The End of the Rainbow

They say there is a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.
I don't believe that.

That day I sat staring at the words "St Petersburg" from inside the small window, a sour lump rising and lodging in my throat, I could almost hear my heart crying. The happy chatter all around me undertoned by the consistent purr of the metal bird swirled into a misty blur as all that were left in my world at that moment were the words perched coldly on top of that roof, the red tip of the wings that would take me home, and that expanding lump of acid that in my throat.

As I lowered my head to wipe the cascade of tears from my face, I saw that my knuckles had turned pale, white as the cover of the album I hugged close to my chest.



How do you say goodbye to a home ?

How do you wave, and smile, and march bravely on forward, and look back and say, I used to belong?

Do you, can you, ever truly leave?


They say you will find your pot of rainbow, if you just followed through to the end of it.

I want to tell them, I have.

I stepped onto my rainbow 6 years ago, i have ridden along its every turn, counted every colour, bathed in every shimmer.

Today is the day I step down from my rainbow to find the pot of gold.

And my heart ached, and twisted into itself, and bled, because it was the end, and I didn't even get to take a little piece of that heaven with me.

Yet, did you ever imagine that magic could happen, and that it did happen for me that day?

They say there is a pot of gold at the end of every rainbow.
I don't believe that.

You see, I have seen my own rainbow, and it never ever ends.

Rainbow image source : http://www.deadprogrammer.com/>

Note : I did not manage to take a picture of the rainbow I saw. The rainbow in this picture, however, was exactly the way the rainbow looked the day I left St Petersburg, my home away from home.

Gaudeamus

Gaudeamus igitur
Juvenes dum sumus.
Gaudeamus igitur
Juvenes dum sumus.
Post jucundam juventutem
Post molestam senectutem
Nos habebit humus — Nos habebit humus.

Let us rejoice therefore While we are young.
After a pleasant youth After a troubling old age
The earth will have us.

Vivat academia!
Vivant professores!
Vivat membrum quodlibet
Vivant membra quaelibet
Semper sint in flore

Long live the academy! Long live the professors!
Long live each student! Long live all students! May they always be in their prime!

As our graduation caps flew into the air in front of the watchful eyes of Mechnikov on the 16th of June, 2010, our hearts soared along with them.

The day saw my emotions run tumultuously as phrase by phrase we, clad in graduation gowns and caps, with our "diploms" in hand, repeated in unison the Hippocratic Oath.

" Клянусь Аполлоном-врачом, Асклепием, Гигиеей и Панакеей и всеми богами и богинями, беря их в свидетели, исполнять честно, соответственно моим силам и моему разумению, следующую присягу и письменное обязательство:

считать научившего меня врачебному искусству наравне с моими родителями, делиться с ним своими достатками и в случае надобности помогать ему в его нуждах;
его потомство считать своими братьями, и это искусство, если они захотят его изучать, преподавать им безвозмездно и без всякого договора;

наставления, устные уроки и всё остальное в учении сообщать своим сыновьям, сыновьям своего учителя и ученикам, связанным обязательством и клятвой по закону медицинскому, но никому другому.

Я направляю режим больных к их выгоде сообразно с моими силами и моим разумением, воздерживаясь от причинения всякого вреда и несправедливости.

Я не дам никому просимого у меня смертельного средства и не покажу пути для подобного замысла; точно так же я не вручу никакой женщине абортивного пессария.

Чисто и непорочно буду я проводить свою жизнь и свое искусство.

Я ни в коем случае не буду делать сечения у страдающих каменной болезнью, предоставив это людям, занимающимся этим делом.

В какой бы дом я ни вошел, я войду туда для пользы больного, будучи далёк от всякого намеренного, неправедного и пагубного, особенно от любовных дел с женщинами и мужчинами, свободными и рабами.

Что бы при лечении — а также и без лечения — я ни увидел или ни услышал касательно жизни людской из того, что не следует когда-либо разглашать, я умолчу о том, считая подобные вещи тайной.

Мне, нерушимо выполняющему клятву, да будет дано счастье в жизни и в искусстве и слава у всех людей на вечные времена, преступающему же и дающему ложную клятву да будет обратное этому."

Today marks the end of an era, a beginning of a new chapter. While I still await the enigmatic fog to clear up from within the crystal ball, I remember your proud smiles, I remember the promise I made to you, and I know that I have done right.

Dad, mum. I will strive to continue to do right, to do better, to make you proud.

Seventy Seven

Is it over so soon?

The days when 8 innostranikis (foreigners) would trudge sleepily and grumpily through snow and sleet to the bus station at 7 in the morning to sleep on the bus, disregarding weird stares from energetic morning-loving Russians .......

The days of sitting in classrooms around brilliant nerds, feisty teacher-fighters *ehem* , a handsome starost, hardworking girls and Mr Stone Man who shows his urinalysis to every teacher who teaches us......

The days of sitting by patients' bedsides, asking "Na shto viy zhaluetes" , "kakova tsveta mokroti" , and " A grudnoi bol bivaet?" and then badgering the "medsestra"s for case histories , and taking multiple pictures of case histories because really , even doctors can't understand doctors' handwritings.........

The days of lectures, of attending them and scribbling the notes furiously onto our "copybooks", of attending them and inadvertently dozing off mid-lecture, of attending them and falling asleep immediately when the lecturer enters the room, of attending them and having an exciting game of chess at the back of the auditorium *ehem* , of not attending them, of not attending them and asking friends to mark our attendance, of not attending them and having to write referats .....


All this has come to an end, and to be honest, mne zhalko...

To my dearest Group 77 with whom I spent 6 years of ups and downs ..... it was a real honour being your groupmate, and I thank you all, for a truly wonderful 6 years of being "Gold Standard" together.

C Днем Великой Победы !

Red - the blood of angry men!
Black - the dark of ages past!
Red - a world about to dawn!
Black - the night that ends at last!

From Les Miserables
"Red and Black"

When finally, the exhausted Mother Russia warily took off the protective shroud over her land and children 65 years ago today, the land of Peter the Great still bathed in the blood of angry men, of their wives, and their children.

And it is in honor of that day so many years ago, the day Nazi Germans hung their heads down low, defeated and chased out of great Russia as the night that hovered menacingly over St Petersburg for more than 900 days ended at last.

Today Petersburgers literally painted the town red as they celebrated the 65th anniversary of victory in the war against Nazi Germany. Adorned with the orange-and-black striped St George Ribbon, man,woman and child bearing carnations and waving flags proudly marched on the streets of St Petersburg, people of a free nation.

" C Днем Великой Победы! " - To the Day of Great Victory!

Decorated veteran and the brave women who once stared war in the face and emerged victorious.

" Мы помним, мы гордимся!" - We Remember, We are Proud !

A child with the grandfather who fought so that his generation, and the ones to come, could live in a free Russia.

For the youths, the fallen ones who never saw the end of the night.

1941-1945. The years that shaped Russia into who She is today.

Patriotism. There's never shame in showing it.

Veteran's Parade all along Nevskiy Prospekt.
"We Remember what you have done for us, Russian Soldiers! "

It was an emotional scene as truck after truck of war veterans waved, sobbed, and accepted carnations from the grateful crowd that cheered "URA!" and chanted "SPASIBO!" (Thank you)

" Remember the War ! "

Read more about the Siege of Leningrad ( St Petersburg in WW2) on

~A DayDreamer's SoliloQuy~
The Siege of Leningrad - A Story of Courage
Colours of Victory
In Loving Memory
Visit

净月阁
Victory Day - 9 May 2009

A Little Piece of Heaven

The 5th of May, 2010 marked my graduation from the Choir of St Petersburg State Medical Academy named after I.I. Mechnikov.

As, for the last time, I stood alongside my choirmates with whom I had become friends, harmonizing our well-practiced song in unison for our small but appreciative audience, a little piece of cloud above my head turned grey as I thought of Monday and Thursday evenings to come that would not be spent singing in the choir I had come to love.

At our warm little post-concert party where many toasts went around, one was for me - the short Asian girl who worried too much about her grammar and could never understand casual conversational Russian. And because I worried too much about my grammar and could never understand casual conversational Russian, my speech went like this : "I will never forget you guys. Thank you." Short, I know, but I do intend to stick to that promise.


TO THE SPSMA CHOIR!!!




Куда уходит детство
В какие города
И где найти нам средство
Чтоб вновь попасть туда
Оно уйдет неслышно
Пока весь город спит
И писем не напишет
И вряд ли позвонит

И зимой и летом
Небывалых ждать чудес
Будет детство где-то, но не здесь
И в сугробах белых
И по лужам у ручья
Будет кто-то бегать
Но не я

Куда уходит детство
Куда ушло оно
Наверно, в край чудесный
Где каждый день кино
Где также ночью синей
Струится лунный свет
Но нам с тобой отные
Туда дороги нет (туда дороги нет)

И зимой и летом
Небывалых ждать чудес
Будет детство где-то, но не здесь
И в сугробах белых
И по лужам у ручья
Будет кто-то бегать
Но не я

Куда уходит детство
В недальние края
К ребятам по соседству
Таким же, как и я
Оно уйдет неслышно
Пока весь город спит
И писем не напишет
И вряд ли позвонит (и вряд ли позвонит)

И зимой и летом
Небывалых ждать чудес
Будет детство где-то, но не здесь
И в сугробах белых
И по лужам у ручья
Будет кто-то бегать
Но не я

И зимой и летом
Небывалых ждать чудес (ждать чудес)
Будет детство где-то, но не здесь (но не здесь)
И в сугробах белых
И по лужам у ручья (у ручья)
Будет кто-то бегать
Но не я (но не я)

一粒饭，多多蛋

你知道吗？

在这世界上，曾经存在过一道佳肴。 这道佳肴，就只有一个人懂得做。全世界最顶尖的厨师就算同聚一堂想破脑，也永远不能让它重现。

你不信吗？

没关系，你可以试试复制这道菜。材料反正也不是什么山珍海味。垂手可得的材料能够让吃过它的人永生不忘，才是真功夫。

可惜，无论你的烹饪功夫有多好，你也永远煮不出这全世界最好吃的 “一粒饭，多多蛋。”

因为这道菜令人难忘之处，是那位厨师本身。

脑海中她站在厨房里煮饭的样子依然历历在目。以前忙着躲在房间里和表姐妹们叽叽喳喳，或是把自己埋在一堆少女杂志中，竟没有去多珍惜厨房里的婆婆，和那世间唯一的一粒饭，多多蛋。

以前忙着玩耍，或双眼紧跟着电视机里的人物，竟然没去留意送进嘴里一口一口香喷喷的佳肴。

记得弟弟坐在婆婆面前，小小的嘴巴开得大大的，大大的眼睛眯得小小的，一口一口吃着外婆亲手喂的食物。 还好弟弟的嘴巴甜，我们俩姐弟之间至少有一个懂得从小珍惜婆婆，感谢她老人家煮饭的辛苦。婆婆常听到那小不点力赞婆婆煮的东西全世界最好吃，谁都比不上，都会开心地笑得见牙不见眼。

*************************************

你知道吗？

我好想吃婆婆亲手煮的面粉糕，亲手做的酿豆腐，亲手捏的肉丸。

我好想告诉婆婆，她走后，我再也找不回婆婆牌爱心面粉糕的味道了。

婆婆，爱你。

想抱你，很大很大力， 紧紧地抱你。

Flying Free

Unlike us, you were born with wings.

While the walls surrounding us were our sanctuary and refuge, you loathed them as a barricade between you and them.

While company to us was simple bliss, you yearned for the freedom devoid of the shackles of society's constraints, or of the demeanors we demanded of you.

You didn't want to be that pretty little bird locked in a cage of prim and proper.
You didn't want to whistle beautiful little tunes asked of you.

I heard you squawk unabashed, brazenly disregarding the tint of blush creeping onto our flustered cheeks.

We heard his vulgarness reflected in your audacious caw, the screeching lack of composure in your self-congratulatory declaration.

We saw you then, your beautiful feathers had fallen off, you had become that common jay you regarded so highly.

That was when we finally let you go.