Sogni d'oro

Crooning on my STEREO: Don't Cry by GUNS N' ROSES

It is 2:20 am and I am unusually sober. In 5 hours I will leave Perugia for a Spanish Christmas in Marbella. Thus, this will be my final post for the year 2006; a year that has been truly blessed, fantaaabulous and exceedingly fortunate. I've always been, and will always be a lucky puppy.

Perhaps it is true that some good things are destined to a bittersweet end. A minute ago I received a particular SMS that brought instant tears to my eyes.



It reads:
"No posso dormire. Vorrei con te ora, vorrei baciare le tue labra, abracciare il tuo corpo e potermi addormentare vicino al tuo dolce respiro. Baci Amore."

This pains me. And I will give anything to lie beside you at this very moment. My heart cries out for your touch and I grieve deeply on your absence. We are miles apart.

And by tommorow morning, I will be further away.
By 1st January 2007, I will almost be a world apart from you.

Things will never be the same. But life goes on.
To my dearest Giovanni, thank you for giving me a chance to be in love. It is something which I thought I was never able to do.

This is my favourite picture of us because we seem so.. chubby and happy. And we were hideously drunk, too. I know photos will never do you justice since you keep running away from cameras.

If you try to believe me for once, you are the most gorgeous man I've ever met. Remember how I always told you that you were perfect? Well, I MEANT IT. So don't argue with me over this again, va bene?

My dear stronzo, I know I suck when it comes to cooking. You are the perfectionist. You wouldn't even let me touch you when you are just chucking pasta into the pan. In spite of all your particularity, all the best Italian food comes from you. I didn't want to tell you because I know you'd get all vain.

Strangely, I love you for that. The way you drown yourself with Moschino scent, how you only wear black long-sleeved shirts and your lowcut jeans which I always have to pull your shirt down to avoid any show of butt cracks. Maybe its an Italian sense of style, boh? If you haven't noticed, both our wardrobes consist of 80% black clothings. I think we both have an issue with our fats.

Despite how you (purposely) confuse Il Divo with Take That, be assured that I will choose you over Sebastien Izambard any day. You do not need a fancy yacht and an Armani suit to look sexy.

Before we got together, I never wanted to date Italian men. But your brother's birthday at Etoile made all the difference. It was only our third encounter, but you claimed me several times as your girlfriend to stop those dodgy dudes from harassing me.

Come on, you were drunk but you didn't admit it. Sei cativo sempre.

Before I met you, your housemates kept harping about how wonderful and kind you are. I think they did most of the courtship on your behalf.

I never thought that you'd ever set eyes on a sea urchin like me. I still fell for you anyway.

Everyday, you'd walk me from Via XX Settembre to Via Delle Cantine with my hands in yours. And in those several nights when I was deadly drunk, you'd leave your guy friends behind just to bring me home safely. (Although at most times you were probably drunk yourself.) And while you did that, you'd always hang my smoky jacket in the cupboard, store my stinky boots and fold my stale socks. Then you'd lie next to me just to make sure I wont choke and die from my own puke.

However, the most beautiful part was to wake up beside you. I felt safe.

I could talk about you the entire day. But it'd make me cry. It is difficult because you are so far away from me. I realised I have become very emotionally dependant on you because I am actually falling in love with you.

This morning was the hardest. I was pretending to be asleep but I was watching you get ready to leave. You changed into the shirt I bought for you.

I was buried too deep into my tears even to tell you how gorgeous you looked in it.

As we bid farewell, you looked me in the eye and told me that I was beautiful. Eventhough my eyes were deadly swollen from a whole night of crying on your pillow.

Eversince you left, Perugia suddenly seems like a sad city. Remember the route that we usually take through to Piazza Italia? I walked it on my own today and I was crying throughout the way. I really miss the way you would push me up the 70 degree slope.

I miss you. I miss your nonsense. I miss your half-boiled English. I will keep harping on your confusion betweeen 'chicken' and 'kitchen'.

But I have to let you go. It kills me but I know you deserve better. We spoke about it. I guess we know each other too well.

I will cherish the memories. Meanwhile, dont forget me okay? Or I will gladly expose your embarassing stuffs.

Ti Voglio Tanto Bene. Sei vivi en mi cuore per sempre....

And I promise you that I will stop crying by the time I get to Spain. This will be one of the most emotional festive seasons I will ever have to go through. But you told me to stay strong. I will try my best.

Dolci Baci,
Lyn xxx
----------------------

While I wrestle with me emo..... I'd like to wish all my dear friends...

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAVE A SMASHING NEW YEAR!!!!!

I've been loved, and thus my love for others is infinite.

Till 2007 :)

Ciao, Arivederci: THE GRAND FINALE.

Crooning on my STEREO: Love Generation by BOB SINCLAIR

This week is all about GOODBYES. The much dreaded word on everybody's lips, with the exception for those who are pretty sick of trampling on doggy poo in Perugia.

I think I've come a long way since writing the very first chapter on my Italian stint three months ago. I used to despise the dodgy Italian men, the doggy poo and the non-english speaking crowd.

Oh, how much that has changed. You know that when you have left an impression on this little town when you see your name published on thousands of pub flyers distributed across the city.

Spot my name, will you?
I think it is all that binge drinking.
Perugia have taught me a DONT STRESS. JUST DRINK attitude which I will adopt for the rest of my twenties. Pascal and I adore that philosophy.



All that puking, street brawling and disjointed Italian public chants will be missed. Unfortunately, I can't continue this shameless legacy when I am back home in Malaysia. Lisa loves her drinks as much as I do.



I said goodbye to my London pals: John, Steph and Rocky (who's obviously not in the picture) for their brief but wonderful visit to Italy. Not only have they tolerated my drunken antics, they listened to my I- will- miss- Perugia woes.
I MISS THE THREE OF YOU.



To prove that I've actually been attending classes for the past three months, here's a photo I took with my cheeky little brother from Hong Kong during the final LabAudio session. We were too busy camwhoring at the back of class.



I will miss the 20 odd-people from all corners of the globe in my tutorials. They actually attend more classes than I do. It's amazing how the strange lot of us get along so damn well.


Then there's Andrea. The bar dude in my university who makes the best ciocalata calda. The one who has tolerated my hangover complaints every morning. A wonderful friend who has seen me in my most drunken stupor.


Anton and Astrix from Holland is an inspiring couple who have gone through thick and thin. I wish them every happiness. This month stands as their first year wedding anniversary and they are planning to buy a house in Italy. Anton is one of the rare few who indulges in foie gras as much as I do.


I said goodbye to Giovanni's pet turtle in his backyard. I fell in love with this creature before I fell for him.


I said goodbye to Kwan, the other Malaysian scholar who has been a very supportive and wonderful friend. She left for Paris this morning.


There are thousands of photos which I'd love to put up on this grand finale. Strangely speaking, I'm certain that I will miss everybody: my drink buddies, my weeding buddies, my skiving buddies, my bimbotic buddies, my stalkers, my club PRs, the construction builders opposite my flat, the grocery man, the postman, my landlady, the bartenders and the homeless dudes near the fountain.

I guess life will be different. I felt this familliar sadness when I left Malaga last year. Perhaps it is a little heavier this time.

Grazie mille, Perugia.
Ci Vediamo Dopo.

The farewell party is tonight. I will drink myself very silly and dance to Bob Sinclar for the last time in a very long time.....

Of X'mas and other things.

Crooning on my STEREO: Falling In Love by LISA LOEB

Yesterday I had a pointless conversation with a friend from my home country:
---------

Bimbo: My boyfriend is buying me the Sony Ericsson MP3 phone for X mas!!! I am so lucky!!

Me: Wow, you lucky tart.
Me thinks: okay.. if a piece of hardware makes you happy...

Bimbo: What is your boy getting you?

Me: Dunno. But he's cooking his mum's recipe for me! So it's all nice!
Me thinks: I'm the luckiest girl in the world!

Bimbo: And... ?

Me: We'll do the usual. Am spending lots of quality time with him before he goes home to Salerno for Christmas. And I am leaving for Spain on Xmas eve.
Me thinks: I will be heartbroken. I will probably not see him for a long time after that.

Bimbo: I see...... He's not following you back to Malaysia?

Me: It's alright cos he's very broke. You know, the poor dear is still a student and this is his final year. I need him to concentrate on his books and not tail me around.
Me thinks: Trust me, I know.

Bimbo: Your friend X told me you bought him a Sisley shirt from Florence!!!

Me: Yeah, he looks so hot in it I could die!!! I was so relieved I got the right size...
Me thinks: Swooooooooooooon

BImbo: And he didn't get you anything?

Me: Why should he? I just gave it to him today!
Me thinks: Brace yourself, Lyn. Bimbo is embarking on an inquisition.

Bimbo: No, no.. your friend X and I were talking about you the other day. We'd thought that you'd date some Tan Sri's son or some sort of upper middle class family friend.....

Me: Why do you say that? I was never in love with any of those spoilt brats to begin with. In fact, the ones I know are imbeciles who only have eyes for anorexic gold-diggers.
Me thinks: Jeez, those stupid rich kids who drive their father's cars.

Bimbo: I know, but a girl should always date a man who can pamper or keep up with her lifestyle. it's a sense of social security....

Me: You are beginning to sound provincial.
Me thinks: I think you are dumb. As usual.

Bimbo: No offence... but some people will bitch about you when you go home.

Me: Really? Bitch about how happy I am?
Me thinks: Nothing new. The price of fame.

Bimbo: You know, about you dating a poor Italian student for a short period and stuffs...

Me: Well, I am a student too and I've been poor eversince I left my job. I'm in my first steady relationship with a man who treats me with love and respect. He may be a pauper but I don't need him to buy me a Fendi bag to make me the happiest girl in the world.
Me thinks: I feel the urgency to hold an exclusive press conference on my lovelife.

Bimbo: But handbags are your true love!

Me: I said that when I WAS single. It's all different now, honey. And if I am dying for bags, I can surely afford them myself.
Me thinks: I am soooooo looking forward to cope with this type of material-cow mentality when I return to Malaysia. I certainly cant live without these morons.

In 11 days, I will leave Perugia's simple life. Just as I'm falling in love with it.

-------

In case you were wondering where I've disappeared to last weekend,

I WAS HERE.


It was more crooked than I thought. Oh, I also visited Perugia's rival town:
SIENA

This is for you, JENN. I forced her to skip Siena for Perugia.

Blame the bad photography on my makeshift aka. broken camera. I need a new one.

*hint hint*

Ti Voglio Tanto Bene

Crooning on my STEREO: Caruso by IL DIVO

Honestly speaking, I had second thoughts on posting the previous entry on the site. It was certainly the most difficult entry to write.

I thought that I might have exposed too much of my vulnerability.

But beneath all the EMO outcry, it made me realise that there are so many people like you who care.

THANK YOU

Really. Thanks. I am very grateful for all your moving comments. I didn't want anyone to feel sorry for me nor to sing prasies to boost my self esteem.

But it is the sincerity in all your comments that touched me the most.

GRAZIE. GRACIAS. MERCI.

I think this turn in my life has sparked off the appreciative and sensitive side of me. I am a changed person. From now on, I vow never to scare pigeons away from my window.

La vita bella. I love you.

-----------------------
OKAY. ENOUGH OF ALL MY EMO CRY-CRY DECLARATIONS. USUAL TRANSMISSION RESUMES NOW.

Life just gets better. Some kickass news to share with you this week.

Suenos y realidad....... esperando por ti.....

I AM GOING BACK TO ESPANA!!!!!!!!!!!!
ITS BEEN A YEAR. Once again I will be painting the town, erm, RED, with my dearest Andalucian beauty CARACOLA!!!! Ohhhhh.... MALAGA, MARBELLA e ESTEPONA....... I AM COMING HOMEEEEEEE FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!

Oh god, my tan has faded.

Just when I am missing my cheesy but wicked London gang...

JOHN, ROCKY AND STEPH ARE VISITING ME IN PERUGIA!!!!!
I love them. In two weeks, I will acquaint them with bottles of Umbrian champagne and greasy pizzas. (ESPECIALLY FOR JOHN: mayonaise drenched kebab)

Last but not least.... show my ex-hubby some love

IL DIVO'S NEW ALBUM 'SIEMPRE' IS OUT NOW.. GET IT. ALL OF YOU!!!!
I swear on my grave that this is a wicked album. GET THIS ALBUM OR I WILL SEND OUT THE WOLVES ON YOU.No excuses.

One more thing: I'VE GOT THE FRONT ROW TICKET FOR JANUARY 16th.

Do me a favour, just dont ask me how much it costs, k?

One Reason Why I Do Not Want to Leave Perugia

Crooning on my STEREO: Sei Parte Di Me by ZERO ASSOLUTO

It's quite funny that when you are close to a crisis, God suddenly picks you up with a beautiful blessing that will make you think twice about throwing your life off the hill. This time last week, I was suffering from a chronic eating disorder that has been wrecking me every now and then, especially when I am down.

Very down.

I was down because I had PMS. I was down because I was told that I was fat. I was down because apart from all that alcohol, there wasn't really much to do. I was down because the weather was downright wintry. I was down because a group of trusted friends in Perugia turned their backs on me.

But such is life. Shit happens. When you tell yourself and everyone that everything is wonderful, it is actually not quite the case.

I know, it was the PMS getting to me. But it was also the time of the month when all that bottled-up insecurities start eating you.

My self esteem hit rock bottom. I was compared to the skinny, tiny girls of my race. I was surrounded by the blonde, leggy girls of the other race. And here I was; stubby, short and fat.

I've always been that way. I was blessed enough to be brought up with luxurious food. I was never hungry.

In my massive extended family of 30+ cousins, I am the least attractive of them all. Trust me, this is a family where skin and bones is considered beautiful and successful. I am obviously the loser of that race.

But you know, I have my immediate family who will never disown me no matter how fat and ugly I become. I have such wonderful girlfriends who will never laugh at the hideous size of my calves. I am so blessed in that way.

As you can tell, I am very insecure about my looks. I cannot help it. Blame it on the circumstances I trap myself in, in all my failed auditions to win an acting job as well as the men who have abused me.

Yes. I am confronting my past. It pains me to do so, but i know the day will come when i have to write about this.

I have only dated two men in my life. These are the rare times when I actually gave my heart to another living soul with such great expectations like a lovelorn puppy. In the end, I got nothing back from the two.

First one dumped me because I refused to spend the night with him. And commented that I wasn't fit.
Second one dumped me because he was getting popular with the M'sian crowd, and had two other anorexic girlfriends at the same time.

Both refused to hold my hand in public. And if the contact times are calculated properly, both relationships lasted less than a week.

Of course I was devastated. As both men were commercially attractive, I blame it upon myself on the fact that I was simply ugly. I poisoned my mind with so much of self hate that I found it almost impossible to fall in love. In a way to redeem myself, I diverted all that hopelessness in lusting over Sebastien from Il Divo. As well as binge-eating.

I told some close friends that I was taking a break in Perugia to escape and reevaluate. I did not come here to look for love. Of course, people expected me to come here to get laid by Totti lookalikes.

2 months have passed and the idea of picking up strangers just didn't seem lucrative to me. So I stuck to getting drunk and dancing to Bob Sinclair.

A man walked into my life 7 days ago, and has stayed eversince. For me, this is amazing. Simply because for the last seven days we have been inseparable.

Burdened by my insecurities, I expected him to leave me after 2 days but he didn't.

He came to me when I was ill, laid down beside me and made sure that I was okay. He covered me with a warm duvet when he realised that the temperature will be dropping to 0 degrees that night. He told me jokes so that I would look at him and smile.

Even if it meant a 30min walk in the cold across Perugia, he will still come and see me everyday. He isn't ashamed to introduce me to his friends, though he knows the whole of this little town. In the club, he will look out for me, and if a man ever harasses me while I am having fun, he'd claim me as his girlfriend.

He treats my friends with equal respect.

He walks me home to the door, come rain or shine. He cooks for me in his home, and made sure I was never hungry. He will fill the refrigerator with the food and we can both get drunk on champagne.
And the most beautiful thing he has ever said to me was,

'Lyn, please eat.'

It made me cry. This is because an ex-boyfriend actually starved me because he thought I was fat.

I feel loved. I have never felt this way before. Even if he leaves me tomorrow, I will be forever grateful for the last seven days.

As my buddy Jenn tells me,

'YOU ARE IN DEEP TROUBLE.'

I think I am.

Juice and Spoleto

Crooning on my STEREO: Malo by BEBE

This morning my dearest Boh-Sia Girlfriend sent me a picture that appeared in this month's Juice magazine.


Who would have thought that this girl had a gallon of Long Island waiting to pour out of her digestives. (Thanks, Slut and Trish... for handling me plastic bags in the car). Besides, when the heck was this picture taken? I vaguely recall cam-whoring at the Velvet Member's Party. And what's with that ultra-lame diva pose?

Again, I thank the Lord that they didn't publish names.

If you're interested, the lovely boy is Casey, otherwise known as my friend-stealer. He's really cool so you can date him if you wish.

I can't stop jeering at my distorted arms. I look like a drunk maniac. The papparazzi is EVIL. This has to be the worst commercial picture of myself in living memory. (okay, second to my bikini/ cheesy 'love your body' feature in London's New Woman magazine last year or the very ugly Eversoft informercial on telly this year... the list is growing.)

Why can't they publish better photos such as this:



I will have to do some damage control in January 2007.

Okay, back to ITALIA.

Last weekend I journeyed to the sleepy medieval town of SPOLETO. There isn't much to brag about, except for this centuries old aqueduct which is known to be ideal place to take your (or somebody else's) life.

It's pretty grand and eerie. And it's apparently cool to push somebody off the bridge here. I have a long list of names for that sole purpose.

Oh, my scholarship money came out. I am all happy and rich now. As long as I have the decency to keep an eye on expenses, I no longer have to down cheap vodka and sleep on the streets for the following month.

Guess what? When it comes to manhunt, I am no longer in the market for Perugia.

That riddle will be explained in the next post.

Stay Tuned, CATIVIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!

PERUGIA-10 Random Facts

Crooning on my STEREO: Walking Away by THE EGG

Lord knows how swiftly time flies. 5 weeks left till the end of my Italian stint.

I can't, quite, digest that either. To my secondary despair my camera broke.

OUCH

Thats okay. Memories and experiences are eternal. I am never obliged to share them with you anyway.

Apart from the very useful Italian foul words.
Oh, and 10 random facts about this bizzarre city.



1) This is the TOWN CENTER. Small, I know. You see the stairs behind the fountain? I used to do my Italian homework there when I first arrived until it got dreadfully cold. Plus, my yellow skin was also attracting lots of unnecessary attention from asianphiles.

Everyday after midnight, 100s of student-drunkards (including me) will pile themselves on the steps chanting mangled Italian and throwing plastic cups at each other. (glass bottles are prohibited after 10pm for obvious reasons)

2) By law, smoking is not allowed in all pubs and nightclubs in Italy. Of course, you do get the occasional idiot who lights up and causes an inferno.

3) Crime Rate in Perugia is almost nil. But that doesn't mean you can leave your flat with its doors open.

4) Somewhere along every 100m of the city's pedestrian paths, you are bound to have nearly missed a mountain of dog poo.

5) RnB is not big here. HOUSE is BIG. I think its due to the lack of English lyrics in the latter.

6) You can never catch any non-Italian matches live. Be it champs league or coconut cup. You can search till the world's end and the pub owners would never have heard of AR-SE-NAL.

7) 2/3 of the student population does marijuana. So don't bother calling the police. Thank You.

8) 60% of the student population are below 21. Depravation has forced me to lie about my age on several occasions.

9) A full length CD (yes, they do have half-length samplers with incomplete songs) costs 20 Euros.

10) PERUGIA IS SMALL. DON'T DO ANYTHING STUPID.

La Settimana Discoteca

Crooning on my STEREO: My Love by JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE

Dear DISCO BALL,

I've been capitalising on my teacher's absence. Yeah, I know I shouldn't. I am a worthy scholar. I should recite my Italian verb tables 5 hours everyday. Y'know, I am working so hard on doctorate level sentences such as, 'Hi. My name is Lyn. I am from Malaysia. I am 23. I am here to learn Italian. I love pasta...'

CAZZO

Lessons don't do anything for me. Truth is, I pick up the most useful Italian phrases from pagan hangouts such as the DISCOTECA. Its all thanks to you, Mr Disco Ball, for tempting me. Well, you make me get up and dance. And be merry. And be drunk. Despite all the U-20 boys who constantly surround (haunt) me eversince I stepped foot onto this country, you are the reason why I married Bob Sinclar in an impromptu ceremony.



Look at the pile of first year undergrads in this party. Why do they all flood Perugia? Surely they are all below 21 and should be arrested for some sort of under-age alcohol consumption and juvenile boh-sia. No point telling the polizia. I should have the Mafia lock them all up instead.

Or why don't YOU collapse onto them?

Somewhere along the lines of Phantom Of The Opera. Y'know, the scene where the Phantom is sawing the chandelier?

Love Generation aside.

Mr Disco Ball, you are also making me FAT. Because I've turned into a nocturnal creature, I have this daily innate craving for wholesome KEBABS. I may proclaim my undying love for mayonaise drenched kebabs, but all that double portion and extra garlic sauce is adding even more inches to my elephant hips. But I wont hold you responsible for all of it, at least having a kebab is the only time I actually eat vegetables.



So it's not all that bad isn't it? A swiss friend once told me that pasta is the best hangover cure. And because I suffer from this sort of migraine almost every afternoon, I am officially the maker of groundbreaking pasta. No more Carbonara. I discovered the Gevonese.

Life's good, I know. And I will be seeing you again tonight.

I can't wait. Dance with me. And Bob Sinclair.

Abbraccio,
Lyn xxx

Go South

Crooning on my STEREO: Rock This Party by BOB SINCLAIR

I've been waking up to non-existent classes and I am collapsing from the lack of sleep. Don't ask me why. I am too lazy to write. Just indulge in the pictures.


We were given 2 miserable hours to run across the entire city of POMPEII.
CAZZO. It's like asking you to circle Hyde Park 8 times in 1 hour. CAZZO!

WITHOUT A MAP.

Can you see the mighty Vesuvius in the background?

Here's something for the bored:
CLICK ON THE PHOTO BELOW TO ENLARGE AND SEE IF YOU CAN SPOT ME AMIDST THE RUINS.


The infamous lava-coated people. Everyone's been asking me about them. Well, they just look like, chocolate manequins.



After doing a 2 hour marathon run across the city of Pompeii, I had to SCALE MOUNT VESUVIUS.

IS THIS A BOOT CAMP OR WHAT

Cazzo. Mount Vesuvius is a frigging huge volcano. We were expected to hike to the crater and down again before sunset. That gives us, let's say, 2 HOURS



My shit photography doesn't do the volcano justice. You have to see it yourself to believe how magnificently HUGE it is. I bullshitted the rest of the troupe to believe that if you throw a stone into the crater, all your wishes will come true.

Within seconds, every gullible person in sight were flinging stones into the crater. This sudden meteoric shower was a great way to wake a dormant volcano.

Damn, I was THAT convincing.

We arrived NAPOLI the next day. The capital of theft and Pasolini-esque characters.


And it was raining. Like hell.



As usual I was under-dressed. Cold. Hungry.

And WITHOUT AN UMBRELLA .

That's Amore

Crooning on my STEREO: Rock Steady by ALL SAINTS


In NAPOLI where love is king
When boy meets girl
Here's what they say....

(Lyn dances around the room with a hairbrush)

When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie
That's amore

(Lyn gets smacked by an oncoming pizza)

When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine
That's amore

(Lyn downs five shots of limoncello)

Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling
And you'll sing "Vita bella"

(Lyn takes to the streets of Perugia chanting, 'IL DIVO- TI AMEROOOOO!')

Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay
Like a gay tarantella

When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool
That's amore

(Lyn pukes out hot liquid)

When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet
You're in love

(Lyn attempts a quadaxel jump on a cobbled slope)

When you walk in a dream but you know you're not
Dreaming signore

(Lyn crashes back into her room half conscious)

Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli

That's AMORE

(Lyn passes out)



This weekend: I am spending the night in a VOLCANO and I will be dancing all the way to NAPOLI.....



I am falling in love with Italia.

RAGAZZO Parte 2

Crooning on my STEREO: Svegliarsi la mattina by ZERO ASSOLUTO


My second trip to MILANO ROCKED. Though not as fabulastic as ROMA but I've achieved my primary target of material satisfaction for this month. The only arduous endeavours were the 6 hour train rides that comprised of sitting next to stinky old geezers, perverted asianphillic Europeans and wailing toddlers who deserved a tight smack on the face. Fux. So much for two nights in Milan.

Speaking of long-haul train rides, I miss the infamous RED ARROW which my family and I took from Moscow to St Petersburg. It's an overnight train ride through the subzero terrains of the Soviet Union, and boy, check out that glee in my face. (below)


In my previous post, I went into a temporary frenzy and complained about the lack of gentlemen I've encountered so far. This morning, given sunshine through my frozen windows, I decided to count my blessings.

The solution to my woes was simple: OPEN MY EYES TO THOSE AROUND ME.

I did a shortlist of gentlemen candidates in my vast directory of random friends in Italia. And hooray. I found TWO.

TWO!

DUE!

DOS!

DUA!

DEUX!


I shocked myself there as I've expected the good specie to be extinct.
Thus I will decribe the two candidates briefly here and YOU VOTE THE WINNER. (I promise you that I wont stalk them....)

CANDIDATO NUMERO UNO

Name: THE NAMELESS BAR BOY WHO WORKS IN MY UNIVERSITY CAFETERIA.

Age: Approx 25-28

Good Points: Makes amazing cafe e latte and unlike most Italianos, this clean shaven dude has NEVER shortchanged me.
Never fails to greet me at 8:30am every morning (Mondays to Wednesdays) with a boyband smile while putting up with my almost daily hangover sulk. Consistantly hands me the BEST CHOCOLATE CROISSANT and predicts that I will (always) order acqua minerale - naturale each time I loiter at the counter. Feels sorry for my inability multitask: to dig out coins from my purse while juggling the croissant on the other hand. Thus he has learnt to carry my food while I rummage for lose change.

Basic manners: SUPERB.

Bad Points: Has never asked for my name. Hence I've not asked for his.

CANDIDATO NUMERO DUE

Name: Withheld for privacy. MY FRIENDS' ITALIAN HOUSEMATE.

Age: 25

Good Points: SPEAKS ENGLISH. (thank god!) Lives with the other two Malaysian scholars and I've been hearing fantastic stuff about him EVERYDAY. Apparently makes the best pizza in the world. Chubby, I like. And he knows how to fix the heater. Respects the fact that I LOVE Bob Sinclair.
Helps his homesick housemates whenever possible. And drinks. And clubs. ALOT. Makes wonderful sangrias. Even rescued me from a probable stalker by claiming that I was his girlfriend. PHWOAR. It's so rare for a man to be proud of me.

Basic Manners: Nice.

Bad Points: He seems slightly more smitten with the prettier housemates. Or maybe its because he lives with them. Non Lo So. Or maybe I am fat.

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

ITS YOUR CALL: CANDIDATE UNO or CANDIDATE DUE?

RAGAZZO

Crooning on my STEREO: Starlight by MUSE

HAPPY HALLOWEEN, BASTARDS.

nah, kidding. Welcome to the decadent life of bladder poisoning.

Screw the notion that every Italian is a carbon copy of Rudolph Valentino. I'm very sore from the fact that MEN HAVE NOT BOUGHT ME DRINKS SINCE I STEPPED FOOT HERE. Sure, I pay for the rounds and end up skint for the rest of the night. I am so used to having to find my way back on my own after that. Thankfully, I have become such a PRO at it after 8 years of practice.

You men pay for the drinks. and ask for my money back.

WHAT?

ASK FOR MY MONEY BACK?

CAZZO

Let's get real, you will never meet gentlemen in clubs everywhere around the world. I can testify that.

Unless you are PRETTY. Or HOT. Even the biggest prick will morph into a subservient bellboy.

TO ALL ANOREXIA-LOVING BASTARDS:
I HOPE YOU FALL OFF THE CLIFF

You have no idea how much I despise your type. It's all because of you that I've got myself into some sort of atkins-gone-wrong weight gain. Yeah, I binge on 3 kebabs a day because I KNOW I will never be a size 0. I drink and dance because I LOVE BOB SINCLAIR. And dont come back to me whingeing that you choose personality over looks.

I KNOW MY PERSONALITY ROCKS, OKAY?

You guys are just DUMB. Let me tell you something,

TI FACCIO UN CULO COSI!!!!!!!

I love my wonderful girlfriends. You all know who you are. Here's a abbraccio grande (big hug) from a rarely sunny Kew Gardens.



Back to handing out pub flyers on the street.

Torta!!!!!

Crooning on my STEREO: Sei Parte Di Me by ZERO ASSOLUTO

Surprise!! Surprise!! I aint travelling out of the sH*T hole* this week. We're doing some sort of a run-up to HALLOWEEN followed by an unknown (to me, anyway) public holiday sometime next week. So there's lots of gatecrashing and kebab-ing to do.....

Today is a good Italian friend's birthday. And because I am one of the scarce few who live in the town center, I was delegated the pleasant task of buying a birthday cake. Or torta di compleanno as they may call it.

Why buying a cake in PERUGIA is a pain-in-the-ass.

1. Cake shops do not open on weekends.
2. The really good bakeries are very well hidden in the peripheries.
3. Even if you find them, they solo parle Italiano
4. I don't have a car.
5. Buses tend to disorientate you by driving through marshes and bushes.

With my usual luck I found an obscure chocalatier 800m away from my doorstep. CHOCALATIER. Yes, you read it right. They shouldn't sell cakes. They sell, CHOCOLATE.**

No sh*t.

After a near miss from a car trying to run me down while crossing the road, I found something remniscent to a CAKE.



THANK GOD. I dont care whats inside. Be it egg, bacons or bananas. I dont even care what's written on top. Whatever.

The next mission: FINDING A CANDLE.

fuck. where the hell do they sell candles in this sh*thole?

----------------
SIDENOTES

* Perugia is a sh*thole because no amount of animal poo in the zoo can beat the amount of doggy sh*t we have on the streets here.

**Chocolates = Perugia's Pride. Probably the only thing we are famous for. The world famous choc BACI originated from a Perugian based company that is very creatively named Perugina.

Italian for Slackers

Crooning on my STEREO: Girl From Mars by ASH

I tend to forget that I am on a study scholarship. The first time I conveniently missed class was when I lost my timetable. The second time, I was too smashed. And the third.... well, I decided to board the next train to Florence with my drink bud Jen just to go on a pub crawl. The day after, I went to Roma for the third time.

It's been three weeks since I set foot onto grand ol' Italia. Despite all that skyving and napping in class, I'd like to share with you the product of my sponsored education.

Handy Italian Phrases

1. CIAO!
Means both HELLO and GOODBYE. Probably my most overused greeting to please the builders on the scaffoldings facing my window.

2. GRAZIE
If this word doesn't ring a bell, then you're seriously dumb. Pronounce it as 'Gra- Zia' to show that you're in tune with the local dialect.

3. DOVE E ..... ?
Translates into 'Where is..... '. To date I've used this more than 150 times, so much that I have perfected it to sound like a local. Truth is, everyone is bound to get lost somewhere in Italy.

4. COME S'TAI?
Foreign students in Italy ADORE asking this countless times in one day. It just means ,'How Art Thou?'. To shut them up, just reply as per below:

5. STONO DI MERDA
Means 'I am shit.' Not exactly friendly, but they should get the drift.

6. NO CAPISCO/ NO LO SO/ NO CAPITO
The best phrase to rid ugly old men picking you up in a local bar. Chances are, they will try to speak to you in basic Italian or half-boiled English. Whatever it is, just keep saying 'I don't know.' Works everytime, I tell ya.

7. HO UN REGAZZO/ UNA REGAZZI
Another failproof sentence to ward off ugly schoolboys trying to take you home from a club. Say the sentence above (means 'I have a boyfriend/girlfriend') and point to the nearest bloke or chick. Becareful that you dont point to the asker's friend.

8. CUANTO COSTA?
The shopper's favourite question ,'How much is this?'. For security reasons I tend to ask this twice to make sure that the pricetag doesn't differ from what the shopkeeper charges. I can confirm that the Italians are brilliant mathematicians.

9. UNA KEBAB CON TROPPO MAIONESE, PER FAVORE
Self Explanatory. I love kebab. Have always loved them more than my handbags.

10. FIGLIO DE PUTANA
This was the first useful words Beckham learnt in Spanish: 'Hijo De Puta.'

10 useful phrases to begin with. Meanwhile, I will go back into some sort of chocolate partying which only Perugia is famous for...


Selamat Hari Raya and Happy Deepavali, my friends!!!!!