Roadtrips

A small car it may be, but the fiesta has served its purpose well.

Driving to work in surburbia as spring approaches, the winter-naked trees burst into colour.

Driving past parents with strollers and parents with toddlers crossing the roads with the sign-lady's help in big bright yellow.

Driving home from work in April, the sun turns gold orange as it hovers 2 hand-spans above the horizon.

Petrol used to cost 88.9p per litre, but with the new annual budget report it hasn't gone below 90.9p.

It costs £20 to travel 200 miles by car. It costs about £30-£70 to travel 200 miles by train depending on how early you book. The ridiculous cost of public transport in London could be the reason why its roads are so congested with cars.

The A13 highway ends in a ridiculous giant round-about comprising of 5 mini-roudabouts with cars going in both directions.

In London Zones 1-3, if you see the same set of lights turn red-green-red-then-green before crossing the junction: that's GOOD TRAFFIC!

Southend esplanade is wholesome and family friendly on weekdays, but on weekends it becomes a little trashy.

Driving to South London, you exit the A13 into Dartford Crossing, a magnificent bridge crossing industrial wastelands, and at its bottom put a £1 coin into Big London Hands as they say thank you and send you off into the London night.

You could also use Blackwall Tunnel but it was built in the 1800's and goes below the River Thames.

The last 6-8miles of the M4 motorway as it approaches London is almost always grid-locked with cars at a stand-still, and you silently curse at the taxis, motorcycles and buses that use the right-hand express lane that is always empty.

The M25 is the motorway that circles and encapsulates London zones 1-4, it is almost always jammed everyday. "Little Britain" is essentially the area of London that the M25 encapsulates.

If you drive towards a township that has a park and ride scheme, be ready to pay more than £2/hour if you park in town centre.

The service stops along the motorways are identical in most countries, you pee, you smoke, you stretch and buy expensive bad food / sweets / gum / magazines before driving on.

As spring approaches, we started seeing the english fields completely covered in bright yellow: Rapeseed flowers - a lucrative crop used to make Rapeseed Oil.

Driving into Wales, the span of river crossed was wider than expected. It felt like going into another country ...

We started small, driving 7 miles into Greenwich Park to see the Greenwich Median Timeline (GMT 0hrs) beaming its green laser into the sky.

The years fell behind us as we circled the hills towards Bath and saw the Georgian houses stacked against the slopes.

For every 30 mins (or 4 miles) you drive in London, you'll find have to give way to either a blaring ambulance or police car rushing by with its sirens on.

If your music is on loud enough, you may almost not know which direction they're coming from until they're angry and right behind you.

Driving through Brixton is eye opening after 10pm at night.

I've come across some roundabouts with 7-8 exits, and 5 sets of traffic lights within the roundabout. Funny thing is sometimes you'll have to stop at every light before leaving the roundabout.

Driving to Wales and back took 480 miles, and a windscreen full of insect splatter. This trip made me sick of Jack johnson and Damien Rice.

Even though the car is driven everyday, there are cobwebs being spun on its side mirrors!

nursing nonsensicalities

four months and seven branches wiser in essex...

the island branch:
(lancing a cat's abscess)
vet nurse gasps "THAT'S DRAMASTIC!!"

branch closest to home:
(first day i worked there)
"the nurses here are the nicest!"

island branch
(first day i arrived)
"the nurses here are the nicest!"

branch in the docklands:
(first day i worked there)
"we're the nicest nurses of all the branches aren't we"

branch closest to london:
(ward rounds)
"this cat's senile, its eating its kitty litter"

chill-out branch:
"oh i have to draw up the dog's pre-med? Just a sec! lalalallalala dee dum ..."

closest to london:
(slicing open a pyo uterus)
"ooo it looks like cheese and milk!"

closest to london:
"you'll find that we're the bossiest nurses of all"

chill-out branch:
"i've never had an anaesthetic that involved so much shampoo-ing!"

island branch:
(successfully resuscitating a cat)
"HOW DRAMASTIC!"

docklands branch:
"using sugar and honey to heal wounds? are you sure??"

closest to home:
"oh we have to do this surgery now? okay lemme make a cup of tea first and i'll be back to help"

closest to london:
"don't worry, when boss takes the piss outta you, it means you're alright"

island branch:
"i like cats, I can use my boobs to help restrain them"

shorts

Current Location: GB...

Game boy
Gay Boy
Giga byte
Great Britain

i love gaming, god i got stuck playing an MMORPG for months
british gays apparently love showing off their cocks
57000 minutes of Movies, TV series & Anime on the palm of my hand
GB ... living on its buttock, farting at Ireland

~~~

this country has an itchy bottom
i've scratched brighton
on its surface a sea of homes
stacked over rolling hills

i only saw the surf for half a second...
before the cab pulled in at Montague St.

~~~

cousin serene moved to Clapham, SW2 5RD
a 3-storey victorian home
converted into three 1-bedroom units
stacked on top of each other



theirs sandwiched in the middle:
unit 21B

as their belongings unfolded
and filled the spaces
and cupboards and shelves
i felt the warmth in homesteads
in starting anew.

~~~

commuting home
we form patterns.

10.00pm
leave 21B
and a 7minute walk
into Underground



within minutes down the station stairs
the northern line towards "Edgeware via Bank"
pulls in dustilty in fluorescent gloom

and we pick up a spare copy
of The London Paper
strewn on the berried seat

~~~

10.16pm
it hailed yesterday morning
and there was a mini tornado in north britain
£20,000,000 damage in 20 seconds

10.23pm
the Nintendo Wii is launched
the charm of Nintendo being its lyrical cuteness
and the new 3D motion controllers

~~~

10.30pm
London Bridge station
is a web of tunnels connecting
the jubilee line, northern line
and the national rail

above,
a bistro of red london buses
and black cabs in ranks

~~~



10.40pm, Platform 5, National Rail Services.
an ocean of coated londoners
in a polyglot of coffee and pies
readying to disperse from the city's
chaotic soul.

~~~

10.52pm
on the service towards caterham
the train is soundproof
in a silent sway.

sometimes you even think its not moving
cos its pitch black outside
the only giveaway is the passing
of an incandescent homestead.

at this time of the night
the music in your iPod
seems to catch you
more.

~~~

11.02pm
alight Forest Hill
and its a brisk walk
along frosty pavements
for 3 or 4 songs.

11.15pm
home.

~~~

first take

so here i am. after all the horror stories about the insane customs at the airport, my adventure in heathrow was an absolute breeze! 15 mins at immigration, 10 mins for my luggage to come lolling down the beltway and i was sauntering past the green channel along with a million other tourists.

the first thing i saw out of the airport wasn't open air or streets, i trodded right into the city-bound Piccadilly Line without even a glimpse of a street or car.

the first londoner i spoke to was the ticketing guy at heathrow underground, i purchased an oyster card, which is equivalent to the EZ-Link card back home, this brings us to my first expenditure: a £23 oyster card.

my first take of london occurred when i walked out of green park station. valiantly lugging my ridiculous weight of luggage up the stairs, i surfaced into a london scene i did not expect: a cityscape of oldish historical victorian buildings no taller than 5 storeys in height. it was like i was taken on a time warp back a few decades. nice!



first person i met was dear dear li han. one who's so kindly allowed me to use her couch while i start figuring things out over here. she drove an adorable teeny weeny little black car with foggy windows which you have to unfog with your hands, and none of my luggage cld fit in her boot! she took me on a quick tour thru some of the attractions in the city, gave me a taste of london's rather insane traffic, saw the big ben from afar, and had a glimpse of trafalgar sq.

my first eat in england was from a chinese restaurant in west kensington, am still reeling from paying £7.50 for take-away roast duck rice that tasted eww! actually am just reeling from d prices, 2 days ago i made a copy of the house keys for £13 (SGD$39), ouch!

and my first "home" in england is near forest hill railway, zone 3. and even up till now i haven't an inkling what borough forest hill is in! we have to drive past a really seedy part of east london to get to this cosier surburb on the outer skirts of london.

first time i listened to my iPod - 28 Nov, 1pm. Took me 3 days before finally having the confidence to navigate the convoluted & unreliable subway systems before I could finally listen to music without worry about whether I have taken the wrong train, if i have reached the correct platform, or listening to announcements about severe delays & alternative routes. Song: "going to school" theme from Memoirs of a Geisha - where the little girl starts learning and blossoming into a full-fledged geisha.

my first boo boo: drinking coffee to perk up in the mornings, only to realise today that i have been making Decaf for the past 2 mornings!

my first laugh at london: on the plane reading the lonely planet. they were describing the recently coined word "Chav" as a term of abuse "for anyone working class who has the audacity to spend lots of money on Burberry, Kappa, Reebok and other labels deemed 'chavvy'." They mentioned matt luca's Little Britain's teenage mother, Vicky Pollard, as being one of the greatest 'chavette' icons. And we were recommended to check out www.chavscum.co.uk for more un-PC views on chav life.

cabinned

Through the scant cloud cover, I felt the warmth of the mud-satin rivers of Eastern India. Ten more hours to go. There is something pathetic about long plane rides. The incredibly dry fake air, subnormal cabin pressures, engine noise, white noise, the small metered little cups of beverage the crew would offer, dehydration migraines, swollen feet, neck aches, claustrophobia, listlessness, boredom, and the minute hand that just would not move. We’re in a state of ungainly limbo, wasting away a good day of our lives in a state of uninspiring discomfiture. We’re limited in how much we can do because we are governed by the amount of space we have been allotted. Or in simpler terms: flying sucks!

Still we find ways to cope. Sean tells me he’d take his sleeping pills and conk out for the entire duration. Xin mentions taking aspirin to reduce the chances of getting leg clots. I would run a ridiculous monologue in my mind, cooking up stories about what I would like to blog out once the air stewardettes have cleared the flip-tables of our aluminium food.

Have realised am not that good at this blogging thingy. When computer isn’t in front of me, little pockets of inspiration would appear here and there, little quips and witty observations about life and other people’s lives would pop up. Stuff that would make me think “saaay I oughta put that into words and become d next Shakespeare!”. However once laptop’s turned on, I seem at most only capable of an ego-centric rambling monologue about what’s going on around me. Where’s that widening sphere? Wendy’s blog is lovely, I can read it and really get a good glimpse of not only her life but also the state of mind she is in. Will make mental note to make my blog more wendy-ish, not in terms of style, but more in terms of having the confidence and a voice in writing.

I used to have that several years ago, a gaze towards the world, a sad wistful aching gaze that made even a bloody plane ride meaningful. That gaze found a voice in poetry, copious bad ugly beautiful and deeply personal poetry, which went into hibernation for the past few years.

I blame it on age. I used to be sad. I used to like being sad. The tale of one. 3 years ago, purple-haired Joavien asked me what emotion I liked best, and I told her sadness. And I sort of assumed that there isn’t a better and more satisfyingly wholesome feeling as what you’d get with the melancholic, It certainly helped the words come out. And creating passages was sooo cathartic.

However, revelation was: the youthful propensity for sadness is usually replaced with something else over time. Maybe it’s those white hairs that crop up over the years, they are like little strands of change for me. Now here is where you must be careful, Because there are many avenues that one can take during that sprout of white: one just has to look out for signs of bitterness, complacency, apathy, resignation, selfishness. For that too could creep in over time.

That’s what’s great about travel. It gives you a good slap in the face. A rearranging of your mental furniture, and an exhilarating shake at the roots of your comfort zone. Looking out of the window again, i see the breathtaking view of the himalayas in the late evening sun. 6 hours to go.



So it’s England this time…

bornfire 2006

backstage,
we huddle
predicting
circles
of light.

toys, colours
and cultures
windmill
towards
a breathless
roaring crowd.

We trade
fountains
and tosses,
weaving
each country
with it.

sucking stones

"we look to the old things and
to the old places, for sustenance.

that's where we found it before.

even when there's nothing there
we go on.

but we have to find new things,
otherwise we are sucking stones.

to me, this life is
arid, impoverished, dead."

~ h kureishi

walk on the wildside

after a 26 hour flight on united air, a route that crosses over the north pole where you could almost glimpse the northern lights,



... dreamt ...

queens - apt F9, astoria
34th street - black friday and the empire state
fdr drive - the projects, by night
N/Q/R/W train - your ears pop as it hurtles towards manhattan
world financial centre - ground zero
the ave of the americas - a vista of scrapers
the subway - harrowing once it's past midnight
harlem - mama's fried chicken
queens - bert, ernie, big bird
astoria, 34th st - the food truck
greenwich village - where the janitors played
ground zero - 2 massive square plots of emptiness
salt & battery - gigantic fried bangers
museum of moving images - the box where cosby show was filmed
news-stands - desperate search for dec's paris vogue
harlem - getting stopped and interrogated by a black cop
manhattan - barneys, bloomingdales, h&m & expressmen
south ferry station - lady liberty, a matchstick in the horizon
spiros hair salon - $12 to cut me hair
metropolitan museum of art - migraines
pathmark - milk by the gallon
the bronx - yankee stadium
jfk airport - opening my bag & finding 35 packs of maggie-mee
apt F9 - basement laudromat & that scary lift
boston - first glimpse of snow
the subways - walking in the footsteps of lou reed
empire state bldg - taking pics of myself at arm's length
chelsea - nyc faggots, their gym buddies and fancy underwear
h&m - beanies, scarves and fitting rooms for two
the urge - beside the cock, no fondling please...
zara - overheated
apt F9 - underheated at times
brooklyn bridge - pure mathematics
harlem - buying a building plot for $1
united air - conversations with keanu
civic centre - better in the dusk
boston - littered with rented limousines
flushing - hot n spicy korean noodles
new jersey - learning what turnpikes mean
circle line cruise - frostbite on the deck
astoria (night) - shelves of tylenol
washington square - crack peddlers
nyc - 2 x manhattan = 1 x singapore
civic centre - also known as wall st
central park - ... i hate trees
barnes & noble - desperate search for dec paris vogue
apt F9 - blogging & msn-ing
united air - double the meals cos we are "growing boys"
manhattan - devoid of restrooms
metropolitan museum of art - buying a mousepad from the near east
boston - rich hoity toity mudderfuckers
guggenheim - a large restroom
manhattan - fire escapes, central heating & rent controlled apts
narita airport - neatness personified
meatpackers district - shi shi apts springing out of streetscum
times square - the naked cowboy
manhattan - where everyone walks at 90mph
the subways - absolutely confounding & unreliable
MoMA - andy warhol & cubist copycats
american museum of natural history - luv him too
5th ave - how we hate the rich
queensboro bridge - where i suddenly had the urge to twirl again
fcuk - chinatown
chinatown - scoured 7 shops before i found assam leaves
manhattan - a saltshaker of starbucks
boston - 2nd best assam laksa in the world
apt F9 - desperate housewives
harlem - walking beyond my map
spanish harlem - scarier
5th ave - souvenirs for a buck a pop
randall island - unreachable
empire state building - breathtaking
observation deck - gibbons in a cage grabbing the railings
apt f9 - 2 gallons of itek tim
last day - 6 inches of melting snow
theatre for the new city - the fancy doors
lower east side - rich pretentious "bohemians" trying to look poor
apt F9 - appeasing the dragon
nyc - grows on you



changi international airport - dream's end as black wheels hit tarmac