Seemingly another galaxy

Woke up to the sound of mournful bleating at 5 am in the morning. Must they start off so early!

Hiroko left for Liverpool today. In place of this nice and quiet dorm mate, I have a bunch of London girls who drove 6 hours up to Windermere for the Bank Hollidays. They looked real young, and didn't seemed to be well-travelled.

When I mentioned where I came from, the girls frowned and tried to place this little country of mine on the map. In my usual perverse humour of having some harmless fun out of a confusing situation, I said that it's real far and it's 8 time zones away. Somehow that kind of pronouncement awed them (I hope they didn't regard me as some kind of alien lifeform from another galaxy)...

Since time is short in Windermere, I decided to take a tour and travel in luxury. There were only 2 other Japanese ladies on the Beatrix Potter/Wordsworth trip. It began to rain (augh!), but Alan the driver did a good job of navigating past muddy tracks and steep passes. As the mist lifted and the rain stopped, we stopped by Potter's house.

Potter is apparently one enterprising lady. Talented with a flair for drawing and writing children's stories, her tales of Peter Rabbit and gang were inspired by her home in the downs and mountains of Cumbria. After making a pile out of her stories, she bought land, built farms and became a farmer by breeding a new sheep hybrid. Of course, wealthy ladies with farming concerns should have their financial affairs being taken care of by a solicitor. A certain solicitor named Healis came along and took care of her financial affairs and legal paperwork. Apparently, he took care of her by marrying her too - she at the age of 47, while he at 42. Photographs of the couple were still to be seen at her house - they looked very comfortable in each other's precense. This cottage, though small, is filled with curios and good furniture and a spread of her books.

I have to admit, I'm rather charmed by her stories.

Stopped by a lonely field, where a horse spat on the Japanese ladies as they attempted to feed it. It has been a long time since I last stroked or even rode a horse, and bearing the Japanese's plight in mind, I pulled a handful of grass and made clucking noises to appease the beast. I guessed it worked - it munched contentedly enough out of my hands, long enough for a photo opp!

Too bad there wasn't much time to walk around Tarn Hows, but we did go to Honnister Pass, where a lonely YHA hostel stood at the foot of the menacing hulk of a mountain. The only thing you could see for miles around you is gravel and a slate mine. There was a rocky outcrop where rock climbers could hone their skills on the mountain. It was desolate but surprisingly I found it beautiful.

Next stop was Buttermere - where a photostop was a must with the seemingly perfect reflection of mountain, trees, sky and sun. Captured a few good shots of Derwentwater at Keswick and will be moving out to Keswick YHA for my final stay.

Bought my groceries and ate a simple dinner of instant noodles, tea and ginger biscuits, admiring my view of the sheep and the sun making a long slow sultry descent into the night.

The Most Beautiful Corner In England

The tourism people at Cumbria boasted that their part of the world is the most beautiful corner in England. Nowhere, they claim, comes quite close to it.

To find out if their boast is but an empty one, my first pit stop shall be Windermere, home of Beatrix Potter and William Wordsworth. But first, a short description of the Star Trek-ish Pelladino trains run by Virgin. I have to admit that with trains like this, it's well worth my paying a steep fee for a journey in comfort. Even the loos are in some space capsule, where touch buttons close the screen doors allowing you some privacy to do your private business.

It's a lovely afternoon as I got to Windermere. Caught the YHA shuttle which promptly dumped me at a hostel which was far from a dump. In fact, with a view of Lake Windermere and sheep grazing right outside my window, it's heavenly!

Met Hiroko, who adventurous young lady that she is, is doing Liverpool, Windermere, London, Hungary on her own. Slightly-build and looking typically Japanese, she had been in Winderemere and Ambleside but found the former to be much more peaceful, much like her hometown in Hokkaido.

We fell to walking the fields and talking, climbing stiles and stepping over sheep shit, while shooting pictures. Our goal was to explore the hostel's estate and do a circuit route around it. Broken stone walls made of slate stones marked out farmland boundaries, while woolly sheep with mournful bleats are all you hear, apart from the mud squelching that both of us did as we tackled a steep slope.

With the sun on my back and a slight breeze blowing, Lake Windermere, nestled amongst mountains, sparkles like diamonds cast into the waters.

Dinner was a simple affair, and the best part of the hostel is that it has a terrace where you could sit in the outdoors, while watching the sun sink behind the mountains, as sheep grazed nearby.

This is life, gazing at God's creation and sipping a cold, cold beer.

Making Retirement Plans

I didn't want my week in Penzance to end.

I'm always a sucker for places with coastal views and Penzance is almost my dream place to retire, where I can buy a home perched on a cliff and face the ocean and a mountain at the back of the house. Read somewhere that it is possible to retire in style in Italy, where you can have a cliff side villa and a beach all to yourself. I don't remember which province is that, but you gotta ride a moped (probably a Vespa! Just like Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holliday!) to go get your groceries at the village grocer.

Aaaaaahhhh... the stuff that dreams are made of!

Considering that my trip here has been one fraught with a few near misses regarding transport, it is overall, a very good trip. The nice ticket seller actually picked up our dropped train tickets and ran after us! The coach driver was thankfully delayed and we managed to get up on the bus! Otherwise, we would have been stuck in Penzance with no coach till the next day.

Thank you so much Lord. I have much to give thanks for.

Paradise Lost & Found

Once upon a time, there was a garden that was owned by a very wealthy family in St Austell. It had pineapples, exotic and local blooms, pasture and farmed land yielding nature's bountiful harvest. Young men worked the land, and in this veritable Eden, peace reigned.

Until the war came.

The young gardeners were called away to join the army - to fight for the pride of the British Empire. Many left, none returned. Soon, even the owners left the garden that was once their own. Neglected and overgrown over the years, this garden was forgotten. for over 50 years, until someone went for a walk, and stumbled upon the lost gardens.

An ambitious restoration work began and The Lost Gardens of Heligan was born.

While the story was pretty, I think this tourist attraction would only appeal to those who loved gardening. It even had a tropical garden to simulate the growth of tropical plants, and a wildlife obsevation sector where migratory birds would stop by and nest.

I was only enthralled by the Mud Maid and the Giant's Head - two sculptures that were constructed out of the wood and plants found at the Gardens.

Made a beeline for some of the shops. Siok Ai was a little vexed that she could not find the espadrilles shop that she spotted 2 nights ago. Ate dinner at the Union Hotel's bar, which served excellent ales and surprisingly, a fusion dinner of grilled prawns on tomato, chilli and garlic.

The Sea

I never tire of gazing at the waves crashing on the rocks. It's my favorite kind of scenery.

St Michael's Mount, a monastery perched at the top of a cliff, could be reached either via walking across a causeway during low tide, or a ferry. Being adventurous, we were determined to walk across the waters and climbed a steep ascent to capture a view to die for. My only gripe was that the waters didn't quite cover the stone causeway - it'll be so much fun to wet my feet just a little! :)

Up a steep climb and watched the sea crashing on the rocks at the top of the monastery. As the storm clouds rolled in and a light drizzle came down, getting here was truly a culmination of a dream. All those pictures and postcards that I've seen about walking the causeway and reaching this lonely castle perched at the top of a cliff - it's come true. I so wanted to do it the last time, but am so glad I could do it now.

The Minack Theatre where you could watch a play in an amphitheatre that's hewn out of the cliff, while watching the sea battering the coast, is breathtaking, to say the least. A scenic bus journey, where the bus goes down winding country lanes and peaceful sheep and cattle grazing in the fields is marvellous. The driver has a way of kicking the bus into the right gear when it's time for the bus to climb the steep inclines.

With the breeze in my hair and the wind howling in my ears, it's the perfect backdrop for murderous Shakespearean plays. :)

Kathy's cats are really fat. Despite their bulk, Siok Ai found out that they could dash off fast when she attempted to stroke them. Any breakfast, other than the full English breakfast, is much welcomed. We had enough of greasy fried bread and salty bacon.

And who is this mysterious resident Jack? Whom we never see visiting the loo, nor eating breakfast? Whom Kathy referred to us as "her only guests", even though he takes a room here? If we are her only guests, is he a friend, family, foe or lover?!

The plot thickens.

Mad Dashes

Adrenaline powered me to carry a suitcase, a knapsack and a duffle bag all at one go while I make a dash to the bus station.

We missed our coach. Siok Ai had some difficulty in managing her case up the stairs (damn the antiquated system!) and unfortunately, by the time we reached Victoria Tube, we were stuck in the rush hour crush. There seemed to be some kind of bomb alert, where those who wanted to get in were barred from entering and those leaving (like us), fortunately could leave the platforms.

Still it was a stiff run to Victoria Coach Station. By the time we got there, the coach had left just 5 min ago. Siok Ai went off to get a replacement ticket while I picked up all the luggage and headed for a seat and trying to catch my breath from all the physical exertions. My running at home didn't seem to do much for me!

A long 7 hour ride ensued. Travel-weary, we got to Penzance a little after 7 pm. It was a long walk up the promenade to Kathy's B & B. It was a cosy 6 room affair, with chintzy bedspreads and rather retro decor. And a radiator, and an electric blanket!

Following Kathy's recommendations, we were off to the Turk's Head for dinner. It was not bad and there were a convivial bunch of old men teasing the resident waitress. Pub culture at its best.

Walked past stores filled with wonderful clothes, bags and shoes we can't buy. In small towns like these, they close as early as 5.30 pm.

A River Runs Through It

You don't have to be smart to enter Cambridge. Just bring along your wallet.

Cambridge students are real lucky. The River Cam runs right through all the college grounds. When you go punting and sail down the river and under the bridges, it's really lovely. Punting is a popular part-time job for many students - you get to work out and earn some pocket money.

I don't mind such a picturesque part-time job. :)

I like the crunch of gravel under my feet. You could retrace the steps that C.S. Lewis took as he walked to his rooms at Magdalene College, or stand in the middle of the large courtyard at Christ College, where in Chariots of Fire, the Jew challenged the Christian to race around it as the clock strikes 12. Or walk over to King's College - the largest, richest college, which also boasts of a opulent chapel that was built by King Henry VIII.

Canterbury, while boasting of UNESCO sites such as Canterbury Cathedral and the remains of the wall, seemed to pale in comparison. You have to use a lot of imagination to visualise how a pile of rocks used to be a magnificent castle. But there are still some nice relics left - a tumbled down castle and the fort walls.

Over at the Corner Cafe in a quiet side street, I stumbled onto the nicest bangers and mash that I've ever eaten. It's really good - the mash was creamy and the sausages, nicely spiced. Run by a father and son team, the eatery sees many locals popping in for a quick bite.

Serendipity

Sometimes the best discoveries and memories are made in serendipity.

From snagging good books at a great price at obscure little bookshops, to a top which finally fits me in size and budget, to a wonderfully delicious Italian eatery at Old Crompton Street - these are the stuff that traveling dreams are made of.

Good weather is never to be wasted - I always head to a park to get some sunshine and never tire of looking at the blooming flowers and cherry trees hanging overhead as I strolled along the lakes. Lots of people execute blading stunts at Hyde Park. And at Speakers' Corner, it's a supermarket of religions - take your pick from Christian Atheism (sounds oxymoronic to me), to Islam to some strange sect that sprouted from Jamaica.

Off to see the British Museum and was delighted to spot the mummified cats that I viewed at ACM back home almost 6 years ago. The mummy case depicted the cat with a very surprised look on its face. It would be surprised (make it a nasty one) - while cats are deified in the Egyptian pantheon of gods, to guard the dearly departed in their journey in the Underworld, the relatives would break the cat's neck and mummify it, serving as a sort of god to lead the departed ones onwards.

Tate Modern was good. I stumbled upon a small art gallery tucked away under the shadows of the hulking bulk that was Tate. Southbank Gallery sells original art by relatively unknown artists and is proud of its eclectic styles. The gallery owner amusingly said that I did "the right thing", by visiting Southbank first before Tate - Tate closes really late on Fridays.

Works at Tate Modern take on a distinct bizarre style. It's either the work of people who are "very talented or very disturbed", quoting my Lonely Planet guidebook. In the Turbine Hall, there's this aural exhibition with disembodied voices shouting different words, mixing and bouncing off the high walls. Eerie, to say the least.

Still didn't manage to fix a pub din with Ben and Meng - it's either because of their hectic work schedules or me coming back real late... I must get around to it.

Back in London

There was laksa and kwei ling ko for lunch at Ben and Meng's house.

Meng is turning into a veritable chef. Thanks to her, I could get asian food (home cooked) and she cooks well. Ben is so lucky, I tell him.

Off to All Souls' at Langham Place. Finally a church full of ang mos that is fervent and packed to the brim! John Stott is apparently an elder of the church (or maybe he founded it). At least it's good to hear sensible Biblical preaching, with a very good worship team and a strong outreach emphasis.

Each time the preacher (who happened to be a QC) made a point, there would be a distant rumble sounding like thunder going off. I'd like to imagine that he has a powerful pulpit ministry underscored by God's approval, but a more logical explanation would be that the church was built right over the Tube and the rumbling came from the underground trains, rather than from the Almighty Himself! :)

Exploring Paris - Parlez Vouz Anglais?

No visitor to Paris must miss a trip to the bakeries.

After work, you could find the French buying metre-long baguettes and tucking them under their arms as they head home. Being a bit of a foodie, I sampled everything from baguettes, cheeses, a Diplomat (actually a fancy name for a raisin cherry cake soaked in rum - YUM!) to a Vendome (chocolate fudge cake over layers of biscuit).

Just my luck to be having my long-awaited omelette at a French restaurant opposite my hotel. The waiter could speak no English, and me, no French. Pointing at the menu and asking for a omelette mixed (with fromage and jamon), what came was a fluffy 3 egg omelette that was quite good. Thanks to Karolyn and her recommnendations, the food was good and the waiter, a bit over attentive and friendly. Hai.

Went back to shower and pack and looked through my postcards that I bought. Bought a few jars of mustard (one with cognac) and hoped Ben and Meng do eat such stuff.

Exploring Paris - Supermarkets

To understand a country and its past, its culture, its beliefs and its likes and dislikes, you do not have to go too far for lessons.

All you need to do is to visit their supermarkets.

The Monoprix supermarket is bursting with produce from former French colonies. Bananas from Cote d'Ivorie, mangos, not from Philippines but Gaudaloupe, sauces from Vietnam, cheeses, strawberries and preserves from the French provinces. Cheese and deli counters are the best places to browse and imagine what wonderful meals you could plan if only you have a kitchen!

At the newspaper corner, the headlines screamed that the French government should make an exception about not broadcasting so much news about the Pope. Afterall, he was a great man and many French are Catholics. However, maintaining its republic ideals and the strict separation of church and state, state-run TV stations were told not to devote too much coverage to the Pope.

Popular sentiment was otherwise. Many magazines did huge photo splashes of the Pope and his life. Although there was comparatively no huge outpouring of grief, the French do respect the man deeply.

Galeries Lafayette is enormous. Sky-high prices for the latest fashions, and a food hall to sample exotic produce are what makes this departmental store so chic and trendy.

Dinner was at the non-descript but absolutely bursting-at-the-seams Vietnamese restaurant opposite my hotel. The Vietnamese waiter obviously did not like non-French speaking customers and solo female diners. Being both, I was ignored for at least a good 15 minutes despite my request for a table for one. One Vietnamese guy (obviously a regular) was shown his table immediately with smiles, even though I was there first.

Getting a bit huffy and hungry, I racked my brains to think of alternative dining options. My trusty Monoprix is closed for the day and I don't want to eat another kebab. I wanted something Asian, hot and soupy!

Such as the bowls of piping hot pho being brought out from the kitchen. Bowls and bowls of it, but none for me. :(

Louise was an answer to my prayers.

Louise is a solo female French diner who had just knocked off from the University nearby. Being alone, I decided to take my chances and put up my best French accent, "Parlez vous anglais?"

The good thing is, she could speak English, and exceptionally well as she's a teacher and school administrator. Agreeing to share a table, she put forth her demand to the waiter to be shown to our seats immediately.

We were shown to our seats and I ordered the noodles. Over dinner, she mentioned that she had taught at the old Alliance Francais in Singapore and what a happy coincidence, the AF was in a school near my home and it became a convenient conversational topic for both of us. Talk centred on food (both French and Singapore), our noodles (evidently, this restaurant is very popular with Parisian ang mos) and her work. She had to apologise in advance about her chopstick wielding skills. "Pleeeese ignore how I am going to eat", she said.

The truth is, she's right. I have never seen anyone twirl noodles on a single chopstick like spaghetti on the tines of a fork. At the end of the meal, she was splattered with soup, while I was trying my best not to cast surreptitious glances at this breach of dining etiquette.

The beef noodles was really good. On par with the one that I've eaten at Melbourne's Bridge Street in Richmond.

Exploring Paris - Rive Gauche & Rive Droite

My hotel was apparently located in the 13 e on the Rive Gauche (Left Bank). It's time to explore both the Rive Gauche and Rive Droite (Right Bank) and their famed sights.

Saint Chapelle
A marvellous Catholic church with stained glass windows boasting scenes from both the Old and New Testament and books from the Maccabees. Although they were too high up for me to figure out what Biblical stories were recounted, I did enjoy watching the sunlight filter through the panels.

Conciergerie
The jail of Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, wife of Louis, before she was beheaded after the French Revolution. Bleak to say the least.

Notre Dame
A mass was being said for Pope John Paul the 2nd, who passed away last Saturday. While there was no massive outpouring of grief in France (unlike Rome and Vatican City), there were candles lighted and prayers said for him.

Climbing the narrow, spiral, winding staircase up to the bell tower is not for the faint-hearted. It's heart and lung busting and all those climbs that I did at Bukit Timah, swimming and running did not prepare me for a steep unending ascent such as this. Crowded and with a very fat lady right in front of me, I was half-afraid that she'd suddenly collapse and fall backwards.

The view was truly worth it. You can see the whole of Paris 360 degrees from the vantage point. Odd as it seems, the church is designed in a gothic style that challenged my concept of what a church should look like. Saints and gargolyes are juxtaposed together, perhaps a symbol of the struggle between good and evil that mankind has to face. A famous gargoyle resident at the roof of Notre Dame had a pensive look on his face as he looks at the cityscape wistfully, chin propped on hands. Another one looked more macabre as he chewed a chicken (or a bird), head first.

In the far distance, you could see the Eiffel, the Tour Montparnasse, Sacre Coeur (a church on a hill) and the river Seine meandering its way through the heart of Paris.

Made my way down to the ground floor without incident, albeit with wobbly knees.

Musee d'Orsay
Converted from an old train station you could look through a glass clock tower onto the whole of Paris again. Lots of works by Degas, Monet (pre and post Impressionism), Van Gogh and Rodin.

La Samaritaine
Once upon a time, there was this guy who was dead broke. He started off peddling goods like linen and hankies, but somehow his business folded. Undaunted, he tried again despite losing his fortune, this time, shifting his business to underneath a red umbrella next to the Seine. It thrived, thanks to his reputation of providing quality goods at unbeatable prices. Soon, he earned enough to set up a shop near the river and named it La Samaritaine, in honor of a fountain that stood near the spot where he made his money.

La Samaritaine is now one of the top departmental stores in France and one of the best vantage points to see Paris and its city scape for free and without a stiff climb.

River Seine
What could I say about this river, where shops and roadside book stalls proliferate? Where you could walk on gravel paths to the Eiffel?

I wished I am not a budget traveller. I would have bought an original Baba the Elephant print for S$80 along the river banks. I love Baba! :)

Exploring Paris - La Joconde

Paris! Can it be in Paris that I've woken up to a cloudy morning?

Breakfasted on my baguette and had a cup of tea. Off to the Lourve to see Mona Lisa (or La Jaconde). Poor Mona was displayed behind a bullet proof glass and the crowds gathering to see her had to be ushered through a gallery, pass other art treasures (such as the paintings of the Marriage at Cana and the Wedding of Catherine of Medici) into a new gallery sponsored by *drum roll* - the Japanese paint manufacturer, Nippon Paint.

In fact, Mona was placed right against a freshly painted, non glossy wall (in all likelihood and probability, using Nippon Paint).

The sad thing is, with all the crowds clamouring to see the lady with the half-smile, there were at least 6 security guards trying to rein in over-enthusiastic admirers. Shouts of "Step behind the line please!" (this said in both French and English), "One photo only!" (this by a very exasperated armed guard who had countless elbows jabbing him and camera flashes popping off) were continuously repeated.

It's a bit sad really. You are supposed to sit on a bench to admire Da Vinci's strokes and rendering of the portrait. How could anyone do this, with a surging crowd, flashes popping and general noisness is beyond me.

True to its reputation of being the world's largest museum, after 5 hours of non-stop walking (and cramping feet), I only managed to cover about half of it. I did like Napoleon's rooms for its stupendous splendour and opulence, art works by the Masters and statutes such as Venus of Milo.

Off to meet Cecilia at the foot of the Eiffle. Took a few shots with her and Martha, and went to the Trocadero Gardens and Arc de Triomphe. Popped into Sephora where you could try every imaginable perfume without guilt and smell like a floral bouquet afterwards. Make-up lines there are mid-priced and for those who love to make up, it's paradise to try out the pots of rouge, eyeshadow and make up.

It's a tiring day and unfortunately, apart from a horrid episode of being harrassed by an umbrella-wielding man who tried to get to know me better, all's well that ends well. Thank God indeed, a trick I used in the past is handy once again in dealing with such creeps.

I wanted so badly to eat an omelette. At the stall manned by someone who looked Middle Eastern, although the list states that they offer omelettes, none were available. "Except kebabs," the man offered helpfully. The strange thing is, the shop seemed to be patronised exclusively by men, specifically men who looked rather rough and ready, although they seemed to be regulars at this joint.

It was past 9.30 pm when I got back to my hotel with my dinner. The hotel policy was to lock the main doors after 9 pm, but each of us have a key to it. My key seemed to fail at this critical moment (my nice hot kebab dinner was getting wet as it began to drizzle) and the door refused to budge. Banging on the doors did not seem to rouse anyone to come and open it. I was contemplating calling the front desk and yelling, when finally the door yielded. Karolyn's assistant (a very blur beefy Frenchman) came out of the back room office to see what's the ruckus all about. There apparently is a trick to working the key and in my increasing desparation, I must have done it right.

Exploring Paris - La Chine Femme

Bounded out of the house as early as 5.30 am to catch the Tube to Waterloo station.

I liked the Eurostar - clean, comfortable and has touch-sensitive panel buttons that open doors with a swoosh, a la Star Trek.

Gare du Nord is a busy busy station. Arriving there, I bought a Carte Orange ticket that was good for Zones 1 & 2 (which was much cheaper than a Paris Visite card). Managed to get to my hotel, the unpretentious and unrated Hotel Tolbiac, which was located at the edge of Chinatown.

Actually it's a bit of a misnomer to call it Chinatown. The area was full of Vietnamese and Laotians and as I discovered later, the hotel was popular with lecturers and students who stay for a few days for lessons at the nearby Cite Universitaire.

The Hotel looked a little dreadful at first. As I was recce-ing the surroundings, in the same corridor, there were a black, a Vietnamese and a few ang mos. Unfortunately, I found out that I was the only female on the floor. At the cheapest rate of 23 euros/night, I have no ensuite facilities. I have to use the toilet (thankfully right outside my room), and sprint upstairs for my bath (again, thankfully, with plenty of hot water).

Everything looked a little tired and I was given a room near the top floor (3 floors of stair climbing up a rickety staircase). But, the only compensation was that the French owner, Karolyn, spoke excellent English and could point out a few sights that I should consider visiting.

***
I found paradise in a park.

I love the Jardin du Luxembourg. Lovely statutes were scattered all over the gardens, and there was a beautiful fountain (known as the Medici Fountain) featuring a giant looking down at a pair of lovers. Many people love to sit at the fountain and sketch, read their papers or just shooting the breeze.

I unpacked my baguette and Edam cheese which I've bought at the Tolbiac Monoprix supermarket and sat down at a park bench to enjoy the sunshine. The French believed that grass is for looking upon and not for sitting - you'll never find the French sprawling on the grass as the English did in Hyde Park.

I liked visiting parks - you can always see dogs and cute kids playing about. Young couples love to stop half way during their walks to kiss and hug - the French are obviously less inhibited than their British counterparts!

Even the elderly are dressed very stylishly in Paris. One old lady who could barely walk, tottered across the gardens in a pair of white heels, dressed to the nines in a chic black coat and gold chains. I positively looked underdressed, with my green parka.

One thing about travelling alone, I realised, is that it brought unwanted attention. Especially from men. It might have to do with the exoticism that Europeans like about Asian women. At Luxembourgh I had a few men asking where I'm from and if I want to be friends with them. Arrggh! One person waxed lyrical in French about "La Chine femme" (the rest I'm not sure what is he talking about). I had a vague idea he is referring to me. Hopped into a bookshop for a French-English dictionary later during my trip to find out that it means "the China woman", aka me, since most ang mos cannot differentiate between Chinese, Vietnamese and other Asian people.

Quite a dream come true to visit the Luxumbourg after gazing at the photos shot by Life magazine. :)

Exploring London - Part 3

Did the tourist round of visiting famous landmarks, but with Kingsley's help, it was an insider's view of London.

Greenwich is quite interesting really, with a nice park, Cutty Sark and the Observatory for measuring time zones. Did my rounds at Big Ben, House of Parliament, Embankment, Covent Garden (the market is a disappointment), Soho, Westminster Abbey and paid my respects at Buckingham Palace.

I'm amazed at how involved Kingsley is with the Chinese church. It's a fledgling church near his home and due to the smallness of the congregation, many of them have to double up as church advisors, elders etcetra. At the opening ceremony of his previous church, it was really sad to hear about how churches have to close down due to lack of support from a dwindling congregation. But God instead made something good out of it - the English church which perviously owned the building decided to sell the building below valuation to the growing Chinese church. It boasts of an excellent location (right opposite Chinatown) and many Chinese speakers could now worship God right in the heart of town.

Passed by a church whom I will not name here and am shocked to discover that a market place has been set up to earn income for the parish. Worse, the market place is selling religious trinkets and other items that certainly have no place in a Christian house of worship.

So dead tired after a weekend of walks, poor Kingsley fared worse as he had a hectic work schedule.

Exploring London - Part 2

I count these places as my favorites in London:

The Victoria & Albert Museum
Large, beautiful and with an overwhelming collection of decorative arts from all over the world, it's paradise for anyone who's into the finer things of life.

Oxford & Bond Street's H & M, Dorothy Perkins and Debenhams
The latter only if there's a sale. Otherwise, Swedish-owned H & M (with its Zara-inspired product lines) and Dorothy Perkins are my favorite for street fashion. Oasis is not bad too, though pricey.

It was absolutely pointless to visit John Lewis, House of Fraser, Liberty and Dickins & Jones. All the products are very expensive, although I must admit that I liked the piglet footstool made of leather. Finally, an uncomplaining pig to trample underfoot!!! *Squeal*

Wong Kei in London
Infamously rude waiters who will treat you better if you could smile and ask for an order of "cha kai fan" in perfectly pronounced Cantonese. It's obviously an institution in itself - they have Wong Kei t-shirts for sale which says "upstairs, downstairs" - a sly reference to what their waiters always say to ang mos who wanted a table.

Food is ok, although the price is unbeatable.

Furama in Chinatown
A young upstart to challenge Wong Kei. Brightly-lit and resembling a quiet Crystal Jade, its lunch specials are written entirely in Chinese. If you don't know how to read them, you'll be missing out on a good deal.

Harrods at Knightsbridge
Famed for its food halls. Absolutely a trip into decadence. It stocks Agent Provocateur lingerie, which is saucy and provocative.

Selfridges
Another upmarket departmental store, but with innovative displays in its windows. It ran a Las Vegas Supernova promotion where all things glitzy and grand from LV are stocked in store. As a promotional gimmick, it even invited the owner of the Little White Church in Vegas to come and bless marriages. This is the church which Britney Spears got married and annulled her marriage within a day or two.

Charing Cross Street
A stone's throw from London's red-light district Soho, it stocks the finest books that one could buy, both new, out of print and antiquarian. I never tire of dipping into one of the book shops to browse through a book. However, I'm unable to locate number 84, which was the basis of a book by Helene Hanff. Or was it 104??

Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty's Theatre
I've never watched the stage version, but it was truly good. The set designs were very innovative and I liked the way the sets changed seamlessly into one another. Plenty of action and romance and I only wished they really smashed the chandelier into smithereens, instead of swinging it over the heads of audience! I'll see it again if I do get to visit London another time. It's really that good. Excellent production values and fairly strong cast.