11 Feb 2009 6.20pm Grenoble

So I was sick yesterday, and today. It started with a bit of sore throat and cough and I took some pills that I have brought here. The pills made me sleepy and yesterday I fell asleep around 9pm and woke up by the noise in the corridor around 8am. I felt awful when I got out of the bed, with this huge pain in my throat and I could barely make any noises out of my throat. I told myself “cool, this is going to be worse later.” And it was. By the time I reached school, I was coughing so hard as if I was trying to cough my lungs out of my chest.  There was no hot water in school as French people seemed not to drink water outside home, or at all. I am not sure about that. I have seen a technician in school getting water from the taps inside toilets, which is a bit gross and the water is cold, which does not really help with my sore throat. So I decided not to drink. In the afternoon, I felt my head spinning while I was using my laptop and the pain in throat was getting worse and worse. I doubt that I got a fever so I decided to see a doctor.

Apparently there is no public clinic in Grenoble, except for pharmacies and private doctors. The only hospital is located and I do not even know where that is. I decided to get some drugs out of the pharmacies and hoping to get a thermometer to see if I had fever as well. I have looked up in dictionary to see how to say some words in French such as “ fievre” and “ thermometre” and was practicing how to say it on the way. When I entered a pharmacy, I realized that it is something like the pharmacies in Watsons. I quickly found thermometers on the shelf and brought that to the casher. The guy said something in French I was supposed to understand but I did not. Then he repeated in English. He was asking me if I need something else. So I told him I’m going to take temperature first and if I am having fever, I am going to buy some drugs for that. Eventually I did not get fever. It was just a bad flu. He gave me something like a French version of aspirin and I asked for a box of Strepsils as well. It was expensive. But I guess when it comes to sickness, the price does not really matter.

Tomorrow I am going to have lessons in French again with those not so nice people. I felt depressed. But the good thing is the winter break is coming and I will finally have some French language lessons. I hope that will help.

 

Ps: I did not remember if I have mentioned this interesting part in the previous writings, but I think it is worth mentioning.  The toilets in school are mixed gender toilets. When it comes to the term “mixed gender toilets”, we normally think that it is like one cubical which is used my both females and males. Right, that is our definition of mixed gender. But here in Grenoble, the mixed gender toilet applies its literary meaning: there is only one door for the toilets and on the door it says “WC”. And then when you open the door, you see the devices that guys used to pee. And then if you go in further, you see a cubical where gals do their business. So normally what happened is that when u open the door, you see like a few guys peeing in front of you  and then if you are a gal, you just ignore the guys and walks past them into the cubical to do you business.

Sweet Lord.

8 Feb2009 5.45pm Grenoble

It is Sunday today. When I woke up this morning at around 8am, I opened the curtain and saw a white world. It must have been snowing hard last night and in the morning everywhere was covered by an inch thick of snow. I hardly see so much snow before, except once in the mountains in China. It was still snowing outside and I supposed it was cold. I planned to go to Le Musee de Grenoble in the afternoon. I wore an extra pullover and a pair of wool pants under my jeans. I also wore a hat and a big scarf for the first time since I came here. The wind was so strong outside, with snow fakes blowing to my face. I was wearing a black colored coat and immediately when I went out, the coat was covered with snow fakes. I walked down the hill, playing with the snow on my way down, feeling excited. By the time I reached the city, most of the snow had melted and the only snow one can see was in the air.

The museum was close by. I went in and took an audio guide. The place was full of art works, mainly paintings from different eras and different painters. Art works are not my specialty but I still appreciated the fineness of the exhibition. I was more attracted by the room with exhibition of ancient Egyptian stuffs such as the mummy coffins and sculpture pieces. That always fascinated me and I have taken a lot of photos. Out of the museum, I planned to go to the supermarket to do some grocery shopping. It shocked me when I realized that all the shops including clothing boutiques and supermarkets were closed on Sunday. Apparently there were only bakery shops and café still open. I was very hungry at the moment so I bought a crepe nutella. It was warm and good, just like the ones that I had in Singapore. I also bought a chocolate croissant for breakfast tomorrow.

When I was on my way back to my room, I passed by a bakery shop. The apple tart looked so attempting and I bought the last piece. I also bought some chocolates even though it was a bit expensive. I ate two pieces of chocolate while I climbed the hill. It was so nice that I was sure I would finish all I bought soon enough so that I can go back and buy some more again.

It turned dark by the time I reached my room and I planned to learn some French tonight.

7 Feb 2009 10pm Grenoble

Finally I settled my courses which will eventually be in French.  I kept telling people around me that I could handle it because I have experienced a similar case before --- when I just arrived in Singapore and not spoke much English, but I still survived, but I have no idea about this time, seriously. It is in university now after all. We will see.

Last night, I went out to meet Julie at her place. She rented an apartment in the city centre and it was really nice and cozy, especially as compared to my castle/jail. I bought some beers to her place and found that beers and wines are really cheap. I arrived at her place at around 8pm and people came gradually later. There are 5 Mexicans who suggested going out to dance later at night. At around 11pm when we finally agreed to move outside, I was feeling dizzy, after only 2 beers. It was super cold when we walked on the street, with rain and wind. Someone said the weather forecast told that there will be snow. The coldness chilled me awake, but soon enough, we were already outside a bar.

The bar/pub/club was very small, 20 m2 max. It was already filled with people, old and young, black and white. I was the only Asian again. The bar was very close to the entrance, where there was a table of black guys. We went inside and put our coats and bags on a small table against the wall. There was an area of about 10 m2 of empty place inside and this is the dance floor. I was told that the music was African. I was really bad at dancing this kind of music while the others seemed to cope with it well. So I told myself that I need a drink. I went to the bar and ordered a gin tonic in French. I was very proud of myself for this, even though I regret a bit to order it because it was expensive. It was very strong, twice as strong as it was in the bars of Singapore. The other Mexican guy ordered a mojito and I went to take a sip. The mint leaves were very fresh and strong.

After half a glass of gin tonic, I was in the mood for dancing. I still did not know how to dance to the music, but I was more relaxed. The bunch of Mexicans requested salsa music and it was like their national dance or something because they were suddenly all very excited and danced really well to the music. After midnight, I just felt sleepy and so I sat at a corner and just watched them dance. It was weird to me to see people actually dancing salsa in a club. It made me sleepy actually. I remembered when I went to double O in Singapore, I was always high.

The bar was closed at 2am. I was the only one who actually went back to sleep and the rest of people decided to go somewhere else to continue the night. Now I know that people from Europe, especially North Europe can drink really a lot. Julie said she could drink 20 beers without feeling anything.

This morning I woke up around 1130am and saw some white things on the grass outside my window. It was snow. I guessed it snowed in the early morning but by the time I woke up, the snow started to melt. I was very excited and went out immediately to call home. My parents were having dinner at the time I called.

I think I was the coldest day today since I came to Grenoble. Someone told me it was -3 degrees. I was kind of impacted by the nice apartment of Julie from last night and so I decided to do something about my own. I have been sleeping in my sleeping bag since I came here and now I think it is time to buy some real blankets and bed sheets and pillows. I went to IKEA in the afternoon. It was not easy to find the place because it was so far away in the suburbs. It was really nice view with all the small houses and gardens. I have to ask a few times before I finally reached my destination. I bought a lot of things and found my way back. It was really tiring to carry everything up the hill but I felt very happy.

Now while I am writing this, it is snowing outside. I opened the window and the chill immediately came in. I can see the snow fakes in the darkness with the little light from my window and I held my hand out of the window the snow fakes dropped in my hand and melted immediately. I decided to wake up early tomorrow morning to see the snow again.

5 Feb 2009 730pm Grenoble

So it was confirmed that there will not be internet connections in my room. Voila! As a result, I have to carry my laptop to school every time I want to access the internet. I had some beer with some exchange students in a Latin bar last night and it was a lot of fun. The beer was so cheap here and it cost only about 4 euros to get a pint of any kind. A guy from Finland named Joel told me that in Finland it is normal for someone to drink a whole bottle of Vodka during one night and the other guy from Belgium named Derek declared that he can drink 10 pints of beer for one night. I was impressed by how much they all can drink but as for the reliability, I guess I will never going to find out.  We finished the drinks early around 11pm. There was almost nobody on the street when I walked back to my room and it was cold. I was a bit scared, thinking it was not as if I was in Singapore and I should have not stayed until so late. It was weird, because in Singapore 11pm is like the beginning of the night. Maybe it was the weather which made the night darker.

I now started to understand the lives of those exchange students in NUS. Their insanity and madness are mostly due to the fact that they were abroad. There is no purples and plans or wicked thoughts (most of the time) and they just want to have fun.

I have had two drinks at the café on the streets since I came here. I always wanted to sit on the sidewalk of the road and have a small cup of French coffee. However, now it was too cold to sit outside and I always could not resist the chocolate. As a result, I had one chocolat chaud and the other is called “chocolat viennois”. I was just curious what that was when I ordered it, but it turned out just to be hot chocolate with whipped cream.

I have been eating baguette with French sausage for 3 days for all meals before I entered into a French fast food restaurant called “Quick”. It is nothing different from McDonal’s but I think the locals prefer the former. There are a few Chinese restaurants on the streets but I did not dare to walk into any because it looked so old fashioned like all the restaurants in China town in the western countries.

3 Feb 2009      10am    Grenoble

So I have arrived in France. Now almost everything has been settled and since I am only going out in the afternoon to meet my professor in school today, I have some spared time at the moment to recall what had happened in the past two days. It has been harder for me this time, being alone in the foreign land again and far away from where I was born.  I guess I have been too comfortable and dependent these recent couple of years and now with all these difficulties here, I am kind of finding the tough myself back again. I want to write every little thing down before I leave this piece of land so when the days pass I will not forget my heroic act when I was still young.

On 31^st Jan 2009 I left Singapore for France. This is the first time in my 23 years I have the chance to go somewhere further --- to go to the other continent other than Asia. I was not optimistic about my arrival in France, but I was not worried either --- at least I told myself so. My hand luggage was very heavy, with a huge backpacker’s bag and a hand bag full of things.  Arrival at Bangkok international airport was quite smooth. Since I have been there before, I was not lost during the two-hour transition time. There has been a long walk before I reach the final waiting room in front of my departure gate. By the time I arrived, there have been already a lot of people in the room. This is the first time I saw so many westerners taking the same plane with me. The fact that I became the minority made me feel a bit insecure. I felt that people looking at me with curiosity and disapproval so I tried to act cool and all that. I discretely looked for other Asian people in the room and guessed their nationalities, hoping to find some Chinese or Singaporeans, instinctively, but there were not many. As a result, I took a deep breath and started to observe the French people around me. Most of them were mid-aged or even older, fat and badly dressed. I remembered Chris had told me that only the old ones can afford to travel to Asia most of the time. When I finally heard the flight attendants called our departure, I was surprised by the fact that everyone just stood up and rushed to the gate with no sense of order. I smiled, thinking that French people are not better than Chinese.

On the plane, I sit near the aisle. It was a shock for me again when most of the French people took off their shoes after being seated. The first meal was served at around 2am and everyone seemed to be very hungry. I was impressed by how long French people can hold their stomach again. As I have been eating twice before I board the plane, I just drank some water. I tried to sleep but failed. Finally I decided to drink some wine to help me fall asleep but expected a hangover the next morning.

After 12 hours of flight, I finally arrived at Paris CDG airport. I was not very excited, knowing the fact that I was not going to stay in Paris for more than 6 hours and I still had a train to catch. At the custom, it was really a mess. At that moment, I started to appreciate how organized Singapore is.  I was lost in the airport after I got my luggage. CDG was like a maze made of numerous tubes. I finally asked a security guard for direction. This is the first time I spoke French to someone in France.  I practiced a lot of times before I said, “excuse moi, je cherche le sortie 34.” ---  A typical conversation from the textbook. So he answered me a long sentence with only one word that I could understand: a droite !  On the right, I told myself. I thanked him but it seemed that he still did not believe that I understand what he said – which was quite true, so he asked “ c’est bon ?” “c’est bon. C’est bon.” What else could I say?  I moved on, with my eyes kept looking on the right. Nothing. Finally I found the exit on the left side of the way. I felt very defeated, thinking “droite” is on the right and so on. In the end I realized that since the guy was facing me, his right should be my left.

I got out of the glass door and found the bus station. It was freezing cold outside but now I felt excited by the chill. The bus came after 2 minutes and it was my bus  --- going to Gare de Lyon.  I pushed the trolley with all my bags on it and moved towards the bus. At the same moment there was a guy come over to open the luggage cabin at the bottom of the bus.  I want to asked him where to buy ticket but I do not know how to say that in French so I went forward to say “ vous parlez anglais?”  He looked at me and looked pissed off. He did not answer and just nodded a bit. I was scared by his reaction and thinking perhaps it was because I was rude and did not say “bonjour” first. Quickly I asked my question in English. He said “on the bus.” So I just escape onto the bus the next second. The bus driver was an uncle at age of around 55. He hesitated a bit before saying “bonjour” to me. “bonjour, Gare de Lyon, Si vous plait.” “une personne?”  “une personne.” I was glad he understood me and was so nervous that I forgot the word “qui” but to repeat after him instead. He told me the price. Mean while, he pointed to the screen indicating the price in case I did not understand. The fact is, I did not.

The bus was empty in the beginning, but after it travelled around the airport and stopped at different terminals, it was full. A huge sized French uncle sit next to me. On the way, I thought he tried to talk to me a few times, but I was chickened out by the fact that I cannot speak French so I looked away out of the window most of the time.

At around 830am, I arrived at Gare de Lyon. Most of people got off the bus. I took all my bags with me, realizing that there would not be any trolley for me and I have to carry everything by myself. I kept reminding myself that Paris is nothing like Singapore and I cannot leave any bags behind and thinking of coming back for a second round --- I have to carry everything in one shot. This is hard because I have four pieces of luggage which in total weigh at least 40kg. When I just about to put everything on my body, this person came to me and asked “may I help you?” it was the uncle sitting next to me on the bus and he spoke very good English. Of course I let him helped me. And I learned that he is not French but Dutch. He came to France to ski. We chatted for two hours in a café while we waited for our train. Finally, he sent me onto the train and I was very grateful for his help.

It took 3 hours on the train to reach Grenoble. There were lots of farms on the way and they were just like the ones we saw on TV. Inside the cabin it was very warm and I fell asleep. By the time I reached Grenoble train station, it was already in the afternoon. I met two French guys who came to fetch me at the station and one of them had this super curly hair which I thought it was only possible to see in movies. But it turned out that he is not a very nice person.

I took a cab to my hostel and it was inside a castle on the hill. This fact really excited me until I opened the door to see my room. It was literately like a jail, with badly painted walls and a bed for prisoners. Everything was so bad that the room was not even comparable to the room at PGP.  And I still do not have access to the internet until now when I am writing this sentence.  After unpacking my stuff, I decided to walk around the area. It took me about 10 minutes to get down the hill and reach the town. Everything was closed --- all shops and restaurants, on this sunny Sunday afternoon. I found my way back to the train station and bought an international calling card. I thought to call home to tell my parents that I had safely arrived. However, the card did not work. The instruction repeated to tell me that I have dialed a wrong number and I needed to dial a new number again.

I gave up on calling and walked back to my hostel.  I remembered the way where I came from and went back with the same route. Climbing up the hill was more difficult than I thought. I took about 30mimutes to finish the trip and even though it was only about 5pm, it was completely dark. I was exhausted when I came back to my room and I had nothing to eat. I took a shower and the water was colder than back home. When I just about to sleep, someone knocked on my door. I opened the door and saw a guy standing in front of me. He said his name is Jeremy and he is my new neighbor. He is French but speaks good English. I was shocked by the fact that the level was shared by guys and gals and we also share toilets and showers. Jeremy has long blond hair and he tied it at back of head. I found that he has two sharp teeth each at the corners of his month when he smiles and it makes me immediately thought of vampires, thanks to “twilight”. So we talked a bit about our experiences and he went to say hi to other neighbors. I went to bed immediately. I did not have a pillow and a blanket, so I slept in my sleeping bag. It was comfortable and warm and I fell asleep quickly.  The next morning, I woke up at 530am and felt refreshed.

all men have this type of rank in mind: me, family, and God is somewhere in between. most of the women rank "me" the fourth.

for once, i wanna rank "me" first.

after one year and half, I visited HK the second time in my life during reading week before final exams... again.

this time is all about shopping.

when we arrived hk international airport in the morning, the wind blew like hell. thanks to budget airline, we had to walk down the plane and take a bus to the hall. the customs were slow..as expected. however, what was unexpectedly extremely slower was the luggages. we had to wait for one hour at the belt just for our bags.

very unfortunately.. or fortunately..., Typhoon Neoguri arrived hk on the same day as us. in the morning it was only at T3, but in the afternoon it became T8. so we were all stuck in the shopping malls.

this is the first time i saw typhoon. it was very similar to the heavy down-pours in spore. the only difference is it last for the whole day and night... and for the whole month maybe...

anyway, my target this time is local brands in hk. as unexpected, the local brands are way much more ex.... so i ended up in zara eventually.

 

 

 

    关于这个问题，大家的理由非常的充足，首先家乐福的大老板如何了，而法国政府如何了，其次不管如何如何，我们的目的是让国际社会感受到我们的态度，让某些国家知道我们的力量，让某些人道歉。

 

    我想说，道个歉是容易的。但是要改变对我们的态度和想法，似乎很难，而且经历此事，可能更难。

 

    为什么一定是家乐福呢？这没有一个一定，因为也可能是别的东西，到时候我们也会问，为什么一定是XXX呢。但官方喜欢抓典型，潜移默化之间，老百姓也已经能抓典型。

 

   我觉得，抵制家乐福其实挺没有出息的。对于真正爱国的检验应该是需要付出代价的，当你需要承受经济和生命的损失的时候，你愿意为了你心里的信仰而付出，这是真的。去家乐福闹闹，挺没有腔调的。其他国家侮辱你，你去自己国家为难一个超市，有人抵制，有人拉横幅，有人要游行，有人看热闹，还有人用一百元去买小东西，要找光他们的零钱，有人自己降下家乐福的中国国旗，然后拍个照说是家乐福给中国降半旗。我认为这些行为都有点猥琐。爱国有的时候是自救，但有的时候是种腔调，我们做的没腔调。

 

    当然，你可以指责我说，那你做点有腔调的事情啊，你去围法国大使馆啊，你去法国抗议啊，你去吧炸空客A380啊。关键是，我为什么要这么做呢。我心里根本就没那么想过。我依然做着我的本职工作，写好东西，赛好车，一年比一年进步，现在我们拉力水平可以在亚洲比了，让赛车水平很高的日本人和相对比较高马来西亚人都刮目相看，而且不输他们甚至可以战胜他们，再给一段时间估计我国车手和赛事的水平能赶上欧洲的二流，希望能出现顶尖的代表去何欧洲的顶级车手抗衡……最后的目标就是法国的世界拉力锦标赛之王勒布，不管有没有这个可能性，这些都是我们在做的。而一些人在做的却是去搞一个超市，要是你不去搞的，就是汉奸和卖国贼。

 

    外国人说我们两句，骂我们两句，我们全国上下急成这样，而且边愤怒边得意，得意的是我们的“民族凝聚力”和“祖国终于强大了，所以一些国家开始害怕我们，企图分裂我国”。可是我怎么就没看见一个让世界都害怕的国家和民族的国民应有的气势呢。你搞家乐福，你很多中国人搞了半天，搞得家乐福里的中国员工也左右为难，然后围了越来越多的中国人，来几个坏事的中国人再砸那么几下，然后出动一帮中国防暴警察，看到的全是中国媒体的报导，敢情过程里没出现一个法国人啊。

 

    我们觉得，支持我们的，夸奖我们的，就是我们的朋友，反对我们的，贬低我们的，就是我们的敌人。这个是非观未免太简单了和太看重自己的面子了。

 

    我们的民族自尊心怎么那么脆弱和表面呢。人家说你是暴民，你就把人家骂一通恨不能打一通，然后说，我们不是暴民。这就好比小明说你是笨蛋，你就对着小明女朋友的弟弟的狗举个大牌子，上面写，我不是笨蛋。这个讯息的确会反馈给小明，但小明依然觉得你是个笨蛋，你像你觉得自己很委屈，而小明其实更加笨一样。

 

    到了今天，有一个让人难过的倾向，就是我们几乎没有正方反方，你就是要表态，你抵制不抵制，你如果抵制，好样的，你是中国人，你站对了队伍，你如果不抵制，你就是汉奸，你如果不表态，你也是一个孙子。不知道这时候法国政府开放对抵制家乐福的中国人的入籍申请，会有多少人想去法国做卧底？

 

    五月一号会发生什么事情，反正你我都不知道。但我真的怀疑大家的内心是否真的那么愤怒，还是大家很久没有行游和会集了？参加行游很好玩吧，赶去会集很热闹吧？爱国主义庇护下的行游和会集又很安全吧？如果你真的不能忍受，对着超市抗议，那么我也尊重你，我最终也能理解你的情怀。就怕你是个赶集的。

Dear Mr J,

I dont know how u get access to my blog but u have to know the fact that u r actually not invited to read it :).

so lets say u happened to read it and what u should do next is to keep what u think of me to urself, instead of spreading around among people, especally among my freinds.

after reading my blog, u may think i am an angry person who gets pissed off by everyone every day. well, it is kind of true because there r too many people like u around me. but thats totally fine with me. because basically we dont know each other. i dont even know how u look like. well i dont bother to know, either. so when i complain something bothers me, it is really really really none of ur business.

i understand the habit of gals gossiping among themselves. but for a guy... well... thats just sad.

 

Regards,

 

ZL

 

i have discussed this with CX long time ago, when i just stepped out of this phase.

every gal has to go through this phase, short or long, it is normally during the years when u r in high school or similar age. what is this phase like? ur waist is as thick as ur butt.  u have short hair which makes ur face looks especially round and big. u wanna look cool instead of looking hot so u try to dress like a guy with big t-shirts and track shoes. u may have pierced holes on ur ear but u only wear ear studs. u think accessories are not for u because it makes u less cool. u always have some attitude problems because this is a notion of being cool. u have a crush on a guy but somehow the guy always likes someone else, even though u may be good friends for each other but he never had feelings for you. actually not really any guys have feelings for u from what u know. and u always think that there must be a guy in this world who  is good-looking and rich and smart and will fall for u because of ur personality and not ur looks and it never happens. u are still waiting for "the one" to come. and sometimes, or most of the time u think u r a loner and u prefer to be alone...

well, this is the phase, horrible phase but every gal has to go through.

so for gals who are still in this phase, pls wake up.

prince charming is also human being--it means he also likes hot babes. 

so throw away the big t-shirt and sneakers, keep ur hair long, lose weight and wear a dress.

seriously.

i have discussed this with CX long time ago, when i just stepped out of this phase.

every gal has to go through this phase, short or long, it is normally during the years when u r in high school or similar age. what is this phase like? ur waist is as think as ur butt.  u have short hair which makes ur face looks especially round and big. u wanna look cool instead of looking hot so u try to dress like a guy with big t-shirts and track shoes. u may have pierced holes on ur ear but u only wear ear studs. u think accessories are not for u because it makes u less cool. u always have some attitude problems because this is a notion of being cool. u have a crush on a guy but somehow the guy always likes someone else, even though u may be good friends for each other but he never had feelings for you. actually not really any guys have feelings for u from what u know. and u always think that there must be a guy in this world who  is good-looking and rich and smart and will fall for u because of ur personality and not ur looks and it never happens. u are still waiting for "the one" to come. and sometimes, or most of the time u think u r a loner and u prefer to be alone...

well, this is the phase, horrible phase but every gal has to go through.

so for gals who are still in this phase, pls wake up.

prince charming is also human being--it means he also likes hot babes. 

so throw away the big t-shirt and sneakers, keep ur hair long, lose weight and wear a dress.

serious.

 

 

No sex and the city extracted from TimesOnline

 

He’s thirtysomething, earns seven figures and lives in an immaculate bachelor pad. He drives an Aston
Martin, his Amex is impervious to the most frenzied shopping trip and you’ll never have to slum it on a cutprice
holiday again.
If this is your idea of the perfect partner, you’re not alone. When Prince & Associates, an American wealthresearch
firm, asked a sample group of thirtysomething women if they would marry for money, a resounding
75 per cent said yes. However, before you start hunting your City banker quarry, think again. The lifestyle
sounds promising on paper, but – like all good things – it comes at a price.
First, forget lording it at VIP tables in members’ clubs, cracking open bottle after bottle of Cristal. Serious
earners just don’t do that. Why? Because they’re long since tucked up in bed. I should know – for nearly
four years I had a 10pm curfew. My (now ex) banker boyfriend insisted on it. For a City trader juggling
multimillion pound positions, which could bring a bank to its knees, sleep is crucial. If my boy was to crush
the opposition, his brain needed rest.
So, by 9.30 every night we’d be brushing our teeth in separate bathrooms, and by ten the lights were out.
Whether you’re tired or not is irrelevant, and insomnia is not on the schedule. Tossing and turning will
interfere with his precious sleep, so if counting sheep fails you’ll be banished to a spare room to ensure that
he gets eight hours of uninterrupted slumber.
What about sex, then? Surely these testosterone-fuelled chaps are rampant in the sack? Again, you’ll need
to adjust your expectations: because if it doesn’t involve earning money, it tends to be rather low on the
priority list. A seriously risky trading position will mean he’ll be so consumed by angst that not even a trio of
Russian supermodels could appeal to his carnal side. And while you may have the luxury of endless lie-ins,
he’ll have bolted out of bed by 6am, scanned his BlackBerry and checked the markets before he’s even got
in the shower.
High flyers crave order and control because there’s enough chaos at work. So, be warned, he’ll expect his
home life to run on rails – smoothly, quietly, flawlessly. His wardrobe will be a temple to minimalist
efficiency: slabs of pristine shirts arranged by colour, bespoke suits, £500 shoes in clear boxes for fast identification, cufflinks and collar stiffeners ready to go. Underwear tends to be identical, white, usually
Calvin Klein or Armani. Watches are to City boys what alpha handbags are to women. Expect him to have a
collection worth more than a semi in South London. Patek Phillipe, IWC, Franck Muller – for day, night,
sport and everything in between.
When I first entered my ex-boyfriend’s house, I had the feeling that I’d walked on to the set of American
Psycho. “Are you sure you actually live here?” I asked. It was a quiet, immaculate space, no clutter allowed
anywhere. The boy sweated blood to afford the place and, since he spent no time actually living in it, he
liked it to look as if it was awaiting a House & Garden shoot. Shoes, toddlers and red wine were all
inconceivable.
So all week you’ve slept like a mouse, scur-ried about ensuring that the household runs without a hitch, and
by Friday night you’re aching to hit the town. He’ll feel too guilty to refuse, and you’ll find yourself in a
Michelin-starred restaurant, chattering away, while he stares into space, craving sleep as badly as a junkie
needs heroin.
Bankers’ girls find their lives mirroring market trends. When he does well, you’ll be swept along on a tide of
champagne and adrenalin. But when things go wrong – and they usually go spectacularly wrong – you will
find yourself in a darkened room, murmuring soothing words while he fights off a nervous breakdown.
Yes, you’ll get to sink into the cushioned depths of a grown-up sports car that draws envious glances at
every traffic light. But you’ll soon start to resent the thing when you have to remove your shoes in case you
soil the upholstery. Add the stress caused by scratches and damage, the endless search for safe parking,
and keeping it out of the hands of vandals and joyriders, and you’ll soon long for a battered Golf.
And what about those promised holidays? Well, they do exist and your friends will be gnashing their teeth at
the brochures, but you’ll need to be happy in your own company. I wandered the streets of Marrakesh and
Florence solo while he spent all his time with the BlackBerry jammed to his ear, or bashing away at its
keypad. Then there were the days spent Lost in Translation style at one of Dubai’s most opulent hotels,
because he had to fly back to London to deal with a crisis at work.
If you’re confounded by why bankers keep working long after they’ve accumulated millions and millions, the
answer is simple: it’s not about the money. Really. After a few years, the cash becomes irrelevant. Instead,
it’s about winning, about annihilating your opponents, whether it’s on the trading floor, the squash court, in
the bar or in the boxing ring. These guys have an insatiable appetite to win at everything, so don’t try to
compete.
And if it happens that he’s not winning, not out-earning his boss or his colleagues, you’ll be expected to
keep schtum. Having a few too many glasses of champagne and blurting out how disappointed he was with
his last bonus could see you hurled out the door. Bankers’ girls should remember it’s all about image: that
means silent, smiling supportiveness, and never, ever revealing what he earns – especially not to other
bankers’ WAGs, because the news will be around the City before the first espressos have been drunk on
Monday morning.
If this makes it all sound like hard work, then fear not. When I was taken to Selfridg-es and cocooned in a
cream-carpeted boudoir with a personal shopper, while a pair of flunkies rushed around the store finding
me a new wardrobe, I wasn’t exactly suffering. As I cooed over a perfectly fitted Armani jacket and an
immaculately cut Ralph Lauren suit and the bill soared ever upwards, the boy never flinched.
We left an hour later with an armful of bags and I have no idea of the final tally, but it must have been
nudging five figures. A further burst of retail madness in Bond Street, and we hopped into a taxi and headed
home. It sounds like pure fantasy, and for a girl like me with a job in public sector PR, it was. Every time I
put on one of those garments I feel a million dollars, and remember that heady day.
Yes, there were perks, and good ones. The ease of knowing that you can take taxis without a thought, of
never having to check price tags on anything. The luxury of going to the opera or the ballet without
scrimping for months for a seat up in the stratosphere.
I wanted for nothing – nothing that could be bought, anyway: La Perla, Crème de la Mer and acres of cashmere after every business trip, my 30th birthday party for a crowd of friends at Home House, the nights
out that now make me wince at their unabashed expense; the £1,000 dinner in Paris, the seven-course
tasting menus with matching wine flights at any number of Michelin restaurants; and the bouquets so large
they could hardly fit through the door, which had even the courier gawping in amazement.
But in the end all the cashmere in the world cannot insulate you from the cold truth that such men will
always love their money and their jobs more than you. You will be an afterthought – an indulgence at best.
If you can cope with that, and with a life whose sole spiritual or emotional dimension consists of
worshipping at the retail temples of Knightsbridge and Bond Street, then their world is yours for the taking.
But I couldn’t, and shortly after the City superhero picked up yet another multimillion-pound bonus, I packed
my things and left. No wardrobe was large enough, no jewels sparkly enough and no holidays glamorous
enough to compensate for the sting of unrequited love.
Since then there have been times when I’ve waited in the rain for buses and remembered all those
extravagances – my other life – and wondered if I folded my cards too soon, was too proud, too stubbornly
romantic.
But now, as I pad around my new boyfriend’s chaotic flat, leaving stray coffee mugs on every floor,
scattering newspapers in my wake, I have no regrets. We make an unholy mess in the kitchen, leave our
clothes strewn up the stairs and go to sleep in the small hours. He drives a beaten up car stuffed with dirty
riding gear and legal papers. And I think he’s wonderful.
I’d like to say I’m slumming it, but then Guy is a barrister, the flat is in Chelsea and he has his sights set on
a career as a Conservative politician. Some habits, it seems, are hard to break.

I have been depressed since beginning of this month. why? well, i can only say there were too many shity things. good thing is finally the long waited term break is here. so, time to relax a bit.

read someone's blog and saw this chocolate called royce. did some online search and found that the comments are pretty good. so i went to buy a box at taka. well, it is good, but not as good as what i expected... i dont actually know what i have expected...

watching grey's recently. funny and inspiring.

finally got cca points. think it is enough for pgp. hopefully. and also very happy that scholarship has increased.

bought a super flora skirt at FCUK. ha, one of the consequences of long time depression is to spend the amt of money u normally wont spend on something u normally wont buy.

wanna go to do my nails but dont wanna go alone. so now having long nails which cause lots of inconvenience.

tmr going to school again to meet the prof i dislike the most for this sem, for project... dont think it is very constructive anyway.

planning to make some chicken soup this week... i lost lots of weight recently.

 

 

regarding project group, do you want your group members who do work or not do work?

here is the thing happened to me.

I have a presentation in 4 days and the project only started 7 days before the presentation.

my group members dont do work. so i did for them.

and when the final report come out, it is completely different from what i did.

how come?? cos they meet and did the work again without me.

should i be glad cos i actually dont need to do work or should i be pissed off cos they did all the work without me??

fuck

first time for this semester i skipped a morning lecture at 9am (claps). went to 10am tutorial and found more than half of the class was absent. i was sitting there, but didnt hear a single word that came out from the tutor's month.

2pm finally finished the last lecture of the day, but the day is still long. 330 on the bus to tuition and received a msg that my tutee would be late for one hour. i had no energy at all to hang on the street. luckily there was a library nearby, with soft and comfortable sofa inside.

it reminded me of napping in the school library in junior college during break everyday. good days...

 

so finally i have to wait for lecturer to allocate me into some random project group due to the fucking fact that the so-called good friend of mine refused to let me join their group.

yes i am not extremely outstanding and good at english or whatever u expected of your group members but at least i can say i am not completely useless and ur current group members not neccessarily better than me. most importantly, u know i dont know many people in the class and most likely i will end up like this.

 

well done sucker, am not talking to u till u give me  an acceptable explanation.

just saw R's message that I cant get visa to japan.

check on the website of japanese embassy of singapore and asked someone who tried before, conclusion is "dont think it is possible".

after the expierence of waiting for four hours at bangkok airport for visa on arrival, i dont think i am ready to go through this japan visa application which takes months and more than 20 documents need to be submitted and a japanese garantor needed as well and in the end their is still high chance that i get rejected.