Delft with a Vengeance!

First of firsts, I'm glad to be back home. After hemming and hawing about the pros and cons between staying another day (Saturday) and going back straight to Delft on Friday, we chose the latter.

Plainly speaking, we are sick of the place - hotel food, hotel room, hotel surroundings - and don't let me start (again) about the humdrum existence that living in Groningen denotes to me.

We arrived home around 8:15 pm, after a 3-hour train ride (excluding 30-minute waiting time for Delft-bound train in Den Haag Centraal train station). We were pooped, mentally and physically.

Upon entrance into our apartment, Sadia went directly to her toys, sitting proper and idle for two weeks at her corner of the living room. She even took to ride on her tricycle, with her mom maneuvering of course! Needless to say, sleep seemed to elude her as she got reacquainted with most of her stuff and in general the familiar environs. She was more vocal than usual and actively engaged with her playthings, ranging from the press-and-go merry-go-round, Po the Red Teletubby, Nelly the Giraffe, press-and-go Musical Box to the comfy and plush Dutch clogs (thanks to 'Uncle' Robert from Canada).

While hubby went out to get dinner, I, on the other hand, simultaneously switched on the wireless internet connection and the MacBook. To say the least, it's sheer bliss! Like Sadia, I even fought against any signs of drowsiness and surfed the Net until the midnight hour. By then, my tired body beckoned me to assume a restful, supine position by joining my two honeys who had already dozed off.

Saturday was a day of relaxation and dropping by our favourite haunts to buy groceries and toiletries, and eat ice-cream cones on one of the wooden benches by the canal at Moslaan, the so-called heart of the town. It was also Market day, where row upon row of stalls filled up the streets enticing the public with food (for instance, kibbeling, stroopwafel, patat and bakery goods), fresh produce, fruits and colourful flowers.

However, to commemorate the Queen's Day today and the start of Spring's tourist season, there were also additional stalls propped up at Delft Square and along the canal at Koornmarkt, focusing chiefly on antiques, baubles, trinkets and other Delftian souvenirs. A multitude of tourists - Dutch and foreign - seemed to invade every possible space in Delft yesterday. We even had to wait for our turn on an empty bench at Moslaan!

The pandemonium all over town was in stark contrast with the tranquil, natural setting in Groningen. It's great to be home! (Have I said this already?) Familiarity does NOT breed contempt after all. If it does, why do people stay married for so long? :)

Digression aside, having eaten rice only once while we were in Groningen - courtesy of Yam Yam To Go to which we had to fall back on for 'ricescapade' - we already had a few menus in mind for when we returned to Delft! :) Oh before I delved further into that, the first night home we relished our usual Turkish Pizzas, packed with slices of chicken meat and on Saturday's afternoon, Turkish Pizzas again but only with cheese. We miss you, Turkish Pizza!

Back to our dinner menu, nasi lemak with ikan kembung (or mackerel) stuffed with hot sambal was served on Saturday night and last night, nasi ayam with specially marinaded fried chickenwings bought on Sunday afternoon in Den Haag. It'll be rice dishes until Kingdom come.....or at least, until we reach a surfeit!

Speaking of Den Haag, we were there even before the shops opened at noon. We took our time getting ready, and instead of taking the tram service to Centrum (shopping arcade area) right after the train, we ambled from the Centraal Station. It was a beautiful day to go on foot. Despite the lethargy from an exhausting two-week 'break', a sorely missed watering hole must be visited, we reckoned. The streets enroute to Centrum were dotted with food kiosks, strategically-placed big speakers and searchlights and a temporary performance stage for the festivities to be had for Queen's Day today.

Our regular lunch date in V&D's La Place was followed by scouring the Centrum for Sadia's summery pyjamas (her current enclosed sleepsuits will deter from a peaceful slumber in our non air-conditioned apartment), some halal meat (from chickenbreasts to hotdogs) and, a digits-friendly keyboard for my hubby's laptop (his featherweight laptop comes with equally tiny keyboard pads). The new one will facilitate the flow of ideas whilst writing his thesis, which I might add, is slowly nearing its deadline.

Of course, we stopped as wont for coffee. This time, we decided to give Lebkov & Sons a try. It is situated on Turfmarkt, on the way to Centraal Station. It was a month ago that we stumbled upon it when our tram diverted to the aforesaid Station from its normal stop at Centrum due to some road closure. Now the second time around, we simply had to taste what its sign said "The Best Coffee in Town'". Regrettably, the iced espresso topped with vanilla syrup and milk negated the purported excellent coffee claim. Perhaps, we should stick with their acclaimed hot beverages. More so since the ones we bought was the ONLY cold selection on the menu. The alfresco long tables and benches were the sole redeeeming feature in our thirst-slaking experience. Alas, Coffee United is exclusively available in the northern parts of the country.

We came back home thereafter only to hop out again in an hour's time to eat ice-cream cones and buy some bread and vegetables for breakfast and dinner respectively. With most shops closed, Delft's Sunday scene is relatively quieter than Saturday to enjoy our stroll on cobblestone paths. Obviously, savouring the common sights and sounds this past weekend has been our main agenda.

Happily back to our daily routines. How fantastic it is to be home sweet home!

Rash Decision

Tuesday celebrated the 14th month anniversary of Sadia’s birthday. The same morning of this mini-celebration was marred by Sadia’s contracting a bout of heat rash. She was acting up, a sporadic spell of crying from the time she woke up until lunchtime. After hubby left for his classes in the afternoon, the wailing worsened, uncontrollable as well as inconsolable. I felt helpless.

Going by hubby’s suggestion, I brought her outdoors. That calculated move quickly saw a turnabout in her temperament. She enjoyed the walk in the sun as we coasted by the side of the lake, looking at dogs of all sizes, butterflies and birds (all three are her current favourites; oh yeah, she loves cats too but they’re rarely outdoors in the Netherlands). Despite the gloomy, cloudy atmosphere, it was a pleasantly mild day. No jackets were needed for this kind of weather. Which was good since the heat rash needs some airing out. Following an Internet search and talk with hubby’s programme coordinator, we deduced the rash arose from the high fever she just recovered from. Also, the erratic changes in temperatures compounded Sadia’s propensity to develop a heat-related rash (something that we have observed back in Malaysia).

The following day, however, the rash exacerbated to her legs and thighs that prompted us to see a doctor. In the Netherlands, you are required to make an appointment to do so and the prescription given by the doctor must be filled at any pharmacy (‘apotheek’) that carries the medicine. Unless of course, you have an emergency case on the order of a high fever, an epileptic shock or severed limbs. I think by then a hospital is the best bet to treat your medical crisis!

With the gracious help from the Masters Programme coordinator, we finally got slotted to one ‘house practice’ at 3:30pm – walking distance from the hotel – and the nice bespectacled doctor tried as he might to check Sadia up who was bawling from this stranger’s imposition on her person. After making payment, we boarded a bus at a nearby stop to find an apotheek in Groningen’s City Centre (‘Centrum’). A short respite traversing the Grote Market area and buying medicine is our idea of killing two birds with one stone. Warm temperatures saw the Square teeming with college students from the prominent University of Groningen. From the looks of things, Groningen is but a college town.

The long, non-air-conditioned bus trip to and fro Centrum stifled any semblance of enthusiasm and summoned a restless (and not to mention, noisy) energy in Sadia. Road works and traffic jam (yes, there is such a thing here) were the culprit for the prolonged journey. Needless to say, it is one bus ride too many!

Also, in our search for the apotheek counting on the directions given by staff in three Centrum shops, we got lost (again!). As it turned out, the store signage was hidden from view due to a chain of metal scaffolding that enveloped its façade like a thick wall of climbing ivies. With that errand out of the way, we rewarded ourselves with two ‘to-go’ ice coffees from Coffee United. A Hazelnut-flavoured cappuccino and a Mocha Java for hubby and I respectively with the former tasting like mouth-watering ‘Ferrero Rocher’ chocolate!

Notwithstanding the incidental escapade sprang from the regrettable rash episode, Sadia’s 14th month marks a few milestones – quirky or otherwise – in her progress, among which are:

(1) She defiantly wants to spoonfeed her own food. Even with fruits, she rather eats them unaided with her hands. Recently, she prefers to chomp on her grapes as whole pieces, instead of letting us cut them down to bitesizes.
(2) She hums to Pendekar Bujang Lapok’s theme song. At least, the first verse which goes “Pok, pok, pok, Bujang Lapok.” And she usually expects one of us to continue with the rest of the song. This song transpired and became popular during one of our long strolls in Delft to appease and divert Sadia’s attention.
(3) When we came to Groningen a week ago, Sadia was acquainted with wild flowers burgeoning by the roadside, the canal, the lakeside and so forth (It’s untainted Nature at its best! (Read: Rural)). On the Sunday before hubby’s classes started, we plucked a daisy and gave it to her to hold. She was both intrigued and mesmerized by the lovely flower. Ever since that day, Sadia now insists on hanging on to one daisy or two in her wee hands whenever the two of us step out for an afternoon rendezvous.
(4) She says Wow! to anything that catches her fancy. In other words, something that Sadia, in her growing inventory of sensory experiences, perceives as out of the ordinary. For instance, a hot air balloon in the distant sky, a group of university students rowing on the canal, and a beautiful formation of a flock of pigeons in mid-air. This habit was borne out of her dad’s fervid inclination to utter the same.
(5) She loves whole milk wholeheartedly. We decided to introduce her to cow’s milk when she turned one – as endorsed by several toddler guidebooks, the Dutch nurse we met at Sadia’s inoculation appointment and the all-inclusive Internet. Since she is not lactose intolerant, the time has never been more opportune.

Last night, Sadia slept soundly after a cooling bath to unclog her ‘inflamed’ pores, and a dose of antibiotics. This morning, most of the rash had disappeared, save for a few faded spots on her face and legs. Till we ‘meet’ again in Delft, have a great rest of the week!

The Big Picture

From our room high up on the 7th floor, the magnificent lake glistens like countless specks of shiny diamonds. The pearlescent sheen resulting from the interplay of light and water is breathtaking, as it is surreal. Several small boats set sail at full mast, unabashedly cutting through the pristine, glossy water. On land, people are cycling, mobile-scootering, kite-flying, roller-blading or simply sauntering along the vast natural lake. In the din, peals of children laughing and hollowed sound of dogs barking can be heard.

It’s another beautiful Sunday here in Groningen, sans the scorching, windless front we encountered the previous week. Amid the cool, inviting breeze, we ambled by the lakeside in the afternoon to a snack parlor for some ice-cream sundae and crunchy fries. Now I’m back in the room with Sadia napping on the huge double-bed of our suite that we have called home for one week now.

In the middle of last week –Thursday – Sadia caught a bit of a fever. For two whole nights, her body’s high temperatures hindered her (and us) from a goodnight sleep. The rapid change in the weather must have contributed to the bug.

Our unreserved thanks go to hubby’s programme coordinator from whom we received a bottle of paracetamol syrup. It helped to somewhat alleviate Sadia’s ailment. Alhamdulillah, what a huge relief! Although her appetite has yet to return, she is gradually recovering from the high fever.

Before Sadia fell sick, I’ve actually contemplated going back to Delft first with her. The lack of connection to the outside word (read: internet) and the dearth of watering holes to test out (read: walking distance) were sufficient reasons to rile against this travesty of geographical proportion. With parcels upon parcels of polder, I am led to believe that the Netherlands – as horizontal as the eyes could see – is a densely-populated country. How gravely wrong I was! With Germany neighboring to its immediate right, the flatlands steadily give way to hilly characteristics that escape most parts of the Netherlands. The successful irrigation system that defines the thriving polders in the south and east, fails to make a lasting mark here. That, or the discovery of underground gas explains for the fallow, less inhabitable nature of the northern territory.

Whatever it is, I almost gave up on staying here when I realised how ridiculous (and spoilt, I might add) I sound. My husband who empathized with my predicament – the paucity in stimulating outlets within and without – urged me to go back to the comforts of our home in Delft where all our bare necessities are easily accessible. In the end, Sadia’s physical health was the turning point in my narrowed perspective.

Of course I’d miss the luxury of surfing the Net but it’s become an addiction that I have to wrest control over. The sudden withdrawal – almost cold turkey –from the cyber frontier sent a reverberating shock to my system. Coupled with the far-flung distance to any familiar stores, it was more than I could bear. Also, some depressing news from the home front made the transition even worse.

When we are habitually exposed to a certain type of living arrangement and its usual trappings, we might get swept away by the complacency that particular life affords us. As far as our happiness is concerned, we mustn’t lose sight of the Big Picture when some material things are either in short supply or snuffed out of our hands. Save for the ‘fixed units’ of Loved Ones and Health, the list constituting the Big Picture differs from one individual to the next. So while one might specify Internet as a necessity, another can counter it as immaterial. A simpleton can live without a television whereas a distinguished epicurean will turn his nose away from a dinner table if caviar is not on the menu. In any case, the permutation of variables involved in completing a person’s Big Picture is endless!

My version of the Big Picture? Being with my beloved family who, apart from me, are in the pink of health, and with God's grace, contentedly living inside a humble abode we proudly call home. Michael Bublé’s evocative, touching rendition ‘Home’ comes to mind.



As nature’s brushstrokes paint crimson and orange hues on the lake’s horizon, my mind is already abuzz with planned activities on the morrow. Five more days to fill before we jump aboard a train bound for home! Luckily yesterday we found a semblance of haven – the familiar grocer, Albertheijn sharing a two-storey suburban mini-complex with the aforementioned snack parlor, a reasonably priced Italian restaurant, a café cum pub, a florist and a hair salon! And it’s closer than the canal hike to the other shopping square. Also, a trip to the city center might be in the works. We’ll see how Sadia is faring in the next few days. Nothing beats exploring a new place than with your loved ones!

Brother of Mine

My siblings and I, and our offspring during Raya 2006

My only brother and youngest sibling celebrated his 26th birthday last week, on Saturday. I had wanted to write a piece about him then, but due to time constraints and other pressing issues, it had been put on the backburner.

Now that I’ve found some footing on my new (but thankfully temporary) environment, the time is ripe to bring my brother into the limelight.

Born on April 14th in 1981, Shol is the apple of my parents’ eye, particularly my mom who incessantly dotes on him. At the time of his birth, my mother suffered a labor complication owing to a placenta previa condition. According to her account, Shol came out of the womb looking blue and weak. He was immediately rushed to an incubator for life support and further observation. The doctor painted my parents a grim picture. It’s 50-50. Fervently wishing for a son, my father was devastated at the prognosis. So much so that he went to perform prayers and other supplications at five (maybe more) different mosques the following day to seek Allah’s succor and intervention.

Back at the ward room, my mom recounted the times she expressed her milk to be given to my baby brother in the incubator, the quantity of which was too much that the nurses resorted to giving the remainder to other babies in the same predicament.

After a few grueling days in the hospital, the pediatrician issued the green slip to leave. However, my brother must come again for routine check-ups of his physical progress and motor skills. I remember accompanying my mom to these ‘physical therapy’ sessions where a specialist worked my mom through a set of limb exercises with my brother. From behind the door, I could at times hear him cry or squeal.

The precarious nature in which my brother was born affected his speech during the growing-up years. He has the tendency to stutter. My mother was initially concerned that he might be ridiculed at school due to this speech impediment. Surprisingly, he developed a healthy self-esteem and engaged in many extra-curricular activities, chief of which was the marching band.

Yes, unlike me, Shol is musically inclined. Like my father, he can play a song by the ears. In other words, after hearing a favourite song being crooned, his magic, nimble fingers easily find their way on the white ivories and hit the right notes every single time.

After finishing high school and entering the university, Shol’s stuttering had somewhat lessened and it’s only noticeable when he’s nervous, angry or worked up over something. You could call it one of life’s ironies but to me it’s simply a miracle of God that he could recite Al-Quran flawlessly and mellifluously without even a hint of stammering. My brother also frequents the mosques/suraus and even makes a point to commit some long Surahs to memory.

Though I never exactly utter the words, I am proud of his multi-faceted talents. As siblings, we rarely do communicate our feelings about one another in this ‘mushy’ manner. People might say it’s a given that you take pride in your siblings’ line of achievements but I believe emoting those praises would do the receiver a lot of good.

Never had emotions and pride collided in its most treacherous currents than in May 2005. My brother was diagnosed with acute kidney failure that consequently rendered dialysis as his only viable solution (there’s an option for a transplant but that’s another long story). Denial seeped through his system at first but eventually he came around to accept the harsh reality. The fateful incident during which he was bedridden and linked to an oxygen mask is still fresh in my mind. Every time I recall the painful episode, I'm overcome with emotions. He was 24 at the time. So young, so full of life, so wide-eyed.

As mere mortals, it’d be easier to ask “Why him?,” instead of reaching out for that silver lining, no matter how elusive and faint it may be at present. I already touched upon this particular point here. When we firmly believe everything happens for a reason as decreed by God, come what may, we will remain faithful and persevere. On that note (no pun intended), I’m confident my baby brother – the virtuoso performer – will be fine as he is constantly surrounded by a wide circle of family, friends and acquaintances that love and treasure him.

Groningen, Ghoningen, Honingen

Most of Dutch words are guttural in pronunciation. Such as the above - the place where I have been ‘nesting’ since last Saturday.

In the train compartment enroute to Groningen, Sadia listening to her Nek Mah

Halfway through the train ride

That Saturday afternoon, we took the train from Delft and changed in Den Haag (another guttural word) Centraal station for the Groningen-bound service. In total, it was a tedious 3-and-half hour journey, interspersed with an unusually warm weather (read: extra-hot train compartment) and strong manure odor (read: barf-inducing) that assailed our olfactory canals as soon as the train passed a vast farming area (read: incredibly rural part of the country).

Where is Groningen, you ask? It is at the northern-east part of the Netherlands and has one of the world’s largest reserve of subterranean gas. It’s the last port of call – the last big city – before crossing the border into Germany. Not surprisingly, the local twang sounds more Deutsch than Dutch to my unaccustomed ears.

This study trip is in conjunction with hubby’s two-week intensive course, which started last Monday and will finish next week on Friday.

In the playpen specially assigned to our room by the hotel

Upon arrival at the magnificent façade that is Groningen Centraal station, we took a taxi to the hotel, situated besides a very big lake. We then retired to our hotel room that is also large, almost suite-like. And that sadly is where my accolades end.

Now start of Rant. The room doesn’t have a proper Internet connection. What I meant by ‘proper’ is that it comes instead with a dial-up mode, using the phone line. That’s still fine with me, no matter how archaic dial-up might sound. I just want an easy and quick access to cyberspace, within the confines of my boudoir. But get this – we must sign up with a Dutch service provider in order to utilize the dial-up. What the heck?

In Delft, we rely on the university’s fast and reliable Ethernet line to get on the World Wide Web. When we first used it, we were amazed by the speed as compared to the one in our Malaysian home.

So when the hotel asked us to hook up with a local service provider (‘LSP’), I was miffed. We are paying customers for the hotel’s amenities and having to fork out an additional cost to sign up with a LSP is simply a rip-off to me! My husband retorted and likened the situation to having to bring your own Jaring network whenever you plan to stay in a hotel!

That’s not half of it…..The hotel, however, has a stand-alone PC in the lobby where I can freely access 24-7. No extra charge. But I can’t just sit there all day long while Sadia roams to her heart’s content in the lobby. Nor can I lug Sadia around as she naps just for me to use the free PC. A room’s connection is the most practical solution, you oaf!

Perhaps the hotel whose reputation hinges on its continual rapport with a corporate demographic – conference center and meeting rooms – causes it to neglect the non-business segment of its clients i.e., spouses accompanying their husbands or wives to courses at this hotel! How about non-business visitors from a foreign country? Wait a minute – the hotel might not have to worry about the latter since Groningen is not exactly what you would call a tourist attraction in the first place!

Or maybe, since the hotel is annexed to corporate offices, both on its right and left wings, the chances of its ‘business’ customers needing (or looking for) an Internet line after office hours are quite slim.

And to add salt to the wound, wireless connection IS available from the ground floor to the second floor. Huh?! This is probably because most of the conference/lecture halls and business offices are located at these three levels (yup, both aforesaid office wings are only two-storey high).

The hotel rep even had the gall to inform that the building’s Wi-Fi is not readily equipped to cover a floorspace up to Level 7 (where we fatefully reside). And to think the hotel used to be Headquarters for a well-known LSP!

End of Rant. Therefore, please excuse my absence from or delay in visiting, reading and commenting on my favourite ‘blaunts’ (that’s blogs-haunts and not to be mistaken for blondes). Alas, this must be the overriding pitfall of a generation relying too heavily on the Internet as a means of amusement. I vaguely remember what I did for fun before the advent of cyberspace. Three options come to mind: (1) hitting the cinemas, (2) hogging the phone till wee hours of the morning or (3) lolling about in favourite café hangouts in the Klang Valley.

Back to the present, I hereby proclaim this hotel as the worst I’ve so far been to in Europe. The Paris hotel, done up in a shabby provincial way, even could afford wireless in ALL the room (and up to 5th floor too!). Also, the a/c in our current room seems a bit whacked out. Or it’s just me feeling all heaty from the summery climate.

Beautiful, bright day to walk by the lake

Bumped into hubby's colleagues, Robert and Marit - Sadia was afraid of Robert

Still need sometime to warm up to Robert

Temperatures dipped to the mid-teens on Tuesday following five consecutive days of hot weather. People opted for the least amount of clothes possible and could be seen sunbathing on either the sprawling grass or the edges of the ample lake.

Yesterday, tiny droplets streaked our corridor windows after a brief interval of drizzle and gusty winds. Save for the walk along the soothing, nature paths around the lake, Sadia and I have yet to venture outside the hotel compounds (We already trekked quite a distance from Sunday to Tuesday). For a welcome breather, my husband joined us on this stroll. Cool breeze, breathtaking vista of the lake and quiet contemplation were just the ingredients I sought after to momentarily cast away my familial worries.

Oh yes, I DO have another gripe to air out. This hotel is quite far from the city centre and the nearest shopping square entails a 15- to 20-minute walk. With a heavy baby strapped to my body (pushchair is NEVER an option for outstation travels), that feels more like a mile of hiking. Daily shopping trip (inexpensive, non-hotel food for instance) is a laborious effort in itself. Sigh, it is NOT Paris where I can just walk out to the busy town square abundantly filled with shops galore and (halal) food choices. I have yet to find the typical ‘doner’ or ‘turkish pizza’ joint we always frequent back in Delft.

All things considered, it’s probably too much to expect that every town (or city) that I visit live up to my ideals of a suitable residence. Since I do not possess a car to shorten the distance between the hotel and Groningen’s (sparse) attractions, I shouldn’t pooh-pooh the city as a whole. Oh well, the weekend awaits us! I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we have some spare time to explore the city centre…..

The Thinking Blogger Award

When a notification arrived in my Inbox with respect to the conferment of the abovementioned award, I felt both stunned and privileged by NJ’s nomination. A popular blogger in her right, NJ’s kind words and encouragement further aid in bolstering my confidence and reinforcing my commitment to the blogosphere.

If my memory (i.e., my tracking of this latest, novel meme) serves me right, I think it was the formidable Ms Sharon a.k.a. Bibliobuli who first started giving out this award on the Malaysia front. As I had intimated in one of my blogging comments, the timing for the award couldn’t be more apropos on the back of ‘all-women-bloggers-are-liars’ controversy. Since a majority of bloggers out there are women, it is most logical that the ‘fairer sex’ makes up all (if not, almost all) of the recipients for this Award.

Even though I had started blogging since November 2005, it was only October last year that I’d found a host of ‘blogging community’. My interest to write online was sparked in part by the knowledge that I’d be spending a year overseas to accompany my husband for his Masters programme. Also, my erstwhile pregnancy yearned for an instanteous outlet to vent out my fears, frustrations and other emotional rollercoaster (blame it on my whacked out progesterone level – an easy cop-out!) that were de rigueur during the nine-month ride.

Oddly enough, Malaysia’s extensive blogging network was accidentally discovered when my husband and I were looking for ayam golek recipe on the Internet. One of google results gave Kak Teh’s blogsite, detailing the ingredients and direction for this poultry dish. Upon reading that and her other heartfelt entries, I was hooked. From there, I found out about Sentraal Station and ferreted a diverse selection of blogworthy reads.

This interactive facet in blogging also coincides with my taking a more active part in participating in the Multiply community – a personalised webspace, not unlike MySpace, with various user-friendly sections (blog, review, recipe, music, video) to share with other Multiply members.

By delving into the fascinating array of blogs (or ‘pseudo-blogs’ in the case of Multiply), I have a daily dose of funny stories, gripping anecdotes, poignant tales of the heart and a slew of other snippets, both topical and informative in nature. In short, a keen insight into the human soul has never been this infinite, this powerful, and this heartrending.

On that note, I would like to bestow this timely award to those who have lent their voices to the downtrodden, whose compelling lives set a number of examples to follow, whose interesting activities I live vicariously through and whose quirky and incisive take on everyday issues makes me laugh and think.

As expected, some fellow bloggers, who have thus far caught my attention and garnered my respect, are already chosen as recipients of the award. Fortunately, I’ve found some other favourites who greatly deserve the Award. I do hope though at the time of this writing, the following five names have yet to be tagged. They are, in no particular order:

(1) Venny
Venny is a Multiply friend whose impressive writings on various subject matters, ranging from politics, book reviews, recipes to travels, captures my attention and compels me to ponder on her point of views. She can be blunt in one issue and tongue-in-cheek in another. She highlights and pontificates over a news piece which in turn leads me to reassess my stance on certain matters. At times, I may not necessarily subscribe to her opinions but I must give credit where credit is due. This spunky lady is not one to mince her words. In short, her ramblings are food for thought! ;-)

(2) Ms. Blabs
I discovered Ms Blabs from my reading of her comments left at various blogsites and was intrigued by her witty and oddball persona (oops, I’m not a stalker!). Her blog entries cover a gamut of interests too, running from her museum commentaries, ‘blasts from the past’, sports (although I’m not much of a sportsperson), politics to felines galore (love them Tigger poses!). Also, her eclectic choice of words is an inspiration for me to write half as well as she does.

(3) Tita
Besides sharing the same namesake (obvious bias :) ), Tita’s inborn artistic talent speaks for itself in the form of a long-running series of comics. Recently obtained a Doctorate from TUDelft, she and her small family moved back to Bandung for her lecturing post last January. To me, the hand-drawn cartoons are reminiscent of Lat’s style and influence. They’re both laughter-inducing and thought-provoking. Her real-life bubbly personality permeates through the other Multiply posts, causing an avid reader to constantly cheer her on!

(4) Aliya
Another blogger whom I stumbled upon while bloghopping, Aliya’s lighthearted and serious blogs carry resonance through the candid ‘talk’ of her concerns and by pinpointing the crux of a specific problem respectively. She walks you through her life as if you’re a close friend and her friendliness shines through each time! Training to become a doctor in Melbourne, Aliya is also a mother to her son, Layth whose birthday falls on the same day as mine! Another reason for my impartiality, aside from her signature, humorous writings, that is. :)

(5) Mak Andeh
A classic all-time favourite with the blogging crowd, the single mother that is Mak Andeh weaves wonderful tales – fictional or otherwise – for a captive audience. Sometime funny, sometime sad, it is ALWAYS a refreshing read one blog after another. Her perseverance and strength in single-handedly raising three children is testament to an iron-willed personality that always looks at the bright side of life. She is a (blog) force to reckon with!

There you go! My five choices for The Thinking Blogger Award. Please hop on to their places and enjoy this bunch of colourful characters. They’re my cup of tea (or more likely, coffee!), not too sweet nor too bitter – just perfect to sit with on my faded yet cozy armchair.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot the rules for the Award, which originated from here:

Should you choose to participate, please make sure you pass this list of rules to the blogs you are tagging. The participation rules are simple:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think;
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme;
3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote.


Please, remember to tag blogs with real merits, i.e. relative content, and above all - blogs that really get you thinking!

The Queen Has Left the Building

Dear ________,
I promise I'll finish up my travelogue (or should I say travelblogue) here. At least the Britain portion of my sojourn. *hint, hint* First off, I had initially planned to complete this travelling anecdote by Friday but I am currently down with round-the-clock flu which stifled my energy level as well as knack for writing. With Sadia in bed and my head a little less fuzzy, I'm now determined to put my thoughts onto paper...err, cyber-paper.

By the by, I had forgotten to mention in my previous correspondence about the dearth of rock pigeons at Trafalgar Square. This is apparently due to the enactment of a bylaw in 2003 by the first mayor of London, Ken Livingstone, which automatically bans the feeding of these pigeons. Bummer! I was really looking forward to taking photos of Sadia - the eager bird-lover - swarmed by them birds. And to think it was the pigeon 'colony' which turned the Square into a tourist attraction in the first place. Such is life!

Also, have I already told you how weird we felt upon arriving back into a country where everyone speaks and everything is written in English? Even watching ALL the tv channels in English was an odd experience. Try living in a foreign-speaking country, then you get what I mean. :)

Oh where was I? Oh yes. We decided to take it easy on our last day in London. We came to terms with the fact that we must forgo seeing the London Eye, the Buckingham Palace and Big Ben. It's just not feasible with Sadia's travel-weary temperament and the short span of time. We just have to come back.....we'll see how our scheduling and budget are after my husband's done with his Masters. Following a long breakfast, we kicked back, watched tv and took an equally long shower. Checking out of the hotel 30-minutes earlier than the normal time of noon, that gave us surprisingly just enough time to ride the tube, queue for train tickets at Waterloo Station (long-line!), go for bathroom breaks and buy a bagel.

Like clockwork, the train to Guildford departed at 12:33pm. After a noisy affair involving Sadia on board, Uncle David picked us up at Guildford's train station. We tried to put Sadia down for a nap but she was exhilarated to be back at her grandaunt's place. The deceivingly bright day induced us to eat lunch outdoors in Aunty Idai's quaint backyard. Over tuna sandwiches, juices galore and breadsticks, we chatted about the antiquing, botanical matters, London trip and 'aldesco' versus 'alfresco'. Hehe. The cold wind however sent shivers down my spine, signalling the end of our lunch.

After a hectic and frenetic schedule in London, the leisurely Good Friday was well-spent indulging in a refreshing two-hour nap. That evening, Aunty Idai proposed for us to saunter along the duck pond and feed the ducks and geese her stale bread. The faunae, unfortunately, were already surfeited from two heapfuls of birdseed left strewn on one side of the pond and other breaded gifts spotted uneaten, both inside the water and on the fringes of the pond. Again, we used this nature's walk as a chance to train Sadia to walk on the grass. Initially, she remained lock in position and yelped to be carried off the grass. When we prodded her on with a 'Oompa-Loompa' sing-stomp-and-walk-along game, she hooked on to the bait.





Heartened by her fast progress, we brought her to a playground, tucked away at the far end of the row of small houses where my aunt and uncle live. Her first time ever, Sadia enjoyed running around the recreational area immensely. She tried the swing, the 'bobbled-animals' and the self-maneuvered carousel! A quiet dinner with rice and the usual delectable complimentary dishes was followed by a supper of take-away traditional fish and chips. Since a trip to the UK wouldn't be complete without savouring this delicacy, our uncle volunteered to bring us to Godalming (not to be confused with Godda**ing), a neighbouring village, 10-minutes drive away. Dashed with the old-school style of salt and vinegar, I gobbled mine in one seating.



We spent the most parts of our last day in town the next morning for a quick shopping spree. The excursion was however marred by Sadia's tantrums which physically and mentally strained her parents. I think all the zipping about town stressed all of us to the point where we didn't snap any photos in the town of Guildford! (Those photos I posted earlier are stock photos off the internet)

On the other hand, two pleasant things did take place - (1) coffee break in Starbucks (ONLY our second time!) eating a chocolate (2) macaroon (YAY!) bought at an exclusive bakery chain called MaisonBlanc. In contrast to my French experience, this macaroon fell below expectations by skimping on the size and shortchanging on the flavour. Also, not to mention, the outrageous price of 2.15Pound per petite piece! Since I might be fixating on the what-ifs, I unwittingly parted with a large sum of money for a tiny piece of (sweet) heaven. I only found out back home that Harrods carries the world famous Laduree macaroons! If only I had done my homework.....



Sadia slept in the 'chauffered-driven' car (thanks Uncle for the pick-up!) on the way back to the house. A lunch of nasi lemak quickly followed by a quick getaway to the playground thereafter and lastly a scrumptious dessert of apple crumble ala mode before we headed out the door for Gatwick. My uncle took the scenic route on the way there, crossing into Dorking, Reigate and Salford. Though I appreciated the beautiful countryside especially the vibrant, undulating North Downs, I'd rather skip any protracted ride when I'm travelling with a toddler.



We said our goodbyes at the car drop-off zone of Gatwick's departure terminal. The slow-moving line to check-in our bags was compounded by the failure to locate Sadia's name as a co-passenger on the BA computer system. How grating! After discarding bottled drinks which contained more than 100ml, we crossed over the portal to enter our departure gate. Here at the security checkpoint, we first encountered the open-shoes policy (even Sadia wasn't spared) at the scan machine and walk-through metal detector. We sniggered at the incongruity of the security procedures.



To wheedle Sadia into obedience, we fed her current favourite fruit, banana, and chocolate digestives at Starbucks. Hurray for Starbucks! We're too happy to drink our third (ALAS!) cuppa of Starbucks brewed concoction before leaving for no-Starbucks-land. Thankfully, despite the delay in the plane's takeoff, our BA carrier managed to make up for loss time by arriving only 5 minutes late - 9:40pm. The same can't be said about the train service however. Lack of frequent services translated to a late home-coming. Indeed, it was almost close to midnight that we turned the key into our pine-fresh apartment. An exhausting end to a frenzied and harried vacation. Next time, I'll be ready with an arsenal replete with what-to-do-lists, baby accoutrements and a sturdy map!

Yours truly,
Eliza

Squared and Rouged

Dear ________,
The Hyde Park Corner stop on the Piccadily Line was a stone's throw away from our shortlived picnic area. We hopped on the tube to Piccadilly Circus and lost our bearing once we joined the mob aboveground whizzing past us, from the right, left, front and back. What a Crazy Circus indeed!


We located a tourist information center close to the tube exit but couldn't find a free (is there such a thing?) map on the shelves (In Delft's tourist punt, maps are given out gratis). Maybe nothing is free in a big city like London.....We doubled back to the Circus, joining the massive crowd, mostly tourists on Spring Break, and crossed to the other side of the Roundabout. Somehow, we ended up in West End, where billboards and gigantic theatrical posters for hit musicals and drama productions plastered conspisciously on the facade of neo-classical buildings.

The overwhelmed Sadia made her point loud and clear as her clueless parents wended their way on the dusty streets of London, in search of Trafalgar Square. Yeah, trust us not to bring along a map (actually, we did possess one the previous day but Sadia had mangled it to pieces). At this rate, our legs also seemed to be at the tail end of their mileage. We needed a recharge. Eureka! A Pret up ahead! Fully sated by the caps and sandwiches (and a panini bread for Sadia), we got direction from a Pret staff and finally we're at the Square!

Trafalgar Square faces the National Gallery on the north side. There is also an alfresco cafe on the Square, situated alongside the steps up to the Gallery. There, seating on the fountain with me, Sadia ate her Pret-endorsed banana with gusto. The calming sound of water streaming out from the two fountains restored our moods. We soaked in the evening rays and watched the multitude of people, milling about and congregating on the Square, some of whom took a half-day off from work in conjunction of Good Friday the following day. Oh yeah, in the fountain photos, please do not mind the gap roosting on my immediate left. :)












A day's worth of physical exertion had taken its toll on us. We gladly adjourned to our hotel thereafter, worn out and famished. After resting our feet and a nap for Sadia, hubby went down to get some grub at Simply Food. That night, a meeting with my cousin, Lindsey had already been set up. However, since she'd be working late, we're asked to eat first. So around 7:30pm, Linjy came by and brought us to one of the restaurants at Hay's Galleria - Cafe Rouge. Desserts and coffee were on Linjy's tab. I quipped that she'd get her treat when she comes to visit us in Delft. Creme Brulee for me, fruity crumble for hubby and chocolate crepe for her were downed with cafe latte, cappucino and earl grey tea respectively.




It was a warm Spring night so we decided to walk off the calories along the riverfront walkway which was full of earlybird revellers - mostly yuppies in workclothes - seating on the elevated concrete rails that separate the river from the pavements. Sadia, who had warmed up to Linjy earlier, practically dashed from one side of the riverfront to the other, shrilling from excitement of the seemingly endless horizon for her to cover. I literally had to yank her by the hood of her jacket lest she treaded on broken glass (from bottles of alcoholic variety) or stepped into the path of a splash fountain that jets water out at a fixed interval. Breathless, we convened back to the room and caught up on old times. It was getting late for her to walk back to the tube station so she instead took the bus home to her rented digs in Canary Wharf. The last time I saw her was back in December 2002 when she returned to Malaysia to play Pengapit (Maid of Honour cum Fanner for the Bride) duty for my twin so I had a cracking good time touching base with her. Five years my junior, I can't wait to dress up for her wedding next *pressure, pressure* ;)




Till tomorrow,
Tita