a-n-9-e-l

The End of the Rainbow

2010-07-28T02:02:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-25T07:21:00.001-07:00

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

2010-05-26T13:38:00.001-07:00

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 !

2010-05-11T14:00:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-07T02:24:00.001-07:00

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

2010-04-18T10:24:00.001-07:00

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

2010-04-04T03:30:00.001-07:00

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.

When you say "My Heart Skipped a Beat" I think Premature Ventricular Contraction

2010-03-28T13:04:00.001-07:00

Dear Group 677,

We ARE going to make it through the month!
We ARE going to survive Olesin!
We WILL show him what we are capable of,
and WE WILL try to cram and store all the things we learned,

at least until the 25th of MAY!!!!

(No, I don't believe a single word I said, and I don't believe diagnosing "5 ECGs a day minimum" is going to make me half as good as the doctor he expects me to be. I'm still gonna grit my teeth and live through this cycle, at least, so let's do this together, yeah?)

Sincerely,
The groupmate whose leg won't break this year.

p.s: 5 ECGs a day minimum!

p.p.s:

Egg and Ham Pie for Dummies !

2010-03-02T11:14:00.001-08:00

Ham and Egg Pie:

1 package (14 oz.) frozen puff pastry, thawed (frozen, store bought puff pastry is fine)

1/2 pound (225 grams) ham, thinly sliced

8 large eggs

3 tablespoons green onions, finely chopped

2 tablespoons grated Parmesan cheese

1/2 teaspoon (3.75 grams) salt

1/4 teaspoon pepper

Egg Wash:

1 large egg, lightly beaten

1 tablespoon milk

1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese

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

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F (205 degrees C) and place rack in center of oven. Have ready a 9 inch (23 cm) quiche pan or pie plate.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out one sheet of puff pastry to fit the quiche dish or pie plate.

After lining the dish with the puff pastry, arrange 1/2 of the ham on top of the pastry.

Break the 8 eggs and place evenly spaced around the quiche pan. Prick each yolk with a fork but do not stir yolks and whites together.

Sprinkle green onions, Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper over eggs and top with remaining ham.

Roll the second sheet of puff pastry to fit over pan. Cover pie with the second sheet of puff pastry, pinching the two sheets of puff pastry together and then trim off excess pastry.

Gather up leftover scraps and roll out to make cut outs in various shapes. Place on top of puff pastry crust.

Egg Wash: Beat egg with milk and brush the top of the puff pastry. Sprinkle with the Parmesan cheese. Bake in preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack. Serve hot or cold.

Makes 4 to 6 servings.

Source

Without Wings

2010-02-28T04:46:00.001-08:00

When was the last time you flew?

No, not trapped inside a long steel compartment, strapped in and examining the in-flight brochure.
No, not off the handle either.

But fly. To spread your arms and soar into the sky, to feel your body floating as a feather into the air, with only your happy thought between it and the ground. As your toes wiggle, finally free of all earthly weight, you explore new heights like a baby opening its eyes for the first time.

Yesterday night, I flew. I swam in the air like a dolphin in the ocean. As my arms guided me above the snow-covered rooftops, I took in the exhilaration of soaring above all things earth-bound. I could hear the wind whispering in my ear, feel it holding me up ... higher, higher...

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

The caress of the wind still lingered as I woke up this morning. As I lowered my feet onto the cool floor, I couldn't help wondering whether somewhere, in a parallel universe, a girl like me, exactly like me, was still soaring above the rooftops, lightly brushing her toes against chimneys and tops of trees.

生

2010-02-20T00:09:00.000-08:00

友情是个奇怪的东西。

有些朋友是你自己选的。而另一些。。。也不知是命运还是缘分搞怪。。。总之糊里糊涂地大家合在了一块。也许是性格完全相反的人，兴趣也截然不同。却不明不白地被 “友情” 这两个字征服了。

心怡，我们相识了7年。第一次和你见面的情景我还历历在目。我们之间火花多得数不清。有些火花开得很美，那些美好记忆我不会轻易忘记的。有些火花相撞了，变成了炸药。无论如何，我们还是挺过来了。虽然我们之间偶尔有些小摩擦，可是我知道在彼此的心目中都是最珍惜的好朋友。

祝你生日快乐，愿你身体健康，平平安安。希望你心想事成，万事顺利。祝福你前途，事业，爱情美满，就算遇到挫折也能迎刃而解。每天笑口常开，青春美丽！！

Wong, 你是我到目前为止，最怪的一个朋友。你真的很怪。如果以前有人告诉我，说我以后会和你那么怪的一个人成为好友，我一定笑到好像怪物那样。如果你是 gay 的，我也许比较容易向人解释为什么我和你 “情同姐妹”，可惜你不是。算了，反正也不用向别人解释。谢谢你每天叫我公主，有时候耐心地听我发脾气，也不会 judge 我，觉得我是坏心肠的人，脾气很好地开导我。

祝你生日快乐，愿你身体健康，平平安安。希望你抓紧你的梦想。（不过我也真的很希望你成为医生，因为你一定会是好医生）还有，有 power 了的时候不要忘记我们凡人。

深，你是我最意想不到的朋友。你也是我所认识的其中一个最聪明，最逻辑，最有责任感的人。我不明白你的毅力是怎样锻炼出来的。谢谢你每次当我有东西搞不明白的时候，你用我之前没想过的 Logic 来解释给我听，让我思想变得比较logic, 实际。对于知识从来没有“藏师” ，还有时常借 “秘笈” 给我读。还有谢谢你时常讲一些很好笑的不好笑得冷笑话

祝你生日快乐，愿你身体健康，平平安安。希望你前景无量，找到最适合你的 Speciality, 一世人都快乐地从事能让你享受其中的行业。还有祝你以后赚多多钱，爱买什么Camera accessories 就买什么 accessories.

小倩，不要妒忌，你生日的时候就写一篇单单关于你的，ok .

逝

2010-02-08T10:56:00.001-08:00

二十多年的表兄妹情在今天画下了骤然的句号。

你带着你那见牙不见眼的笑容，离开了。

我们最后一次偶然的见面，就当作是上天安排的缘分吧。我会珍惜的。

Jimmy gogo, 愿你在天之灵得到安息。永别了。。。

My Giant Midget

2010-01-24T03:32:00.001-08:00

Once upon a time, not very long ago, a little midget stood in front of me and tried to block me from the view of some catcalling construction workers.

He was all of 1 meter in height, that little midget was, yet he glared at them with the fiercest look his eyes could muster, and I did feel protected.

"You are pretty, sis. They shouldn't look at you that way."

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

Sometimes I miss my little midget. The one with the huge inquisitive eyes who would climb onto my lap and insist on doing my homework for me ( My teachers never did understand why I circled my multiple-choice-question answers weird).

The one who shared all his Action Men figures with me and made sure I learned how to fire every weapon. The one who ran into my room every so often while I was studying for PMR and SPM to "check that you weren't sleeping".

You see, these days my little midget has been replaced with a Huge Gruff Giant who towers above me at a whooping 1.82 meters and says things like

"You're really not a very pretty girl. Quite old and fat, actually."

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

The -25'C Russian winter has finally brought me down. Miserable with a cough and running nose, I sms-ed home and received a call immediately.

Mum was all "just don't go anywhere, eat well and rest well." while The Giant grabbed the phone and demanded to know how I was.

" Hello"

" *cough* oh hey there"

" You sound weird. Have you been crying? "

" No I haven't. Just sick."

" What, you sure? You sound like you've been crying."

" It's my throat."

" You can tell me, you know."

" Of course I would, if I actually WERE sad, but I'm happy as a clam right now, what with the holidays just starting and all. "

"But you sound really down."

"I'm not. "

"Ok. Oh yeah sis sis did I tell you about ................................................."

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

You know, I really don't mind being "quite old and fat" very much.

A little Boost

2010-01-19T16:51:00.000-08:00

To my friends who are currently studying for their exams...

If you look like this,

Or this...

Or this......

You are not alone!!

Although we exam-free 6th year students point and laugh at you all day while you struggle with your eyebags, 4am coffee and mountains of study material, do know that we are rooting for you all, and may you sail past your exam month relatively unscathed.

SO HANG ON THERE!!

Holidays are just around the corner!

Not very Eloquent

2010-01-09T04:28:00.001-08:00

This is a Private Post

Visit

2009-12-26T09:06:00.001-08:00

Today I was upset.

It wasn't the reason why I pulled the hood of my coat over my head, stuck my freezing hands into my warm pockets and trudged through knee-deep snow towards a path I had come to know so well.

It wasn't what I felt as I let my feet free to wander the pah that bore so many of their prints, and allowed my mind to ponder on the little easter eggs of life.

It wasn't because I was walking alone on a cold Christmas morning, or the thought that if I had ventured off the well-worn path and vanished, no one would ever guess why, where, or how.

Yet what was I doing, plunging my feet and legs through snow thick enough to engulf my calves at every step? What was I thinking, hands deep in pockets, head lowered against that cold, yet still marching mechanically forward?

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

A friend of mine, a devout Buddhist, once tried to explain "Karma" to me, that relationships formed with people, that things you did - good or bad, was a result of karma from your past life, all of which, after influencing on your relationships with people and consequences of actions in this life, will be brought forward to your next. It's a never-ending cycle.

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

What usually took 20 minutes of jogging to reach took me 40 today. Except for a red-faced old lady who ernestly refused and profusely thanked my offer to help with her humongous bag, I didn't meet anyone else on that path.

Cold does isolate all.

The route belonged to me, and as my mind wandered my feet kept walking.

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

From 8th September,1941 to 18th January,1943 , S Petersburg (then known as Leningrad) ravaged by war, was a prisoner in Her own home as the Nazis held the city under siege for a gruelling 900 days -- The Siege of Leningrad.

Through the freezing Russian winters, cut electricity and water supply, pitiful rations of 250grams of bread a day, and rampaging diseases of those 900 days, up to 1500000 civilians and soldiers lost their lives.

Bodies were collected from the streets all over St Petersburg and carted over to the Piskarevskoye Cemetary for mass burials.

The cemetary grounds, home to more than a million souls sacrificed to war, is guarded at the entrance of two small buildings, two timeless sentries holding the memories of those loved and lost.

"Here lay Leningraders

Here are citydwellers - men, women, and children
And next to them, Red Army soldiers.
They defended you, Leningrad,
The cradle of the Revolution
With all their lives.
We cannot list their noble names here,
There are so many of them under the eternal protection of granite.
But know this, those who regard these stones:
No one is forgotten, nothing is forgotten. "

Здесь лежат ленинградцы.

Здесь горожане — мужчины, женщины, дети.
Рядом с ними солдаты-красноармейцы.
Всею жизнью своею
Они защищали тебя, Ленинград,
Колыбель революции.
Их имён благородных мы здесь перечислить не сможем,
Так их много под вечной охраной гранита.
Но знай, внимающий этим камням:
Никто не забыт и ничто не забыто.

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

My feet had taken me to the Piskarevskoye Memorial Grounds. I stared at the two lone sentries from across the road. Inside the building on the right side is a small museum. Among photos still reeking of war and death, there are inspiratory images that whispered of hope and courage amidst the ringing screams of anguish.

There was also an old, mould-covered specimen of a piece of bread - all 250 grams of it - a day's meal.

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

The grunt of a heavy truck blocking my view snapped me out of my reverie.

What was I doing in front of the Memorial Grounds on a Christmas morning, in between classes?

My phone was ringing. Friends were calling me to go back for the next lecture.

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

The bus I boarded was crowded. There was a guy my age in full black leather cowboy gear - hat, jacket, boots , the works.

A few old ladies sat together chattering. A man reeking of cigarettes and vodka coughed nonstop. A heavily made-up woman yelled at someone irritably over the phone.

I looked out the window at the peaceful, snow-covered cemetary.

"Merry Christmas", I whispered.

The Orthodox Russians didn't even celebrate Christmas on the 25th of December.

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

On the bus I remembered what my friend told me about karma.

I wonder now, whether the remains of my past life lay, among others, somewhere beneath the blanket of earth and snow, forgotten but never forsaken, behind a single tombstone bearing a number. "1941, 1942, 1943"

Perhaps this is why I have come, of all places, to study in this city. This beautiful, sad city that stirs so much emotion in me.

Cow and Chicken

2009-12-20T13:12:00.000-08:00

Mama had a Chicken,

Mama had a Cow.

Dad was proud,

He didn't care how.

To my Kid Bro,

Remember when you were younger, we would wake up early on Sunday mornings and find the house empty because dad and mum have gone to the market?

We would sit in the living room in our pyjamas, hugging our knees and a box of Coco Crunch each, and watch Nickelodeon and Cartoon Network like there's no tomorrow, and mum would come home and yell at us to go have some proper breakfast?

I know those innocent, carefree days seem so long ago to you now. Fast forward barely 2 years from those Johnny Bravo Sunday mornings, you were almost as tall as I was. Yet still such a child. You broke our hearts one day when you asked us why people you loved, people whom you thought cared for you, could change for the worse so quickly so fast.

You were only a child then, kid. How were we supposed to tell you that it wasn't others that had changed, but you? How were you supposed to accept the cruel fact that the world has been, ALWAYS been, unfair, mean, and sometimes just plain evil? That nothing has changed, only that you were growing up, out of that little protective bubble we tried to put around you in vain?

Today I missed you terribly. I wondered whether you could be that young man of the house, strong and brave, facing the unfairness life sometimes hurls at you out of pure spite.

There is a huge part of my heart with your name on it. It breaks everytime I watch you face life's tribulations, taking it's unfairness. Yet the cracks heal, the splinters collect and merge into a whole again because I see you transform into a man, and I am proud of you.

One day very soon, we will eat Coco Crunch and Honey Stars first thing in the morning in our pyjamas watching Cartoon Network together again. One can never outgrow Dexter and his crazy experiments.

Signed with love,

Sis

Watch Out for 'em Bumblebees !

2009-12-19T13:13:00.001-08:00

When Maksim made famous Flight of the Bumblebee by Rimskiy-Korsakoff, talent swarmed to hum to its frenzied melody.

Maksim - Piano

10-year-old Enzo from Phillipines, piano

10-year-old 蕭羽婕 Sophia, piano

9-year-old Lawrence, piano

Greg Pattillo, Flute

Averil Taylor, Trumpet

Alexander Dmitriev, Accordion

And the most impressive of them all ..... pure human vocals.

Cold is simply the lack of heat My Foot

2009-12-16T02:48:00.000-08:00

Here's the real truth about Cold.

Cold is an evil, sinister monster that doesn't let go once He grabs hold of you. He envelopes you, seeps through the very seams of your clothes and molests your goosebumps, making thousands more illegitimate goosebump-kids.

Cold numbs your scalp, tears and pulls till your ears feel like they are going to rip from your scalp, and sends shooting needles relentlessly flying at your body. His icy fingers slither into your nose and mouth and throttle you from inside your throat. He slides easily into your belly, permeates into your bones, and as you feel your marrows freeze you realise that no amount of shivering is going to help you get rid of Him.

Then to make matters worse, He calls in his famous protégé, Wind.

While Cold is conniving and sly, Wind is the hitman with all the muscles. He doesn't sneak around -- he imposes. He pushes you to the icy ground as you struggle to get through his army of ice-bearing gales. He gleefully slaps you over and over and over again, and no amount of clothings can protect you from his ice-laden assaults.

Winter is back, my friend. Her infamous envoy is here to make sure of that.

Dark Side of the Mind

2009-12-08T00:49:00.001-08:00

My mind harbours

thoughts so dark and vile

That if you ever heard them -

the hissing whispers reverberating in the vaults of my skull

Ever saw them -

the scenarios I draw up in my mind

or that sly smile creeping onto my face

as I picture them true.

You would realise

Just how little

you know of me.

Just how little

I think of you.

Dream Come True (4) - The day St Petersburg Listened to Us Sing

2009-11-29T14:44:00.001-08:00

We were merely Medical students who loved to sing. Not all of us had very strong backgrounds of musical education.

Yet St Petersburg was the kind of place that would listen to us sing. This city was the kind that would extent its welcoming ears to us and applaud for us while we nervously belted out our songs, and cheer at the end of our performence. It was the kind of place that unrolled its red carpets into the belly of one of the oldest music halls in Russia for us.

We performed in one of the most prestigious musical centers in Russia, perhaps even Europe, because St Petersburg wanted art and culture to seep into every space that was willing, and tonight, it has reached us -- insignificant, inexperienced students of Science who wanted a little place in the wide world of music.

So sing we did.

The Choir of St Petersburg State Medical Academy named after Mechnikov, singing at the Finals of the 2009 Student Choir Collectives Competition , 29-11-2009 at the Glinka Kapella, St Petersburg, Russia. Yours truly is the 7th girl from the right.

All the participants in the competition sang 4 songs in a grand choir, including "Gaudeamus" and 4 classical Russian songs.

Dream Come True (3) - The Glinka Kapella Concert Hall

2009-11-29T14:25:00.000-08:00

The Kapella Concert Hall is a real treasury of Russian music.

This was the first musicians' training center in Russia. At various epochs, such famous Russian composers as Bortnyansky, Glinka, Lvov, Balakirev, Rimsky-Korsakov, Lyadov and Arensky worked here. The greatest works of Tchaikovsky, Rakhmaninov, Borodin, Musorgsky, Glazunov, Shostakovich, Prokofiev and Sviridov were performed here.

The Kapella combined concert and training activities. In the end of the 19-th century – the beginning of the 20 th century, it became one of the major European musical centers. Among its directors were very outstanding musicians and composers: Buranello Galuppi, Tommaso Traetta, Giovanni Paisiello, Dmitry Bortnyansky, Alexander Lvov, Mikhail Glinka, Nikolai Bakhmetyev, etc.

In 1886-1889, the building of the Kapella was thoroughly reconstructed according to a design by Leonty Benois. Since that time, the building has remained without changes.

The building of the Kapella is in the center of St. Petersburg, on the left bank of the Moika river. The choir of the Emperor's Palace Chapel had settled here back in 1808. The auditorium is the center of the composition of the Kapella building. The architect Leonty Benois magnificently designed the auditorium: it is not only luxuriously decorated, but also possesses excellent acoustic features.

Many experts believe the Kapella auditorium to be the best auditorium from the acoustic point of view.

After the 1917 revolution, music performances continued in the Kapella Concert Hall. The concert hall played an important role in promoting classical music. Even during World War II, the activities of the Kapella continued. In 1941, the choir of the Kapella was evacuated to the city of Kirov and often went for guest tours to military units, military hospitals, factories. Concerts of the choir took place in cities of the Volga region, Siberia, Central Asia.

Generations of the best Russian choirs have been following the excellent traditions of the Kapella choir. Among those who had training at the Kapella were A.V. Alexandrov, V.A. Dranishnikov, A.G. Flyarkovsky, A.S. Dmitriev, V.A. Chernushenko, A.A. Yurlov, D.G. Kitayenko, V.A. Atlantov and many others.

The history of Kapella, in fact, began with the history of Russian classical music and has continued to present time.

Source

Dream Come True (2) - The First Step

2009-11-29T14:14:00.001-08:00

They say a good beginning is half of success. They also say that the first step is the hardest one to take.

Little did I know that the casual step I took was the first that would lead me to having my dream come true.

From the day I was recruited into the St Petersburg State Medical Academy (named after I.I. Mechnikov) Choir, I never planned on quitting it.

We worked hard, meeting two days a week and singing for 2 hours, sometimes more, each time. Then one day Aleksandra Reshetnikova, our choir mistress, told us that she had enrolled us into the 2009 Student Choir Collective Competition.

On the 22nd of November, our choir of 20 attended the eliminating round of the competition, held in the concert hall of LETI.

Our choir singing "Dona Nobis Pacem" and "Mama" by Gavrilina

We were the youngest choir in the competition that day.For many of us, it was the first time performing as a choir, on stage.

Perhaps someone up there was looking out for us. Or perhaps, just perhaps, the judges liked what they heard. We almost couldn't believe our ears when they announced that we had beat a few other groups and made it to the finals.

Dream Come True (1) - Prologue

2009-11-29T13:46:00.001-08:00

From the Conservatory of Music named after Rimskiy Korsakoff to the Mariinskiy Theater, 6 years in St Petersburg has more than opened my eyes (and ears) to the auditory haven this city has to offer.

How often does one come across a place like this? When a simple walk down the busiest street of the city is, in itself, an invitation to the world of fine arts?

I was hooked from the time I set foot into my first Peterian concert hall for my first musical evening. From the first note to the last encore, every second was a swirling palette of aesthetics. The eye followed every skilled movement, the ears caught what the eye couldn't see...and the heart melted.

And everytime I clapped my palms red after those curtain calls, part of me yearns to be up there - playing, singing, pirouetting, and that longing for something that will never happen yank at my heart so cruelly it hurts.

A World of Our Own

2009-11-18T14:51:00.001-08:00

While Hollywood movies never failed in depicting Russia as that cold, warmongering nuclear power, 6 years of living and being among the people in this wonderful land has taught me the exact opposite. If only less than 20 years ago Russia had seemed, to outsiders, hostile and unwelcoming, then the avalanche of change this country has experienced in the past 2 decades has not been in vain.

"But why Russia?" People always ask me, awe written on their faces as they secretly wondered what a girl like me was doing in a place like THAT.

I always tell them, as I will tell you now, again. "St Petersburg is the warmest, loveliest place I have ever seen. From the gilded thrones in magnificent Hermitage to that friendly old lady who gave you directions on how to get there and ended up taking you there herself, Peter's city is indeed great, both in body and in mind."

As proud as Russians are of their cultural and historical heritage, they are surprisingly more welcoming and tolerant of foreign culture than Hollywood makes them out to be.

Last year we went for the Zolotaya Osen' (Golden Autumn) Song and Dance Festival at the
IMOP, and witnessed a dazzling display of cultural shows presented by students from all over the world. This year's Zolotaya Osen' was everything but disappointing.

As talent, like fireworks, set the concert hall ablaze, applause brought the world together under one roof that night the last autumn leaves fell in St Petersburg.

Mongolia - Mongolian Song

Russia - Dance

Africa (Namibia, Gambia and some others) - A Capella

China - Tibetan Dance

Mongolia - Khoomii with Instruments

Russia - Belly Dance

Morocco - Moroccan Rap

Germany - Accordion

Kazakhstan - Song in English, Russian and Kazakhstani

Russia - Hip-Hop

Russia - Song with Belly Dance

China - Dance

Russia - A Capella Choir

China - Peacock Dance

Mongolia - Morin Khuur (Horse-head Fiddle)

Russia - Dance

Russia - Rap

Malaysia and Russia - Fusion Dance

Myanmar - Acoustics and Vocal

Vietnam - Dance

Russia - Vocal and Acoustic

Africa (Namibia?) - Drums

China - Song

India - Song

Russia - Swedish Song

Malaysia and Russia - Traditional Indian Dance

Africa - Dance

Kyrgyzstan (?) - Ballroom Dance

Russia - Song

India and Russia - Russian Song

Russia - Folk Song with Guitar

Russia - Folk Song with Balalaika

Russia - Folk Song with Flute and Vargan

As someone so perfectly summed up the night that brought the world a bit closer...

"Prize? what are you talking about!? my best award's given to me by Allah, these are my friends: Jaya, Asha, Irfaan, Yogi, Akshaya, Bineetaa, Umma, Angel, Andre, Ashwin, Jolie, Jason, Mathew, Xiao Chiann and others, whom I appreciate and love!! This is the best prize one could ever get! I don't need any statuette on the shelf.. What for if it's only plastic? True friendship is much more dear and important to me!!!"

Daniya Sabirova, Facebook

Khoomii? Who, me?

2009-11-18T03:34:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I feel I have been sitting under a big fat rock for far too long.

Once in a while someone comes along and kicks what to him is an insignificant pebble out of the way, and I am freed from that little pebble I thought was a big fat rock.

Yesterday, a funny little guy wearing a funny little costume stood on stage holding a funny little instrument singing a funny little song, and he looked so at ease with a funny little smile on his face one was tempted to dismiss his as yet another half-cooked amateurish "traditional" performance.

It was not to be. His voice stunned us all as the hall sat hushed and listened, transfixed, the voice of a place many of us could not even imagine, of wild horses galloping under endless blue skies on the wide green fields.

Once again my big fat pebble has been overturned, and I have seen just a little bit more of this world.

Dear readers, I present to you ....

The ancient art of throat-singing,

KHOOMII

I tried googling a proper definition of this peculiar method of singing, otherwise known as overtone singing. A myriad of technical terms later, I understood that some things just cannot be described in words alone, and Hoomi is definitely one of those.

Click HERE to watch amazing video - Six Methods of the Khoomii

Mongolian Khoomei

Tuvan Khoomii

Inuit Throat-singing

Altai - Kai

Siberian Throat-singing

Tibetan Throat-singing

Can you tell me how to get to Sesame Street

2009-11-07T10:21:00.001-08:00

Sunny day - Sweepin’ the clouds away,
On my way to where the air is sweet.
Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street.

Come and play, everything’s A-OK
Friendly neighbors there that’s where we meet
Can you tell me how to get
How to get to Sesame Street

It’s a magic carpet ride. Every door will open wide.
Happy people like you. Happy people who.

Like a beautiful sunny day sweepin’ the clouds away
On my way to where the air is sweet
Can you tell me how to get,
How to get to Sesame street, how to get to Sesame Street, How to get to . . .

Once upon a time, way before the age of that scary giggling purple dinosaur, kids all over had, at some point in their lives, lived on Sesame Street.

The last time I saw them on television was at least more than 10 years ago, when silly things like MTV took over my TV time. Have I, like so many others, forgotten how to get to Sesame Street?

The 40th anniversary of this childrens' educational show saw people of all ages and all walks of life revisiting what once used to be their favourite street, renewing their friendships with big birds named Big Bird, Counts named Count who count, and that grouchy Grouch in a bin.

Who could forget their adventures in ABC's with lovable, shy Grover, or laughing at Ernie and Bert's antics, or counting everything in sight with Count von Count the Count, (ha-ha-ha), or kowabunga-ing with the cookie-loving monster? How many of us can boast of never having been driven away by Oscar the Grouch, or forget the first "dirty" words he taught us?

Some things you never forget.

"It is I, your furry pal, Grover! "

"Kowabunga!"

"Now leave me alone and get lost! Scram!"

"Greetings! I am the Count. They call me the Count because I love to count things. "

"Rubber Duckie, you're the one, You make bathtime lots of fun, Rubber Duckie, I'm awfully fond of you"

"XOXO"

Prairie Dawn

Elmo

Couldn't find a decent picture of Harry Monster. What, wasn't anyone else fond of Harry Monster?

Egad! It's Sherlock Hemlock!

Happy (belated) 40th Birthday Sesame Street! May kids follow Sherlock Hemlock the neighborhood detective on many wild goose chases to come, share cookies with Cookie Monster and learn important lessons in life with Kermit the Frog for the years to come.

Our parents loved you, we love you, and you can bet our children will, too.

Another Peter-ian weekend

2009-11-01T08:20:00.000-08:00

St Petersburg is my Hotel California. I can check out any time I like, but I can never leave.

On weekdays I stay in my little castle under the watchful eye of Mechnikov, and my home becomes my school.

But on weekends...on weekends things are different. On weekends I run joyously into the warm embrace of this city, and rejoice in her ever-changing beauty.

Autumn is coming to a slow and graceful end. My last one here in Russia.

A bit of self-confidence always does you good. "So what if my wreck of a car has a non-existent bumper, backlights that are mangled beyond repair, and looks as if a hundred kids have played basketball on the roof? I've got decal on the sides and that's all that matters. I'm still selling this baby for 18,000 rubles. " Russian thinks.

Polytechnic Institute.

Inside the Mariinsky Theater Concert Hall

They were playing Mozart's "The Magical Flute" that day.

A walk down "Potseluev Most' " (Kissing Bridge)

Hey Stupid Kids

2009-10-25T10:29:00.001-07:00

Dear Canis and Gang,

The reason we still smile in the face of your mindboggling idiocy instead of smashing that squashy face in is because our mother taught us better than that.

Yes kids, I said our mother.

So what? You have a problem with people whose mothers actually care enough for them to TEACH them something worth learning? Poor pathetic little children. Stupid as anything yet you think you are so cool.

Cool is so much more than that, braindeads.

Cool is, for example, having family members who care for you enough to wanna talk to you.

If the people who gave birth to you can't even tolerate your ugly face to want you around in the house you are so NOT COOL despite what your equally braindead friends think.

And the reason you can't get girls, is, well, maybe they can't tolerate your frying-panned face long enough to actually hold a conversation without running off to the toilet to throw up...or worse?

I don't know, see, I never had that happen to me. You are the experienced one, aren't you?

You, yes you, stupid kid with the face like a pig's and a brain to match that - you know you're gonna end up in the gutters of life one day, aren't you, the rate you're going?

Yeah, just thought I should warn you. Your brain (or that mush of gooey stuff you THINK is called your "brain", the hilariousity of that) is probably too primitive to process that kind of information I suppose, but do consider yourselves warned.

Just so you know, I am on his side EVERY STEP OF THE WAY and even if he makes the mistake of s******* y** a** u* one fine day, I wouldn't be going too far if I say now,

"You probably deserved it anyway."

XOXO,

From Strawb, and the person who calls him that.

But mostly from the person who calls him that,

because Strawb is too cool to care.

Strong as Stone

2009-10-16T07:17:00.001-07:00

Dear Friend,

The first time around, we awkwardly stood around you in your room, watching you silently as you put on your bravest face. We didn't know for whom you were brave. Was it for us, the intruders into your private moment of grief? Was it a mask you put on to fool yourself, to delay the inevitable setting in of the truth of your loss?

Or was it for her, the biggest part of your heart, that had left you forever?

I don't remember how you looked that day, because I didn't dare look at you. I was afraid you would see the helplessness on my face, to hear the meaningless words of condolences I never found the courage to say.

Today, a little after two years since that horrible day, we are once again gathered around you, forming an invisible little protective circle around you our friend, whose heart, or the pitiful remains of what used to be your heart, was shattered into pieces. None of us will ever understand.

Today you seemed like a stone to me. Through your grief you stand strong and brave as we timidly search for things to say to you. We end up stupidly blabbering on about flight tickets and phone numbers because none of us had the courage to go up to you and say,

"Cry if you want to, there are 8 shoulders here for you tonight."

So you didn't cry.

You might never hear us say such things to you, but do remember that this is what went through all our minds today.

You don't have to be strong all the time, you know. Everyone needs someone else sometimes, we know this is one of the times for you.

Keeping you in our prayers,

Group 77

End of an Era

2009-10-12T13:44:00.001-07:00

I was filled with wonder the first time I saw snow in Russia. I bundled myself up in a thick sweater, made myself a hot cup of tea and looked out from the window of my 7th floor room to the billows of wind churning up the flakes into towering monsters, rapping on windows and howling at doors.

Now 6 years later, I still greet the last of my First Snow the way I did the first time. The first of my last winter here in St Petersburg stirs in me a longing I know will quickly pass into a memory. Am I ready to leave this place yet? Am I ready to see each thing, place and people for the last time and embark on a new journey, perhaps occasionally looking back and saying to all that would listen , "St Petersburg was my home." ?

Winter came early this year.

Pictures. Taken not because they sell calendars, but these tattered old buildings and crooked roads are how I will remember my St Petersburg by.

Hello winter my old friend

The Demon Within

2009-10-12T13:43:00.001-07:00

Cancer is so limited.

It cannot shatter hope.

It cannot corrode faith.

It cannot cripple love.

It cannot destroy God’s peace.

It cannot kill friendship.

It cannot suppress memories.

It cannot silence courage.

It cannot invade the soul.

It cannot conquer the spirit.

It cannot steal God’s gift of eternal life.

Cancer is so limited.

As Dr Dyomin started our first Oncology lesson with this poem, I felt a bitter sourness rising to my throat. These simple lines reawakened an emotion I thought I had buried too deeply to ever find again. To be bitter and angry is simply too easy.

I remember a fourth stage breast cancer patient we interviewed last year. Her frame, what was left of it, was a sadist's joke of a body. She must have been once beautiful. A dying shadow of her former beauty still clung onto the papery skin that was her face. Her few remaining strands of hair were kept in place with a headscarf. She covered her chest self-consciously as we entered the room.

The examination that day wasn't easy. Regret and frustration dominated the conversation as we asked her history. She had never done any self-examinations, and disregarded the early symptoms. By the time she finally visited a doctor it was too late - her cancer had progressed to the final stage.

As I read the poem I thought of her. Of this woman whose acquaintance I made for 10 minutes of my life, who probably is not with us anymore. Of my beloved grandparents, taken from us too soon. Of a friend, a young lady who succumbed too quickly to the beckoning of that black-robed Reaper. Of an uncle - a young father with a 2nd baby on the way. Still holding on.

As my thoughts turn to this family half a world away from me, I feel closer than ever to them. There is so much I want to tell the people I have lost, and those still fighting this demon within. Words about hope, and faith, and love. Yet words fail everytime, crumbling into helplessness.

Maybe we don't need too many words.

Love - Kids understand it.

2009-10-03T04:55:00.001-07:00

glitter-graphics.com

Wisdom of Age

2009-09-30T08:23:00.001-07:00

There are 4 types of plasmodiums (plasmodii for the grammatically-anal) that cause Malaria in humans - Pl Malariae, Pl Vivax, Pl Ovale, and Pl Falciparum. Inside their human hosts, these microscopical creatures multiplicate and develop into "adult" forms. Invasion, in its truest sense, is the plasmodii's mode of survival and preservation of their kind.

While all four cause considerable burden to sufferers, Pl Malariae and Pl Falciparum represent the two extremes of the disease severity spectrum.

Pl Falciparum is not one to be taken lightly. Upon invasion, they aggressively attack their human hosts, causing a myriad of severe illnesses. More often than not, the serious course of attack is exacerbated by potentially fatal complications. It is not rare for a non-immune human host to die of cerebral complications or coma within hours to days.

The oldest species of all four, Pl Malariae, on the other hand, often runs a mild course in humans, but usually for longer durations. The parasites may persist in the blood of their human host for years, sometimes without causing symptoms. Perhaps in a microscopical world we will never get to know, the Pl Falciparums, like the hot-headed adrenaline-pumped kids they are, are having a blast of a time wrecking and ravaging their hosts, laughing at the mild-mannered, boring Pl Malariae.

But you see, the Pl Malariae will be the ones still alive when the Falciparums die along with the hosts they tormented to death. Time has definitely taught these microscopical creatures something.

Something that many of us high and mighty humans have not yet learnt or understood.

Another Battle Begins

2009-09-28T13:57:00.001-07:00

Familiar. That is all I can say about the way I feel today as the news descend like a ton of bricks, crushing the air out of me. I remember your hearty laugh. As I stagger into the fog that quickly cleared up with the turn of a few pages, I am back in the same place I was before. I become, again, that hollow wall.

So familiar.

Here I taste the saltiness of tears - of mine and others, smell the stench of death, and hear the tormented moans, voices that blur the line between hope and desperation. Here I am, standing in the middle of this field where I belong, watching God play His merciless hand in yet another throw of dice. A man's destiny is written. You lose again. No second chances, you see.

I suppose we might have been right after all, screaming, kicking, raising hell as we were dragged into this pitiless place out of the safety of our mothers' wombs.

Cool Kid

2009-09-21T02:44:00.001-07:00

I saw a cool kid yesterday.

He was about 12- a stout, red-faced lad sporting his first signs of facial hair. He wore a black death metal T-shirt on top of baggy khakis. The earring on his left ear was of a skull. This kid, like every other "cool" kid swarming the streets, walked with a sway that spelled "I AM COOL BECAUSE I WATCH MTV" to everyone who saw him.

Yet I was not the least interested in how he dressed up or how his cool middle and ring fingers were perpetually bent into his cool palm in cool sign language for "Yo". Nor did I care how much cool gel he slathered onto his cool hair. Every other cool kid on the street looked exactly the same.

It was what he did, that cool lad, that set him apart. That unthinking swift motion of bending down and picking up the bunch of flowers an old lady in front of him accidentally dropped, and handing them to her with a bright smile that spelled "MY PARENTS TAUGHT ME WELL" to everyone who saw him.

That, I dare say, will grow up into a fine young man one day, and I am proud of him.

Bread and Milk Festival (Prazdnik Khleba i Moloka)

2009-09-14T12:09:00.000-07:00

"We all grew up raised with Bread and Milk. Let us never forget that. Let us always celebrate Bread and Milk. "

This, of course, sounded less corny when the MC said it.

On the 13th of September, St Petersburgers of all ages and walks of life came together to celebrate the annual Bread and Milk Festival, the significance of which was so splendidly summarised in the sentence above.

Pictures.

Caramel-coated Apples! 80rubles would be about RM10.

And old babushka (granny) trying her hand at the Hoop-a-Hoops.

A young boy drawing a cat on the food pyramid.

Wait.......what?!

Milkmaids doing their thing.

Giggling kids having their fortune told.

Kid trying to persuade mum to invest good money on his super aiming skills.

Generally, a whole lot of happy people.

Have you had your bread and milk today?

Doha, Qatar

2009-08-31T00:50:00.001-07:00

To attempt to describe the cloth-clinging heat and humidity of Doha is futile to one who has never experienced it. Call Malaysia hot? It's a winter wonderland compared to the scalding pavements of Doha. A walk along the streets of this capital city of Doha made me feel as if I was very quickly doing an evaporating act. From the 40'C at 7am in the morning to the 47'C of 5pm, it is a wonder how the inhabitants of this scorching city still seem to be all out jogging.

Me? It took me a lot of "Buts" and "What-ifs" to contemplate leaving my hotel room at all.

It being the period of Ramadhan, Doha was almost completely in perpetual rest mode. Armed with a camera and bottleful of water straight from the fridge, I was ready to see my first Middle Eastern country for myself.

According to the Abdhu, a local, Doha is one of the safest place for a girl to be walking along on the streets looking very touristy, the crime rate of the country being close to zero.

The Museum of Islamic Arts has to be your first stop when you're in Doha. Closed for Ramadhan.

Quote Wikipedia: During the early 20th century, much of Qatar's economy depended on fishing and pearling, and Doha had about 350 pearling boats.

A picture with the daughter of one of the many friendly locals who insisted on helping me take multiple pictures of myself in Doha. Only this one went one step further and offered his daughter as prop. Meanwhile, cars passing by hooted their horns to indicate their hitchability.

"Houseboats", according to Abdhu.

FANAR Islamic Centre, Souq Waqif

Quote from Wikipedia, your best friend if you find yourself unexpectedly in a country, heck, in a part of the world you never thought you'd visit :

Much of Qatar's oil and natural gas wealth is visible in Doha, which is the economic centre of Qatar. Doha is home to the headquarters of the country's largest oil and gas companies, including Qatar Petroleum, Qatargas and RasGas.

Doha's economy is built on the revenue the country has made from its oil and natural gas industries, and the Qatari government is rapidly trying to diversify the Qatari economy in order to move away from this dependence on oil. As a result, Doha is currently experiencing a very large boom, with the city developing very rapidly - this is mostly the result of Sheikh Hamad bin Khalifa's modernization program.

Like the nearby city of Dubai in the United Arab Emirates, Doha's economy is moving away from its dependency on the oil and natural gas industries, although unlike Dubai, Doha's main focus is not tourism. Doha is seeing huge amounts of growth, with the population of the city increasing by more than 60,000 between 2004 and 2006; this has caused a boom in the real estate sector, with real estate prices skyrocketing

According to the BBC, as of late January 2007, Doha is now a more expensive city than Dubai in terms of real estate prices. This rate of growth has led to projects such as the Lusail City project, which is being constructed north of Doha and will eventually house 200,000 people.

Construction is also booming in Doha, a result of increasing corporate and commercial activity in Doha. This is most visible with the changing skyline of the city, as Doha has over 50 towers currently being constructed, the largest of which is the Dubai Towers. At the same time, 39 new hotels are joining Qatar's booming tourism market, adding about 9,000 new rooms by 2009.

That's "Qatar" under the Olympics logo.

The Pearl - Porta Arabia

Where the rich come out to play.

The very rich.

Which basically comprises half of Doha, apparently.

A lopsided sunset that marked the end of my Doha daytrip.

And then I went back to the hotel and saw the message blinking on my facebook, and knew that I had made the right decision, calling the "calling off" off. :)

Listen

2009-08-20T21:50:00.001-07:00

Once in a while, voices ring out from amidst the music industry crowd that silence all other mediocre wannabes and hush the audience with awe. As ears prick to those voices from heaven, the frenzied screams of estrogen-charged adolescent girls swooning over pretty boys crooning commercialised love songs are drowned.

In simple words, listen to these songs.

These, are the good stuff.

Don't Panic

2009-08-04T20:42:00.001-07:00

How do you start to describe a book so insanely hilarious that speaks more truth than truth itself?

How do you start to explain how important having a towel is, to someone who has never attempted to hitchhike across the Galaxy for less than 30 Altairian dollars a day?

"Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy", first published in 1980, is the first of the highly-acclaimed, illogically funny series by Douglas Adams (1952-2001).

"It is the story of a book, a book called The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - not an Earth book, never published on earth... never seen or even heard of by any Earthman.

Nevertheless, a wholly remarkable book.

In fact, it was probably the most remarkable book ever to come out of the great publishing corporations of Ursa Minor - of which no Earthman had ever heard either.

Not only is it a wholly remarkable book, it is also a highly successful one - more popular than the Celestial Home Care Omnibus, better selling than Fifty-three More Things to do in Zero Gravity, and more controversial than Oolan Colluphid's trilogy of philosophical blockbusters, Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God's Greatest Mistakes, and Who Is This God Person Anyway?

In many of the more relaxed civilizations on the Outer Eastern Rim of the Galaxy, the Hitchhiker's Guide has already supplanted the great Encyclopedia Galactica as the standard repository of all knowledge and wisdom, for though it has many omissions and contains much that is apocryphal, or at least wildly inaccurate, it scores over the older, more pedestrian work in two important respects.

First, it is slightly cheaper; and second, it has the words DON'T PANIC inscribed in large friendly letters on its cover."

Thus begins the adventure of Arthur Dent, an insignificant Earthling who, seconds before the total annihilation of the Earth to make way for the construction of a new space hyperpass, was plucked off the planet by his friend Ford prefect, a researcher for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.

Together they take off for a journey into space, picking up unlikely friends on the way - a two-headed, three-armed totally out-to-lunch ex-President of the Galaxy who was on the run for stealing the most unique starship in the history of the Galaxy, his girlfriend Trillian, formerly known as Tricia McMillian back when she was still an Earthling, and Marvin, a chronically depressed, paranoid android.

"Here I am, brain the size of a Planet and they ask me to take you down to the bridge. call that job satisfaction? 'Cos I don't" (Marvin)

The gang set off for a madcap adventure in space operating on Improbability Drive by computers trying to be sickeningly sweet, making narrow escapes from hideous Vogons and murderous mice alike, teaching computers to make tea, and finding out about the Answer to Life, The Universe and Everything.

"But that's not the point!" raged Ford. "The point is that I am now a perfectly safe penguin, and my colleague here is rapidly running out of limbs!"

What, then, IS the Answer all about, and where is Earth's role in the search of the great Question? What is the secret of Magrathea, the legendary planet? How bad CAN alien poems get? What is the Improbability Drive, and why did all the dolphins disappear off the face of Earth? What,indeed, was Man, the apelike creatures, doing ON the surface of the Earth? (That is, before it was blown away. Probably doesn't matter much anymore anyway. Not even to those who had digital watches). And more importantly, what constitutes good tea?

Marvin. He's got this terrible pain in all the diodes down his left-hand side.

I am still doubled-up in stitches.

Rekindling

2009-08-03T20:43:00.000-07:00

Old flames are funny funny things. An old friend; a dog-eared favourite from a lifetime ago; the memory of a face untouched by time or age; a hobby covered in dust - but never truly forgotten.

A bunch of us primary school friends got together for a potluck Barbeque at my house on the 25th of July. What started as a gathering with 9 confirmed guest quickly ballooned to a full-blowned party where everyone in town who knew someone in the party was quickly invited. Cars streamed into my street, bringing friends from a lifetime ago, some of whom we haven't met for 12 years.

Laughter from that night is still reverberating between the walls of my house.

I was barely over the excitement of it all when I was invited to another reunion with friends. 8 years ago, 30 budding writers were united in New Straits Times Paper's Youthquake "Writers' Bloc 6" Workshop in Port Dickson for 4 unforgettable days of writing , fun, games, and making asses out of yous and mes. We met yesterday in KL, talked mostly politics I didn't quite understand (it being the ISA demonstration day), argued over the optimal amount of oysters to be had at buffets, and camwhored like camwhorers do.

All evidence of the buffet has disappeared too far down my digestive tract to mention, but a smile, albeit a rather goofy one, still lingers.

But I have saved the best for last. A lady, a beautiful, gentle, soft-spoken lady who loved the 9-year-old me the way a mother would, resurfaced into my life today, most unexpectedly. We have not met for 11 years, and I have not stopped missing her since the last time we met. Untouched by Time, my memory of her face has not changed, as her words sprang out at me from the computer screen today.

I remember the first things she ever said to me, when I met her for the first time. I was 8, and taking to that sweet new teacher like bees to honey. She told me that she was going to tell me something, and hoped I would always remember.

"If you think you can, you can."

只身

2009-07-21T09:42:00.000-07:00

上个星期，一位与我情如姐弟的好友，带着满满的祝福和希望，塔上了人生新的旅程。我们两家人在餐馆挤满一桌，叮咛嘱咐不断。吃饱了，我搭着他的肩，不断地提醒他，只身在外读书，要照顾好自己的身体，饮食。看着他不住地点头，我心里却是为了这个弟弟满怀骄傲。

今天，和从小一起玩“家家酒”的表妹出去玩。她在这城市接近2年，工作生活也都有了些成绩。年龄比我小，却懂事，自力。请我吃了顿丰富的午餐，我们到处逛逛，买东西，一路上聊个不停。甜，酸，苦，辣 - 原来离乡背井的我们，经历的都那么相似。

小时候的我们不懂事，父母长辈们千般呵护，处处为我们着想，时刻保护我们。从不休息地，耐心地向我们解释人间崎岖，却又不让我们受到任何的伤害。

长大了，万般不舍的我们离开父母长辈的保护圈，到他乡去为了自己的梦和前途而努力。

怕吗？第一次事事都靠自己，那种感觉是“怕”所不能形容的。是惶恐。

孤独吗？只身在外的第一晚，不论身边多少朋友陪伴着，哭着睡得我们，醒来后发觉被单仍是湿的

后悔吗？第一次在外生病，都希望妈妈在身边的。都问着自己 - 我当初怎么会认为自己行呢？

不知怎样。糊里糊涂地我们就这样挨过了只身在外的日子。从煮饭结果烫熟自己的肉，到轻易就准备得出一两道拿手好菜，那间中的日子我们是怎么学习的，怎么长大的？长辈们心疼地问我们：“自己在外，还习惯吗？吃得好吗？别累坏了自己！” 习惯耸耸肩，轻松地回答“没什么大不了，在外头的日子可开心，自由了！”。

从甜酸苦辣中只挑甜得去记，只不过是我们生存的最好防卫。苦中作乐后，长大了的我们回头看看被遗留下的那天真小孩，就能骄傲地昂首大步向前走。

伟扬，佳美，每个为了自己为家人打拼的兄弟姐妹们，加油了。

Over the cage floor the horizons come

2009-06-25T15:24:00.001-07:00

The Jaguar

Ted Hughes

The apes yawn and adore their fleas in the sun.
The parrots shriek as if they were on fire, or strut
Like cheap tarts to attract the stroller with the nut.
Fatigued with indolence, tiger and lion

Lie still as the sun. The boa-constrictor’s coil
Is a fossil. Cage after cage seems empty, or
Stinks of sleepers from the breathing straw.
It might be painted on a nursery wall.

But who runs like the rest past these arrives
At a cage where the crowd stands, stares, mesmerized,
As a child at a dream, at a jaguar hurrying enraged
Through prison darkness after the drills of his eyes

On a short fierce fuse. Not in boredom—
The eye satisfied to be blind in fire,
By the bang of blood in the brain deaf the ear—
He spins from the bars, but there’s no cage to him

More than to the visionary his cell:
His stride is wildernesses of freedom:
The world rolls under the long thrust of his heel.
Over the cage floor the horizons come.

No, not even the jaguar stirred.

As I scanned my eyes across the barren cell holding the two resigned beasts, Ted Hughes' poem came to mind. "It looks like a dungeon in here," whispered Xiao Chiann ,warily eyeing the rusted padlocks holding the snoring jaguars prisoners. She wondered what they were like, these sleek beasts, outside of captivity, out in the wilderness where they belong.

I wondered what they had done to deserve this imprisonment.

Like a bored house cat on a lazy Sunday afternoon, these lifeless eyes rested momentarily on the hushed audience gathered outside his desolate cage and flickered away to watch the carcass of a chicken lying on his stained cage floor, where two rats had snuck into and were feasting away under his indifferent gaze.

In one of the neighboring cells lay the King of the Jungle, a once-proud soul now entrapped in a pitiful shell of skin, bones, and a sore scab in the place where His Majesty's crown used to be. The bars were the only barrier between gawking humans and the most revered beast of the wild, forgotten by Nature, snoring next to the bloody remains of what used to be a rabbit.

At the other end of the zoo lay a reindeer, himself forgotten by the jolly bearded man in his red outfit. His coat was patchy and wounded, and he sported antlers that impressed all who beheld it. All, but the reindeer himself.

The plight of the caged polar bears, pride and joy of the Leningrad Zoo, left a weeping wound in the hearts in all who laid eyes on them. This bear paced rhythmically inside his little cage, now swaying his head from side to side, oblivious to the sympathetic audience his mournful look attracted, now laying his head against the bars that held him, trying to look as far out as the solid metals would allow. Even with paws strong enough to knock even the stoutest man out cold, and teeth sharp enough to sink into the thickest skin, this creature attracted more looks of sympathy than of fear.

Opposite the caged polar bears lived 2 more fortunate bears, enjoying a bigger enclosure where they sauntered around and lazed about in the sun.

Yes, these Polar Bears here had it much better. They even had their own, personal cesspools where they could swim the afternoon away.

Only no one was sure this bear enjoyed it very much.

.... or whether he appreciated the in-house refreshments that came with the privileges of a pool.

The aviary, on the other hand, was bursting was colorful, squawking life.

It was time for some of them to find wives for themselves.

....While the less attractive ones humbly tried to keep their heads low.

Somewhere, amidst the mesh of wires and metal bars, an eagle still dreams of soaring the skies one day.

Surviving the Axe ... 5 times in a row.....

2009-06-25T12:12:00.001-07:00

.... wasn't easy, but it's finally done and over with.

The past two months saw me suffering my fair share of mind-numbing reading, frantic scribbling on my "study wall" sleepless pre-exam nights filled with haunting dreams, exam day anxiety attacks and silly stutterings of nonsensical answers. I am proud to announce I not only survived my 5th year Finals, I pretty much sailed through it fine.

Exams started with Surgical Diseases on the 5th of June....
...followed by Gynaecology on the 10th (we have Obstetrics in the 4th year and Gynae in the 5th)
...General Medicine (the mother of all exam woes) on the 15th
...Infectious Diseases on the 20th,
...and finally Pathology on the 25th.

AM.

FREE.

FINALLY.

Oh and by the way, slipping in a basketball game once in a while during exam preparation frenzy does wonders for the fried brain. EVEN if you are essentially as retarded in sports as I am.

For The Most Beautiful Lady in My World

2009-05-10T22:15:00.000-07:00

Dear mum ,

I wish I was that msn emoticon laughing baby. I wish I have that power to wipe the worries off your face everytime you see me.

A few years ago I looked through your old photo album and saw some pictures of you on an outing with your classmates. You were swimming in the sea and laughing with your friends. And then I looked at you, tutoring bro's homework at the table. You weren't smiling. There were no happy sparks in your eyes. If truth be told, you looked tired and on the verge of crying.

I don't know whether you remember me going over to give you a hug that day. You seemed surprised. I told you I love you, and that you should smile. I was 16 or 17 then - the same age as that beautiful, laughing girl in the old black-and-white photo.

Now I am the age you were when you had me. Was it difficult, mum? To be a wife, a mother when there was still so much you wanted to do with life?

I remember being half asleep. I remember you softly patting my back, feeling the rising and lowering of your chest against my cheek, and listening to you talk. Piano in the background. I remember you stroking my hair, softly.

I think back of so many nights we shared a bed, sometimes a pillow, talking the night away. Past, present, future. I remember the sound of cars driving by, and the momentary white streak on the ceiling as the sounds slowly faded.

When I was very young, after brushing my teeth one day, you beckoned me into my pitch-dark room, grinning excitedly. I followed you into the room, and you closed the door behind me. You were right next to me, I couldn't even see you. And then in front of me floated a semi-bright little circle, inside which moved a little needle. "See? I bought a new glow-in-the-dark watch". You announced happily.

Sometimes, at night, when I lay awake staring up at my ceiling over here in Russia, I think of those momentary car headlight streaks, and the glowing little circle in that dark room. How trivial these memories are. Yet, how close to you that makes me feel. At times like these, I miss you.

When I was a child, I wondered whether God (or someone) gave every mother special "SuperMom Mind Readers"(yes I gave them a name) when they gave birth. As I stared at you sheepishly, tears forming a dam behind my eyes, I always wondered how you knew I was naughty again. Or how you were always there when I needed a hug or a pat on the back.

Now I know why.

Mum, I wish I could have written a beautiful poem or used flowery words and fancy phrases, and a thousand different words that mean the same three words I want to say to you. I want to paint you beautiful sunsets and blooming flowers to show my love for you.

Yet as I sit here typing, these images keep swirling in my mind. You at 17, laughing at the beach. Me upon your chest, falling asleep as you talked. Night time car streaks. That glowing little circle.

I suppose, in some ways, that's "I Love You" enough.

Happy Mother's Day, mum. I only want you to smile.

Vyborg

2009-05-01T22:16:00.000-07:00

Vyborg (Russian: Вы́борг; Finnish: Viipuri; Swedish: Viborg; German: Wiborg) is a town in Leningrad Oblast, Russia, situated on the Karelian Isthmus near the head of the Bay of Vyborg, 130 km to the northwest of St. Petersburg, 38 km south from Russia's border with Finland, where the Saimaa Canal enters the Gulf of Finland. Population: 79,224 (2002 Census)

Source : Wikipedia

Vyborg is the main border town on the Helsinki (capital of Finland) - St Petersburg (Russia) road, a lovely 13-th-century city filled with old buildings, winding cobblestone streets, a romantic, if dishevelled harbour, and a sprawling, magnificent park.
Source: Lonely Planet Guidebooks

One of the oldest cities in Europe, Vyborg's central feature is the imposing medieval Vyborg Castle, built by the Swedes in 1293 when they first captured Karelia from Novgorod. Since then borders have jumped back and forth around Vyborg.
Source: Lonely Planet Guidebook

Peter the Great added it to Russia in 1710. A century later it fell within autonomous Finland, and after the revolution it remained part of independent Finland (the Finns call it Viipuri)
Stalin took it in 1939, lost it to the Finns and Germans during WWII, and on getting it back deported all the Finns.

Today it's a laid-back, Finnish-looking city full of Russian fishers, timber-haulers, military men, and the usual border-town shady types. A good city history and nice photos are at
www.towns.ru/towns/ viborg_e

Jai Ho nemO - Epilogue

2009-04-28T16:40:00.000-07:00

I like to think that all of us had as much fun as how we wanted the audience to enjoy our show. If anyone would ask me now, whether I'd do it all over again, I wouldn't have to consider. Yes, I would go through it all again, in a heartbeat.

From Tolerance Day to Den' Smekha to Sangam, nemO has undoubtedly gone through quite a number of things together. For pulling through all the thick and thin together, I applaud you all. For learning from our previous mistakes to produce this unforgettable performance, there are no words to describe what I want to say to all of you.

We were never meant for pitch-perfect stunning performances.
To others, our show may have been mediocre, to say the least.

But we never expected to give anyone a perfect show. Professional singers, guitarists, bassists, drummers and dancers can take care of that - they are a dime a dozen in this world full of talent.

Yet THIS is what nemO was made for. A bit of off-pitch singing here, a bit of off-tempo strumming there. It really doesn't matter.

What matters is that we, each of us amateurs, or worse, have pulled through together - emerging from the blinding fog of so many little trials that were adamant on throwing us off our track. We gritted our teeth and swam through the many uncertainties and doubts. What was left was to give our best with the worst that were given to us.

And when we were called upon to perform to the expectant crowd, we did. Belting out our much-practiced songs with full force, we looked them all in the eye and the message was delivered.

"nemO my band forevermore..."

And we did not shine because we played beautifully - I admit that we didn't.

We shone because we gave our very best.

nemO in Concert, 26th April 2009, St Petersburg, Russia

2009-04-28T16:39:00.000-07:00

The guitars were tuned for the last time - I had made sure of it. Through the thick curtains behind which we were hidden, we heard the audience. The previous dances had driven them to a frenzy - they were waiting for more. Could we deliver, would we, once again, disappoint ourselves?

I turned around to look at the rest of them. Someone forced a reassuring smile at me. "We're gonna do great. All we have to do is enjoy our show. We don't have to be better than anyone. We just have to outdo ourselves."

And then we were braced in a tight circle. The five of us, shoulder to shoulder, arm on arm. We prayed for a great performance - god knows we had worked hard - and most of all, we prayed for the crowd to enjoy what we were ready to give.

"Nemo my Band Forevermore........" palm on hand we chorused each other enthusiastically. There were sparks in everyone's eyes as we searched each other's faces for confidence.

Outside, the crowd was yelling for us.

"Let's do it! "

nemO performing "So Young" by The Corrs.

nemO performing "Jai Ho" from Slumdog Millionaire, with transition song "Dreams On Fire" from same movie.

Jai Ho nemO (4) - Sangam 2009, St Petersburg, Russia

2009-04-28T16:38:00.001-07:00

Jai Ho nemO (3) - Backstage

2009-04-28T16:37:00.001-07:00

Jai Ho nemO (2) - Getting There

2009-04-28T16:35:00.000-07:00

I suppose nothing in life comes easy. We were faced with tribulations that on occasions almost pushed me to pick up the phone and call Gauri our coordinator - to tell her that nemO had decided not to take up the performance after all.

First there were the equipment problems. The concert hall had no drumset available. We were faced with the task of having to find our own drum set. Many phone calls, visits to the dean office by Yogi and "zayavleniya"s (Request letters) later, we finally resigned ourselves to the fact that we were not getting any outside help where the drumset mattered. Many a night saw nemO sitting together, brows knit, trying to figure out how we were going to secure ourself a drum to perform the much-awaited Slumdog Millionaire hit -Jai Ho, a very upbeat rhythm-dependant song.

And then there were the problems with the concert hall itself. We needed at least 5 microphones - the concert hall had 3. We needed at least 2 amplifiers - we only had 1. To top it all, there were only 4 inputs into the system. In the end, only 2 microphones could be used. Some of us were not going to be heard at all.

However, nemO was determined not to be deterred. Hoping for the best, we brought Andre's little electric drum set, and went early to the concert hall on the day of rehearsals, and each did our jobs making sure we got the best out of 2 mics, 1 amplifier, a mixer the size of a textbook, and a system with a mere 4 inputs. After much badgering, the sound systems guy finally, albeit grudgingly, let in, and solved our problems by providing us with an extra mic.

Now I had a mic, Xiao Chiann had a mic that later would be passed to Andre for the second song (the initial plan was that she sit on the floor for her back-up singing, to share the second mic with the Drums), and the Drums had a mic.

Things were finally falling into place.

Jai Ho NemO (1) - Dream Team

2009-04-28T16:34:00.000-07:00

nemO was invited to perform in Sangam 2009 - an Indian Cultural Concert held annually in St Petersburg, Russia, comprising of traditional and modern Indian programmes, with active participation of Russian students studying Indian dance.

This year, nemO decided to bring something different to this yearly dance festival - a live band performance.

Our performances:

1. "So Young" by The Corrs

2. A transition between songs - "Dreams on Fire" from Slumdog Millionaire

3. "Jai Ho" - Pussycat Dolls version sung in English and Hindi.

Angel - Vocalist (So Young) (Jai Ho)

Xiao Chiann - Back up Vocalist (So Young) , Dancer (Jai Ho) with Yogi

Andre - Electric Guitar (So Young) (Jai Ho)

Irfaan - Bassist (So Young) (Jai Ho)

Qi Shen - Drummer (So Young) (Jai Ho)

Spring

2009-04-24T05:15:00.001-07:00

Only a Russian would name an April piece "Snowdrops".

Winter had finally loosened her relentless grip on St Petersburg, and the 18th of April saw her bidding a tearful farewell.

That morning started with the Spring sun peeking out from cloudy skies. By mid-noon, Winter was tearing through the city with the vengeance of a dying woman, giving her last downpour. Snowflakes fell in clumps from the grey skies, and vanished into the April air. Not a single one reached the muddy ground.

Spring, like they say, is in the air. Little buds have secretly crept onto branches, lifting their shy faces to the cool April sun. The Earth stirs, gently pushing up flowers that are not yet ready to wake up from their slumber. Dogs shake the ice crystals from their matted fur and lift their wet noses into the cool air, sniffing their welcome.

St Petersburgers have joined the Earth in rejoicing the arrival of soft warm Spring. Tentatively they shed their dark, burly coats and don lively vibrant hues of this colorful season. Children toss off their restricting clothes, and gleefully holding on to their mothers' ungloved hands.

As I look out of my room at the sun, still joyfully shining at 9 o'clock at night, a song forms in my head. The song of April - the beginning of all things new.

Together as One

2009-04-02T05:44:00.000-07:00

If there is one thing I learned from being in a band, it would be that I am merely 1/7th of a whole - no more....no less.

A band is in many ways like a single human being. Every limb and organ is as important as the other, each uniquely playing his own role that none other can, but always compensating for what the other lacks.

Some bands are a collection of talent and genius. Like a world-class athlete on a racing track, they work so perfectly together that we just know they were made to complete the whole.

If NemO was to be described as a person, it would only be fair to think of it as a very young infant. Unrefined and unintroduced to the world, he is barely only starting to open his eyes to what awaits him. His limbs are unfamiliar to him - he is not yet able to coordinate. His legs are still weak, not strong enough for him to stand up on his own. He has not realised that his hands have the strength to pull him up on his feet.

This child has yet to learn that he would one day see the world, and be seen, from a different height, a different perspective.

To try to hide the fact that we performed rather disappointingly to expectations yesterday would be a selfish attempt to stop this inquisitive child from growing up. Yes, he had tripped, and fell down on his attempt on learning to walk.

Do the child's fingers point at his feet and scold them for having tripped? Do the scraped knees blame the hands for not being quick enough to break his fall? Do they blame the heart for having decided to learn to walk?

No, the child gets up, and tries again, this time carefully avoiding the little obstacle that had tripped him the first time.

We may fall, we may rise. Our next attempts, and those after that, may bring us back down on the floor, rubbing piteously our sore wounds. But we will keep trying.

Because here we are, still burning with the desire to show our best, the same passion that conceived us in the first place.

Let this defeat be a lesson, and one day, we will walk.....perhaps even fly.

Turning the Unexpected Corner

2009-04-02T01:55:00.000-07:00

You may think you know your home well, but surprises will always catch you unawares.

I treasure these little easter eggs of life, to meet the mysterious hooded man in an unexpected turn of life, following his subtle beckoning, and finding myself in an unknown nook of this place I call home. No, I will never ever know St Petersburg.

On my first year here, once, in the spirit of adventure (if you can call it that), I was wandering around our academy compounds when I thought I heard music. No, not music. Only a whiff of what I thought sounded very much like music. Instinctively following my ears, I reached the 40th Pavillion of the academy, where we had our main auditorium. At the side of the building was a small doorway opening into a narrow, unlit flight of stairs.

Something pushed me to climb the stairs, which I did only after a brief moment of hesitation. At the top of the stairs I reached a slightly unjarred metal door, open enough only to let escape the sound of people laughing. I had exhausted the adventurous side of me by then, and quietly turned around and left.

What was going on upstairs always remained a mystery that waned with time. Come last December, I finally pushed open the door and found out for myself the little mystery that I was never brave enough to solve.

Our band, NemO, spent 2 hours in the room I was too cowardly to enter - the Academy Band Room.

3 weeks ago, our band was invited to go for an audition for our Academy Choir. I landed an Alto part, while our guitarist/vocalist Andre sang for Bass. We have been practicing with the choir ever since. Our choir mistress, Miss Aleksandra Reshetnikova, is a student of the St Petersburg Music Conservatory. She is a student Conductor, and was to sit for her final State Exam on Conducting on the 31st of March. We were invited to watch her choir sing.

I brought WAVE along for the concert that was held in St Petri's Cathedral (see this post for program details).

I wonder now, whether it was Fate herself , or the friendly wave of the concert audience (whom I shall refer to as Mdm D from now on), who brought me to choose that seat. We took our seat, and I smiled at Mdm D, who graciously smiled back.

When I was very young, my parents gave me the obligatory "not to talk to strangers" talk. Then I grew older, just barely smart enough for my parents to teach me the virtue of being kind and polite to certain strangers. Mdm D looked the part of the strangers that children were never allowed to talk to, but the adult me knew that she was one to be kind and polite towards.

She looked about 60. Thin and frail, her wrinkled face barely held up her thick glasses, but there was a spark of eagerness behind those inch-thick lens. Her eyes were bright - windows to a soul alight with fire. Beneath the pair of youthful eyes was a nose, scarred and deformed, underlined by a perpetual grin filled with decaying, and at places, missing teeth. She was dressed in a neatly pressed black suit with matching black pants, almost concealed under an old worn winter coat.

I couldn't shake the nagging thought that deep inside that worn and wrinkled body was a beautiful artist, young, and filled with the love for music.

She sat alone, surrounded by program leaflets and concert invitations. Her hands were busy noting the times and dates of many concerts to come. Her eager eyes soon noticed my curious look, and her first "Today's choir will sing beautifully" marked the beginning of our short and peculiar friendship.

For the next 15 minutes before the concert started, Mdm D pulled out her inexhaustible list of upcoming performances and programs, shared her lists with me, recommended a handful of events that I should watch, and practically planned my April concert schedules for me. She taught me where to go, what to ask for, whose performances to look out for, which museums to visit, and whose poems to read.

Mdm D's soliloquy taught me where to find art in St Petersburg.

Suddenly she was sitting up straight, holding her breath. The choir was getting on stage. I felt her wringing her hands in anticipation next to me, and heard her thunderous applause.

"I practically know all of them", she whispered confidingly.

I have been to quite a few such concerts in my 5 years here. Never have I been able to appreciate the performances the way I did that day. Between every song, Mdm D, with her unsuppressed animation, explained the meanings behind the pieces, and translated ancient Russian songs into simple everyday Russian for me. She took the program list she gave to me and scribbled notes and them - years of birth and death of each individual composer and poet, addresses of museums dedicated to them, and poems they were famous for.

"Can you hear the silence of the night in Brahm's Nachtwache?" she commented once.

" Verlohrene Jugend means "wasted youth"." She explained. "My youth is gone, but you still have yours"
I looked at her kindly face and could only smile in reply. I wanted so much to tell this young old lady how young she really was.

At times like these, I believe in Fate, and feel the gentleness of Her power, making people turn unexpected corners, pulling people together, connecting two kindred souls that seemed,only at first glance, to have nothing in common.

Choir of Students of St Petersburg Conservatory (State Exam on Conducting Academic Choirs), 31st March 2009

2009-03-31T13:33:00.000-07:00

Venue
St Petri Church (Sobor Petri Kirkha) , opposite Kazankiy Cathedral (Kazankiy Sobor), St Petersburg, Russia

Date
31st March 2009

Time
19.00

Event
Choir of Students of St Petersburg Music Conservatory named after N.A. Rimskiy-Korsakov
State Examination on Conducting of Academic Choirs

-----------------------------------------------------------

Program Schedule:

----------------------------------------------

Conductor: Maria Senchurova

(From Professor Rossolovskiy P.A's Class)

Pieces by Pavel Chesnokov

Op No. 49 " Ко Господу Богу"

1. Вскую Мя Отринул
2. Нощь несветла
3. Очисти мяб Спасе
4. Одеяйся светом
5. Ты моя крепость, Господи

------------------------------------------------------

Conductor : Maria Vasil'kova

(From Professor Massarsiy Z.M's Class)

Pieces by Johannes Brahms

1. Nachtwache I
2. Nachtwache II

3. Letztes Gluck

4. Verlohrene Jugend

5. Im Herbst

-----------------------------------------------------

Conductor : Alexandra Reshetnikova

(From Docent Maksimskiy V.A's Class)

Music by Dmitriy Smirnov

1. 4 Fragments from choir concert -

Poems by O. Mandelshtamm.

2. Fragments from concert and choir -

" Приявщий Мир" from Aleksandr Blok's poem "Милий Друг"

3. Fragment from "2 Choirs - Poems by A. Voznesenskiy -

"Вальс при свечах"

有你们在，我一定会很好

2009-03-29T13:19:00.000-07:00

小时候的我最爱串门子。今天去堂妹家玩，明天去外婆家找表姐妹们。小时候的我好像还真霸道的，到人家家里玩，一不小心，不是我哭就是我的小玩伴们哭。哭了吵了，又在一起玩得不亦乐乎。

小时候的我嘴巴不是很甜。外婆问我她煮的菜肴如何，我塞满食物的嘴巴不能开，只能点头说“嗯，很好吃！”，哪像弟弟不住地赞外婆煮的菜肴全世界最好吃，还要妈妈学习！

不知道小时候的我这个小霸道，嘴巴又不甜，不像是怎么懂得维持和堂表们的感情，逗大人的欢心，大家却还是那么地关心我。

2003年10月，在家里吃了妈妈准备的“出花园”餐，就正式踏上了人生一个新的旅程。出门前长辈们万般叮咛，关怀，担忧，不舍的眼神至今历历在目。

我自己漂流在外已经6年了。这6年来，有笑有泪，酸甜苦辣尽尝.

从小看我长大，看着我糊里糊涂，粗心大意，你们担心我会受到伤害，担心我会做错事。坦白说，你们担心的事情我都做了。

一开始，穿得不够厚，结果被俄罗斯冬天欺负，病得七彩。

炒饭变炒粥，煮得菜都烧焦。

可是，那年我好开心。我第一次自己出门，学会了自己洗衣服，自己塔车。想喝汽水，吃冰奇零就去买，不用问过妈妈，嘿嘿。

第一年，还是不会煮饭，买了一堆味精和调味料来煮。

可是，那年我好开心。我以为会用味精来煮饭的自己，特别厉害。很光荣。那年，我看这人体解剖房躺着的人体，很兴奋，知道自己终于踏上了永远也不会后悔的路。

第二年，褒水煮饭烫得大腿红了一整片，躺在床上哭了整个早上，烫红的疤痕几个月后才散。

可是，那年我好开心。我带着学回来的一点点知识，第一次到医院去实习，和病人接触。

第三年，一个人出门，上了巴士才发觉完全忘了带钱，结果卖 Metro Token 给巴士上的乘客凑钱付车费，最后找朋友来救济。

皮肤敏感几个月，好几次都是半夜醒来，发觉自己的脸肿得猪头似的。

可是，那年我好开心。我本来自己住一间房，宿舍长突然把一位中国来的女生硬推到我房里住。欣然地答应和王婧同房，我没有后悔过。那年我交了一位很好很好的朋友。（喂！你有在读吗？赞着你啊！）

第四年，在 KFC 给人偷了电话。在地下道，人多拥挤，书包拉链被人拉开，还好及时注意到。

可是，那年我好开心。我终于踏入 Clinical Years 了，发觉离梦想也近了。

第五年，跌倒拉上了韧带，包了3个星期的石膏。
可是，我好开心。我行动不便的那段日子，我的朋友们，尤其是去年刚到俄罗斯报到的小倩帮了我很多，我做不到的，不方便做的，她都不嫌麻烦帮我做了。

糊里糊涂，粗心大意地就这样过了六年。是很快乐的六年，真的。

我每次回家，你们都爱捉着我的手，摸我的脸，看我瘦了吗，脸色苍白了吗，变得不像以前健康了吗？你们爱请我吃饭，做饭给我吃，都把最好吃的夹进我的碗里，千叮万嘱就是要我多吃些，怕我在外吃得不好，怕我在外找不到家乡的味道。

今天我跳了跳，我的脚完全没问题，一点都不痛。我知道，很远很远的你们还在担心我的脚，还在为我心痛。

可是啊，你们知不知道，真的不需要为我这个粗心鬼太伤心。你们爱想象我在俄罗斯又冷又辛苦，可是我真的一点都不辛苦。可能我神经比人大条吧，还是我这我天塌下来当被盖的性格在当着我的保护垫吧？

各位敬爱的长辈们，关心我的朋友们。这些年来，我带着你们的祝福和关怀在俄罗斯，从来没有寂寞，辛苦过。我从来没有需要自己默默承担着什么，因为我一直都有你们在我身后，支持着我，给着我勇气。

谢谢你们一直以来给我的鼓励，疼爱。

我过得很好。

The Wall

2009-03-17T05:01:00.000-07:00

~ The following are works of fiction. The short stories do not reflect the characters in the photos in any way. Ok maybe only that part about Andre wanting to be in the circus. ~

=======================================

Midnight was in her hair. She trudged through the blinding white of January snow in a huff, her raven hair a furious contrast to the blandness of the Earth. All around was still, even the crows stopped cawing. And like her hair among the landscape blanketed in white, the serene powder-white ground tornadoed up into little swirls in the wrathful wake of her heels.

It was not until she reached The Wall that she realised where her blind anger had taken her. She stood erect, both hands clenched at her sides, and glared unseeingly at the Wall.

If she had tried to collapse the wall by her livid stare, she had not succeeded. Unrelenting, the wall stood stoic.

A part of her wondered why she had reacted with such a burst of inexplicable anger. Could things have taken a turn for the better, had she listened to her head and reason, instead of acting the way she did?

Yet she was tired of it all. Day in, day out, she had watched herself fly off every little handle offered, without ever stopping to think whether her little self-centered outbursts were justified. You were wrong, she was wrong, he was wrong, they were wrong - never herself. She was never wrong.

Had she overdone it this time? Had her 1 minute of self-justifying hurt feelings and strained friendships? Now that her fists were unclenched and shoulders slightly relaxed, she felt the world rush back into her ears in a deafening roar. Birds screamed at her from the tops of menacing rustling trees. In the distance, cars thundered along.

Was she wrong this time? Had she ever been right, all this while?

Inside her, somewhere deep inside, a heart knocked, panicked, against her ribcage.

=========================================

He closed his book with a thump. If brains were made of sponge, his was overflowing. Numbers-shlumbers. He should never have listened. He stifled a yawn and stretched. His fingers were stiff from the hours of writing, and his back crackled when he tried to straighten it. Numbers swam in front of his eyes as he slowly closed them.

Suddenly he was standing in front of the wall. Towering and magnificent, The Wall was like any other adult in the days when he was still a student. No, not just any student. On another wall - the Wall of Fame of some school a million miles away was his picture, proudly framed with the engraving reminding his antecedents of his glorious academic and sports records.

His life was paved the moment his final exam results were announced to the country. No one else received more glowing testimonials than he did. No one else received more invitations into top academic institutions.

Overnight, he realised he could do anything of his choice.

The next day, he learned he had none.

As he stood in front of the Wall, his life and memories flooded over him in a torrent. Numbers. Whoever told them he liked numbers?
Yet anyone who knew him associated him with numbers. "It's that Maths whiz!" They would whisper behind their hands.

Now he is faced with a life filled with numbers. Could they have guessed that he might have wanted something else in his life?

Would a drama actor have been born into the world, had he not achieved all that he did, academically? Could he be prancing across the stage, reciting Shakespeare instead? Would he have been allowed to join the circus and perform to the world behind a mask of red noses and furry green eyebrows, had someone else did better than him in that exam?

Could he have been himself?

He smiled and looked up at the silent red wall. Yes, he did have an audience after all.

He closed his eyes and took a deep bow. This, was his stage, his applause, his audience.

=========================================

The sound of her pen hitting the floor reverberated around the classroom in a deafening clang. Her face flushed crimson, as she hastily bent down to pick it up. Her heart thumped against her chest, loud enough for all to hear.

The afternoon sun bore into everyone's backs as they hunched over their desks, scribbling furiously. She stole a peek at the laid-back figure three desks to the left of hers, wondering how "he" was doing. What flush that just left her cheek a second ago made a hasty comeback. The answer to Question 29 was C, she was sure of it. She hoped "he" would find the paper as easy as she did.

If anyone noticed her timidly standing up from her seat, gathering her things and submitting her paper, they didn't show it. She stepped out of the classroom, shielding her eyes from the glare of the proud summer sun. It was finally over - her last school day.

Half an hour later, laughing teenagers started milling out of the classroom, hooting with laughter and yelling jokes at each other. Her hand lightly held one of the ropes holding up the swing she was sitting on, and she gently rocked herself on her heels. No one knew how long the lone silhouette, rhythmically rocking forlonely, front and back, front and back, front and....

Suddenly she was standing in front of an old brick wall, littered with graffiti and obscene words. It was quiet, so quiet she could hear her own soft breathing. No one was around - no one was ever around when she was.

The old wall, foul-worded and dusty as it was, held a treasure chest of memories for her. As a young girl, she had often run to the wall and hid under its comforting shadows, playing with her imaginary buddies, befriending shadows that grew larger, longer, scarier by the hour.

Born the third girl out of a family of seven, she grew up alone among a hoarde of siblings. When all the other six played Tag around the house, she stayed in the little room she shared with her four other sisters, more comfortable with silence than squeals of little girls - sisters, who almost always banded up against her.

She brushed back a lock of hair from her face and leaned against the wall, hands tensely folded in front of her chest. The wall was cool against her back.

Somewhere, deep into the wall, she heard laughter from years ago. Had her imaginary friends grown up ?

Or were they like her, still shy,insecure little girls, wondering when they would ever emerge from their little coccoons and spread their beautiful wings?

=========================================

To be continued.

There's only one word for Glee...

2009-03-13T11:08:00.001-07:00

YYYIIIIPPPPPEEEEEEEE!!!!!

The end.

........and the Lemonade Awards go to........

2009-03-12T08:54:00.000-07:00

If someone had told me, 10 years ago, that you can get awards simply for writing stuff on the net, I wouldn't have believed it. Yet today I received my first e-award for being...me!

Dr Wan Chee Hung , owner of the blog "Better Days" , sent me the

Lemonade Award - for Great Attitude and Gratitude!

Woot!

This is what he had to say about ~ A DayDreamer's SoliloQuy~

"These are the 10 blogs which i think its the best, whom has been supporting me,and reading my blogs though no one else is reading it....... To Angel who reminded me of my student years overseas, and managed to document your day to day life as a medical student so well that it can be made into a travelogue....."

Why thank you, Dr Wan!

Now, bound to the Golden Rules of Internet meme-ing, I shall pass on the kindness and hopefully make 10 people's days.

Here are the rules:

1. put the logo on your blog or post

2. Nominate at least 10 blogs, which show great attitude and/or gratitude!

3. Be sure to link to your nominees within your post and let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog

4. Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award

5. How did you get a great attitude and gratitude?

Based on order by which their blogs appear in my blogs list at time of posting, here are the nominees for the Lemonade Award, by ~ A DayDreamer's SoliloQuy ~

1. Better Days, Dr Wan Chee Hung

Dr Wan is an amazing photographer, bringing to life details and objects that seem so mundane and boring through his dizzying array of photography apparatus. He generously shares his day-to-day life and experiences through his point of view, and his poetry and poems are awesome!
Here you go, Dr Wan -

The Lemonade - RAP award. (Rhythm and Photography)

2. ???, Wong Yih
My dear friend and fellow Malaysian Petersburger, one of the...no wait...THE first loyal reader and commenter of my blog from the days of daydreamersoliloquy.blogspot.com. Wong maintains a largely Mandarin blog, with insightful posts on Buddhism and the search of spiritual enlightment, and also descriptive travelogues on our Moscow trip. (Read them, you'll feel as if you were there) Wong pours his heart out in words that are soothing to the eyes and gentle on the heart, and the amount of work and dedication he puts into blogging definitely deserves him the award of the

Lemonade - Beautiful Writing Award.

3. Wise Herb's Random Jottings, Sage
One of my favourite daily reads, Sage writes with an often quirky (British, I suppose?) sense of humor that somehow hits the point. I first met Sage when she left me a comment on my blog that made my day, and we've been reading each other since. Famous for her Saturday Satire and Ratz, Sage will remain on my reading list as long as she blogs.
So here's awarding Wise Herb

the Lemonade - Favourite Read Award.

4. kOk blOk, k0k s3n w4i
Another blogger I have never personally met, but read on a regular basis. Kok's awesome penmanship is rather proportionate to the amount he reads. kOk blOk is the blog of a medical student that unlike most others, are not written above some high horse. Every post starts with a quote that always precisely reflects exactly what the post is about, I really wonder how he does that.
To kOk blOk I shall award

the Lemonade - Rokking Blok Award.

5. Fuzzy! , Fuzzy A
I first and last met Johan a good 8 years ago, when we were attending NST YouthQuake's Writer's Bloc 6. The Hari Raya cards he sent out to Bloc-ers the few years after that (I still have them, by the way) were sweet reminders of a 4-day friendship we had with a group of wacky people who shared a love for writing - and Too Phat.
History aside, Johan writes with a knowing-smile sense of humour that sometimes extends to laugh-out-loud funny - although his posts sometimes suggestively let out a whiff of sarcastic undertones.
Here's to a fellow bloc-er and friend, lost and found ,

the Lemonade - Awesome Blogger Award.

6. Seeds and Sunflowers, Xiao Chiann
Seeds and Sunflowers is the blog of a 1st Year Medical Student, my adorable little roommate, fellow Malaysian Petersburger. I'm proud to say I was the one who tempted her into the world of blogging. Chiann blogs with zest and spirit that she never bothers to hide. Reading her blog can lift one's spirits, as she uses punctuation marks and emoticons to share her excitement over everything. " Owh, by the way, I did my first ECG today during physics class! Teacher said my ECG was so perfect just like the one in the textbook! Look how healthy I am! =p " is a typical post on a typical day. A natural artist, Xiao Chiann designs her own blog header and proudly displays her many works of anime drawings in her sunflower-themed blog.
I hereby award Xiao Chiann

the Lemonade - Cutest Happiest Blog (and Blogger) Award.

7. Of Wishes and Dreams, Melissa
I once spent more than 2 hours on this blog. I planned to only skim through to get updated on the blogger's life, a 5th year Medical student studying in Crimea, Ukraine, but found myself totally immersed in the conversational-styled blog , and getting caught in the culinary adventures of the gourmand blogger. Melissa writes interesting, sometimes insightful posts, and is the only person I know who records her travelogues dutifully WHILE on her trips, a habit that made her travelogues so much more lively.
This is for you, Lissa -

the Lemonade - Living the Good Life Blog Award.

8. Not so Little Girl in a Reverie, Jolene Lai
This was the very first blog I ever read. I was googling up Malaysian National Service, and excerpts from her blog caught my attention. I ended up reading through her archives, enjoying her honest posts and thinking to myself that if blogging was this fun, I was definitely going to have one. Since that fateful day 3 years ago, I have been dropping by her blog now and then. Much of the blogosphere I learnt from her interesting, 56k killer photo-laden, shopaholic blog.
Here's for you, Jolene, although you don't know me -

the Lemonade - Blog Guru Award

9. C.L.I.C.H.E, Clichegal
Although she hardly updates anymore, I enjoy reading clichegal's blog. Reading the blog in which she shares her life in Moscow and her thoughts, I sometimes feel as if I already know this girl who writes so truthfully about herself and her views on things.
To clichegal I award

the Lemonade - Blogger Friend Award.

10. Quaintly.net, PinkPau
If beauty of words could be rated, Pinkpau's writing would definitely win any pageant. To be honest, I started dropping by Su Ann's blog initially for her myriad of photos that never failed to make me cock my head at the screen, wondering whether I could ever look as good. Then I started really reading what she had to say, and realised that there was more, much more behind that beautiful face. Su Ann is definitely a combination of beauty, brains and soul, and a visit to her blog would tell you as much.
To Su Ann, although she may never visit this blog or see this post, here is

the Lemonade - Blogger Idol Award.

The March Facelift - Room Makeover

2009-03-07T09:12:00.000-08:00

Because I love my current blog layout so very MUCH

But have to keep up with my blog tradition of bimonthly layout makeovers.

And because I just came back from Ikea yesterday.

Today, I shall give my home a complete Facelift.

-----------------------------------------

3 hours later: Ok, it wasn't so much of a "Facelift" than a simple "Botox injection"?

hehe.

More than Just an Assistant

2009-03-01T09:13:00.000-08:00

I did my first ECG under the supervision of a Medical Assistant. I was under Clinical Attachment in the Emergency department of a hospital, on a man admitted due to complaints suspicious of an acute Myocardial Infarction.

It was the summer holidays after my 2nd year, and my first clinical attachment. The few doctors in the A&E (Accident and Emergency) department were busy attending to other patients, and the Medical Assistant who took up the job of performing the ECG on the patient kindly allowed me to assist, while pointing me to the finer details of ECG-monitoring.

That evening, a 20 year-old Indian cyclist met with an accident, and was admitted to the A&E due to injuries to many parts of his body, including a rather deep laceration of the forehead that exposed his frontal bone (Forehead bone). We watched the skillful MA clean, disinfect and stitch up the man's wound, and were given some rather insightful pointers on wound-stitching that only experience could bring.

Medical assistants are, undeniably, an important link in the chain of medical service. They are the gears that keep the mechanisms of medical establishments, especially medical ambulatory care centers, urgent care facilities, and clinics, running smoothly.

Formal education of medical assistants usually occurs in , , , , or . The curriculum presented should be accredited if its graduates plan to become either certified or registered. In 2005 there were 500 medical assisting programs accredited by the Commission on Accreditation of Allied Health Education Programs (CAAHEP) and about 170 accredited by the Accrediting Bureau of Health Education School (ABHES). Accreditation by CAAHEP, ABHES or other accreditation associations usually requires that the schools curriculum provide sufficient classroom, lecture, and laboratory time.
Source

One such educational facility of Medical Assistant Schools that provides online educational program is the St. Augustine School of Medical Assistants, a distant learning program providing education for Medical Assistant training.

The distance learning program provides a course for just $645, lasting 6-8 weeks, for obtaining of a Medical Assistant Certificate. However, the flexible online course system means that learners can take as long as they want to complete the course, the completion of which opens up rewarding careers that bring much more than job satisfaction.

农历新年2009 - 牛年吃得饱

2009-02-26T08:37:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated to mum, dad, aunties and uncles who always fret about me not eating in Russia (even though the numbers on the weight scale keep increasing), and then stuff me with even more food when I'm home for holidays. (Although I don't usually eat like that)

Feast your eyes ...

各位担心我自己在外吃不饱的长辈们，现在不再担心了吧！看看我和朋友们今年第一餐煮了些什么！

“年年有余"

“荷包饭”
祝福大家，荷包饱满！
还有要“和和气气”

“三色菜捞生”
祝大家风生水起！

“幸福水饺”
祝大家圆圆满满，幸福快乐

蚝油生菜
祝大家 “生”或多姿多"菜”

“芝麻柠檬鸡"
祝大家身体健康，龙马精神

酸辣虾
祝大家鸿运当头

烤排骨
祝大家天天有口福

鱼刺
祝大家财源广进，发大财！

（嘿嘿，“鱼刺” 材料：蟹棒，蛋花，虾米，蚝）

希望新的一年带来新的惊喜，新的希望！

Chinese New Year's Eve Reunion Dinner (除夕团圆饭）

2009-02-26T06:27:00.000-08:00

7 years ago, and every year before that, I had my CNY eve Reunion dinner with my family, my extended family, my family friends, and they were always filled with laughter and the company of loved ones. And new clothes. Oh and angpows. Lots of angpows.

6 years ago, I celebrated my first CNY with a bunch of wacky people, a memorable CNY that involved belting out “路边的野花你不要摘" repeatedly and at random hours, a LOT of cooking, mattresses in the common ping-pong room, an impromptu Lion Dance show on a home-made 舞狮 , and laughter that I will never forget.

For the past 5 years, I celebrated my CNY with a small group of close friends, and almost every year involved steamboat dinners in my room.

This year, I celebrated my CNY with the same small group of close friends, but this time in a REAL Chinese restaurant in Moscow. Yeah.

Restaurant "Druzhba" - Friendship.

To those who haven't been celebrating CNY at home for a few years - do you understand how excited we felt, when we saw all these CNY decorations? You see, they weren't just decorations. They were what home feels like.

Has it been 6 years already?

Our CNY reunion dinner :

Yang Zhou Fried Rice - 扬州炒饭

Seafood Soup - 海鲜羹

Beef Soup - 牛肉羹

Erm.... Ancient Meat? Teehee.
古老肉 / 咕噜肉

Vege in Oyster Sauce - 蚝油生菜

Mapo Tofu - 麻婆豆腐

SanSi Fried Noodles - 三丝炒面

Duck - 卤鸭

It wasn't much, but for about RM60 per person, what more could you ask for?

祝大家：牛年快乐，万事如意！

Paint the Town Red 10 - A Box of Chocolates

2009-02-25T09:37:00.000-08:00

Conceived as a cross between World Fair and Theme Park, with monuments to Soviet science, fountains, amusement-park rides and national pavilions for all the republics of the USSR, the former Exhibition of the Achievements of the People's Economy has been denuded of most of its original exhibits and filled with goods for sale.
Source

Read more about the VDNKh here

Wikipedia Entry about the All-Russia Exhibition Centre

The thing with chocolates is that everytime you open a box of them, you realise you can't choose which one you want most. You end up trying all of them, savoring each as it caresses your sweet tooth, and at the end of the day, you find you simply can't remember which was the one with the caramel filling and which was rum. Or even, which one you liked most.

The VDNKh reminds me of just that. A mix of everything, you leave the exhibition grounds feeling as if you've seen everything, yet a nagging suspicion tells you otherwise.

The entrance into the exhibition grounds was an archway, surmounted by statues of a man and farm girl brandishing sheaves of wheat.

The buildings inside the exhibition areas were each unique in its own way. Their glory during the Soviet era now faded, the magnificent exteriors were betrayed by crowded goods-markets and sundry shops on the inside.

The Fountain of the Friendship of Peoples, whose gilded statues of maidens in the national costumes of the sixteen Soviet republics demurely encircle a golden wheat sheaf. Source

Like any regular theme park, the Exhibition Center had its own fair share of tourist facilities.

...like pony rides and sight-seeing trains...

....cotton candy and jagung-vendors...

...the occasional demonstration which you have no idea why is there but still watch, fascinated...

.... and even more pony rides....

Waaaait a minute. Are those HUMPS I see, on the back of that pony trudging through snow in subzero weather?

And there you have it. A camel giving rides on a Moscow winter day.

Yup. I think I've seen it all.

Paint the Town Red 9 - Fly me to the Moon

2009-02-25T08:39:00.000-08:00

Yuri Alexeyevich Gagarin ( Ю́рий Алексе́евич Гага́рин, ; 9 March 1934 - 27 March 1968), Hero of the Soviet Union, was a Soviet cosmonaut. On 12 April 1961, he became the first human in space and the first to orbit the Earth. He received medals from around the world for his pioneering tour in outer space.
Source

Valentina Vladimirovna Tereshkova Russian: Валенти́на Влади́мировна Терешко́ва; born 6 March, is a retired Soviet and was the first woman to fly in space , aboard Vostok 6 on 16 June1963.
Source

The Cosmonaut Museum was built in 1964 to commemorate the launch of Sputnik twenty years earlier and to celebrate the achievements of Soviet Russia in astronautics.
The small museum is housed in the base of the highly impressive 'Conquerors of Space' monument, an enormous silver rocket soaring into the sky on a 100m stream of glistening Titanium.
Once you have stopped gawping at this wonderful projection, make your way inside to the museum itself where you will find a fascinating collection of engines, moon-walkers, model satellites and space suits (including that of the legendary Yuri Gargarin!).
The depictions of constellations and atmospheric lighting help recreate an aura of outer space.
Source

The Sputnik program (Спутник) was a series of robotic spacecraft missions launched by the Soviet Union. The first of these, Sputnik 1, launched the first human-made object to orbit the Earth. That launch took place on October 4, 1957 as part of the International Geophysical Year and demonstrated the viability of using artificial satellites to explore the upper atmosphere.The Russian word sputnik literally means "co-traveler", "traveling companion" or "satellite",and its R-7 launch vehicle was designed initially to carry nuclear warheads.
Source

My knees felt wobbly as I gazed up into the sky that misty afternoon, at the titanium rocket 100m above my head. We were at the legendary Cosmonaut Museum, a monument in itself, constant reminder of Russia's cosmonautical lead in the era of space-ventures.

The cloudless skies enveloped the silver rocket, mounted in perpetual take-off, framed forever in a timeless monument, as were the legendary moments in Soviet cosmonautical breakthrough.

At the base of the astounding monument were statues of scientists. Wasn't it fitting, that the rocket was held up by great minds that formed and moulded the basis of science?

Statue of Konstantin Eduardovich Tsiolkovsky. (Константи́н Эдуа́рдович Циолко́вский) (September 17 1857–September 19, ) was an Imperial Russian and Soviet rocket scientist and pioneer of the astronautic theory. He is considered by many as a father of theoretical astronautics. His works later inspired leading Soviet rocket engineers as Sergey Korolyov and Valentin Glushko and contributed for early successes of Soviet space program.
Source

Chocolate Nut Bars !

2009-02-25T01:00:00.000-08:00

Set A
1) Flour 175g
2) Cocoa powder 3 tablespoons
3) Baking powder 1 teaspoon
4) Slightly crushed cornflakes, 1/3 cups
5) Dessicated coconut, 2/3 cups
6) Chopped walnuts 50g

Other ingredients
1) Butter or margarine 125g
2) Sugar 125g
3) Egg x 1
4) Vanilla essence 2 teaspoons
5) Melted white chocolate

Directions:
1) Sieve together ingredients of Set A, set aside.
2) Beat butter, sugar, egg and essence till well-mixed. Add in Set A, mix well until it becomes a soft dough.
3) Press dough firmly into lightly greased 8cm x 8cm shallow tin
4) Bake in preheated 180'C oven for 20-25 minutes till light brown
5) Cut in bars and decorate with melted chocolate
6) Tadaa~~~! 5 dozen Chocolate Nut Bars.

A Fortunate Turn of Unfortunate Events

2009-02-19T02:51:00.000-08:00

17th February:
Time: 4pm

Venue: In the Devil's Classroom (Yup, Rajiv, I got that from you. Qishen's Homer Simpson version is just too cute for describing Prof O)

The Story: We were copying notes from the projector and Prof O left the classroom. Busybody me decided to change the slides and got up from my seat.

The Unfortunate: I didn't know my legs were numb from sitting too long. When I stood up, my left foot couldn't feel the ground. I fell forwards, twisting my left ankle inward as I did so.

The OUCH: I grabbed hold of the table next to me, while attempting to stop my fall with (yes, smart) same numbed foot. Didn't happen. I twisted the ankle again, and fell to the floor with a thunderous THUMP (Because I ate too much yummy food from Wong's awesome birthday party the day before)

The Fortunate: My concerned classmates helped me to my seat, where I sat massaging my tender foot, tears breaking free the dam that was only halfheartedly attempting to hold them back.

===================================

Time: night

Venue: Home

The Unfortunate: The journey - Hopping on one foot from hospital to bus station, standing on one foot for 20 minutes waiting for the bus (Because the bench was frozen), 20 minutes bus ride, slow limping walk home from bus station to home.

What usually took about 45 minutes took me 2 hours.

The OUCH: Lasted the better part of the night. I woke up in the middle of the night holding my foot, which was suffering of pain quite akin to muscle cramps. Only the pain lasted till morning.

The Fortunate: My neighbour is a post-graduate, now working in Orthopedics. He looked at my foot and told me I probably had a ligament sprain that would take 2 weeks of bandaging. Plus I didn't have to cook dinner or wash dishes or heck, move from my bed at all.

The Friends: Pradeep came over to my room to discuss a secret project (we're very excited about this secret project, but we're not supposed to tell. Yet.), and told me many times to call him anytime if I needed any help, and he would come over. So sweet. Thanks.

===================================

18th February

Time: 9am

The Story: I was unable to lay my foot flat on the floor at all, much less stand.

The Unfortunate: It really hurt.

The OUCH: No, make that "OW OW OW OW OUUUCCCHHH!"

The Fortunate: There was swelling but no bruises or any signs on inflammation...yet?

The Friend: Xiao Chiann did not have class in the morning, and offered to accompany me to see our student doctor, Dr Alla Smagina, whose office was a 10-minutes walk away.

=====================================

18th February

Time : 9.15 am

The Story: You see, I live on the 7th floor of a hostel which has a lift that has not functioned since probably WW2. I was to take the 7-storey flight of stairs down, and then out of the hostel, in front of which is another 6 steps of stairs without any railing, which was covered with slippery ice, and walk through the inch-deep snowy ground in freezing subzero temperature to the doctor's office.

The Unfortunate: My foot was swollen enough for me to not be able to wear my shoes, and too painful for socks to be put on. I bravely left my room wearing only slippers on my injured foot. -And Yes it was still snowing outside. And then I hopped down the 7-storey flight of stairs on one foot.

The Fortunate: I don't think there was any fortunate turn to THIS unfortunate event...

The Help: I had nothing to help me stand. So I brought out a Magiclean mop.

==================================

Venue: The 6 steps in front of the hostel. Yup, that one covered with slippery ice and without any railings at the side.

The Unfortunate: The steps ARE my misfortune.

The Fortunate: It wasn't as cold as I expected it to be

The Friends: XC was adamant on carrying me on her back. Mind you, she's very slim and definitely tinier than I am. I refused, of course, but couldn't think of a way to go down the 6 steps.

Some 6th year students were on their way to class, and one guy (Sorry I don't know your name) offered to carry me down the steps. His neck probably is still sore as I'm writing this - I was so paranoid of falling down again I gripped his neck with my arms so tightly as he carried me, I must have strangled him a bit. He was such a gentleman though, Thank you.

=================================

The Story: It took me an hour to get from the hostel to the doctor's office, a journey that usually took only 10 minutes. Dr Alla directed me to 20th Pavillion (Traumatology department), a journey that took less time, as I could kind of limp on my left foot by then). From the trauma department I was directed back to Dr Alla's office, who wrote me a note to walk to the Emergency Department for X-Rays. After X-Rays (no fractures) I walked back to Trauma department and got my plaster cast done. When all of this was over, it was already 4pm.

The Unfortunate: You got the gist of it from the story, I presume?

The Fortunate: YAY ! A plaster cast! I was really excited when I was having the cast done. Oh and there were no fractures, only a ligament sprain. And I get to keep the X-Ray.

The Friends: Thank you all. I couldn't be more touched.

Xiao Chiann supported me all the way from Dr Alla's to Trauma, and back to Dr Alla's, to the Emergency Department, and all the way back to Trauma Department. She was late for her Latin's class, and ran up to the classroom while I waited to see the doctor. Mdm Marina marked her presence and allowed her back to help me. She also bought me KitKats while I waited. After we reached home, her shoulder ached so much that she couldn't write! She was also so tired from the whole ordeal she overslept the next day and missed a lecture. For a student with a record of zero-absence, 2 missed classes in 2 days was really too much for her. Thank you so much.

Qi Shen came back from class just as Xiao Chiann had to go off for another, and helped me to the trauma department (after my plaster cast), to the hostel, and became my support to get up 7 floors. Thank you.

Avinash and Yogi were on their way to class when they saw XC and I shoulder-to-shoulder hopping our way to the doctor's office. They offered to carry me all the way, but let me down after I complained that my arms and shoulders hurt :p Thanks anyway, guys, for the lovely gesture. Heroes.

Irfaan relieved our bags and burdens off us and carried them back to the hostel for us, depositing them safely in Qishen's room (Rajiv was in the room) before going back to his own room, which was in another block. Thanks, bean-shaped.

Andre also carried me for some distance with QiShen, then remembered that a friend of his had a walking stick. He went back to the hostel for the walking stick, which unfortunately was broken, and came back out to see whether I needed any more help. Thanks, Martian.

=======================================

19th February

The Story: I stayed at home all day.

The Unfortunate: All was fine and dandy. Except, of course, that plastered leg and that occasional itch I was unable to reach?

The Friends:

Xiao Chiann arranged the furniture in such a way that I was able to roll about the room on my wheeled-chair "wheelchair". And cooked dinner. And helped me to the washroom whenever I needed help. Then she went out with Wong and helped me buy a pair of crutches. And helped me wash a shirt that got dirty. People, if you wanna get roommates, get one like her. Seriously.

Wong kept calling and smsing back to see whether I needed anything. He was stuck in lecture by the Head of Department the day before, or he would have come to relieve me off Xiao Chiann. After buying me crutches, he took my documents and went to see the dean to help me ask for some transfer procedures (I was given a 3-week MC, but really don't want to miss any classes. Since I have classes outside, I wanted to ask for group transfer so I could have my classes inside academy compounds). Wong was in the Dean's office for more than 2 hours just helping me with my procedures. Thank you.

QiShen went to the doctor's office for me in the morning to submit some documents and get my medical certificate. Guess what? The Doctor wouldn't give me an MC until I had seen another traumatologist in some other hospital. This is a post in which I thank people, so I will leave the rants for another day.

Reena and Umma kak came over after class to visit me and see how I was doing, so sweet of them! They brought me a 1.5liter grape juice and a bag of fresh fruits! Thank you.

Yogi, who lives opposite from my room, drops by once in a while to see how I am doing. Thanks, handsome.

Prashant, who heard about my foot from Reena, dropped by for a visit, and offered to help me find transport to get to the Trauma hospital the next day.

========================================

19th February

The Story: I woke up very late, and XC had already left for class. My whole body still ached of muscle pain from all the exertion of hopping about and being carried the day before. I got on my wheeled-chair wheelchair , took my toothbrush and toothpaste, put them into a glass jam jar and wheeled myself out of the room.

The Unfortunate: At the elevated threshold of my door, the wheels on my chair got caught behind the hump and I toppled forward into the kitchen, smashing my glass jar on the floor. My hand got scraped by the glass fragment.

The Fortunate: My hand only got scraped a little, the bleeding was minimal.

The Friend: Shravan my floormate was in the kitchen. He ran towards me and helped me up, then pushed me to the bathroom and to the kitchen where I brushed my teeth (the washroom doorway was too narrow for my chair). He picked up all the glass fragments and pushed me back into the room.

Thank you . I would've been in a lot of trouble if you had not been there

=====================================

Oh man. What a long post. But wait! It's not over yet. I'm waiting for my friends to come home so that someone can accompany me to the other Traumatology Hospital outside to get my Medical Certificate.

元宵节吃什么？

2009-02-10T14:16:00.000-08:00

倩：原来今晚元宵节咧。。

我：是 hor. 哎呀，又一年没庆祝元宵。

倩：元宵节怎样庆祝？

我：eh...没印象。大概是吃点什么的啦。

倩：元宵节是吃柚子吧？

我：（听到“柚子”，头脑把它 process 成 “粽子” ）不是啦，粽子是中秋节啦。

倩：粽子端午节啦！（还好这个头脑还清醒点）

我：哦,是hor.

====================================

农历正月十五是元宵节。又称上元节、元夜、灯节。各地关于元宵节由来的说法很多，有三种说法流传较广。一说，元宵节是汉文帝为纪念“平吕”而设，因为平息吕氏之乱是正月十五；二说，元宵节是人们为庆祝一年中的第一次月圆之夜而设，又称“上元节”；三说，元宵节起源于“火把节”，汉代民众在乡间田野持火把驱赶虫兽，希望减轻虫害，祈祷获得好收成。直到今天，中国西南一些地区的人们还在正月十五用芦柴或树枝做成火把，成群结队高举火把在田头或晒谷场跳舞。隋、唐、宋以来，更是盛极一时。《隋书·音乐志》日：“每当正月，万国来朝，留至十五日于端门外建国门内，绵亘八里，列戏为戏场”，参加歌舞者足达数万，从昏达旦，至晦而罢。当随着社会和时代的变迁，元宵节的风俗习惯早已有了较大的变化，但至今仍是中国民间传统节日。

吃元宵

元宵和春节的年糕、端午节的粽子一样，都是节日食品。吃元宵象征家庭像月圆一样团圆，寄托了人们对未来生活的美好愿

望。元宵称“汤圆”“圆子”“水圆”“汤丸”“浮圆子”“乳糖圆子”，生意人美其名为“元宝”，由糯米制成，或实心，或带馅。馅有豆沙、白糖、山楂等，煮、煎、蒸、炸皆可。“元宵”这种食品名称，据说出现于宋末元初，是因为人们习惯在上元节之夜吃它的缘故。

猜灯谜

元宵节，我国民间有“观灯猜谜”的习俗。“猜灯谜”又叫“打灯谜”，出现在宋朝。南宋时，首都临安每逢元宵节时制谜、猜谜的人众多。开始时是好事者把谜语写在纸条上，贴在五光十色的彩灯上供人猜。因为谜语能启迪智慧又饶有兴趣，所以流传过程中深受社会各阶层的欢迎。
灯谜是我国独有的富于民族风格的一种文学形式，也叫灯虎。将谜面贴在花灯上供人猜射，谜底多着眼于文字意义，并有谜格２４种，常用的有卷帘、秋千、求凤等格，已形成了一种独特的民俗文化

赏花灯

汉明帝永平年间（公元５８--７５），因明帝提倡佛法，适逢蔡愔从印度求得佛法归来，称印度摩喝陀国每逢正月十五，僧众云集瞻仰佛舍利，是参佛的吉日良辰。汉明帝为了弘扬佛法，下令正月十五夜在宫中和寺院“燃灯表佛”。此后，元宵放灯的习俗就由原来只在宫廷中举行而流传到民间。即每到正月十五，无论士族还是庶民都要挂灯，城乡通宵灯火辉煌。
元宵放灯的习俗，在唐代发展成为盛况空前的灯市，当时的京城长安已是拥有百万人口的世界最大都市，社会富庶。在皇帝的亲自倡导下，元宵灯节办得越来越豪华。中唐以后，已发展成为全民性的狂欢节。唐玄宗（公元６８５--７６２）时的开元盛世，长安的灯市规模很大，燃灯五万盏，花灯花样繁多，皇帝命人做巨型的灯楼，广达２０间，高１５０尺，金光璀璨，极为壮观。

宋代，元宵灯会无论在规模和灯饰的奇幻精美都胜过唐代，而且活动更为民间化，民族特色更强。以后历代的元宵灯会不断发展，灯节的时间也越来越长。唐代的灯会是"上元前后各一日"，宋代又在十六之后加了两日，明代则延长到由初八到十八整整十天。

到了清代，满族入主中原，宫廷不再办灯会，民间的灯会却仍然壮观。日期缩短为五天，一直延续到今天。

灯在台湾民间具有光明与添丁的涵义，点燃灯火有照亮前程之意，且台语灯与丁谐音代表生男孩，因此往昔元宵节妇女都会刻意在灯下游走，希望“钻灯脚生卵葩”（就是钻到灯下游走，好生男孩）。

踩高跷
踩高跷是民间盛行的一种群众性技艺表演。高跷本属我国古代百戏之一种，早在春秋时已经出现。我国最早介绍高跷的是《列子·说符》篇：“宋有兰子者，以技干宋元。宋元召而使见其技。以双枝长倍其身，属其胫，并趋并驰，弄七剑迭而跃之，五剑常在空中，元君大惊，立赐金帛。”从文中可知，早在公元前五百多年，高跷就已流行。表演者不但以长木缚于足行走，还能跳跃和舞剑，高跷分高跷、中跷和跑跷三种，最高者一丈多。据古籍中记载，古代的高跷皆属木制，在刨好的木棒中部做一支撑点，以便放脚，然后再用绳索缚于腿部。表演者脚踩高跷，可以作舞剑、劈叉、跳凳、过桌子、扭秧歌等动作。北方的高跷秧歌中，扮演的人物有渔翁、媒婆、傻公子、小二哥、道姑、和尚等。表演者扮相滑稽，能唤起观众的极大兴趣。南方的高跷，扮演的多是戏曲中的角色，关公、张飞、吕洞宾、何仙姑、张生、红娘、济公、神仙、小丑皆有。他们边演边唱，生动活泼，逗笑取乐，如履平地。据说踩高跷这种形式，原来是古代人为了采集树上的野果为食，给自己的腿上绑两根长棍而发展起来的一种跷技活动。

耍龙灯

“耍龙灯”也称“舞龙”，也叫“龙灯舞”。它是我国独具特色的传统的民间娱乐活动。“耍龙灯”在我国汉代民间就已相当普遍了。唐宋时期的“社火”“舞队”表演中，“耍龙灯”已是常见的表演形式。“耍龙灯”的表演，有“单龙戏珠”和“双龙戏珠”两种。在耍法上，各地风格不一，各具特色。
在艺术创作中，经过民间艺人的不断加工创造，“耍龙灯”已经发展成为一种形式完美、具有相当表演技巧和带有浪漫主义色彩的民间舞蹈艺术，深为广大群众喜闻乐见。

舞狮子

舞狮子是我国优秀的民间艺术，每逢元宵佳节或集会庆典，民间都以狮舞前来助兴。这一习俗起源于三国时期，南北朝时开始流行，至今已有一千多年的历史。据传说，它最早是从西域传入的，狮子是文殊菩萨的坐骑，随着佛教传入中国，舞狮子的活动也输入中国。狮子是汉武帝派张骞出使西域后，和孔雀等一同带回的贡品。而狮舞的技艺却是引自西凉的“假面戏”，也有人认为狮舞是五世纪时产生于军队，后来传入民间的。两种说法都各有依据，今天已很难判断其是非。不过，唐代时狮舞已成为盛行于宫廷、军旅、民间的一项活动。唐段安节《乐府杂寻》中说：“戏有五方狮子，高丈余，各衣五色，每一狮子，有十二人，戴红抹额，衣画衣，执红拂子，谓之狮子郎，舞太平乐曲。”诗人白居易《西凉伎》诗中对此有生动的描绘：“西凉伎，西凉伎，假面胡人假狮子。刻木为头丝作尾，金镀眼睛银帖齿。奋迅毛衣摆双耳，如从流沙来万里。”诗中描述的是当时舞狮的情景。
在一千多年的发展过程中，狮舞形成了南北两种表演风格。北派狮舞以表演“武狮”为主，即魏武帝钦定的北魏“瑞狮”。小狮一人舞，大狮由双人舞，一人站立舞狮头，一人弯腰舞狮身和狮尾。舞狮人全身披包狮被，下穿和狮身相同毛色的绿狮裤和金爪蹄靴，人们无法辨认舞狮人的形体，它的外形和真狮极为相似。引狮人以古代武士装扮，手握旋转绣球，配以京锣、鼓钹、逗引瑞狮。狮子在“狮子郎”的引导下，表演腾翻、扑跌、跳跃、登高、朝拜等技巧，并有走梅花桩、窜桌子、踩滚球等高难度动作。南派狮舞以表演“文狮”为主，表演时讲究表情，有搔痒、抖毛、舔毛等动作，惟妙惟肖，逗人喜爱，也有难度较大的吐球等技巧。南狮以广东为中心，并风行于港澳，东南亚侨乡。南狮虽也是双人舞，但舞狮人下穿灯笼裤，上面仅仅披着一块彩色的狮被而舞。和北狮不同的是“狮子郎”头戴大头佛面具，身穿长袍，腰束彩带，手握葵扇而逗引狮子，以此舞出各种优美的招式，动作滑稽风趣。南狮流派众多，有清远、英德的“鸡公狮”，广州、佛山的“大头狮”，高鹤、中山的“鸭嘴狮”，东莞的“麒麟狮”等。南狮除外形不同外，尚有性格不同。白须狮舞法幅度不宽、花色品种不多，但沉着刚健，威严有力，民间称为“刘备狮”。黑须红面狮，人称“关公狮”，舞姿勇猛而雄伟，气概非凡。灰白胡须狮，动作粗犷好战，俗称“张飞狮”。狮子为百兽之尊，形象雄伟俊武，给人以威严、勇猛之感。古人将它当作勇敢和力量的象征，认为它能驱邪镇妖、保佑人畜平安。所以人们逐渐形成了在元宵节时及其他重大活动里舞狮子的习俗，以祈望生活吉祥如意，事事顺利。

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Paint the Town Red 8 - Sergeev Posad Pictures

2009-02-09T05:23:00.000-08:00

Ticket: "Central PPK, Yaroslavskiy Vokzal (Train Station), 24th January 2009, 9.21.36am
Passenger ticket to Sergeev Posad, 112rubles

The Sergeev Posad Train Station

The town Rinok (Market) selling produkti (food products), electrical goods and daily necessities.

Green wooden cottage, with its roof covered with inch-thick snow

Blue wooden cottage, deadly icicle overhead.

Red Brick Cottage

Yet another green wooden cottage, with matching green fences.

Crystalline beauty

Privet from Sergeev Posad! With love, WAVES

Paint the Town Red 8 - How Much More Moscow can be (Sergeev Posad,Golden Ring)

2009-02-09T04:02:00.000-08:00

Sergeev Posad is the former religious capital of Russia and offers beautifully restored architecture, as well as a taste of what smaller towns in Russia are like.

Budget: Better part of a day, 1000ru ($30) or less. (We spent about 400rubles (that's RM60) for the train tickets to and fro, and about 60rubles each? (RM10) on lunch.

Sample Itinerary: Leave in the morning and it will take about two hours to get there. The major sites of the town (the monastery) may be seen within a few hours. Afterwards, there are several restaurants which line the major street in front of the monastery. Most of these serve traditional Russian food (excepting the new McDonald's). Stop off to visit the numerous souvenir and antique stands on the way. After lunch, visit the WWII memorial just down the river from the monetary. Then, take some time to wander the city - there are many traditional-style Russian homes here as well as some beautiful parks. On your way back to the bus or train station, visit the city rinok (down the street from the station) where one can buy electronic media, clothes, souvenirs, etc. quite cheaply.

How to Get There:
Trains leave regularly (about one per hour) from the Yaroslavski Railroad Station (located at the Komsomolskaya Metro stop).
Buses leave regularly from VDNH-VVC Bus Station (located at VDNH Metro stop). Look for busses with "s.p." (с.п.) written in the window someplace.
Both options are inexpensive – it should only cost you a few dollars to get there and back.

Short history:
In the mid-14th century, a young, pious man named Sergius wandered into the woods north of Moscow to begin a life of prayer and religious contemplation. He was soon visited by groups of travelers seeking wisdom and miracles from him, which Sergius was soon known for giving freely. Monks from the Orthodox Church soon heard of him and traveled to study with him. The monks and Sergius founded a monastery that would become, perhaps, the most important in all of Russia.
From Sergeev Posad (which means "Sergius' Planting"), Sergius led the drive to unite the country against the Mongol yoke. It would also be Sergius who blessed the troops before they achieved the first decisive victory against the Mongols. St. Sergius is now the patron saint of Russia.
The town was renamed Zagorsk by the Soviets and the important monastery was closed for several years. It was allowed to reopen after WWII, during the "thaw" which followed that period, and became the head of the Orthodox church, the official residence of the Patriarch, and a popular place for pilgrimages.
Today, Sergeev Posad is a beautifully restored church-filled town, still visited by the Russian faithful seeking enlightenment and miracles (as well as many, many tourists). Sergeev Posad is also known for the production of wooden carvings (toys in particular) and matryoska dolls. As the closest of the Golden Ring cities to Moscow, Sergeev Posad is a recommended, if not required day-trip.
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We were at Yaroslavskiy Railroad Station at 9 in the morning, and bought train tickets to Sergeev Posad (The closest Golden Ring town to Moscow), and boarded the train that would take about 2 hours to reach the famous religious town.

The view along the ride was scenic, to say the least. Having been accustomed to high-rise apartments and, sophisticated royal palaces and European-style architecture, we were delighted to see traditional little wooden Russian cottages among snow-covered pine trees on the way.

A stream gently flowed while all around, thick snow blanketed the earth

In front of one of the quaint little Russian cottages with its little fenced area.

Coated heavily with white snow, little shops selling wooden toys, matryoshkas and local souvenirs bridged the way between town and religious center.

To say it was "cold" would be an understatement. Icicles hung precariously from rooftops, constantly warning of imminent fatal icicle showers.

At the entrance into the churches, this pigeon lady sold bread crumbs to visitors for feeding the pigeons.

They knew her so well they were literally stepping all over her.

Not everyone likes having pigeons rest on their heads, we realised.

Child trying to catch pigeons' attentions. She was more interested in them than they were in her. These birds, they know who have the food.

Beautiful amber for rather agreeable prices at the souvenir market.

Girls will be girls. Here's the 3 of us pretending we wanted to buy amber so that the guys could take photos.

Visitors who have never visited Sergeev Posad, like us, get quite a pleasant surprise as they walk along the little cottages, looking out for the famed Orthodox Churches.

Then before you know it, the whole of the churches appear right in front of your eyes, and the sight of it is simply breathtaking.

Inside the church grounds are many buildings, some for worship, some not. This pale blue building, for example. Can you guess what it holds?

*Answer at the end of the post

I wish I had the artistic and architectural knowledge to spin out information about these "14th century pre-Baroque Gothic Style" architecture, but I simply have no idea, so just enjoy the pictures, ok?

And I made up that 14th century pre-Baroque thing, so quit nodding your head and pretending you understood what I was on about, seriously.

Speaking of not knowing about architecture, I thought this one really looked kind of Indian.

Collecting holy water. We weren't sure whether non-Orthodox people were allowed to take the water, or whether specific rituals would be expected of us, so we didn't bother.

The day was almost over before we finally left the holy grounds for Moscow.

* Answer: That pale blue church-looking thing was actually a jewellery/souvenir store. Surprise surprise.

Paint the Town Red 7 - Ivory Towers

2009-02-08T13:19:00.000-08:00

M. V. Lomonosov Moscow State University (Russian: Московский государственный университет имени М.В.Ломоноcова, Moskóvskiy gosudárstvennyy universitét ímeni M. V. Lomonósova), for a time the Lomonosov University (Russian: университет Ломоносова, Universitét Lomonósova), is the largest university in Russia.

Founded in 1755, it also claims to be the oldest university in Russia. As of 2004, the university has some 4,000 staff teaching 31,000 students and 7,000 postgraduates. Its current rector is Viktor Sadovnichiy. In 1940, the university was renamed in honor of its founder, Mikhail Lomonosov.

Since 1953, most of the faculties have been situated on Sparrow Hills, in the southwest of Moscow. The Main building was designed by architect Lev Vladimirovich Rudnev. In the post-war era, Stalin ordered seven huge tiered neoclassic towers to be built around the city. The MSU Main building is by far the largest of these. It was the tallest building in the world outside of New York City at the time of its construction, and remained the tallest building in Europe until 1990.

The central tower is 240m tall, 36 stories high, and flanked by four huge wings of student and faculty accommodations. It is said to contain a total of 33 kilometers of corridors and 5,000 rooms.

Facilities available inside the building include a concert hall, a theatre, a museum, various administrative services, a library, a swimming pool, a police station, a post office, a laundry, a hairdresser's salon, several canteens, bank offices and ATMs, shops, cafeterias, a bomb shelter, etc.

Along with the university administration, the Museum of Earth Sciences and four of the main faculties - Faculty of Mechanics and Mathematics, the Faculty of Geology, the Faculty of Geography, and the Faculty of Fine and Performing Arts - now reside in the Main building. The star on the top of the tower is large enough to include a small room and a viewing platform; it weighs 12 tons. The building's facades are ornamented with giant clocks, barometers, thermometers, statues, carved wheat sheaves, and Soviet crests (recently renovated). It stands before a terrace featuring statues of male and female students gazing optimistically and confidently into the future.

While the Sparrow Hills were on the outskirts of the city at the time of the construction of the Main building, they are now about halfway from the Kremlin to the city limits. Several other buildings and sports facilities were later added to the campus, including the only baseball stadium in Russia. Currently, a new building is under construction for the social sciences faculties, and a vast new facility has just been built for the library, which is the second largest in Russia by volume (number of books). The university also has several dormitory buildings in the southwest of Moscow, outside the campus.

The historical building on Mokhovaya Street now houses mainly the Faculty of Journalism, the Faculty of Psychology, and the The Institute of Asian and African Studies. Moscow State University has campuses in Russia and abroad (Ukraine, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan). The Ulyanovsk branch of MSU was reorganized into Ulyanovsk State University in 1996.
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Dear Kid,

This is the famous Moscow State University. These 2 small pictures might not seem like much to you, but the feeling I had, when I stood gazing up the towers of the university that night, was much more than simply awe.

Do you see how the building glows , even when enveloped by the dark?

I wanted so much for you to be there that night, to see for yourself this inspiring building. To feel the way I felt that day.

You see, this could be your future. You could one day belong in a place like this. A place like this could, one day, belong to you.

You are still so young - the future stretches far ahead of you. Do you often picture it in your mind's eye, the way I picture it for you? Do you see the glinting golden city at the faraway horizon, do you see the many bright paths leading towards it, and the treacherous winding roads leading away from it?

I have seen you sulk, so many times, in the face of homework and studies piled up in front of you. The numbers hurt your head, the thought of having to write so many words hurt your hand. Yes, I have been through that too.

I have already treaded on a path I chose. I do not know whether it is the right one for me, yet I march steadily and bravely on, because this is what I wanted, and this is still what I want.

Do you know what you want for yourself? Do you know how to get there? Do you know, kid brother, that I am there for you, no matter what way you choose?

You have just celebrated your 6th birthday without your elder sister by your side. When I left home, you were merely an innocent child. Now you are a man.

Sometimes I regret having gone so far away from home. Sometimes I wonder whether I should have been closer to you. I wonder how things would be different, if I were there by your side, watching you grow, helping you grow.

Yet, with or without me there, you have grown. And dear brother, it is time you learned the ways of being an adult.

You see the buildings there, and what they represent? I know that is what I want for you, what I know is what's right for you. Yet the life is yours, and you are more alone on your journey towards that horizon than you thought.

It is never easy. No one succeeds by being lucky. They toil for it, they all do. Kid brother, although I still call you kid (I suppose you will still be "kid" to me by the time others call you "grandpa"), you are no more that. Open your eyes to what you are doing, and what you should be doing. Make the right decisions, choose the bright path.

Hint: If you don't know which one the "bright path" is, it's that one that looks toughest. Take that route, and take all the burdens it thrusts at you during the journey. Persevere on, no matter what it takes. It is not going to be easy, it is never easy, but one day I hope you will look back and be glad you chose the path.

That night, in front of the MSU, I made a little wish for you. I wished for determination and perseverance in you, and I hope you will make my wish come true.

Happy birthday, dear kid, and here's to being an adult.

Lots of love,
Sis.