Tripping to Blue Mountains Part 1

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I mentioned in my previous post about my trip to Blue Mountains and how great the trip was. Meeting up with a good friend, good food, good entertainment, fantastic weather and sightseeing.

I did not have time to blog about it the past few days cause I was busy with housework (pain in the butt) and school. Enrollment started on Monday and I had to choose my units of studies which where: English (Film, Text, Time), English (Grammer, blah blah), Psychology (Ranga wants to do this. That’s why he should come here) and World Politics. I’m not very keen on doing two English courses this semester (the amount of reading and essays) so I’m thinking of dropping one and taking up another course but I’m still not decided yet. I had orientation today which would continue tomorrow, so that left me very little time to blog.

Back to the Blue Mountains trip. I left Sydney last Thursday afternoon. I headed to the Central Station which is about 10 minutes walk from my hostel and for the first time was exposed to the complexities of taking inter-city trains. The ticket machine was simple enough, I chose my destination (Katoomba), chose the type of ticket (single fare) and paid up the fare ($12.20).

Ticket to Katoomba

Ticket to Katoomba

I bought the above ticket around 1:30pm but I only got the 3:30pm train cause my friend told me not to go to Blue Mountains too early. Central Station was big and it had all the inter-state, inter-country and metro trains combined. So I had to walk around looking for my platform. My second cousin and friend warned me not to go to the wrong platform and board the the wrong train. One peculiarities of Sydney trains is that they sometimes change platforms. So I had to pay attention to the PA system too.

The other peculiarity is that once you enter the platform areas, you can’t walk back to the station. This happened to me when I needed the toilet. I had a full bladder and was not sure if the train had toilets. As I didn’t want to take the risk of holding my bladder for the next two hours, I tried to walk back to the station area using my ticket. Fortunately, a station officer saw what I was trying to do so after explaining my predicament, he let me through the barrier. It seemed that this happens quite often and is normal. After the toilet business was done, I walked back to the platforms to search for my train (had to let the officer let me through the barrier) and found it.

After the settling down comfortably and showing my ticket to the ticket conductor (I’m on the right train, phew), I prepared myself for a 2 hours train journey.

And the trains do have toilets on them.

It was a long journey, but the changing scenery kept me occupied the whole way. A pity I didn’t take any pictures. The scenery of the sun setting against the mountains were really spectacular. I also had the first experience of seeing my train go through a tunnel hollowed out from the mountains.

I did some people watching on my train compartment. I noticed that many office people work in Sydney but then take an hour or hour and a half commute back home. One guy got off one stop before my station, making his commute almost 2 hours. Phew….

I was suppose to meet my friend at Katoomba station since it was near the hotel he was working at. But he called me later and told me that he knocked off early and told me to get off at Leura station, which was a stop before Katoomba.

Was it Leura or Laura?

One thing about inter-city trains is that they are old and so most of them don’t have any maps on board. Not like Singapore MRT. It means that the PA system is completely fucked up. On Singapore MRT, a loud, robotic voice will announce the stops clearly. But here, it’s the train driver announcing the stop and most of the time he is mumbling the words. He also announces the stops a few seconds before the train pull in. Furthermore, the train will only stop at a station for maximum of one minute before pulling out.

So most of the time, I had to squint through the darkness, trying to make out the train stations’ names. That was how I missed Leura station and disembarked at Katoomba around 6pm.

The first thing I noticed was that my breath started fogging. Moments later, the cold weather hit me. Even though I was wearing a undershirt, one long tee, one wool jacket, a wool scarf, a wool hat and jeans, these didn’t really help. As I stood freezing in the station, I called H (the friend).

I told him that I missed Leura and was now at Katoomba. After throwing a few choice swear words at me, he told me to stay put and he would come to pick me up. He later said that I had to treat him drinks as he would have wasted 10 dollars to make a 10 minutes journey.

I could have take the train back to Leura. But these are inter-city trains and they come every 45 minutes to one hour. And I don’t really fancy freezing for another one hour.

While waiting for H, I took some pictures.

Katoomba Station

Katoomba Station

A small hotel opposite

A small hotel opposite

H came about 15 minutes later. He chided me for getting off at Katoomba when I could have got off at Leura, which was just next to his apartment. Anyway, after the usual greetings and hellos, he asked me if I was hungry to which I said YES. I hadn’t had a meal since breakfast, which was 7 hours ago.

H and I walked through the main street of Katoomba. It’s a very small town. Very peaceful and there were few cars on the road. It was getting late (it was only 6:15pm!) and most of the shops were closed. H showed me the 5 star hotel where he was doing his F&B placement: The Carrington. That hotel is almost over two hundred years old and is an heritage. I didn’t take a picture at that time cause it was too cold (the town is 1000 metres above sea-level) so I’ll show you a picture I got from Google:

The Carrington

The Carrington

We headed to a small cafe to have a light snack. The cashier who took our orders was a Chinese man and half the time we couldn’t understand him. But at least we got our food. H, if I’m not wrong, had an egg roll while I had a cheese burger. The cheese burger was fantastic and better than any fast food restaurant; it had two patties of beef with melted cheese and chili sauce. It was piping hot and had the melt in the mouth taste. Just what we needed to warm our body.

We later headed to a small pub where we had a pint of golden ale. I can’t remember the name of the pub except that it was next to The Carrington. I can’t really remember the name of the ale. All I remembered was that the beer was cheap and had a crisp and refreshing taste with not too much hops in it. It certainly helped to wash down my burger snack. Of course, I treated H to drinks for the taxi fare.

We were waiting for H’s friend to finish class around 8pm. So after drinks, we decided to kill time by heading to Coles Supermarket. We wandered around the Children’s Section aimlessly before doing something idiotic. We bought (more accurately, H bought) a large container of gumballs. There was no reason to it. We saw it and it looked so big, so colourful and so tasty that we just bought it on the spot.

We still had time, so I offered to pay for the cab ride back to H’s apartment in Leura. Cost me 10 bucks for a 10 minutes ride. Cabs in Blue Mountains are expensive. I suggested walking but H said we would probably die from hypothermia first before we even reach his place. Quite true.

We spent the next half hour killing time at his apartment before heading over to the Blue Mountains Hospitality School to pick up his girlfriend after her classes. This time, H paid for the cab ride. Quid pro quo after all. After picking up his girlfriend, we headed to a Thai restaurant for dinner (H paid for cab ride). By then, my stomach was rumbling and I was on the verge on eating anything within my sight. The burger was only enough to quell my hunger pangs.

Unfortunately, the Thai restaurant was closed. The whole Leura main street was deserted and it was only 8:30pm. All the stores were closed and there was certainly no restaurants we could go to. After a few minutes deciding (the cold speeded up our decision-making) H suggested to have Domino’s. At that point, I couldn’t care less what we had for dinner. Pizzas, hamburger or steak, anything that was edible, I would have agreed.

So we walked back to H’s apartment (it was very close by) and promptly called the delivery line.

Unfortunately, there was no more ham or bacon.

And what’s pizza like without ham or bacon? Vegetarian. Damn…..

H apologized to me, saying this was not what he expected and I just told him to get my dinner pronto. So in the end, we decided to head back to Coles Supermarket (me footing the cab bill) and shop for food stuff (H’s girlfriend footing the food bill) and head back to H’s place to cook (H’s girlfriend footing the cab bill). Well, H, that bloody bugger, forgot his wallet.

Dinner was a feast. But a very weird feast.

Menacing H in the kitchen

Menacing H in the kitchen

H is making his minced chicken with onion omelet. The white bowl on his right contains the omelet. Verdict: tres delicious.


Fierce H

H the cook

Beside the omelet, we had store-bought pizza, which we almost burned it:


Zuii cutting the pizza

Zuii cutting the pizza

Zuii, H’s girlfriend, demonstrates how a pizza should be cut. Luckily, the pizza was still edible and we finished the whole pie. You see the white bowl and avocado next to Zuii on the basin? And the soy sauce bottle at the top of the pizza? Zuii taught me how to mix raw avocado with soy sauce to get a sweet and salty meal. Very filling and delicious!

We also had roast chicken:

H's godsister Vivian

H's godsister Vivian

I apologized to Vivian here. I know this is not a very glamourous shot of her and just wanted to say that she look better in person. And that’s the chicken she eating from.

Beside the omelet, soy-sauced avocado, pizza and chicken, we had instant noodles too. By then, we were not hungry but filled to bursting point. Weird but satisfying meal.

We slacked around for a bit until midnight before H bought me and Zuii along to a pub at Alexandria Hotel, which was near his place. Vivian was not in the mood so she stayed at home while H’s housemates (two girls, sorry no pictures and I can’t remember their names) went later.

This pub is one of the oldest in Leura and it had a mini disco area for people to dance. Every Thursday night, most of the students from the Blue Mountains Hospitality school and the other schools would congregate at the place. It was also where I had a minor problem.

The bouncer (huge guy) asked us for identification. H pulled out his student card while Zuii produced her passport. Me, being the usual idiot, produced my Singapore Pink ID. The bouncer glanced at me and asked if I had a passport. Damn, my passport was all the way in Sydney.

H explained to the bouncer that I didn’t have my passport with me so the bouncer, being understanding, let me in but advised me that I should either carry my passport or a photocopy of my passport with me.

To be frank, I had not encountered this before. The pubs and clubs that I go to in Vietnam, I was not required to show any identification, much less a passport. In Singapore, all I had to do was to produce my pink IC or military IC or driving license. This bringing passport thing to a pub or club is actually quite new to me.

It was fun at the pub. Not too crowded but it certainly had the vibe and atmosphere. As most of the people there were H’s friends (and he being the usual Mr. Popular), I was introduced to the load of them, with most of the girls cooing in wonder when they found out we were army buddies. Of course, we didn’t tell them we were only clerks. Some stuffs are better left unsaid. H’s housemates came down later and we had a chat and they recommended me to go down to Melbourne (they’re from Melbourne) since in their opinion, Melbourne is better than Sydney. I don’t mind Melbourne as it is easier to get around and much cheaper. But what I can’t stand is that during winter, its very cold and wet and I don’t really like cold and wet weather. So Sydney it is.

Zuii treated me to this drink called Black Russian, which was the first time H and I had it. Quite a sweet, tangy drink. It’s vodka mixed with coffee liqueur.  Later, H treated me to a Jagerbomb. I seldom drink Jagerbomb so I can’t really draw any comparison. But what I can say is that a lot of the drinks are very cheap.

For those who are reading these, and you know who, I did not pass out. I did had a lot of drinks but no, no passing out took place. I did not bring my camera along, which was a waste. I should have bought it along and took some pictures. I like the pub, it’s an old school building with wooden stools, tables and walls and even the bar is wooden. Even though there was a lot of students making merry, it had an old school vibe to it. The fact that it was in a secluded area facing the highway and mountains added to its charm.

I did have a close shave with a guy who was either drunk or just trying to attract attention. I think it was the later because the bouncers didn’t throw him out when he punched one of them. He didn’t exactly punched them, just hit them in the way a child would hit an adult. Basically, he was just going around and hitting people in that joking, drunken way.

Later on, when he stopped to take a sip from his drink, he made eye contact with me for a few, long seconds. I smiled at him to acknowledge his greeting (so I thought) when he slowly prowled to the table where I was sitting.

As I was sitting opposite him, the guy had to walk around H and Zuii to get to me. By then, I was extremely tensed, I could tell by the way he move: slowly and calmly, with his gazed fixed on me constantly, that this was no friendly greeting.

He stood between H and I and by then H was staring at the guy, wondering what the hell he was doing. Still, that guy concentrated his glare at me and just stood there for the next 5 seconds. That were the longest 5 seconds of my life. My left arm was slight raised, to deflect any blows that guy was planning to rain on me while my right hand balled up into a fist, ready for the counterattack.

Then he strike.

I reacted by leaning back. Instead of landing his fist into my face, his right palm landed on my left shoulder and he gave me big grin.

“You all right, mate? Want to play a game?”

I just gave him a tight grin, the nervous energy still wound up in me and said no. H butted in and calmly told the guy that we were doing just fine and thank him for the invitation.

With that, the guy smiled at both of us and told us to enjoy our drinks before walking off. H and I discussed this the next day and I told H that if he had punched me, I would had retaliated. H told me that the guy would have been dead cause nearly all the international students were there and they would certainly beat the crap out of him if he did that.

H advised me that during my stay in Blue Mountains and Sydney, I would come across these people frequently. The only way to handle them was to just smile and politely decline anything they offer. He also told me not to give them any reason to fight me.

We stayed until closing time (2am) before heading back to H’s apartment. I slept in the living-room on a fold-out bed. The bed was big, almost queen size and quite comfortable. As it was cold, H provided me a electric heater and a blanket and I turned in for the night.

Part two coming up tomorrow. It will have more pictures than this post.

My very pathetic weekend after a glorious week.

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Thursday and Friday were truly the high point of my three weeks stay in Sydney. I took a 2 hour train trip to Blue Mountains to visit a friend and to do some sightseeing. And with this best/army friend majoring in hospitality and his known affection for good food and drinks and anything gastronomical, what did I get?

A food and sightseeing tour of Blue Mountains with a very attentive and knowledgeable host.

What more could I want?

I’ll like to talk more about the trip but that is another story. That trip deserves a post of its own. Pictures will be uploaded too.

Anyway, I got back to Sydney on Friday evening around 8pm. I was dog tired after walking around so much from all the sightseeing and from Central Station back to my hostel (15 minutes walk). I just dumped my duffel bag near the door, changed from my sticky clothes (story in the next post) and promptly plopped myself in front of my laptop and just started doing some mind-numbing surfing.

Strange eh? How I switched so fast from active-and-hyped-up-Zareth back to my lazy-ass-mode.

After half hour of surfing the net, I decided to clear out my duffel bag and packed up my stuff. It was then I realized that I had quite a lot of laundry to do. I mean, A LOT. For some reason, this week load was more than last week. Maybe it was because I bought new shirts and t-shirts. Six altogether.

So this strange thought jumped into my mind. Even though I was tired and I wanted to just turn myself into a zombie in front of my laptop, I decided, hey, let’s hand wash all my undies and socks! It’ll be fun! So I loaded up the pail with warm water, pour the required amount of detergent and added baking soda and swirled the water around to get warm, sudsy water.

Then I tortured my undies and socks by dumping them into the pail. I soaked the clothes for a few minutes before doing the usual kneading, rubbing, scrubbing and washing (its not called hand washing for no reason). That was the easy part. The difficult part was rinsing the undergarments. Seriously, I stood in the shower for a good half hour, just rinsing 5 pairs of boxers and 2 pairs of socks. A note, don’t put too much detergent, put less than the recommended amount. It’ll be easier to rinse.

After the rinsing, was the usual line drying. I had to change my home clothes (clothes I wear when at home, duh) cause I got totally soaked. Then I realized that even with the preemptive strike against my laundry load, I still had a lot of clothes to wash. The list:

1) One dirty, sticky jeans.

2) 6 t-shirts

3) 2 long sleeves tees. (One of them sticky).

4) 2 shirts

5) 2  shorts

6) 1 undershirt

7) 4 towels

That’s not including a jacket and two scarves I have to send for dry-cleaning.

Feeling depressed, I took comfort in doing stuff like more net surfing and snacking on mixed nuts. Around 2am, I felt very pooped and tired and so decided to turn in for the night.

And did not wake up till 1:44pm today. Wow, almost 12 hours of sleep.

I fixed myself brunch and did more net surfing until 4pm when I managed to muster myself to hand wash my jeans. Yep, hand wash jeans. I love my jeans and I don’t really trust the washing machine my hostel provides. Why? Cause even when I adjust the setting to ‘colours’, I still see hot water coming out. I mean, WTF? I expect cold water or mildly warm water, not hot. And jeans bleed very badly in hot water.

So I spent another 45 minutes hand washing my jeans. The usual kneading and scrubbing in a pail before the rinsing. I had to apply more force as the jeans was one of the main victim of yesterday’s fiasco. So after washing my jeans, I flat dried my jeans. I had to use a chair and two shelves to achieve that. Mental note: buy a drying rack.

I then did the usual laundry pile sorting: separating the colours from the whites and from the towels. I made 8 trips to the laundry room within 2 hours to wash the clothes, dry them and pick them up.

8 trips.

I didn’t want to spend 3 bucks per load on drying my clothes (that rhymes) and wanted to save money so I decided just to use the dryer for my towels. As for all my garments, I either hang them up drying or converted my bed into a makeshift drying rack. So now I have moist garments everywhere drying in my room. I really, really need to get a drying rack.

In the midst of all these laundry doings, I realized that I’ve forgotten to pay rent for the next two weeks. SHIT. I only realized it at 8pm and by then the reception was closed. I hope they are still open on Sundays. I really don’t want to be kick out and be without a home. School’s staring soon!

After all the laundry were done with garments drying in every possible spot and the warm towels folded and stored in my wardrobe, I proceeded to wipe down both my sling bag (another main victim of yesterday’s fiasco) and my duffel bag. Then I fixed myself dinner, which consisted of peanut butter and honey oatmeal, tuna with cold bread and cucumbers and Heineken.

Even the dinner sounds boring. What’s worse, I saw two Korean kids carrying out a big, steaming bowl of pork ribs from the communal kitchen when I was on my way to collect my towels. Damn it, I need meeaaattt.

Tomorrow will be equally boring. After buying the drying rack, I’ll probably just entertain myself by watching my clothes dry.

I feel like my life revolves around laundry. Since its winter now and I don’t sweat, I’ll wear an item of garment four times. This excludes underwear or socks. Jeans will only be washed twice a year or when it get soiled, whichever comes first. Jackets and cardigans will be washed after winter or when soiled, whichever comes first. There, laundry load cut and money saved.

I’m starting to feel domesticated.

By myself.

A briefing, a camera, some shopping and baking soda.

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Quite a lot of things happened the past few days. First, I would like to announce that my mobile is officially screwed up, so I would be getting a Samsung phone tomorrow.

Second, I bought a camera yesterday, the Sony cyber-shot S Series camera (Model DSCS930B). It was recommended to me by my younger sis (she’s the photographer of the family). I wanted  a Panasonic camera that was going for $199 at this electronic shop called Bing Lee (recommended by Edward). But the Sony camera is going at $159 and has slightly better specs than the Panasonic camera. Here’s a picture of both the Sony and Panasonic cameras:

Sony camera

Website link for the specs of the Sony camera: http://www.sony.com.au/product/dsc-s930/sku/dsc-s930_bc+au2

Panasonic camera

Website link for specs on Panasonic camera: http://panasonic.com.au/products/details.cfm?objectID=4894

Third, I managed to attend the information session at the university yesterday. I woke up at 9am and rushed through breakfast, changing clothes and brisk walked to my school and managed to reached the briefing session at 11am. I could have got there earlier if I didn’t lose my way around the campus (its damn big) and the Biochemistry and Microbiology building. That building itself is almost like a maze and I spend 10 minutes trying to find the room. Luckily, the session started late and so I didn’t miss anything and managed to get the more important information at the end.

It was quite amusing, both getting the camera and the information session. When I was walking around the campus, trying to look for that Microbiology building (of all places the ISSU had to chose that one), I passed by two Asian dudes, whom I guessed correctly, was trying to find the same building. Sure enough, barely after I sat down, they both came in a few minutes later.

That was not what it amused me. I was just pointing out the coincidence. What really amused me was that when I was trying to find the entrance into the Microbiology building (like I said, its a maze), I bumped into this Caucasian man, who I guessed correctly, was trying to find the location of the briefing.

Anyway, we both managed to find the entrance and when we entered the place, I was a bit surprised to find out that not only the exterior of the building was old, the interior was OLD too. Everything inside was probably dated back to the 1960s or 1970s, that was how old it was. The flooring looked old and worn. The stairs and the bannister looked old. The walls looked old. Even the lifts were old.

That was when the amusing event took place. The caucasian man was about a hundred metres ahead of me and so he entered the building before me. Subsequently, he got into one of the lifts just as I entered the place. I was a bit shell-shocked by the oldness of everything (coming from a country where demolitions of the past regularly take place) and so I just stood there like a complete retard, gawping at everything.

I was a bit skeptical too, that I was in the correct building. I mean, this was supposed to be the Biochemistry and Microbiology building. I imagined a modern steel and glass building with the latest technologies installed. Including lifts. I was not expecting a place that looked like it could belonged to the 60s era.

When I came back to my senses, I realized that the caucasian man got into the lift and the doors were about to close. There were still a wide gap between the doors so I made an attempt to run and jump into the lift.

Apparently I miscalculated and almost got my face squashed. The caucasian man noticed what I was trying to do and through that small gap, I saw him jabbing furiously at the buttons. I thought he was opening the doors for me but no, the lift doors closed and went on to its destination.

What the……

I was not really angry, just annoyed. I mean it was partially my fault to make my entry so late. And since these lifts were OLD, maybe it couldn’t react fast and open it time. Or maybe that guy didn’t like sharing lifts. Whatever it was, I got into another lift and as I pressed the floor number button, I took a quick glance and realized why that guy couldn’t open the lift doors.

There was no “Door Open” or “Open” buttons. Okay…. I saw a “Close” button but no “Open” button. And the buttons were really old, those black buttons where you push them into their sockets and they spring back out once you release them.

It took the lift a few, trundling minutes just to bring me from the second to the fourth floor. When I got out, I saw the man reading a map near the lifts. He glanced over and saw me and I saw his eyes widen and his body stiffened. I think it didn’t help that I was wearing my seriously-annoyed-look that made me looked seriously-pissed-off-that-I’m-going-to-kill-someone. I was irritated, not with the guy but with trying to find the damn room.

“I’m sorry, I mean the lifts, I mean the buttons, you know….”

“Oh, its okay,” I assured him. “Its all right.”

Then I gave him a big bright smile that would have done the Cheshire Cat proud.

Later, he headed off first after finding what he wanted on the map. At that time, I did at a feeling that he was also attending the briefing session. But I didn’t follow him and instead proceeded to try to find my room on the map. My room was listed as 417 but there was no 417 on the map. There were 410 to 419 but somehow, 417 wasn’t there at all. Frustrated, I started wandering around, only to realize that it was mostly laboratories around the floor.

I decided to head downstairs to the exit at the third floor, thinking that maybe the room was in another annex of the building. But when I got out and stood at the stairs of the exit, I was only looking at a large park with a pond in the middle. There was no building annex. Damn, I was going to be late for the briefing.

Maybe, I thought, it might be another room on the fourth floor. As I turned around to head back into the building, I saw a small notice pasted on the glass door:

“For the Daily Arrival Information Session, please proceed to Room 471.”

417.

471.

No wonder.

I felt like a total idiot. I knew where room 471 was. I saw it on the map and even worse, I walked past it a few times when I was searching for the non existent room 417. What I was looking for was under my nose all these while.

I scrambled upstairs, found the room and sneaked in while the briefing was going on. I saw the caucasian man from the earlier incident, sitting at the front row in one corner. So I made my way through the desk (eyes on me of course) and sat behind him. The man saw me and raised his eyebrows and made a face that seemed to say “So we’ve finally found the place after a long search”.

I grinned at him in reply.

The briefing was interesting especially the part on taxes, student card, transportation and insurance. Only did I realized that there was still a lot to be done. Sigh, so I’m not really settled down yet. One thing though, there was a lot of exchange students at the briefing. The girl sitting beside me, I suspected she was an American exchange student, judging from her accent. I could be wrong as my hearing for accents sucks. She could be Canadian, she could be European, who knows?

The man from before, he was a full-time student. I think post-graduate since he looks a lot older than me. Sounded American too. Or Canadian. But one thing I noticed about him was that he was quite fidgety. I don’t know whether that was from nervous excitement or mild stress or a habit but he kept moving around in his chair.

During the briefing, I learned that students would not get any concession fees for transportation in Sydney. Only overseas students on Australian scholarships and exchange students would get them. In fact, the ISSU advisor said that getting concession transportation fees was as good as winning the lottery. Why? It slashed transport fees by half. Which is a lot. As for the rest of us (like me), well, we just had to live with the unfairness.

But the advisor did add that there’s a lot of protest going on about this and she hoped that we would join the protest. Heck yeah, I am going to join, even if its my first protest. I mean, I walk around a lot, but I do have to take the metro and bus in the foreseeable future. So protest I would.

After the briefing, I wandered around the Student’s Union buildings for a while before heading back to my room to drop off all the information brochures and booklets. On the trip back, I realized that the Union’s buildings were not that far from my faculty and my lodgings. I also realized that I was walking in circles in the campus earlier in the morning. Really, FML.

Anyway, with a quick stop at home, I hopped onto a bus and headed to George Street. This is the only bus route I know and the only one I dare to take. I got off at the intersection near Goldburn Street and headed towards Sony Centre at World Square. Its camera buying time.

I’ve been to Sony Centre a few times and confirmed that they were selling the Sony camera at $159. So when I strolled into the shop, I knew what I wanted. All I needed was to get a salesperson’s attention.

I saw two salesmen but they were busy serving customers. So just to kill time, I browsed through the camera displays, pretending to look very interested in the range of product while eyeing my camera all the time. I got impatient after a few minutes when it looked like the two salesmen might be taking quite a while. So I headed into the computer and audio sections, only to find just one cashier and no salesperson.

Maybe it was during lunch hour so there were only two salesmen around. Maybe it was because in Singapore, most of the IT shops are usually crawling with salespeople. Whatever it was, I realized that I had to wait for one of the two to finishing serving the prior customers before attending to me. Luckily, the shop was mostly empty, so I didn’t expect a long wait.

True enough, a salesman came over to me a few minutes later after his previous customer failed to find what he wanted. Starting with the usual “how may I help you”, he scooted to me and waited for my reply.

I just pointed at my chosen camera and confirmed the price with him.

“Yes, its $159”, the salesman confirmed.

“Okay, I’ll have it.”

I’ll have to admit, the salesman didn’t look shocked that I made a spilt second decision. It was a long decision for me but from his point of view, it was a split second decision.

He strolled over to the computer terminal to look up on camera’s stocks when he dropped a bombshell.

“I’m sorry, but that camera is the last one. The only stock we have is the pink model.”

I was stunned. What? No more black? That one on display was the last one? Only pink? Of course, with reasonable specs and its reasonable price, the black model was sure to be sold like hot cakes.

Now, I have nothing against pink colour. I wore pink t-shirts and pink dress shirts before. But I draw the line of having to whip out a bright, candy-coloured pink camera every time I want to take a shot.

“Fine, I’ll take the display,” I told the salesman.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” I assured him.

As the salesman went towards the display, I started to prepare my very mediocre bargaining skills. Since I’m getting the display, might as well lower the price.

But a while later, the salesman came back empty handed. What, did the salesman change his mind? Was he going to force me to take the pink coloured model?

“Would you like me to get the black model from another store?” The salesman asked.

Oh, I didn’t expect that.

“Uhm, yeah, sure that’ll be great.”

“Ok, if you just write down your name and contact number, I’ll get the other store to transfer the camera here. I’ll call you when it’s ready for you to pick up.”

“Oh, okay, thanks,” I replied. While writing down my details, I was jumping for joy inside. Phew, I didn’t have to get a display camera or a pink coloured one.

I paid up and collected the receipt and was told that the camera might be ready the next day. Today’s the day but my phone ran out of battery this morning and I might have missed the call. So tomorrow I’ll be going down to collect my new Sony camera. Finally, I can take some pictures.

After paying up, I wandered through World Square. I was getting very, very hungry. My measly breakfast of some cornflakes and milk couldn’t sustained me through the day. I decided to go to the open air food court at the upper ground floor and could not have chosen a worse timing.

It was lunch hour and the whole crowd of office people descended upon the food court.

But then it was not as crowded and packed as food courts in Singapore during lunch hour. Maybe it was because the food court was in the open and less people fancy eating out in the cold. But I was cooped up in the my room the past few days and needed some winter air, so I chose to eat in the cold. Beside, the weather was fine and sunny, the temperature was just nice enough to enjoy a hot meal. So that sealed the deal.

I was indecisive about what to eat. I didn’t want to eat Korean food because I had been eating mostly Korean food the one week my parents were here. Furthermore, I didn’t want to eat Japanese food because I didn’t had the appetite for it. So that boiled down to Western or Indian.

But the Western food served mostly sandwiches, burgers or bagels. I had been eating PB & J sandwiches or Marmite sandwiches for dinner the previous week and didn’t want to eat another sandwich again. So Indian it was. I paid $9.90 for a big plate of rice with 3 types vegetarian curries and devour it.

Ah…. rice and curries…. finally after one week.

While eating my Indian cuisine, I realized how much I missed briyani and eating it with my hand. Nasi Briyani……

At the same time, I had some interesting people watching. I realized how majority of the office people wear almost all black. Black jacket, black pants, black shoes, black ties. Same goes for the women, black jacket, shoes, skirt, dress….

I know its winter and they are working people but can’t they just spice up their dress sense a bit? Especially the guys, I would have thought I was in the Matrix with Agent Smith if it were not for the Indians who coloured the place with their pastel shirts and colourful acrylic sweater vests. I’m not a big fan of those acrylic sweater vests but at least these people wore some colours, instead of black, navy-blue or white.

So after lunch, I headed back to my neighbourhood. I decided not to take the bus since it was only a 15 to 20 minutes walk and I need to digest my very carbohydrated lunch.

I went to Harris Farm supermarket at Broadway Shopping Centre, just opposite my hostel to do some grocery shopping. This place is truly the place to buy fresh produce. My second cousin brought me here and told me that Harris Farm had connections with the farmers and so most of the produce here were very cheap. If you’re not those people that eat veggies or fruits, then this is of no relevance to you.

How cheap is cheap? Well, I bought 2kg of big bananas and it cost me only $5.58. These were not those small little bananas. They were big, I think almost twenty inches in lenght.

By the way, stop thinking about phallic thoughts.

I bought 1kg of tomatoes that cost me $1.87. They were not small either. They were big (one of them the size of my fist) and very, very fiery red (which means very ripe and contains a high level of beta-carotene). I also bought two cucumbers that weighted 1kg each. Those two cost me $3.98.

Yep, its that cheap.

The only thing that wasn’t cheap were almonds. I like almonds but it cost almost 9 bucks for just 500 grams. In Singapore, I could have got it for only 4.50. Weird, it seems like almonds its expensive here.

After that bit of grocery shopping, I went back to my room, stocked up my fridge and then went down to do borrow the vacuum machine.

The day before (Sunday), I did some housework and cleaned, dusted and wiped my room. I even scrub the toilet bowl. I was very bored and had too much free time. Anyway, that night, after all the housework was done (it didn’t take me very long, I have very few furniture), I scattered baking soda on my carpeted floor.

No, I’m not insane. Go google up baking soda uses and you’ll know.

One thing I dislike about my room is the carpet floor. I have nothing against carpets, as long as it is confined to my sleeping area and living area.

But my room has carpet floor right up to my small dining table (unused) and the kitchenette. This is where it really irritates me. You know sometimes you prepare your food, there’s a tendency for crumbs to spill, liquids to splash about and other accidents. If it was a normal floor, fine, you just wipe it up. But it it was a carpet floor, that is where the big headache come in.

For crumbs, you can’t really do anything except brush and vacuum the place. For spills, that is a major problem. Thankfully, I haven’t spill anything yet and I am hoping not too. But yes, I hate the carpet floor around my kitchenette.

Anyway, I sprinkled baking soda and left it there overnight. So the next day, which was yesterday, I vacuumed up the place and was left with nice clean carpet. It took me a while because some ass choke up the pipe with carpet fibers, human hair and what nots and could not be bothered to clean it out before returning the vacuum machine.

Yesterday was quite eventful, compared to my usual slothful days. Today, I’m back to my slothful ways since I had nothing on. But in the coming days, there’ll be lots of stuff to keep me occupy. Finally.

I might be going to Blue Mountains to visit a friend and do some sight seeing on Thursday. I’ll be there overnight and will head back to Sydney on Friday evening. But that is not confirmed yet.

Orientations start next week. Looking forward to that after almost two weeks of being in exile. But I’m definitely not looking forward to classes. I have a feeling I am going to fail the first six months after 3 years of not studying. Even the ISSU advisor said the the first six months is usually the toughest period and is common for students to fail. Uh-oh…….

I just got 9 overdue messages from my phone when I was writing this. One was from my second cousin inviting me for lunch last Saturday. It is now Tuesday. WTH.

Mobile Phones.

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Yesterday was the peak of my epic laziness. I woke up at 12:30pm again, after promising myself the day before that I would wake up at 8:00am so that I could turn up in time for the “Daily Arrival Information Sessions” held by University of Sydney.

That promise never materialized.

My phone alarm rang at 8am on the dot. It was cold that morning and I left the window open for some fresh air. However, this resulted in cold drafts blowing into my room. So I switched the alarm off, closed the window and buried myself deeper into my quilt. Ah… comfort….

Minutes later, my phone rang again. This time, not in the tone of the alarm. Damn, someone’s must be calling me. I twisted around half-heartily and groped around for my phone with my eyes still shut.

After locating my phone, I peeked at the caller screen and noticed two things at once:

First the incoming called was listed as “Dad Singapore.” Had to answer this.

Second was the timing. The time was 12:30pm.

What. 12:30pm?

I didn’t overshot my sleep by 4 minutes. I overshot it by 4 hours and a half. 4 hours. So the promise of going to the information session was immediately shot down. That thing starts at 10:30pm anyway.

I groggily got up and tried to make my voice all bright and cheery. Clearing my throat, I took the call. A few minutes into the conversation with my dad (something about my M1 mobile subscription), my phone died. It didn’t literally died but it just disconnect the call and the screen went blank. This happened a few times with my phone and I knew what it meant: phone has stalled. Yep. My phone stalled.

The only solution was to flip my phone close and patiently wait for my phone to resuscitate itself. After the screen came back to life, I dialled my dad immediately and apologized and explained to him that my phone died halfway, not because I wanted to cut the conversation off (I didn’t said the last part).

My dad just said okay and told me to disconnect the call, saying he would call me back so that I didn’t have to pay for the phone charges of making an overseas call.

After another few seconds of waiting, my dad called me and thankfully, my phone didn’t stall or do any funny things again. My dad asked me what was wrong with my phone.

And I was thinking, yeah, what is wrong with my phone?

With that, the story of my troubles with my phone unfold.

My phone had been no trouble for me the past three years. Yep, I got this phone three years ago. I know that for a Singaporean guy like me, three years with the same phone is quite a long time. In a country where people change their phones every six months/one year/or when a new model hits the market, three years with the same phone is by far, for me, the longest I’ve spent with a phone.

So far my phone has been giving me few problems even though it had to bear the brunt of my abuse. Such a supporting and understanding partner, I must say. And example of one such abuse is me dropping my phone and shattering it with such impact that my screen went completely blank. I could answer calls and I could still use my phone but I just can’t see a thing because the screen was destroyed. Thankfully the screen did not crack.

The worst thing was that I got my phone barely four months ago. A brand new phone destroyed because of my carelessness. How I dropped the phone is a rather funny story. I was holding my wallet in my left hand and my phone in my right. I wanted to put my wallet on a counter but my brain got momentarily confused and my right hand released my phone. Fortunately, my phone was covered under a one year warranty so I rushed down to Nokia Care Centre at Wheelock Place and pleaded with the customer service officer to save my phone’s life.

Okay, I didn’t really do that.

Since I knew that any damage to the phone that was caused by human means i.e. dropping it or flushing down the toilet bowl were not covered under the warranty, I lied to the customer service officer and complained that the screen didn’t work and I just got the phone four months ago.

The customer officer bought my story (helped by the fact that my phone was only four months old) and asked for my warranty card. After confirming my details, I handed over my phone, waited for two weeks before collecting a repaired and brand new phone, fixed free of charge.

After that major fiasco (that was the only one), everything was relatively smooth sailing. Truth to be told, I was using two phones during the same period. One was the Nokia 8310 (type NHM-7) and the other was Nokia 6131 (type RM-115). The latter was the four months old which went through the free operation.


Here’s a photo of Nokia 8310:

Nokia 8310

Here’s a photo of Nokia 6131:

Nokia 6131

The reason why I used two phones was that I was serving my National Service. During this period, I could only bring the Nokia 8310 to my air base since it did not had any camera functions. However, during the weekends, I would switch back to the Nokia 6131. This went on for two years until I completed my two years service and I then started to use the Nokia 6131 exclusively.

I love my Nokia 6131. It’s small but not that small till you can’t read the keypad. It’s light and best of all, its a flip phone. With just a press on the button at the side, the phone automatically flips open. It got two screens: one on the outside, on the cover and the main one in the inside. The main screen is big, it takes up almost the whole length of the first half of the phone. So that means I don’t have to peer at my phone to read SMSes.

That said, things had been going well the past 10 months since Nokia 6131 and I started to date exclusively. Problems started surfacing after I settled down in Sydney. A few days later, I inserted the Telstra pre-paid SIM card into Nokia 6131. At first, all was well. Until I realized I could not get any SMS from overseas number.

I only realized this when my parents told me that they texted me. I would give them a blank stare and told them I did not receive anything. Subsequent tries from them proved that I could not receive any overseas SMSes but could send SMSes overseas. I could still receive both local and overseas calls and make local and overseas calls. I could also send and receive local SMSes.

I thought something was wrong with the pre-paid SIM card and so decided to head down to the Telstra shop to enquire about the SIM card. In the mean time, I decided to just let the problem run it course, thinking it was no big deal. I mean, I’ve inserted Bangkok SIM card and Vietnam SIM card, in addition to my usual M1 SIM card with no problems. What more can a Telstra SIM card do to my phone?

After my parents went back to Singapore, I went back to the same Telstra shop that sold the SIM card to me. The same salesman was there and he recognized me. So I explained my problem to him and he told me that there should be nothing wrong with the SIM card. Maybe it was the way my parents keyed in my number when they SMSed me. He showed me the correct way to key in my number from an overseas number and gave me the Telstra hotline if nothing worked out.

Sastisfied, I thought everything was okay. I even texted my parents, telling them the correct way to key in my number and that everything was fine.

How wrong I was.

Apparently they texted me back but I didn’t receive their message.

I only found out about this when my dad called me on Wednesday, saying he texted me. By now, I was quite alarmed. Something must be wrong with my phone. I decided to call the hotline. After some troubleshooting, the technician told me that there must be something wrong with my message centre. He gave me the number for the message centre and told me how to key in the number.

I decided to test my phone again. I SMSed my younger sister and my twin, asking them to text me back when they received my message. Furthermore, I SMSed a local number, my friend in Blue Mountains, asking him to text me back when he received my message.

I did not receive all three messages.

To be fair, I texted at 2am, Sydney time. So my friend could have been asleep. However, when I logged onto MSN, I saw my sister online and asked her if she texted me. She said she did. Not convinced, I asked her to text me again. She complied, but still, no message received.

Shit.

In one last desperate moment, I texted my friend. Suddenly, my phone stated there was no message centre available.

Double shit.

I went to the message settings and looked around for the message centre.

Oh, doubly triple shit. No message centre found.

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. What the hell happened? I managed to find the message centre, only after switching my phone on and off repeatedly. I wrote down the message centre number that the technician gave me, but I wanted to test my phone.  The next morning, I received two SMSes from the Blue Mountains friend. I heaved a sigh, so all was okay.

Not really.

After lazing around that day (Thursday), I made a trip to the Broadway shopping mall to do some errands. My mom called me during that time. Halfway through the conversation, my phone stalled again. When I was waiting for my phone to start up, I received all my overseas SMSes together. Oh boy, something’s really wrong with my phone.

After finishing my conversation with my mom, I started fiddling with my phone. It seemed that my phone couldn’t or would not recognize the SIM card message centre and I had to key it in manually. Even if it did recognize it, I couldn’t receive or send any overseas SMS.

I decided to leave my phone alone on Thursday, just doing my laundry and lazing around. But the next morning, when my Dad called me and my phone stalled again, that was when I realized that there was something terribly wrong with my phone. My dad told me to get a new but cheap phone. I was determined to give my phone one last chance. So after I got off the conversation with my dad, I decided to give my phone a test.

This time, I texted myself.

I waited for 1 minute. No message received.

2 minutes, same result.

3, 4, 15, 30, 45 minutes. No message.

Oh boy I’m fucked. Now I can’t even receive local SMSes?

I can’t exactly remember the sequence of how everything went. But to summarize it, my phone cock up within 3 days, and in a foreign city too. What great timing, my mobile choosing this time to unload all its problems on me.

With that sinking feeling, I went onto Telstra website and started looking at their mobile phones. I wanted a touch screen phone, not iPhone 3G-S, but preferably a Nokia or LG or Samsung.

Actually, I prefer Nokia. I don’t want to start re-learning how to use a mobile phone from a differently company. I’ve been using Nokia for more than 6 to 7 years and am used to their functions. I already have enough headache learning how to use Macbook after being a Microsoft user since young.

Sadly, all the touchscreen phones were out of my price range. Even the Nokia phones that I wanted were way, way out of my budget. After some browsing, I landed on these three choices:


This LG TU720 phone above was initially my choice. But its $249 price tag is way out of my budget.

LG

My first choice: Samsung E1250. Price-tag of $89. Its a flip phone too. Unfortunately for me, I will have to re-learn some of the functions.

Samsung E2510

And the two Nokia phones. Unfortunately, the designs are really crap:

Nokia 2860. Has a price tag of $99.

Nokia 2860

Nokia 2600. Price tag of $79. But this Nokia design is seriously crap.

Nokia 2600

So I’m left with the Samsung phone. I guess this is a goodbye to my Nokia 6131. We’ll reunite once we go back to Singapore. But now, in Sydney, we’re on a break.

Adieu my good mobile, adieu.

Do not go gentle into good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light.

A bit sentimental, no? But a good phone is always a good phone.

Laundry man.

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I’ve been a very lazy ass the past two days. Waking up at 12:30 in the afternoons, moping around my room with 30 minutes excursions to the shopping mall opposite and more moping around my room.

Today, after waking up at 12:30 in the afternoon again, I was determined to do something. Never mind the fact that tonight was movie night and I could have gone down to watch “Underworld: Rise of the Lycans” and made some new friends at the same time. But I’ve watched that movie twice and I had something important. Something essential that have been put off for almost two weeks.

That, my friend, is laundry.

As I am writing this, I’m waiting for my clothes to finish their sauna in the dryer. Pretty boring wait. First I waited for 30 minutes for my colour load to finish their washing and then I have to wait another 30 minutes for my whites to finish their cleaning. There are two washing machine in my washing area but some bloody joker poured powder detergent in the other one and just left it there. So my only option is down to one washing machine. And a very long wait.

Aside from the waiting and waiting and being very hungry (I haven’t had dinner and its 8:15pm), everything went fine. With my clothes. In fact this is kinda huge thing for me cause… psst… this is my first time doing actual laundry in my 2o+ years on this earth.

Yep, first time laundry man. Cherry popped.

Actually, I did do washings before and I did use the washing machine before. But those are very limited experiences, especially when it comes to doing actual laundry.

The times I used the washing machine was limited to washing rags, towels, tea-clothes and the likes. The proper experiences with the washing machine were at my grandma’s house during my three year stay there and during a Lunar New Year stay at the Ongs’ place. Even then, my job was limited to loading and unloading the machine.

Looking back, I did find it rather funny that I’ve never really learned to wash laundry. I’ve doing housework like sweeping, vacuuming, mopping, cleaning toilets and toilet bowls, washing dishes, changing bed-sheets, and even washing my own shoes.

Yep, I wash my own shoes. I’m very anal when it comes to shoe cleanliness. Hell, ask my brother or my grandma, they’ll agree. Armed with a toothbrush, powder detergent or shoe soap and a pail of water, I’ll clean my 3 pairs of shoes manually. I’ve heard that some people just throw their shoes in the washing machine and let it do its job but I can’t never comprehend that. Washing machines are for clothes, towels and sheets; i.e. laundry. Not for cleaning shoes where you step onto dog/cat/bird/human poop. And I usually give my shoes a very thorough wash every 4 months.

That’s to say, I’m pretty adept at household chores and can even do basic cooking to keep myself alive. In fact, when my parents asked me what was my biggest worry, I didn’t say food (my area is like a foodie’s paradise), I didn’t say housework. I didn’t mention any of that. In fact, I told them my biggest worry was laundry.

Yep, laundry.

In fact, its rather ironic that I know how to iron my clothes but not how to laundry. When I was young, either my mom or the maid (or sometimes dad) would do the laundry for me. As I lived with my grandma, I insisted that I learn how to my own laundry but grandma didn’t allow me for fear of me ruining the machine or the clothes. So I was delegated to the role of loading and unloading the machine or putting the clothes out for sun-drying.

Consequently I never learned the basics of laundry: sorting out the clothes by colour/fabric/dirtiness and the temperature of water and subsequently the drying part; to put in the dryer or to not put in? That’s the problem.

The second part is rather easy, with high-tech washing machines and detergents. Most of the time, its a no-brainer. You throw your clothes in, pour the detergent, choose your washing cycle and wait for the next 30 to 45 minutes. The majority of the work is done by the machine. Even the temperature is chosen by the machine.

But it was the first part of that flummoxed me. I’ve heard the old warning of never mixing your white garments with your red socks/underwear/panties/shirt, lest you want to come with a load of permanently pink garments that would have done the Pink Ranger proud.

It didn’t help that clothes come in different fabrics and certain fabric or not suited for machine washable. Adding to the confusion is that some clothes could only be hand-washed or certain colour loads could be mixed with whites as long as they’re ‘colour-fast’.

The internet with all its information overloaded my brain with all sort of tips and advices. Further advices from mom and grandma swirled the cauldron of confusion in me.

It took me two days to shift through the advices. The reason why it took me so long cause I was such a lazy ass (as mentioned before) and there was just too much information. But slowly and surely (nice cliche) I found what I needed.

Majority of the websites advised to separate the whites from the colours. Sure, that’s pretty easy. But what if I have a t-shirt that is mostly white but with logos or writing on it? What if I have a red and white striped t-shirt? What if I have a grey pair of socks? Do they go with the colours or with the white? Some said to put this in the white pile (at own discretion). Some said to put this in the colour pile (at own discretion). Okay, this is not really helping a novice laundry man like me. How can I trust my own discretion? But trust I did and the red/white striped t-shirt ended up with the colours while the grey pair of socks and mostly white t-shirt ended up with the whites. While I ended up praying that nothing could go wrong.

Some website added that if I really wanted to play safe, I could create a third pile and put all the light pastel colour shirts and the grey pair of socks together. But I didn’t want to make three loads of laundry and waste 9 dollars on just washing clothes. So two piles it was.

Everything was…. ARRGH! OMFG!


Everything came out fine. No bleeding, no Pink Ranger shirts, no destroyed shirts or pants. Phew. Excuse the exclamations, I was just too happy.

Drying was another matter. This time I just followed two advices, the first one on the clothes care label (read that, very important and helpful!) and mom’s advice. Those clothes with care labels not recommending tumble dry ended up in my toilet drip-drying or on my bed (if its not that wet) flat drying.

Those with labels recommending tumble drying, ended up in the dryer with the lowest heat setting (had to paid 3 bucks). The advice from mom was to dry your clothes using the machine’s lowest heat setting to prevent the risk of shrinking or scorching the clothes. After about 15 to 20 minutes, when the clothes are about 70% dry, take the clothes out and then leave them to air dry for the next 20 minutes. Viola, clean laundry! And this minus the need of ironing your clothes too.

So after an approximate hour and a half, I finally cleaned my two weeks worth of laundry and now have them airing in my room. The smell of clean laundry wafting through my room is indeed, the sweet smell of accomplishment for me.

P.S. Put half a cup of baking soda (also known as bicarbonate soda) with your detergent if you are using top-loading machine. A quarter a cup if you are using front-loading. The reason is that the baking soda helps the detergent to work harder and helps to get rid of any foul odours. Trust me, it works. My socks came out smelling cleaner.