Up in the air

I've reached that horrible clichéd point in my life where I have absolutely no idea where I'll be going, or what I'll be doing. No kidding, I could write a whole book about this weird feeling that so many students who are about to graduate are experiencing. Hell, I'm sure someone could make a film out of it. The employment/grad school clock is ticking, but nothing is helping me choose what seems like the right path. Every door is flung wide open, and each opportunity is greater than the other. For some reason, I can't seem to pick one.

For the past five years, I thought I knew which direction my life would take and where I would end up. 20 years old, journalism, Hong Kong. Set, not for life, but at least until I reached the point where I would want marriage and kids.

Now, at 20, the life I had imagined for myself at 15 years old is so far from what I am facing. Being the near-obsessive planner that I am, feeling this way kind of terrifies me. I don't think I've ever not known what I want, and I envy all of those who have either found their passion early on, or who at least have a plan for the next 12 months.

What I realise, however, is that there are no limits to what I can and will ultimately choose to do. Fine, I may be a tad held back by my, er, 'special relationship' with numbers. But that has nothing to do with where I will be building my life next. So be it Beijing, London, or home again, it's all worth being more excited than scared about.


Beijing

Learning a new language is like arming yourself with more and better ammo in order to kick serious butt in the working world. At least, that's how I perceive it, and it's exactly what I plan to do if I end up spending 10 months in Beijing, with Mandarin.

Ideally, I'd like to live in a rented studio flat, where I'll be pushed to practice the language, instead of fall back into the comfort of English or French with other international students. It's not that I want to be the ultimate loner and not make any friends (any potential future friends reading this, please be my friend!) I just want to make the most of my experiences, and take in every ounce of extra knowledge that is available.

Aside from that, I just want the food. Oh, the food. I think my diet might just consist of dumplings, dumplings, and more dumplings. I've already played the tourist in Beijing, but I can't wait to live it all. To breathe it, less so, but I'd like to think that growing up in Hong Kong has built up my immunity to the adverse health effects of excessive levels of pollution.

In all fairness, I don't have a concrete idea of what Beijing holds in store for me. The last time I went, pre-Olympics, taxi drivers were hesitant or even reluctant to stop for me. I failed to fall in love with the city, although that can be blamed on my young age. I wonder how it has evolved and changed with the 2008 Olympics, and whether I can learn to love a place where I'll be just learning the native language.

Be good to me, Beijing.


London


With respect to London, I feel a bit like Peter Pan. I almost don't want to grow up, and remain in the safe little cocoon that student life has built for me over the past three years. London represents the working world, council tax, more tax. It's everything that will begin that transition into true, scary adulthood.

Nothing is definite, though, with London (and with true, scary adulthood). I just feel like it's time for me to start testing the waters of the formal interview process, the business suit, the morning meetings, and sustaining my life with my income and nothing but my income. And where better to do all that than London?

London is one of the few places in the world where I feel like I fit in. If the world were one big high school, I'd fit into the London clique. You can't really define and pigeonhole a Londoner, it's just impossible. The first time I went to London without my parents, I felt at ease with the variety of languages, accents, sounds and sights that surrounded me. I was even asked for directions multiple times, and had to apologise for not being able to help, given that I was a tourist myself. But it made me realise that I feel at home in London. I'm comfortable there, and giving in to the dynamics of the city comes so naturally to me.

After experiencing life in a small university town, where being an international student is 'obvs' indicative of having terrible, strongly accented English, I'm ready to live a life without odd remarks about my 'exotic-ness'. I'm ready to break out of this weird cocoon and go out into the big bad world, starting with London.

Hong Kong


Two years ago, if someone had asked me where I plan on ending up after university, I would have said 'Hong Kong' before they'd even finished their question. So many things attached me to home, and I thought I was made for Hong Kong because I grew up there, and it's all I really knew. How things have changed since then.

Indeed, Hong Kong is home, but I have this strange urge to detach the word 'home' from that place now. I want to uproot my life and give another place a chance at being called 'home'. Hong Kong is beautiful and full of surprises, and I have nothing but love for the city. Somehow, that hard-hitting, full-on homesickness that could bring me to purchase a ticket to Hong Kong almost immediately has dissipated over the past year.

Hong Kong will always be the safe place, though. It's where I know I'll have a roof over my head, where food will be on the table, and where the golf buggy is there to take out for a spin when times get tough. It's where everything is so distinct, that you really can't find anything like it anywhere else. The smell of IFC mall when you first walk in, the golden reflection of the sunset in glass buildings set against a blue or purple sky, the hypothermia brought on by sub-zero air con temperatures during 30-degree summers... Those are the things that bring me comfort.

Surely, working and living in a comforting environment can't be half bad.

Home again

Winter-y playlist

Ok. So I know that this is a travel blog, and I should be writing about my anticipation for my European Christmas holiday escapades. But I spent a lot of time creating a playlist for a website that won't publish it anyway because I kind of messed up on the deadline for submission. Instead, I'll just put it up here! Music is a huge part of my life, and every song evokes an emotion in me, makes me recall a memory, or prompts me to dream up a scenario that would fit with the song.

This playlist was supposed to be a holiday-themed one, but I ended up widening the theme out to "winter" in general, because the bleakness of the season makes for so much more inspiration and, therefore, interesting material on the artists' part.

Below is the playlist as it was supposed to be published. Hope you enjoy it, and happy holidays!


Winter - Joshua Radin
Joshua Radin is known for his dulcet, breathy tones and his skill with the guitar. His sound is reminiscent of Train's, but is nowhere near as annoying. With this ballad, he offers a melancholic yet beautiful perspective on winter.

Surprise Ice - Kings of Convenience
This Norwegian duo is typically armed with acoustic guitars and intricate, calming melodies. On Surprise Ice, they stick to that very same formula. The consistency of the tune sends you into a bit of a lull, the kind that is perfect for staying warm indoors in front of a lit fireplace while it is bitingly cold outside.

The Christmas Song - She & Him
What would a winter playlist be without Christmas song? She & Him, of which actress Zooey Deschanel forms one half, released their holiday album back in October this year. It is one of the more tasteful holiday albums out there, and will be a welcome alternative to the (very) guilty Christmas pleasures that are Michael Bublé and Wham!

White Winter Hymnal - Fleet Foxes
The song title says it all, really.

Blood Bank - Bon Iver
The is one of the more haunting offerings by Bon Iver, but that is why it is so fitting for those dark, cold winter afternoons.

Home - Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
This song is a reminder of all the comforts and memories that we associate with being home, surrounded by family and friends.

New York - Cat Power
It seems as though every single American Christmas film is set in New York. Cat Power's cover of Frank Sinatra's New York, New York is bluesy and dark, good enough for all of you Scrooges out there.

In the Waiting Line - Zero 7
After every hectic Christmas dinner and party, there's the cleaning up to be done. While you do that, put this song on and all will be right in the world. At least for four-and-a-half minutes, it will.

Hoppípolla - Sigur Rós
The uplifting strings in this track combined with bell chimes and the simple melody just scream 'winter'.

White Christmas - Otis Redding
That instantly recognisable soulful voice lends itself to one of the most popular Christmas songs of all time. To be listened to with a big steaming mug of hot chocolate in hand.

Auld Lang Syne - Artist Medley
Sara Bareilles, Butch Walker, Lenka, and many other contemporary singer-songwriters come together beautifully on this a cappella version of the New Year's classic.

On A Winter's Day - Foreign Beggars ft. Ravi Shakti
On this track, MC group Foreign Beggars interestingly sample Puerto Rican singer and guitarist Jose Feliciano's version of the 1960s anthem California Dreamin'. The result is an incredible match between the Spanish guitar, hip-hop beats and a thought-provoking social commentary.

Night Air - Jamie Woon
Shortlisted for the BBC's Sound of 2011, Jamie Woon's lead single off of his album Mirrorwriting is filled with intense vocals and electronic lilts. The song rises and falls with Woon's soulful control over his voice, as the syncopated beats add passion to what would otherwise be an empty and eerie tune.

Pickpockets v. us

A few months ago, my mother flew home from Europe two weeks earlier than intended. Why on earth would you want to cut what promised to be an incredible road trip around France short, especially when you're overworked and stressed the rest of the year? Her bag had been stolen from her in Paris, and it contained a variety of important documents that she needed replacing immediately. I scolded her a little as she would have scolded me (being the Asian mother that she is) for not being careful enough and attentive to her surroundings. Paris has grown to be one of Europe's most notorious pickpocket cities. After all, it's common knowledge that where there are tourists, there are a proportional number of pickpockets. However, even the most vigilant people can be caught off-guard simply because they're on holiday and want to relax, or are with trusted friends or their spouses.

My trip to Barcelona was an intensive crash course on how to protect yourself from petty theft while on holiday, and if only I had told my mother everything I knew about it before she'd left to Paris, I'm sure this unfortunate event could have been prevented. Here is a list of things I would have and should have said to her:

• Research your destination before you leave. Our family had been to Paris several times before my parents went this year, and we'd never experienced theft first-hand. As a result, my mother's preconceptions of Paris as a romantic, carefree city stayed with her, and she didn't pay any attention to her surroundings (she was in an area near a train station, and train stations are known for being in or fostering dodgy neighbourhoods). If she had only done a little research, she would have found out that Paris is extremely dangerous and many pickpockets use a variety of tactics, the most infamous one being the 'gold ring' tactic, to distract you and then go in for the kill.
• Don't show off your possessions. Be a humble traveller. This tip makes perfect sense. Don't whip out your shiny new iPad 2 or wear your most sparkly diamond earrings on a street where there are beggars around you. It's a) insensitive and b) plain stupid. It attracts the wrong kind of attention and you'll essentially be begging to be pickpocketed, or even mugged.
• Keep your money in separate locations. You know your big fat Chanel or Hugo Boss leather wallet? Yeah. Read the above point. If you keep everything in there, say goodbye to your life and hello to filing police reports in a foreign language and spending your first few weeks back home claiming insurance. If you must pay for something in a crowded area, try to take the money out from the wallet while it's still in your bag, so people don't see how many credit cards or how much cash you have. Just be discreet.
• Don't be easily distracted. In Barcelona, there were countless live statues, street performers and artists and people trying to sell you really useless things. While such things may be impressive and compel you to stop and stare, keep your bag close to you - guard it with your life. Do not fall for people claiming to be selling useless gadgets - they really just want to see where you keep your money and how much you have.

Stay safe during your travels, and you'll have an incredible holiday.

Barcelona, Spain

Barceloneta: view from the Teleferic de Montjuic (cable car)

The amount of time it has taken me to write an entry about my trip to Barcelona is a testament to how much the Catalan city confused and delighted me at the same time. I'd been wanting to go on a more cultural type of holiday for a while before the trip, and I had set my expectations way high for Barcelona. I thought it would be a place where finding a local tapas bar where the waiters were rude and the prices were low only required an aimless 15-minute stroll around a maze of narrow streets. I also thought that it would be teeming with local university students with whom stimulating conversations and alcohol would flow freely.

Mercat de la Boqueria

In a way, Barcelona does have all of the above to offer, but you have to search long and hard, especially if you don't have a local with you to show you around and tip you off about all the right places. In fact, I challenge anyone to find a single worthwhile attraction on what is deemed the most visited area in Barcelona - Las Ramblas. That place is the true definition of a tourist trap. Live statues? Check. Countless souvenir stalls? Check. Ice cream counters? Check. Crowds of fat, sweaty tourists, Check. Overpriced restaurants? Check. Pickpockets? Check, check, check and check. The worst thing about Las Ramblas is that there is nothing extraordinarily beautiful along it, aside from Mercat de la Boqueria, a covered market that boasts a range of delicious Spanish hams, fresh juices, spices, cheese and locally-grown fruits and veg. 

If it is absolutely necessary for you to go on Las Ramblas, I suggest you turn left as soon as possible and wander through the Gothic Quarter, a real treat for those who love losing themselves through the streets with the aim of stumbling upon a local hidden gem, be it a restaurant, shop, bar or street performance. I didn't immediately fall in love with Barcelona. It was only on our second or third night there that it happened, when we spontaneously ventured along the side of the Gothic Cathedral and heard Spanish guitar music floating from an indefinite place. Following the sound, we finally arrived in a deserted alleyway behind the Cathedral, save for a man sitting on a stool, pensively plucking at the strings of his guitar. In his mind and in ours, we were a million miles away from the live statues and spray-paint artists of Las Ramblas. For a few minutes, it was just him, his guitar, and the astonishing acoustics of the alleyway. I was finally convinced that Barcelona has a soul that hasn't yet been tarnished by the hordes of tourists who flood the city each year with their offensive and obstinate refusal to wear sunscreen. (A sunburn does not make you look wealthy because you can afford to go on holiday. At least try to fool everyone by proving you can afford sunscreen too.)

Jazz clubs/bars are my new favourite way to enjoy a city's nightlife without sweating your way through the night at some dodgy nightclub. We visited the Bel-Luna Jazz Club on Rambla de Catalunya, where the staff is friendly and the performances were effervescent with the musicians' personalities and passion. We must have been the youngest people there, but I felt like I was enjoying the music in a relaxed environment with locals and tourists alike after spending a day dodging sunburnt tourists here there and everywhere.

There's a good reason why sangria and flamenco shows in Barcelona are overpriced: they are not native to Catalonia. Yes, I know you're only visiting Barcelona and it's SPAIN, but trust me. Order a glass of house cava, immerse yourself in Gaudi's works and in the rest of Barcelona's art scene - it's worth far more of your money than imitations of what other regions of Spain can do so much better.

I'm a firm believer in making the most of a trip by trying to live like a local for at least a day. In Barcelona's case, you should go on a bike tour, or, if you're feeling particularly brave or adventurous, rent bikes and navigate your own way through the city. We did the latter, got slightly lost and the Hongkonger in me made me run a red light right before a 4-lane roundabout. But when we had made our way from Las Ramblas all the way to the Sagrada Familia, I felt a strange pride at having gone from one tourist hotspot to another, but getting there like a local would. Just beware riding on pedestrian zones/sidewalks - nobody enjoys being bumped into by a bicycle... If people could actually shoot laser beams from their eyes, I wouldn't be here to tell the tale.

Parc Guell

One tourist attraction that is worth fighting through crowds to get to is Parc Guell, if only for the gorgeous panoramic views it offers you from the top. Take it all in, or go for a morning run there if your hotel/serviced apartment is close by. I don't think any other city park can quite rival Parc Guell's quirky features, courtesy of Antoni Gaudi himself, that blend in with the green surroundings.

While most people flock to the Casa Batllo to satiate their desire for Gaudi architecture, it does cost a hefty 17 euros for entry. Casa Mila, also known as La Pedrera, is just a little further up Passeig de Gracia and costs about 14 euros entry. Its crazy rooftop has so many photographic opportunities, so be sure to charge your camera the night before. The top floor of the building, directly underneath the roof, has a small exhibit that takes you through the different objects, concepts and elements that underpinned Gaudi's inspirations for his works. There is also a gorgeous little apartment tour, and the Casa Mila's museum boutique is one of those where you can spend hours window-shopping.

My heart beats for Barcelona because of the Picasso Museum. Unfortunately, as the interests of our group diverged, only two of us went to the museum and we were given one hour to visit it. Boy, did I regret that as soon as I stepped into the main exhibition hall. Where do I begin with the multiple wonders this museum has to offer? Picasso's early works offer insight into the vast array of influences that different cities, people, friends and literature had on his major, more famous pieces. The artist's openness to new ideas and techniques is what impressed me the most, and the museum does a wonderful job of displaying these works and explaining the story behind each theme. To cut a long story short, I would return to Barcelona just for this museum. 

Naturally, there's only so much culture you can take within 5 days. An afternoon at the beach was the perfect antidote for feet sore from walking for several  days in a row. Be wary of the women offering massages, even when they decide to poke you to tell you 'how velly good' it is. The oil they use is guaranteed to worsen any developing sunburn. However, do not ignore the 1 euro mojitos. I made that mistake and am still hitting myself for being too judgmental of people selling stuff on the beach.

Damn you, Barcelona, city of contradictions and hidden beauty.

Places where I'd rather be right now

Ah, the life of a student. Broke and bound to the confines of your charming-yet-tiny-and-claustrophobic university town by none other than the ever-pleasant cloud of exam doom. That's right. I have to write about places like Thailand, Malaysia, countries in the Middle East and many more in blocks of two hours (multiplied by six modules) in some drab old room with tens of other exam-possessed robots who I've never seen in lectures. I'd offer that as an exemplary definition of counter-productivity.

Allow me to let my daydreams take over during this glorious break from revising, oh, just the dynamics of democratisation in the Middle Ea... zzzzzzzzzzzzz...

• Back home in Hong Kong, sipping a smoothie in the scorching summer heat on the roof of IFC mall (clearly I have a knack for daydreaming up alliterations). It's going to hit 33 degrees Celsius this weekend, and I am desperate to leave the land of perpetual winter i.e. Durham, so badly that the promise of sun, a cold fruit drink and an urban oasis almost have me reaching for my credit card and buying the next available plane ticket home. Oh, wait. I'm a student.
• Brussels, at my grandmother's house. There's nothing like spending some alone time with grandma and catching up with her. It makes you realise the importance of maintaining those ties with the members of your family whom you see less of. I do love me some Saturday morning local market shopping too.
• Penang, Malaysia. Lying by the pool of some awesome hotel and occasionally nipping down to the beach for a quick go on the jetskis or a bit of horseriding along Batu Ferringhi. Getting a sunburn because you swore you were vigilant with sunscreen, but forgot that you had to reapply it, and subsequently dousing yourself with aloe vera gel and going to dinner feeling slightly sticky (and it's not the humidity). Walking around the night market to check out the insane amount of overpriced counterfeit goods on sale, and trying out some incredible post-dinner street food snacks. That is the life.
• On a luxurious safari in South Africa. Even though it's shifting to winter weather in South Africa, only cute animals bring me joy at this point in the exams period, but I've had enough of .gifs, pictures and memes. I want to see the real thing, even though it might kill me.
• The ABC islands (Aruba, Bonaire, Curacao). I read an article about them in an issue of Condé Nast Traveler on the flight back to Durham in April. It filled me with dread at the prospect of having to wear jeans for another 3 months as I had these images of gorgeous pastel houses and clear seas staring right at me from the pages of the magazine. The only places I have been to on the entire American continent, North and South, are Toronto and Montréal, and as awesome as those places are, I'm impatiently waiting for the day that I can venture into the Caribbean region.

Where would you rather be right now? What are your 'daydream' destinations?