It is very true when they say that if you can drive in Ho Chi Minh, you can drive anywhere in the world. It is also true that crossing the road here is an art that must be perfected by tiger courage aided by a can of 333 Bia.
But for all the mad bustle on the roads (and the incessant and needless honking), I find that the Vietnamese people have a very quiet, gentle air about them. They sit on the side streets people-watching, chatting to each other in a sing-song lilt, smiling shyly when you catch their gaze. It’s a contradictory city, quite like Bangkok. I suspect that might be why I like it so much.
Because I seem to be in a bit of a writing dry spell right now, all I want to is take pictures. Look at pictures. Lust over pictures. Nick pictures. Take some more pictures.
Another blog. Not getting rid of this one. Hopefully sooner rather than later, this writer’s block will lift its damned self and I’ll start wordifying it up again.
Meet Me At The Corner: Behati Prinsloo and Jamie Strachan; shot by Jay Rodan and Kayt Jones for i-D.
I’m almost a year late in discovering this, but it’s too magical to not share.
I remember the corner.
The corner of your color, the corner of your smile.
The corner where we kissed.
The street corners turning into the corners of the corridor.
Into the corners of the room where we lay.
The corners of your mouth, of your eyes.
The corners of words we didn’t finish.
The corner of your name.
On the corner where we parted.
I remember the corner.
[via Vogue Italia]
Shot by Vincent Peters for the May ’11 issue of Italian Vogue, Ann Ward looks absolutely ethereal.
She almost looks like a siren, wilting in the dry heat while waiting for the next unsuspecting sailor to come her way. Half woman, half bird. She’s so pensive, she’s so elusive, she’s so willowy, she’s so out-of-body. She’s so, pretty. So very pretty.
Ne me quitte pas. Je suis ici, maintenant.
Did you hear? We threw them mortar boards up in the air, and we graduated.
Snow, which as usual, London couldn’t deal with. But which my very tropical mom was very thrilled about.
Chinese New Year brought dumplings and crazy costumes to Raymont Hall. And Candice to London.
Back to St. Gallen for the first time in five years. And Zurich provided some much-needed sunny days.
Some sunny respite: The calm before the essaywriting storm.
Essays x 5, Redbull cans x 90, Readings x ∞, Life x 0
Back to sunny Singers for the World Cup (damn Paul) and Super Junior fangirling!
One more month with my nearest and dearest, with the shadow of the dissertation never far behind.
Back to London for dissertation hell. May in a repeat, with a non-existent supervisor (not my fault) and extremely last-minute cramming (entirely my fault).
Farewells, birthdays, farewells.
Goodbye London, Bonjour Montreal! This was easily the best decision I made all year.
Three weeks in Montreal became two months (the second-best decision I made all year). And we went to the concrete jungle where dreams are made of.
Christmas back in London. No crazy cooking sesh or even crazier boxing day sales this time; just good company and lots of Home Alone guffaws.
It’s been a good ride.
I’m ready for 2011.
Bonne année à toi!
May all be calm
May all be bright
As on that silent holy night
And may the peace and love born then
– In every heart, be born again.
Last weekend in Quebec City was a slip and slide affair; at least for me, with my traction-less boots. They don’t seem to religiously load the streets with an obscene amount of rock salt like they do in Montreal. In any case, I didn’t have to attract unwanted attention with my numerous near-falls; people there just stared as if they never saw an Asian in their lives. Sure way to score a gasp-and-point moment in QC? Put four Asians and one Egyptian together, and go forth in faith.