to hitch with at this time, and he offered us to stay over at his house in the village. The appeal of a warm house in a French countryside won us over and we decided to go with this man and his beat up van.
His wife discovered about these 2 strangers only when we reached, and she immediately started cooking more food just for us. His brother in law, a winemaker who lived nearby, was there and we tried some of his wine. It was a cosy family affair where homecooked French food is heartwarming and hearty, lots of potatoes, cheese, bread, not at all like their showy counterpart in the restaurants. After good wine, we had a good sleep and woke up to birds chirping. We started to drift towards and into nature, taking solitary walks. I felt almost like being back in Berducido village except for the different scenery, there were certainly more pine trees here and it’s not as lush but beautiful nonetheless. Our lovely host took us for a late lunch, we haven’t managed to switch the lunch time yet after being used to Spanish late meal time. then we went to his brother-in-law winery and Jamban bought some wine in tribute to this lovely adventure. Then he dropped us near the highway where we managed to hitch a ride with another winemaker to Montpellier city.
Montpellier 24-26 November 2011
We tram-ed into the city to be welcomed by a group of Occupy protestors who were camping out in the square. We gave them our cheer and support, and they sent us off in the direction of our host’s house. Along the way, we were unsure of our step, and another anarchist activist who was squatting in a house not far from our host’s kindly took us there, lend us his phone for us to call our host. Montpellier definitely had revolution in the air. Then we met our host, whose name was so difficult to pronounce that I’d remember it for a long time, Yliria but she was such a bundle of joy, energy and music. It was the way she clutch that cello with those legs and of course the amazing voice that we made her sang for us over and over, and jamban video it. But when will we get to see the video, which will remain a mystery. In the day, we walked around the city, had hot croissants and searched for Asian grocer so that we can cook for our host. We also stumbled onto a wine festival in the square, which jamban and the host, wither her charm and his enthusiasm got lots of free drinks from their 3 vouchers. I of course couldn’t keep up and anyway, I can’t tell between one wine from the other unless they’re red or white, so I left the happy couple in the square and got an early start at cooking pan mee. Jamban made belachan to go with it and it was a hit with our host and friends. After dinner, the tipsy folks went out to get tipsier while I stayed in as befitting of my age and got an early nap before we start hitchhiking again the next day.
- Our host in Montpellier plays cello and sang for us. Jamban has a video of her performance somewhere.
- Looking up on hitchwiki for hitch-hiking advice.
City by the beach.
07 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: san sebastian, travel
( if you thought i’ve forgotten about my travel blog, well, not true. i just needed to finish writing it all up in a word document before my memories fade. so finally, back to my backpacking adventure. enjoy!)
San Sebastian 13- 15th November
This place is a small city with more than a fair share of nice beaches right smack in it. Like Brighton but bigger, and with lovely sandy beach. Although it was November, they’re still people swimming and tons of surfers cruising its magnificent waves. I particularly enjoyed the walk up a hill/park that gives stunning view of the city and the sea. I was only mildly disturbed by an eccentric woman who was feeding all the cats in the park and shouting at random people in Spanish. I also tried the famous Basque pintxos with my host, like tapas but prettier and more expensive. My desire to learn Spanish has manifested with a purchase of a Spanish phrasebook.
- the hill that I climbed, to the flag level, not the top. :)
A short note on involving men in the struggle for gender equality
20 Mar 2012 Leave a Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: brain fart, community, feminism, gender
i don’t think it’s a sad fact [that women need men in the struggle agaist patriachy], it’s a fact that we live in a communal society (a fact that capitalist ignore) and the only way to live well together is to work well together. i think it’s natural to help each other in a community, the able to help the disable, i meant that not just as physical perspective but also the general access to social care/justice. all of us need help help at some points in our live [when we were young, sick, old and periods of financial victimisation], and the earlier we accept that we need each other, the less guilty we’d feel when we ask for help [and also more earnest when we give help]. similarly, women need men to gain gender equality, men too needs women to stand as equal for their own well being as part of the human community.
Only witchcraft.
19 Feb 2012 Leave a Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: ficton, randomness
Thick wild vines curled around, the forest of hair folding me in. I reach out and stroke the vine, finger tracing the red line to its root. your face, the color of the moon. Each crater as it was meant to be, perfect in existence. My finger continue to glide across the moon, arriving at a deep cave that let out a note, a sigh, the sound of eternity. Or is it pleasure? Either way, I am happy to hear this note forever. Summoned by the call, all my fingers join in the ritualistic dance on the lips of the cave, then they spread to all the surface of this moon. The sound of eternity echoes from all corners of the universe. Who am I, a mere mortal, to resist, I never stood a chance and you know it. But dare I, shall I, raise my gaze to meet yours. As I lift my head, searching for your eyes, all I could see was bright dazzling light. Your eyes are the suns and it engulfed me in fire. Burning, I smile and declare I could love no other after I tasted your sorcery. After I tasted you. ‘Drown me in your witchcraft’, I requested, I demanded, I plead.
A little piece of imagination for you.
05 Feb 2012 1 Comment
in Uncategorized Tags: fiction, randomness
(tucked tightly in the blanket, unmoved. The cold snowing winter leaves me no real option of moving too far from the warmth of the blanket, the house. The visa situation leaves me stranded within the borders of this nation, with no recourse to work. This mean no income, which further restraint my movement. Caged. After 3 months of moving from countries to countries, treading the world as if it was free, of borders and nation state, as if I was free, of legalities and citizenships. Now i’m stuck and caged. How do you kill a free spirit? Cage it…with passport and visa and trade it for papers written with numerical value. My chest has been in pain. I told noone. I know it is my heart hurling itself against the cage, trying to break free. I blame it not. I had thought that my love for filmmaking and idealistic activism forms two very different spectrum of the person that I am, they actually share one important space, the space for my mind to go free. To live in a world beyond this ridiculous one that we have now. Imagination is not an activity of wasteful indulgence, it is the necessary act of those who wants to be free, and at this point, the only way I keep my caged bruised heart pumping.)
The sword slice through the cherry blossom. A single petal drop onto your cheek, forming a dam for the river on your face. As for the sword that was coming for your heart, I had blocked it with mine. The flowers from the cherry trees always make you cry. I don’t know how to make the tears stop but I can definitely get you away from them. As I fought off this metal clouded swordsman, I grab your hand and we fly as fast as we can from the cherry trees. When we grew tired and thirsty, I found us a stream to rest by. You lay your head in my lap. Without realising, my hand reached for your hair and began stroking it. It seem to calm you down. That, was my biggest victory of the day. I was raised on peace and my sword has been more acquainted with the heart of a fish than the throat of a human. But for you, my sword and I would be the great wall that no army could defeat…and you would be in the centre. You are my centre. If only I have the courage to tell you that. All I could muster was ‘Everything is going to be fine. I will not let anything hurt you.’ If only I can vanquish the darkness in your heart just like what I did to those warriors. But know that there is at least one person in this world that would do anything to keep you safe.
An incidental stop.
10 Jan 2012 2 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: oviedo, travel
Oviedo 11- 14 November
Jamban was running late for our date in Barcelona, found myself with more time to spare before having to meet him there. I asked my hosts in Santiago where would be a nice stop between here and San Sebastian. So I bus to Oviedo, the capital of Esturia, the region next to Galicia. Although it was also really green with trees, the mountains here are more steep, making it harder to farm yet more striking to the eyes. My host in Oviedo is the tallest man I’ve ever seen and he is ever so lucky a biologist to be working in the forest. It is a queer thing that he also happen to know a fellow Malaysian feminist. And another queer serendipity moment was the 3 CS I applied to in Oviedo was the 3 people I met on the first night there, playing English scrabble with Spanish board together. The next day I walk around the town, did some marketing, and made dinner for these 3 lovely people. I was supposed to wake up early the next day for a 6 hours hike up the mountain with my host but I couldn’t bring myself to. He came back and got me envious from the photos he took. Then we went to a typical sidreria where the waiter pour cider like teh tarik, but just once, and then you’re supposed to finish what he poured in a go. Although it was only a quarter of the glass, I had to drink it in a few gulps with some local tapas as intervals, including whelks, which was really yummy. I think I drank too fast and had to give up all my food and drinks in the toilet. First time drinking until I puke on this trip, hopefully the last.
- i love having nice long breakfast while watching people doing marketing.
- my host and other CSers after I thrashed their kitchen making Malaysian dinner.












































































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