— Photos of a Yearlong Hiatus

I have been a writer, journalist, blogger for more than half my life now. From scribbling down a random thought to the misc reporter job — Writing has always taken up a very real space in my mind. So, it's strange to look back over an entire year (and, yes, this is even after I made that certain New Years resolution to keep up le blog) and realize that I have been way out of practice. That is to say, the practice of creative thinking, hell, worldly thinking and expression. I know, it's all very vague and hocus pocus. A year has gone by and I cannot possibly describe how much a person can grow in just twelve months.

2010 began in Paris.

And flowed into Rome, where old friends met in new places...

Back to school for a semester of reverse culture shock.

Which ended on playful notes.

Made Philly my home for the summer of The Intern Life.

It became a very beloved city; theme of the summer: serendipitous moments.

Plenty of beach frolicking.

For business or pleasure? I think both...

Great nights.

Trips to New York.

To play with ducks "looking at tails."

Celebration of friends and the final year at school!

It's a pizza grin.

A semester of burritos.

And Halloween characters.

And M.I.A.

And pranks on important people.

Of visitors and snowy football fields.

Fishbowls,

And wintry parties.

2010, it's been real. 2011!?

Places I've been in the past year: Paris, Rome, School, NYC, Philly, the JERSEY SHORE. 


Places I plan on going this year: NYC, Dominican Republic, Montreal, DC, Albany, Boston, LA to Napa Valley road trip, da 'Burgh

And I'm planning on keeping a record of it all :) Happy New Years!

Five euros and antique china

"Five euros!" I yelled, in French. The crowd turned around and looked at me with interest, as I was promptly handed a ticket stub. Moments later, I was the proud owner of an 18th century collection of blue and white china.

Aaand that was my first auction!

My grammar class today took a trip to one of Paris' auction houses, called le Drouot. I was grumbling the whole time because I had to wake up early on a Saturday morning and listen to a random lady lecture about antiques. Between bites of fig cake and sips of café crème, I complained about how I thought auctions were sad and capitalistic.

Of course, that all changed until I saw explositions of vintage Hermès bags and scarves, as well as cases and cases of blinged out jewelry lying on black velvet. As I drooled over one exquisite statement necklace, probably worth my life, one of the clerks asked if I would like to try it on. My jaw dropped to the floor. She opened the glass case, carefully took out the necklace, and fastened it around my neck. Oh, the necklace? Precious stones, gold, and pearls that went down past my navel. The weight of it felt like I would have a permanent hunchback after wearing it. I was in bling-bling heaven...

Yeah, it was probably the most expensive piece of jewelry I have ever worn. I had my 2 minutes of fame, then back it went into its spot on the black velvet, in the locked glass case.

After ooh-ing and ahh-ing at some more expensive things, we finally made our way to one of the auctions taking place. It was JAM PACKED. As the crowd whispered to themselves, an eldery man with snow-white hair was pounding a gavel, crying out, "20 euros, 20 euros... 30 euros, any one for 30 euros?" The prices were ridiculously decent. We were in shock. What surprised me was that so many antiques were being auctioned off at dirt-cheap prices. Not only that, but they sold them by the CRATE. They showed us crates and crates of random bric-a-brac, paintings, records, books, vases, pottery... A few of my friends were wondering if we should join in on the auction... and before I knew it... they were showing a crate for 5 euros, with pretty Dutch china, and a cloud went around my head : I saw myself raising my hand and yelling out a number, as all my classmates and friends turned and looked at me. I had just bought an entire collection of antique china for 5 euros. FIVE EUROS.

I left the auction with a huge bubble-wrapped bag, as my friends patted my back. "Chrys, that was... unbelievable... You just bought something at a French auction... I wish I did that.. that was, wait, that was so spontaneous."

I just stared at my new things. "But. How am I going to bring an entire collection of antique china all the way back to New York?"

Story to be continued...

Picnic in the Park and other Weekend Tales

On Saturday afternoon, Lola and I decided to do an old-fashioned Picnic in the Park. This was our response to save money (restaurants really know how to clean our your wallet). So, we bought bread, crudites, yogurt, fruit, coffee, and nuts at a grocery store and camped out in Central Park. It was pretty cute. If you want to get hardcore about picnicking, you can even break out the real china and silverware. I saw a group of ladies next to us sipping white wine from plastic wine glasses. One tip, however: make sure you fill a few ziplock bags with cubes of ice (double bag the packs), and wrap them in towels. Food and drinks needs to stay fresh - especially in this hot weather! 

I am officially the living dead.

"MY FEET ARE KILLING ME. Literally. Killing me." That's all I could think about on the subway home from my first day at my internship and training/job at Montmartre. I almost growled at some old woman who took my seat on the subway.

After toddling up the stairs and taking off my heels in the elevator (I'm sure the doorman saw my state of pathetic-ness in his security cameras), I jumped in the shower, while cooking pasta, and cleaning the apartment- simultaneously. Now, I'm eating a bowl of pesto ravioli and pre-packaged salad. Andd it's almost eleven PM. A thousand things are swarming in my head. I've responded to my messages and applied moisturizer. I've cleaned and ate and now, I'm writing.

I take mental notes during the day of things I want to talk about. As soon, as I get down to writing it, they all fly out of my head and I'm left with a blank page. Or WORSE. Nonsense and jibber jabber. Oh, what writer's guilt I'm feeling now.

A note to all: I'm in the process of journaling and editing, as well as revamping this site. Inspired by Michele's amazing website and my design internship, I might even scrap everything and start fresh. Who knows... if I can find ANY TIME. I will have more details on work later, I promise. Before, I am officially the living dead.

What happens in Spamalot, STAYS in Spamalot

Yesterday, one of my really good high school friends, Selena, came to visit me in the city. I love how everyone wants to treat you to stuff when they hear you're a poor college student living and working on your own. Her family took me to see Spamalot on Broadway. It totally exceeded my expectations. The humor was a bit controversial... but just enough. I loved it.

I met up with another Cornell friend today. She was in the city for some internship interviews and we ended up getting Pinkberry by my apartment and cooking pasta. It was delicious!

I have some tough decision to make tomorrow. I went into round two of a job interview process today and I've been biting my nails, going crazy, wondering if I'm getting this job. And, what I would do if I actually got it. After the interview today, I took a walk around the shops at Columbus Circle and somehow found myself in the basement grocery store. A woman was giving out sample of martini mixes and she saw my exhausted state: "Honey, you need a smile on your face. Try this lemon drop martini. Non-alcoholic of course." We started chatting for about ten minutes and by the end I had tasted a cosmo, a mojito, and a pomegranate martini. Funny how strangers randomly cross paths, if only for a little bit, but make all the difference in one's day.

I definitely need to relax more now... updates tomorrow. You never know what will happen...

Toto, I don't think we're in Ithaca anymore

Okay, so I’m going slightly mad. I feel as though I have both MOUNTAINS of work and none whatsoever. This Internet thing is also starting to bother me—I feel so disconnected from civilization. That feeling of primitiveness just does not coincide with me being in one of the major cities of the world.

I met some interesting people today and found myself in some noteworthy situations. My friend, Kristin (remember, the girl who is supposed to be my roommate this summer) just told me that she would only be staying two weeks at the end of July. Bummer. I’m good at being independent (i.e. totally alone) but I feel pretty bummed out about having to duke out the summer by myself. At least I’m friends with the doorman… and my writing. (I just sounded so pathetic baah).

I had the strangest strangest feeling today. I reunited with my friend and sorority sister, Lauren for lunch at a restaurant called “Toast.” We had both been running around, going to job interviews for the entire day. I sat down to order and I thought, “We’re… legit living in New York City… in the real world… living and working.” I don’t think that makes any sense now but for me, this deal of being independent—making my own work schedule and earning a salary—it really hit me. I feel like one of those old thirty-something adults who meet for drinks after work and complain about their boss.

Toto, I don’t think we’re in Ithaca anymore!

Or college and the culture, which follows for that matter. I’m a working girl now… I think. A working girl in disguise. See, this is how it works. You just need to think and act like you know exactly what you’re doing. Resume? Check. Fashion sense? Check. A firm handshake? Check. I came a week earlier to Manhattan to look for some sort of job, preferably to both gain the sales experience and earn fast cash (oh, how we do depend on money). My parents tipped me off on tips—fast cash I could earn through waitressing or any sort of restaurant job. This is how I found my first conquest: a hostess position at the French restaurant down the block called, “Le Monde.” I go for training on Thursday.

But what I would really like is to get a clothing sales job—such a good experience to have for my major and resume. One problem, though, is that I tend to get extremely intimidated by “fashion passion people.” It’s the nickname I’ve given those very scary high fashion snooty artsy fartsy whatever-you-call-it kind of people. You get what I mean. They’re extremely judgmental and base everything off of first impressions. The good thing is that I’m a pretty quick learner and even though I make dreadful mistakes, I will use that to make myself better to the best I can. Today, I kept getting better and better at my method of attacking these big name stores towards the end of my exhausting job hunt.

I was quite a mess this morning, though. I HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING. To recap: I sort of just rambled down Broadway and walked into whatever store I passed by with the same shy, uncertain greeting, accidentally smacking people in the face with my resume and portfolio. I made a fool of myself at American Apparel, Banana Republic, Club Monaco, and the GAP. Then, I realized that this approach of blindly walking in whatever direction I felt like really wasn’t working out. This is what I mean by learning quick—first, you need to acknowledge that what you are doing is really, really dumb. So, I hopped back on the subway and got off at Columbus Circle after recalling that the place usually attracted a lot of shoppers (or was I imagining that?).

Completely by accident, I stumbled into a mall sort of thing! Okay. My big break. I would attack all the stores with a polite but outgoing, intelligent but down-to-earth AWESOME attitude. I had nothing to lose so I did it: Bebe, J. Crew, United Colors of Bennetton, Montmartre, and finally Armani Exchange. I CONQUERED. Yes, share in the basking of my success.

What an exhausting day… I’ve decided to work myself to death this summer—excited much?

The end of a marathon weekend | Freshman year is over?? Wha-

Oh god. My head is pounding. My throat is sore. I'm a tired mess. This weekend has been the craziest, busiest marathon weekend of my life (PS. I am not exaggerating at all).

We started it off with a bang: SLOPE DAY - an epic celebration of everything Cornellian. Hot hot heat performed pretty solidly. Although the weather was a bit iffy, everyone toughed it out on the slope as best they could.



The next day, I woke up at 4:45pm!!!! NO JOKE. To top that off, I had a formal to go to at 5:30pm!!! I woke up to my friend banging on my door, scared to death because everyone had been trying to reach me all day and I hadn't responded once. I didn't even hear my alarm ring because I felt so worn out and tired the night before. Some background information: recently, an Ithaca College student was found in a pond after going missing for a few days (look up the story). In addition, a Binghamton student died from a car accident on slope day. All this combined with the fact that I had not responded to anyone's calls and been missing for a good 13 hours made everyone extremely alarmed. Thank god, I was fine (just a bit woozy from tons of sleep).

Me, extremely tired.

I woke up Saturday morning after formal at a decent hour but immediately hopped onto a bus to go on a wine tour. We visited Wagners vineyard, which was a good hour away, I think. It was BEAUTIFUL, next to Seneca lake. People had wine tastings and picnics. Pretty nice... EXCEPT THAT I LOST MY PHONE AND MY ID ON THE BUS. And that basically ruined my night. I was just so stressed and tired I went back and fell asleep around 9:30pm and woke up at 10:30am.


Wow. Come to think of it, I've been sleeping a lot, except the sleeping I've been doing isn't even real sleeping.. it's just a crash, blackout and then wake-up at an ungodly hour (either too early or too late). Today, I attempted to do work at the library but it was way too nice outside so I eventually gave in and slept outside (sleeping more damn it). I went to an amazing Thai restaurant for my friendss 22nd birthday... which was really a nice chill lovely thing to do.



So, I have to turn in early tonight. I really do. There's so much work to do and I've got to crack down for my finals and a final paper. Ok. I'm gonna crack down... starting tomorrow morning.

Curiouser and curiouser fo sho | Crazy Stuff I've Been Up To

How am I still alive? Thinking back to last week, I can barely believe that I've made it through all the deadlines, final projects, and presentations. Let's see what I've been up to. I've...

Written a FULL documentary play.

Gave a presentation on tax deductions and postsecondary tuition rates.

Scored a two-year internship with the Herbert F. Johnson Art Museum.

Cranked out my final anthropology paper.

BS-ed a French final paper.

Assisted and modeled in the Cornell Design League Fashion Show.

















Spring Formal!




















Interviewed with The Laundress|New York for a summer internship.



















Started planning a potential California trip.

Just begun my final Theater paper...

Passed out.

It's about time I talked about it | Greek Life

I'm getting tired of Greek life. It's one of those things, where one aspect of it is both something good/exciting and bad/exhausting: social networking. I'll be the honest advocate and say yes, fraternities and sororities can be very superficial. Since when has knowing people and having connections matter so much? Maybe I'm not getting that connections is just another part of the general scheme of life. Connections: finding friends, jobs, freebies, etc. And since when was it necessary to be a part of an organization in order to feel accepted and have friends? That is the negative side. Cornell is a huge school - but it all boils down to this very small community of individuals. You begin to recognize people everywhere. I both love it and hate it. This is what I've realized: to be Greek is great, and fun, and amazing for networking. But one thing it is not: an identity. For this reason, I'm so thankful for friends who are not a part of this circle. They've kept me grounded.

Another thing I've asked: would I have ever joined a minority sorority? There are Asian (Asian interest, they call it) Greek organizations out there. But another thing I've realized: minority greeks are worlds apart from the general greeks. You would have never thought of that but really but I'm not exaggerating at all.

For one, there's the rush and pledging process differences. They are much more liberal in choosing pledges (partly because there's not that much of a selection, usually). But much more intense and serious about pledging. My pledge process was a whirlwind of countless events and opportunities to meet other Greeks. However, minority pledging is a time when you're meant to be "tested." There are a lot of sketchy, secret codes to follow. When you finally do initiate (or "cross"- they follow a totally different terminology which sounds kind of scary and intimidating in my opinion, but may have been developed for this exact purpose) it's a HUGE deal. Letters, hands signs, titles: all these little things suddenly gain such meaning. And even when you do finally initiate/cross, you are still considered a new member ("neo"). There's an obvious hierarchy and it all has to do with these customs, titles - an humanly imagined concept. I wonder if it derives from Asian culture. The older you are from an Asian standpoint, the more respect you receive.

They're making the hand signs for their sorority/fraternity.

We talked about it in my anthropology class for a bit. How do supposedly ordinary symbols and rituals suddenly hold such meaning? A simple hand sign or greek letter suddenly has intense value because you permit some people to use them and others not to. It's like negative reinforcement and slightly twisted. You make a certain individual's life hell, take away all dignity and self-respect to make a simple event hold such importance. The individual feels a hundred times more grateful, afterwards. But does this mean we should make one part of our life miserable so that we can really appreciate the other half? It's the same idea with people who have a problem with cutting themselves to ignore the personal pain in their lives.

To blow it way out of proportion, Hitler used some of the same tactics to slowly transform the Nazis into a full-on hate group using little rules that slowly brainwashed an entire nation. First, the Jews weren't allowed to have bicycles. Next, a curfew. Then, not allowed to own business. The Nazis had an intense pride because they gave symbols like the swastikas and Nazi salute great importance. Everyone felt bonded together.

I'm in no way comparing Greek life to Nazism. But just to prove a point that some ideas made me question the meaning of fraternal organizations. What does it even mean to be part of a fraternity or sorority? Is it an identity? Does one get sucked into it? Once you join one, will you ever have a life outside of it? Will your only friends be other Greeks? This is what I've been pondering lately. And, I'm beside myself with gratitude - no, not about my initiation - that being Greek is not my identity and I sincerely believe... well, if I even had the courage to ask myself and others these questions then really, I haven't changed one bit.

Recipe for a Perfect Weekend

I love how all the prefrosh think that all we do at Cornell is sunbathe in bikinis, gorge jump, eat, and play Frisbee. When I visited last year (it's been a year??), five feet of snow covered all of Ithaca. How I ended up here... that is the question. Anyway, let me first give a little introduction:

Every Sunday, my sorority has a chapter meeting to discuss all that's going on in and around Alpha Phi. Today, a woman from the health center came to us about nutrition. Apparently, a person whose mood dramatically improves as a result of good weather has a high dependency on seratonin. That means food, physical activity, and 60 degrees and over temp = happy. Welcome to the most amazing weekend I've had at Cornell, thus far and the beginning of a much needed love affair with this University of Diversity.

On Saturday morning, I woke up and threw on the oldest, rattiest pieces of clothing I owned and joined up with some people headed for Holi, an Indian holiday to "welcome Spring" (such a nice reason, huh?). It was INSANE. About a hundred or more students ran around Annabel courtyard, throwing colored powder at each other for three hours. I barely survived- we were all covered in color and looked like a complete mess. A random person had thrown yellow into my eyes and I needed a friend to guide me step-by-step to a bathroom.


At the end of Holi, someone came up with the brilliant idea to go swimming. Which eventually turned into a mass migration to the gorges. (You see why I'm amazed I ever found myself in a a college surrounded by waterfalls and cow meadows?) Imagine a crowd of paint-covered, barely recognizable figures splashing into the gorges. I think the water changed color after all that.

Yes, I spent most of this weekend outdoors. After our gorge-jumping-slash-color-cleansing adventure, we decided to lay out in sun, walk to Collegetown for bubble tea, get dinner. I ran back to get ready for a breakdancing showcase and going out. The perfect weekend. I ran-without going to the gym, got utterly messed up-intentionally, ate delicious food, and actually got a legitimate tan. Seratonin overload. This week will be bombarded with activities as well. It's officially Cornell Fashion week... our show is this weekend. And Formal is coming up. My INTERNSHIP INTERVIEWS. PRESENTATIONS. And, again I'm writing here when I should be writing for actual grades (I have a full documentary play to write tonight). Ciao, and have a good week. PS And yes, I did end my weekend night outdoors.

April Fool's Weather

I woke up early this morning to drizzle and grayness. Some days (or weeks) really make you not want to get out of bed. But do we ever have a choice? I had a bunch of things to do and too much going through my mind. So I threw on rain boots, scarf, wool coat as quickly as possible and headed out. April Fools. The weather was California warm- I felt like an eskimo. Lighter apparel and a pair of shades later, I ran to my belly dance class. Forty-five minutes of twirls, swirls, and exotic middle east music always makes my day. But as soon as I left the studio, it was showering outside. Another evil joke.

This oscillation between showers and blinding sunshine would continue for the rest of the day. Someone needs to make a t-shirt, "ITHACA IS A TEASE." Take a look at this: The walk to the library-bright, warm, and windy. Dinner-downpour, cold. Now-sunny, showering. Every possible combination of precipitation and cloud coverage occurred today! It was as though the weather became some sort of mood ring for my emotional state this week. Or wouldn't it be nice if it really was just a joke? What if someone really is waiting to pop out, "April Fools!" style?

An amazing sunset is setting outside my rain drop-speckled window. Across campus, people are studying for prelims. Some may be eating at dining halls, or riding buses, or running an endless track on the gym treadmills. This routine is endless... but then again, maybe some people are sitting inside, too. And thinking about the stupid weather and whatever drama the last heartache has brought. Thinking if it had all just been one great April Fool's joke.

Cuisine and the French Alliance

15e arrondisement

"Everyone has two countries, his or her own-- and France."


A lot to write about since I last opened my journal, yesterday afternoon. After a dessert and cafe, I walked through the Eiffel Tower and took a metro back to the apartment for a siesta. Had tea, checked email and read somewhere that there's a flower market in front of Notre Dame. There was still plenty of time before dinner (9pm tonight...) so I went.


La Seine during the day.

Notre Dame and la Seine at night is a whole different experience. I couldn't find any sort of market and promptly got lost wandering the narrow streets of the 6th. Amazing places to eat there and a lot of bookstores- very artsy!

The apartment was smelling delicious when I returned. That's the strange thing about France: the men can cook. And not just like spaghetti with tomato sauce... or dialing the pizza delivery.

This kind of debate with Frantz for a while before we heard someone at the door: Pierre and his girlfriend, Jessica. Kisses all around and we stepped into the kitchen. Jessica is actually American and we started chatting right away, giggling at how the men are preparing the food. She's been in Paris three years now, one of which was a study abroad. I can tell she's thriving; her French sounds so natural. It made me wonder if I'll ever be that ambitious enough to completely adopt another culture as my own.

Great food, drink, conversation, and people. The next day, I had to wake up early to go to Alliance Francaise and take my registration exam. I was a little nervous to be honest but I got through all right (except for le sujonctif) and I've signed up to take an intensive course in General French next week (20hrs!). Wish me luck... classes start Monday.

Lounging Around in PJs

Needless to say, my early articles were shocking. I blew more interviews with famous musicians than I care to remember, and I learned the dos and don't of interviewing the hard way:

ME (FIRST QUESTION) : So Elvis, what do you hate most about journalists?
ELVIS COSTELLO : Fuckin' stupid questions like that, for starters.

Totally wasted the day.

It's nice sleeping in but it feels plain lazy to wake up around 2pm and feel like the whole day is gone. Just sat around, eating my scrambled eggs and bagel w/ cream cheese... watching Dr. Phil and Oprah. Really interesting show today... might wanna check it out here. I'm kind of glad I caught it because it cleared up a lot of questions I had before... starting to lean more on the "society and humanitarian" side of my education.

Should go do something productive now...

Sick and Happy

I am so happy! I am done with exams... at least until finals! Yesterday was hell. I won't lie. But I felt that luck was on my side.


Little things make me feel loved. I just want to say thank you to...
1. Everyone who took the time to wish me good luck on my exams (and actually remembered)
2. The Stats lab professor for canceling class
3. Nice people who drive me to the middle-of-nowhere
4. The Anonymous artist who drew on my whiteboard.... I still cannot figure out who it is (very puzzling)

Unfortunately, I got a really bad sore throat right after my exams. And I took this medication called theraflu which knocked me out cold for the night.

I have a REALLY bad sore throat .

I've been taking lots of vitamin C and drinking soup and tea and hot chocolate and coffee and... eating noodles! I made lime, honey, and tea... miracle drink which my mother always made for me when I was sick.

I have to recover fast because tomorrow I will be on a road trip to... Montreal, Canada! Details to follow! I'll make sure to write a novel. I'm getting traveler's excitement once again :)

Until then, I have to get some warmer clothes especially for Canada. My winter boots came in the mail today. But i still need a jacket. I can feel the snow coming. Crisp musky air right before snow fall. Feels... new.

"But my teeth fell out..."

Things looked better today. I didn't find my Cornell ID but I deactivated my card so no one else can use it and I can still eat at the dining hall with my ghetto voucher slip. I also set up a local, M&T Bank account so I can withdraw cash on campus at the ATM's without paying fees. I was also on top of all my homework and reading since I spent so much time at the library, yesterday. I made it to all my classes on time and actually went to all my classes... I finished my Math Lab extra early... Cheers for being productive!

WOW. I just overheard my hallmates discussing dreams (no, I'm not eavesdropping... I'm doing my art project... eh, procrastinating on my art project since I'm blogging). Amanda just mentioned that if you're teeth fall out in your dreams then it means you're stressed. WOW. A few weeks ago, I woke up to a weirdd dream-- I was walking in the supermarket with my parents when I felt my teeth starting to loosen and fall out. I spat out my teeth and said gummily to my parents, "OMG MY TEETH FELL OUT." But they just glanced nonchalantly and sighed, "So, deal with it."

I remember waking up from my dream because my friend called my cell. Apparently I kept mumbling, "but my teeth fell out." I guess he thought it was real and started freaking out. Oops.
Yo, how metaphorical is that though? Good thing I haven't been having too many more teeth-falling dreams, lately...

Professor Huang

My statistics professor reminds me a bit of my father... is that creepy or cute?

He has an interesting habit or gazing off into the distance and talking about absolutely random topics. I don't think he means to be funny-- He just has an oblivious, curious way.

The first day he asked us why we should study statistics. Nobody answered. "Well, what if you go to a party and someone asks you what is statistics. You want to be prepared." We started laughing but I think he was serious.

Then, he also gave us an example of a study case about lost wallets. Then, he mentioned that he might have lost his wallet and looked utterly distressed, staring at the ground for a few minutes while patting his pockets.

Then, his cellphone went off. And he looked so confused. He answered it, in front of the class, and said reallyy loudly like the other person was halfway around the world, "I'M SORRY BUT I REALLY CANNOT TALK RIGHT NOW....... NO. NO... I CANNOT TALK-- PLEASE, I'M TEACHING CLASS NOW.... YES... NO... RIGHT NOW.. YES I'M TEACHING NOW... OK CALL U LATER."

I swear, sometimes I think I'm only staying in this class just because of him. He is the funniest professor I have.

The book even reminds me of him. So off tangent sometimes, making it difficult to concentrate when it's almost 1 in the morning.

"Shoppers receive cards that determine how large a discount they get, but the percentage is revealed by scratching off that black stuff (what IS that stuff?)..."

STUPID ALARM CLOCKS DON'T WORK

I know I'm sick and I shouldn't be out anyways... but I am downright pissed at myself! I overslept and now I am not canoeing happily to the Farmer's Market. My hallmates just asked my friend who was moaning. That would be me. Because even though I set three alarm clocks, I heard nothing! Until I woke up and stared at my clock and voila, started cursing quite a bit.

Yes, may be weird of me to get upset over something as trivial as canoeing. But I was looking forward to it! I joined the Outing Club a week ago and it's been great. Where else can you go kayaking right after your 4pm class?

I must wake up earlier... Off to make some tea and mope and buy new alarm clocks.

New York

*Copied from my notebook, Original Date is Aug 12

New York City
110th Street, Broadway

We arrived in New York around 10am. After long lines, a struggle with finding our luggage and a very interesting convo with another American traveller, I knew we were finally home.

Why I like being American:
-the grocery stores are open 24 hours
-strangers always seem to have time for a chat with just about anyone
-even fastfood bathrooms are clean
-the diversity

Why I dislike being American:
-everyone talks at the top of their lungs
-this conversation:

Scene: JFK International Airport, Airplane aisle, Passengers await for gate to open.

Man on Airplane: [looks at my Cornell sweatshirt] So, you go to school in the states?
Me: Yeah... but I just returned from vacation abroad, actually!
MoA: Oh, cool- where?
Me: Singapore and Malaysia.
MoA: Nice! Yeah, that's like in China, right?
Me: ...
Rosa: They are totally different countries.
MoA: Really! Oh, okay. Guess I got it confused. So, it's like Hong Kong, then.
Me: Actually, Hong Kong is part of China.
MoA: Ah.. Sorry, I have really bad geography. All I know is China and... oh hm.. Taiwan. Taiwan is like part of Japan, right?
Me: um, no.
MoA: Wait, that's a whole other country?? Wow, so sorry. Did I offend you?
Me: Oh, no problem... I'm American!
MoA: No way! Where you from?
MoA, Me, Rosa: [begins to talk about upstate New York].

End Scene.

I am such a city girl, though. As soon as we got out of the airport and found a taxi, I was feeling so at peace. The weater was perfect, cool, dry, fresh. I accidentally jumped into the driver's seat of the taxi, though! So used to the left side driving, now haha.

We stayed the night in the city apartment. A new grocery store opened across the street... very nice, 24 hours too! Anyway, excited to go home to Poughkeepsie and the lovely Hudson valley. For now, about to visit the public library and maybe eat near Columbia U.

Some Pictures of Malaysia

Trustworthy, Singapore Airlines... my parents won't fly with any other company.


Rosa, eating Durian at the night vendors.


Michele and I, at Rumba!



Newlyweds at the Opening Day of Harry Potter.


Lots of writing.


Michele with International Rugby players, Semi and Colin.


Sunset from the balconey...

Pictures from Mount Kinabalu to follow soon...

There and Back Again

It's August! What better way to begin a new month than with a little mountain climbing?

Now that I'm back from my trip, I have to say that Mt. Kinabalu is a pretty formidable monster of nature. Yesterday (seemed like such a long time ago...), Rosa and I departed for the mountain at 7:30am. When we finally arrived, they realized that the guide was late- couldn't begin the ascent until around noon time... still without a guide (he never showed up until we arrived at the cabin). But, I think it was okay. We started off, sure as always, overestimating our endurance. We ignored the first five rest stops and even ate lunch while trekking (sandwich in one hand, walking stick in the other). It was an intense climb for me... Rosa, flying though. However, after a few hours, we stopped mid-step.

R: I'm tired.
C: Me too.
R: I'm bored.
C: Me too.
C: ... let's... chill...

So, we stopped and took a few pictures. Pretended we were climbing Mount Doom, escaping over the Alps, in a Final Fantasy video game... singing very badly. Climbing can become tiresome... so you have to figure out a way to make it fun.

I feel like there are two types of mountain climbers. The first is one who practically paves his or her own trail. Rushing, racing against time and fellow climbers. They want to reach the top asap. I have to say... they are pretty intimidating. The other kind is one who carries a huge, heavy duty artsy camera. They take time to examine every pebble and blade of grass... taking pictures, dawdling, taking in the view.

I think we started off as rushers but turned into more dawdlers. Fun until you realize how far behind you can get! Next time, I think we should find a medium... somehow.

We both underestimated the coldness. After reaching the cabin (about 6km up... the whole trail is 8.5), the cold just settled into our bones. I had some coffee and soup... still chilly! Passed time, meeting and chatting with other climbers. We met a whole group of students from Cambridge, England. Played cards and shamelessly abused the buffet table by sneaking food to others.

Around 7pm, we hiked to our hut- place we would be staying for the night (another 200m...) It was pitch dark, raining, and cold... our guide abandoned us somewhere... Finally, met our roomates. They were two Australians, both named Katie. After more chatting and unpacking, we went to bed at around 8pm.

Maybe it was the cold or high altitude but I had the worst sleep ever... I had a lot of trouble breathing and also had many headaches. I kept waking up in the night until finally, 2am came and we set off with our guide, Jay (found him, again) for the summit.

Both of us have climbed Mt. K before and I remembered how I hated the summit climb... but this was nothing compared to the last time. It was so windy and raining. By the time, we had reached the rock wall, it was pouring. Climbing up this face of the mountain seemed impossible. The one rope was drenched, the wind and rain were really picking up... and our flashlights died. We saw the first group ahead of us turn around. Their guide waved his arms and yelled, "You cannot cross the water!" like some rip off from Lord of the Rings. The group silently went back down even though my sister and I were screaming at the top of the lungs, "What's wrong??" The wind was too loud, I guess. Everything was soaked, even the "waterproof" stuff. Don't know how that happened...

We asked our guide what to do and he seemed thrown off by the question. After a while of more standing in the rain on the side of this rock wall, we decided to keep going. There were a few streams running off the rock's side but nothing too intense. Some more climbers followed us and together we reached the summit gate... it was locked. By that time, I stopped caring. We started to climb back down and realized that our path had turned into a fricken waterfall! Water was falling down my shoulders and over my backpack. I could see nothing.. felt my way down through the water. Finally, we jumped off the wall after what seemed to be hours of climbing and realized that our trail to the huts... had turned into a river! We were jumping down stepping stones.

On the drive back, I still couldn't imagine us doing that at 2 in the morning today. We were looking at the peak in the clouds and realized that we were just up there. Such a strange thought...

Climbing down, we had decided not to stop at all and just ran. Soreness in knees and toes, but worth it! I'm still a little upset we couldn't reach the summit... so.. close, though. But I think we definitely pushed our limits all the same.

I always wonder what makes us go through all this madness. My sister and I have always been adventurous... loved nature. But still, risking hypothermia in an attempt to conquer nature? Beats me. Despite that, I think the reason we are addicted to these things is the learning process during the journey. It does seems that we learned a few things... First, nature really doesn't give a damn about if you're cold, hungry, tired, aching, about to die, etc. But okay, on a more serious note... I kept wondering, why didn't we just turn around when we had the chance on the rock wall. What kind of psychological nonsense does that mean...

In all, an interesting trip.