Saturday, April 29, 2006
All about nothing, and then some.
I lazily contemplate doing some work over the weekend. But I have also been sitting on my couch since 11am, finishing up Slaughter House Five and flippin' through American sit-coms I have already seen.
The weekend is anti-climactic. Like cheap bubble gum that has been chewed for 3.5 hours. Chew chew chew. Grey rubber. Nothing too exciting.
Little Holland bloomed in our front garden; bright yellow & red tulips among other floras of pink, purple, and white. Every other English household has one. All they need are miniature windmills (and maybe a garden gnome). Spring has sprung. It was only a couple days ago that I noticed the distinct change of the season.
The commute to work has now become a vibrant celebration of somehting. White bead-like flowers line the roads, branches extended in white confetti for a happy bride. Yellow and cream-coloured daffodils trumpet their petals in every-which way, like a collection of chatty housewives. Dogwoods are shy, but they stand calmly like the peaceful boddhitsava with lillies on her hands. Cherry blossoms shake their heads and shed flurries of pink. Each flower looks delicate and sugary sweet; it is as if you could pick one off and eat it like candy. And there's the field of butter - the kanola plants stand 2-feet tall and overwhelm what used to be the green knolls. From higher elevation (which is rare in the English country side), the squre patches look like giant toasts glistening in buttery gold.
If I am in the mood, I take the backroad where I drive through a small provincial village. Population 16. Plus 15 holstine cows. Plus 36 sheeps (a third of which are lambs). Thatched roofs and stony walls. I enjoy the scenery, and there is magnificence that spreads to my left - I see rays of sunshine fall through the cracks of grey clouds on the church. You wouldn't have doubted your eyes if angels or some other celestial creature descended from the sky through that light. But I need to keep my eyes on the road. I look forward to the next best view - the industrial windmills. Each of the three propellas remind me of a model plane. On a clear day, you can see these ivory towers against a blue sky and the verdane field - the wings turning out of synch with each other, proclaiming individuality among uniformity. I feel like I could fly away when I see them.
No glitsy lifestyle here. But there's the English country-side charm, which not too many people will see when visiting England.
The weekend is anti-climactic. Like cheap bubble gum that has been chewed for 3.5 hours. Chew chew chew. Grey rubber. Nothing too exciting.
Little Holland bloomed in our front garden; bright yellow & red tulips among other floras of pink, purple, and white. Every other English household has one. All they need are miniature windmills (and maybe a garden gnome). Spring has sprung. It was only a couple days ago that I noticed the distinct change of the season.
The commute to work has now become a vibrant celebration of somehting. White bead-like flowers line the roads, branches extended in white confetti for a happy bride. Yellow and cream-coloured daffodils trumpet their petals in every-which way, like a collection of chatty housewives. Dogwoods are shy, but they stand calmly like the peaceful boddhitsava with lillies on her hands. Cherry blossoms shake their heads and shed flurries of pink. Each flower looks delicate and sugary sweet; it is as if you could pick one off and eat it like candy. And there's the field of butter - the kanola plants stand 2-feet tall and overwhelm what used to be the green knolls. From higher elevation (which is rare in the English country side), the squre patches look like giant toasts glistening in buttery gold.
If I am in the mood, I take the backroad where I drive through a small provincial village. Population 16. Plus 15 holstine cows. Plus 36 sheeps (a third of which are lambs). Thatched roofs and stony walls. I enjoy the scenery, and there is magnificence that spreads to my left - I see rays of sunshine fall through the cracks of grey clouds on the church. You wouldn't have doubted your eyes if angels or some other celestial creature descended from the sky through that light. But I need to keep my eyes on the road. I look forward to the next best view - the industrial windmills. Each of the three propellas remind me of a model plane. On a clear day, you can see these ivory towers against a blue sky and the verdane field - the wings turning out of synch with each other, proclaiming individuality among uniformity. I feel like I could fly away when I see them.
No glitsy lifestyle here. But there's the English country-side charm, which not too many people will see when visiting England.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Any Way the Wind Blows
So... we didn't get to Santorini afterall (boo). But we still did make it to the Greek Islands (Yay!!!)
Randy and I escaped the smoggy streets of Athens, and made it to Paros after being air-born for 30 minutes. We landed. And it took my breath away...
(Mind you, these were views from our hotel room. Awesome.)
We enjoyed a Greek Anatolian lunch - Mmm... We couldn't believe how yummy and cheap it was.
We rented a scooter and ventured on the island, using a simple map as a guide and deciphering the road signs in Greek alphabet. The weather was pleasant, and the sun felt warm on my cheeks as we vr-r-r-ooooomed away.
Greek orthodox churches have a unique architecture of domes and ivory white walls.
Agean sunset
Greek windmills - an icon of the Cyclades Islands.
Spring flowers were in bloom. The photos do not do justice to all the colors that we saw throughout the journey.
We took the ferry over to Antiparos (just across the way) to go see the cave, but unfortunately it was closed (a cave? closed? yeah, the thought crossed our minds too). And it started pouring as we drove away from the top of the hill. We took shelter at a cafe to dry ourselves and drank our tea with Metaxa brandy (which we were starting to have a peculiar liking to).
The streets of Paros are distinctly painted in white and blue. A Mediterranean charm that makes you simultaneously smile and wince from the bright reflection of the sun. We saw some people painting the walls white, preparing for the rush of tourists as the weather gets warmer.
After consulting our Lonely Planet book, we decided to satiate our grumbling for seafood at a restaurant called Porphyra. Being only one of the few couples there, the owner poured his generous hospitality - appetizers and desserts on the house and even a little extra of the local wine to take back to the hotel.
On the last evening, we stopped by a traditional Greek restaurant. The owner of this restaurant is also an artist. (He drew his daughter when she was a baby. And the other woman? Well, that's a secret, he says ;)
Parikia at night. The ferries slowly arrived and departed from the pier.
More pictures here.
This was definitely the vacation island I wanted to be on. Beautiful blue sky, the jewel-like Agean Sea, and getting to know a little bit more of the island culture. Paros was quiet, liberating, and truly romantic.
Randy and I escaped the smoggy streets of Athens, and made it to Paros after being air-born for 30 minutes. We landed. And it took my breath away...
(Mind you, these were views from our hotel room. Awesome.)
We enjoyed a Greek Anatolian lunch - Mmm... We couldn't believe how yummy and cheap it was.
We rented a scooter and ventured on the island, using a simple map as a guide and deciphering the road signs in Greek alphabet. The weather was pleasant, and the sun felt warm on my cheeks as we vr-r-r-ooooomed away.
Greek orthodox churches have a unique architecture of domes and ivory white walls.
Agean sunset
Greek windmills - an icon of the Cyclades Islands.
Spring flowers were in bloom. The photos do not do justice to all the colors that we saw throughout the journey.
We took the ferry over to Antiparos (just across the way) to go see the cave, but unfortunately it was closed (a cave? closed? yeah, the thought crossed our minds too). And it started pouring as we drove away from the top of the hill. We took shelter at a cafe to dry ourselves and drank our tea with Metaxa brandy (which we were starting to have a peculiar liking to).
The streets of Paros are distinctly painted in white and blue. A Mediterranean charm that makes you simultaneously smile and wince from the bright reflection of the sun. We saw some people painting the walls white, preparing for the rush of tourists as the weather gets warmer.
After consulting our Lonely Planet book, we decided to satiate our grumbling for seafood at a restaurant called Porphyra. Being only one of the few couples there, the owner poured his generous hospitality - appetizers and desserts on the house and even a little extra of the local wine to take back to the hotel.
On the last evening, we stopped by a traditional Greek restaurant. The owner of this restaurant is also an artist. (He drew his daughter when she was a baby. And the other woman? Well, that's a secret, he says ;)
Parikia at night. The ferries slowly arrived and departed from the pier.
More pictures here.
This was definitely the vacation island I wanted to be on. Beautiful blue sky, the jewel-like Agean Sea, and getting to know a little bit more of the island culture. Paros was quiet, liberating, and truly romantic.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
For Pleasure or for Business?
Apr 9-16: Greece (Athens, Santorini Island)
Apr 20-21: London
Apr 25-27: the Netherlands (Enschede, Amsterdam)
Good to be mobile again.
Apr 20-21: London
Apr 25-27: the Netherlands (Enschede, Amsterdam)
Good to be mobile again.
