i met a boy

I met a boy in March 2013, in the little town of Bath Spa. It was near the start of my solo journey to Europe to extricate myself from the thick dust of a heady past. A time to explore a corner of the world on my own, to meet interesting people, to see the places I have only imagined. It was liberating, because i had been selfish about it, admitting to myself and God that I really truly wanted to go, for myself. I had anticipated that this short adventure could somehow change a part of me to be bolder, less dependent on companionship and more comfortable with being alone in general.

And then, I met a boy on the second day of my adventure.

Technically, we met in Bristol among friends on a cold drizzling night. We had both journeyed solo to bunk in with friends in the same house. It was a rather quiet but electrical affair, in a way I had thought only resided in movies and the far corners of my girlish imaginations. But it did happen, and have not ended on that kind of half hearted note that seems to accompany every potential affair. He was quiet with a strong build and he seemed to study me with interest from the time we sat down in an italian restaurant. The first thing I noticed about him was that he ordered wine with his meal too, an extravagant thing to do for a backpacker. It happened that we were planning to head to Bath Spa the next morning and it was natural that we made plans to go together after the long walk home after a heavy dinner.

The rain brought with it more romantic overtures the next day.

The weather in Bath Spa was horrid with unrelenting winds and dreary rain. He had an umbrella and offered me his arm as we braved the wind to see the old town together. Honestly, I remembered nothing much about the large Roman bath I was so excited to see, nor the city that housed it. One thing was that Ephesus in 2012 had been too impressive and a single Roman bath in Spa cordoned off like an exhibit seemed to lack lustre in comparison.The second was this stranger I was holding on to, who seemed mysterious and interested in who I was. From the time we were on the train towards Bath from Bristol, he had taken the initiative to talk to me and asked me why I was travelling alone. Being in an adventurous and friendly mood myself, the conversation had flowed on its own. I barely noticed the harsh weather conditions nor the town itself as we chatted and walked around.

We didn't have much time together, just one morning as he was headed to Stonehenge and I had a train to catch to London. Before we parted ways, he asked for my number to stay in touch and gave me a hearty bear hug. It was nice and warm and I found myself hoping that we would see each other. It was all very strange.

I thought frequently about this boy i met for the rest of my trip in London and Paris. He texted me now and then even as he took his trip around the other parts of Western Europe. He sent me pictures of the food he tried, the car parts that seemed to excite him as he travelled to automobile shows. And i thought to myself, this is a boy who had a hunger for life and colour. A boy who travels. But at the back of my mind, I thought this friendship would very likely end at some point, when we ran out of common topics to talk about, when Europe became to me a faraway place once again, when my own journey ended.

But it wasn't so. We continued to chat, we continued to share the bits of our daily lives over the 14000km that exists between the cities we live in, me on the sunny tropical island and him in the grey and cloudy part of Europe. I learnt that he cooks and had a liking for grease in workshops. He was in his own words, a grease monkey. He came back to Asia to visit family in September 2013 and we met up twice. A part of me had expected the strange spark between us to have faded, by the time we met again. But our second and third meetings, though brief, seemed to have given the spark fuel to keep it burning for a while longer.

There is something special about this boy, though I have not quite figured him out.

bucket list

Wanna see my bucket list? I think my love for art museums started the moment I stepped into the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York. That love had been transformed into an almost-maniacal zeal.

Argh! The Royal Ontario Museum in Canada ranks 59! To think I was right there in front of that crystal pyramid door on a Monday, sulking over the fact that it was closed. I could have made it in for a brief half hour in between sightseeing and work the following day of course, but it wouldn't have done it justice.

Istanbul Museum ranks 82, but i'm quite sure there's no "Istanbul Museum" in Turkey - they must mean Topkapi, Hagia Sophia or the Istanbul Archaelogy Museum, all of which I had covered.

National Palace Museum in Taipei, check. The next one i'll really like to go is the British Museum - the Reading Room looks phenomenal.

The other bucket list in progress ;)

my new love



Taksim Square, Istanbul. One of my favourite areas in Turkey - European and Asian at the same time.



I made my mind up about three things during my Turkey trip in April this year:

1. I am proud to be an Asian girl.
2. I am learning Japanese.
3. I am going to take awesome photos.



Japanese Script - Katagana

And so after I came back from my 10 day trip (albeit 1.5 days of work included), the first thing I did was to sign up for a Japanese class. Loving it. Part vanity, part curiosity drove me to this decision. My time in Turkey was charming, mysterious yet violent in a quiet storm kind of way. So much happened and yet I brought back with me the fond memories, blocking out the disastrous. There was alot of attention on me as I travelled around the country, alone for a while and later with a companion, and my Asian feminity was complimented upon which made me proud to be Asian. Of course, most Turkish people can't tell the difference between Koreans, Japanese and other Asian people  and I was on many occasions greeted with enthusiastic "Konichiwa"s. I corrected them gently that I was "Singaporean" (that drew a blank for most people of course).

I met a number of fellow Japanese travellers during the trip and their dry humor and polite manners charmed me so. One traveller, Tanaka-san was a surgeon from Tokyo, who offered my companion and me his friendship - I've got a 5 Yen coin from him to prove it. There was also a Turkish guide with him who was fluent in Japanese and according to his colleague, spoke more Japanese than Turkish due to his work. The whole experience made me feel closer to my North Asian counterparts and I resolved to be able to converse in a number of Asian languages.

So many interesting things happened on my Turkey trip but I shall address them in bits and pieces in my stories. It's one of those trips which change the traveller's perspective in such a myriad of ways that it's never possible to chronicle all of it in one post without feeling like it isn't complete. I am dying to talk about my climbing atop the ruins of the temple of Zeus and Athena, my Egyptian friend Amr who might or might not have had designs on me, getting lost on a Turkish road and meeting a Turkish boy who called after us to speak to us in Mandarin. Or the poor but shrewd Turkish little boy in Kusadasi who had a weighing machine as his livelihood. Or the violent way in which my innocent wish scribbled at Virgin Mary's house was immediately fulfilled. But those for another time. Back to my life-changing decisions back home.



Wonderful scientific invention. Muack!



The second thing I did when I came back was to buy a Clarisonic from Sephora. It's giving me the most perfect skin ever, sans makeup. I've made up my mind never to share the secret of my undying youth should ageing friends ask me years down the road, and this is the only time I'll reveal it. So there. You can't be too generous with information. My quest for eternal beauty never stops.



My Sony Alpha 57 is a real babe - inside out.

 The third exciting thing that I did was to buy my first DSLR over last weekend. Love at first shot, and I got a pretty good deal at MS Color with an additional Potrait lens included, on top of the basic kit lens. Wonderful pictures with every shot! I can barely contain my excitement and trigger-happiness. My travels and memories shall be recorded beautifully and artistically from now on. Moved by beauty, I seek to recreate and grasp her at every turn. Not too obsessively of course, just enough to bring me joy and satisfaction.

Without love, or a true friend in the world.

View from Ciragan Palace hotel, Turkey

Kusadasi, Turkey

The view from the Bosphorous was one of the things which was supposed to make the job, the trip and experience worth it. But I had taken too few photos on my own. in part due to my own laziness and a queer, mild distaste for photography. The act of phototaking always seemed to frame my view and memories artifically, as if it were someone else's travels i am capturing. Alas, it was a pity, for my memories become faint too quickly, and only photos can give me a little solace, a little remembrance of my travels. I must remember to take more photos. i must remember every detail and every emotion. 

Hello NYC, once again. 

Paramount Hotel, NYC. Right beside the Church of Scientology.

I have decided to give up the official globetrotting life, in exchange for stability and freedom of my mind. My travels shall belong to me alone, and no one else has the right to demand of my time or energy just because the company paid for my flight and first class hotel. The luxuries were intoxicating, the opportunities to see so much in so little time a godsend, the all-paid-for travels so to-die-for. Yet it was not mine to have. The corporate world reeking of profits and loss, opportunism and phony exchanges leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. For my sanity, I had to leave. A mundane existence, dotted with my chosen colours and unlimited personal space is more welcoming than the shackles of the glamorous corporate world. bye riches and glory, bye slavedrivers and corporatespeak. I appreciated tasting all of it, thanks for the chance. 

 Along with the new life I sought, I lost another person in my life. And so here I am, lost. Without love, or a true friend in the world. I've loved much, lost much and experienced much  in the span of six months. And now I do not know who else I can love and depend on, what else there is to lose and when I can experience the comfort and joy I'm thirsting for, again. I only have my writings to bring me a little solace and comfort that my emotions can take some legible form at last, and yes, the silent, tearful musings that come on unexpectedly.

Was it all meant to be? I hate to be (seen as, mostly) superstitious of any kind, but it was the only way I can convince myself that this heartbreak was not something I could have averted. The alternative is too destructive to bear.

the sweet regret of wanderlust.

Posting one of the shortest but my favourite descriptions here. I enjoy it because it describes so succinctly and avidly the sweet regret of wanderlust, of meeting a city that one dreams of in his youth only to find that one is no longer young, and desires fade into memory:

"When a man rides a long time through wild regions he feels the desire for a city. Finally he comes to Isidora, a city where the buildings have spiral staircases encrusted with spiral seashells, where perfect telescopes and violins are made, where the foreigner hesitating between two women always encounters a third, where cockfights degenerate into bloody brawls among the bettors. He was thinking of all these things when he desired a city. Isidora, therefore, is the city of his dreams: with one difference. The dreamed-of city contained him as a young man; he arrives in Isidora at his old age. In the square there is the wall where the old men sit and watch the young go by; he is seated in a row with them. Desires are already memories. "

taking stock

a long time since she's been here, a poignant reminder of how long she has been a member of the living dead. She still is a drifter in every sense of the word; a traveller, a wanderer, a pilgrim of suppressed hedonism, a sprinter who exhaust her lungs in every surge of forward movement - never has been a persistent marathon runner. Her attention has been fleeting in other areas; shutting out the listening ear of the attentive doctor beside her as the charismatic pilot presses in for her number. Why not? her internal monologue rationalises away her 3 minute interest in anyone at all.

for the longest time she has been sick of her raven hair; the overdue sunburst colours haunt her every day, in the reflection of a glass, a mirror along the shopping windows. The memory and desire taunt her unceasingly: How much longer will you live a partial life?

the dazzling colours of the city lights of New York provide a wisp of dreamy remembrance these days, as she relives the sensation of the cool Times Square night on her skin and the buzz of people roaming the city that never slumbers. so sweet yet so short; they had to leave before the subway fails them in the wee hours of dawn. how she wished she insisted on watching the warm hues of morning light envelope this city inch by inch. Manhattan, the sleek sort of man she knew she'd fall in love with - long enough for a summer and deep enough to harp on for years after. Perhaps, fond memories will fail her when they meet again, but nostalgia remains bittersweet; like the dark chocolate she well savors.

she starts to wander once again, in her invisible cities she is once again free to roam, free to create, free to dream. no more mirrors and no more promenading.

who am i to be

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness,that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves,who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,talented and
fabulous?

Actually who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel
insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone.
And as we let our own
light shine,we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,our presence automatically liberates
others.

Nelson Mandela in his 1994 inaugural speech

a buoy floating, bobbing, drifting. without a routine to channel my thoughts and energy through, my soul senses something amiss. i can't seem to figure out my purpose for being alive and without a definitive sense of destiny, i've no idea what to take interest in. Should i take a course in singing because i love it or should this endeavour be pursued only if it is profitable for my future in some tangible way, only if i'm sure? Should i even dare to dream to be travelling the world and doing sth that i absolutely love and knowing for sure in the deepest of my heart that this is it?They always say, you need to be doing something you love, as a reprise from the demands of life. but i can't make something i don't love the main anchor of my life in the first place. but what is it that i love? I don't seem to have the determination to follow through with my dreams. almost always bound by a wisp of fear, a dose of i-don't-think-i'm-good enough and maybe-i-don't-want-it-enough-anyway. i ask for a little more tenacity in my personality, a much more confident of who i can be.. i'm transiting already, i just have to find out where i want to be soon.

nostalgia once again.

i was trying to reorganize summer photos from last year on FB coz i realised that i had named a folder "Yale University" instead of University of Connecticut. But who'd really know right. Still, it's a perplexing mistake. Looking at the photographs make me nostalgic. I was just thinking of all the friends in US; Heidi, Carl, Vogel and all the peeps from Evil class. Even the dudes from Investigative Journalism, though we didn't get a chance to get closer. Missing New York's dynamism, New Haven's rusticity, Boston's refreshing spirit. The stoic Harvard, the dignified Yale. And of course all the crazy people along the way.

Somehow looking back the me a year ago was so un-apt at making full use of my experience there, too timid to live it to the fullest, too hesitant to seize the moment. I was too reticent and self conscious to do alot of crazy things. Maybe that was part of self discovery too, to see all the flaws and be dissatisfied with how i have lived. I'd hope that this summer i could travel around UK or Europe, though it is not to be. Nothing else to be said except a long sigh. Maybe the key lies in not being greedy and living with an extra dose of self contentment.

Where to go from here? I must learn to stop looking back fondly too much lest i miss the road ahead once more.

New York New York

Third day in New York and i'm only blogging about it now because it's a city that never sleeps and i haven't either, so that i can take it all in. i love it here. was miserable for a while because travelling in a group always results in people stepping others' toes. after i made the moral decision to go solo and do what my heart desires, everything seems alot better. able to say this after some good ol' retail therapy :D New York is the true shoppers' paradise ANYTIME. wheee.


One thing quirky is that there's been 4 instances of guys trying to hit on me in the span of 2 days. it's just curious.. is that part of the New York culture anyway?

"Hey miss, are you single?"

"nah" -smiles and walks on-

"oh really? you want to talk about it?"

"nah" - smiles and walk somemore-

"are you sure you don't want to talk to me about it?"

wah. not very exciting pickup lines. i think i should actually continue the conversation a while longer the next time it happens to see what New York men can come up with. they are rather direct though, during lunch when i was out at Sixth Avenue this bunch of men in uniform stopped their car at a bend, rolled down the windows and tried to strike up conversation.

in the middle of New York with the whole world bustling around, feels like straight out of a movie.

update

i started to get really homesick this morning, waking up to a sore throat and being a state of sickness made me think of my mum who always give me medicine when i'm sick and i spiralled into this i-wanna-go-home-now feeling. doesn't help that Sam reminded me over MSN that i'm half the world away. after a period of getting myself together, i promptly decided that washing my face with tears in the morning is not too good so i decided to be conducive and spend the day reading in the sun with nette and jan.

Tips on how NOT to get homesick

1. Keep yourself busy and connected with the world around you. DO NOT mope in your single dorm no matter how tempting it is. DO NOT attempt to work on stressful work.

2. DO NOT fall sick. this is a hard one. but even if you do, PRETEND that you're not sick. you will soon overcome it.

3. Say Hi to people on the streets and around college instead of getting into the i-shall-pretend-i-haven't-seen-you mode. preferably a loud chirpy HELLOOOOO.

4. when faced with the option of Supper at Sam Adams and sleeping early and work, make your decisions in that order of priority.

Human interaction and lame jokes and laughter create a sense of (sometimes false) solidarity and it gives you a feeling that everything is alright and we're still in lovely Singapore (not that hard since there're a bunch of us).

[i did my laundry today! and i finally mustered enough courage to walk up to a security guard, Pullen, at Sterling Memorial to ask him if i could interview him for my Investigative Journalism assignment. People here in United States are generally more friendly me thinks. i think it's because Asians are kinda exotic here (lol what a weird commentary but i think it's true) so people on the streets take a second look and they generally smile and say hi. i've learnt to cultivate the good habit of not averting my eyes, hold the gaze for an extra split second and say "How're u doin'" the problem is that it's quite a mouthful so "Hello" will suffice and "hi" will have to do when i'm losing my voice. thinking how i can bring this friendliness back to Sg. they always say that "change has to start from yourself". ramble ramble. ]

my prince

He is no fool. First he makes sure that this really is the content of his life, for his soul is too healthy and too proud to squander the least thing upon a mere inebriation. He is not cowardly, he is not afraid of letting love creep into his most secret, his most hidden thoughts, to let it twine in innumerable coils about every ligament of his consciousness; if the love becomes an unhappy love, he will never be able to tear himself loose from it. He feels a blissful rapture in letting love tingle through every nerve, and yet his soul is as solemn as that of the man who has drained the poisoned goblet and feels just how the juice permeates every drop of blood - for this instant is life and death.

- Excerpt from Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling

my prince, is to be a knight of Faith, someone who knows what he wants and where he's going, someone of courage and conviction, unafraid to love.

there's something about reading Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling in such a beautiful setting, a Sunday afternoon reading in the courtyard of Sterling memorial library.

The Library itself was magnificent.


on my way back from the library, passed by the Sterling Law building:
after dinner, Lucas and i went for evening service at Trinity Baptist Church. The congregation was small, but the Spirit of God was there, and a great worship band.

On our way back after detouring to the Green to check out the outdoor performance for tonight:

isn't it cute? the car from CARS! haha. i like how the headlights look like they're eyes with eyelashes. pretty.

the twelve

i find it a little amusing that there are 12 of us taking Evil at Yale this summer. ALMOST resonant with the story of the 12 disciples. except that if it were true it'll keep you guessing who'll be Judas.

Spike Lee came to New Haven today and i saw his work on Hurricane Katrina and the inefficiency of the Bush Administration in response to the disaster. and questions about Evil just flooded my head. i could instinctively say that it was disgusting how Bush ignored New Orleans to put his mind to greater matters like expand his oil empire in Iraq. Disgusting how the insurance companies refused to pay the victims because their insurance do not cover "flood insurance". disgusting because the underdog are the down and out. disgusting because the old and handicapped were trapped in Superdome to slowly die of heat and lack of food and water. Hurricane Katrina was in all ways a human disaster rather than a natural one, where human beings progressively butchered others through justifications and turning a blind eye on what has to be done. the fact that none of the officials stepped out to refute any detail in that 4 hour feature film just proved how accurate it was. not the complete picture (no story can ever be a full picture of what happens in an event) but enough to be testimony of how the top men (and women, counting Rice) in power today in the most powerful country have been corrupted by their self interest to see figures as living flesh and blood.

i can't help but grieve at the state of human existence.


i couldn't resist taking a close-up of the sculpted figures on the beam. i mean, sculpted figures that are so elaborate are everywhere; it never ceases to amaze me.
During the Q & A with Spike Lee, you could tell almost immediately he's cynical how anything can change within the government, and more generally, how the world can ever be a more equal place. the powerful stay in power to get more power to translate into economic gains. a vicious cycle that doesn't end. yet i think that the very act of directing such feature films, is something already.

We then headed down for the high-class BBQ for Writing and Film studies students. we thought it was a typical DIY BBQ singapore-style but in good ol' england fashion, waiters in tuxedos did the BBQing as we sat under the sky in the cold wind enjoying the good fare. i'm quite sure i'm turning fat fast but i'm trying not to think about it too much.

off to New Haven Green for some good Jazz music. it's the Festival of Arts and Ideas, so outdoor performances are held on the Green at night. People come with mats and fold-able chairs, just camping out on the lawn :

random fly on the wall

one thing that amanda got right is that she said it's probably very interesting to be a fly here on the wall at Yale. it's very apt and true. I'm actually happy not to say nothing at all sometimes, just to observe and listen closely to what people say.

greetings from Yale!

Payne Whitney Gym - indoor basketball courts

Payne Whitney Gym - indoor track

one thing that amanda got right is that she said it's probably very interesting to be a fly here on the wall at Yale. it's very apt and true. I'm actually happy not to say nothing at all sometimes, just to observe and listen closely to what people say. i've been wanting to blog everyday to show pictures of what i see and record what i hear but i've just been so busy experiencing it that i've found it hard to sit down and write about it. i'm not complaining. in fact, i think i should do myself justice by just soaking in it while i can. let me just say that the food here at Yale is fantastic, nothing like the crappy food in NUS halls. and trust me when i say the desserts are even better than those you find at NYDC and what not. the bestest and most alarming is that it's buffet style for all 3 meals. i'm going to be a fatso when i get back but it's ok i'm going to live my life to the fullest now. besides, the gym is really fantastic:

Payne Whitney Gym exterior

much more majestic that my phone camera can capture, but trust me, it feels like a castle standing in front of it. hard to imagine the modern equipment and large arrays of machines inside. didn't dare to take a picture of the actual gym - don't want to be such an overt suakoo haha.

Linsly Chittenden - Classroom

Linsly Chittenden - interior

here's where my classes are held. the whole physical presence of the place awakens the intellectual in you; it becomes no longer an ostentious pursuit, but reminds you that knowledge and the spirit of inquiry and debate is the essence of being alive.

random street views on my way to school

(yes all the buildings are this breathtaking- even more so than what u see)

random street sights around the neighbourhood

just remember that no matter how deceivingly sunny it looks, it's really chilly. i'm getting used to it now and loving the weather. it's the best of both worlds with the sun reining in the audacity of the cold. same street, but the latter is actually a much colder day than the former:


way back to Morse

roomy comfy spacy Morse Library, taken from the second level.

haven't been to the heavenly Sterling Memorial Library, but i know that it's more breathtaking than any library you will see, just looking at the exterior. i promise photos soon! and yes, i walk past the Harkness Tower everyday and i take a photo everytime i walk past because her beauty never ceases to stop my feet from going further. i may not be an architect but as a living human being attuned to the notion of beauty, i can't help myself.

okay enough hard selling of Yale, time to dig into Plato's Gorgias for Evil class. can i add that Yale is really big on copyright laws that they charge you for copyright on top of printing services? the coursepack for Evil costs USD36.5 (without binding) and USD42 (with binding) on top of 4 books to buy and read. woolala. but i think the money is well spent. being here just convinces me that knowledge is worth the price to pay.

oh btw, we watched Woody Allen's Crimes and Misdemeanors last night for Evil too and i'm in love with that genius. this Saturday, the writing and film students (me included coz investigative journalism) are given tickets to go to the screening of "When the Levees broke" and to meet the director Spike Lee. the man himself. gosh. exciting.

sorry for the randomness. it's 1am here in New Haven and 1pm in Singapore.

oh can i re-enact this conversation i had with kristopher from my Investigative Journalism class?

me: you know i found it weird that sirens go off every hour without fail here in New Haven

Kris: (grins broadly) well, this is New Haven for you. I actually come from Middlefield where my neighbours are a mile away and the population of cows is equal to the human population. so what i hear all the time are not sirens but

Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

i was hysterical. hahahahahahaaha

HELLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOo from New Haven!

Bet you a dime that you've started to miss me already ;)

the stopover at Frankfurt was literally a stop. this was all i saw of Germany:

Still a little jetlagged now but had a fabulous sleep. The weather here at New Haven is fantastic, you feel like you’re in an airconditioned place PERPETUALLY. Except that it had been raining lightly but steadily for the past 2 days. Much like the monsoon periods in Singapore.

Morse College-Dining Hall

interior of Harry Potter-ish Dining Hall
(i've come to fall in love with brick walls and buildings)

Woke up this morning and told my reflection in the mirror, no more making small talk when I don’t want to, but only when I genuinely want to be friendly. I’m too jetlagged, tired and grouchy to truly make friends with the other international students yet. I’ve been discovering some things about myself as well. never really thought about it that much but in Yale where most people are rather vocal and verbose, knowing how to maintain, lead and flow with conversation; my aura of silence and deep thinking stands in contrast. I’ve been learning to be more assertive, direct and basically stronger when expressing my opinion. It’s been a little uncomfortable somewhat, but I’m learning to externalize my thought process.

potted plants just outside my suite

my spacious and comfortable room

The Singapore bunch’s (10 of us) gelling quite well though. Such an irony that the intellectual stimulation thusfar has been mainly learning through conversations with the rest of the NUS people. Everyone is knowledgable about stuff ranging from philosophy,, history, art, film, politics that conversations are never dull and superficial. Not that we all know EVERYTHING, but learning from each other has proved to be so enriching. I must commend the boys for being rather chivalrous. Lucas walked me in the rain twice and helped me with my luggage when I first reached. Weilong gave up his umbrella for the girls when it rained. Yingting has proved to be quite promising shopping escort. Suresh’s been friendly and nice. I like the synergy in the group, although the bunch who traveled New York are a little closer to each other. Generally, friendly vibes I just wish that one of the girls will stop using American language. Referring to girls as “chicks” and boys as “dudes” and using "shit like that" in place of "etc" every conversation is reminiscent of too much American TV and sitcoms baby.

more of Morse College

view of The Green on my way to Yale.

(there was some sort of rather rowdy rally going along which involved the Hispanic community. it may be because of Freedom Writers, i have this strange affection for the Hispanics. )

I love being here here at Yale because everything from the campus to the people to the food even, stimulates you to think and debate. The environment is such that there is no academic pressure, only academic appreciation. the class on EVIL today was awesome. There were older seniors from Yale, graduate students and a return student who decided to come back to school after taking over his father’s automobile company. The diversity of people here is just amazing.

Safety seems to be a concern though, we’ve repeated been reminded that like every other city, there is crime and it pays to be vigilant. Think it sounds like Singapore rhetoric? A fellow student was mugged at gun point just outside my college (equivalent to hall in NUS) last night. From my room I’ve been hearing police sirens quite frequently for the past 2 days. there it goes again, even as i'm typing this at 8pm at night. The city given has police escort services and there are Yale transit buses to ferry you back to campus at night if you feel unsafe. Each student is given an electronic key to get pass the main gate of our college, a key to the entry way to your block, a third key to your suite (group of 4 rooms) and a 4^th, which is a room key. Great security there, but reveals the extent of danger that warrants such vigilance. Supper outside of the campus is rather unthinkable; at least we haven’t gotten brave enough to. But nothing about the physical space gives me bad vibes; I just love it here. It’s like a sleepy town waiting to be discovered. The architecture is amazing and speaks of intellectual diginity; from Yale to churches to historic buildings and town houses. I just wish that I could explore the town at night.