Winter wonderland

Mxlxysxxn Nxght dance rehearsal - I've been doing this for three years now. This time around, it feels like I've been handed a bunch of rejects who I'm expected to miraculously transform into talented dancers for a performance that will open the show and set the atmosphere for the rest of the evening. Unlike the first year where almost every dancer was involved in the play. Unlike the second year where the three dancers were the main actors of the play.


What really gets to me is how only half of them just can't be arsed. If it was all of them, I could get in a strop without feeling guilty. But when I get stroppy, I'm not angry because they never arrive on time or they don't concentrate during practices. I'm angry because it's not fair to the other half who are trying their best to pull off a decent dance show; who are taking it seriously and committing precious time and effort. And people question why Malaysia is still a developing country.


***


Stepping out from the practice venue, I'm confronted by two inches of snow on the ground. My bike had not been spared. I'm surprised I didn't even notice the snowfall despite the glass walls down one side of the venue. Talk about being focused in a rehearsal.


***


Taxa and I took a really long walk around Cambridge - up Castle Mound, across the Backs, through Market Square to Parker's Piece. Midnight past and we were one of the very few outdoors enjoying the freshly fallen untrodden snow. Wet hair from snowball fights, a wet back from a snow angel and frozen fingers from a snowoman. Banter intermittent banter.


It was really cold - I was wrapped up in five layers. Self-righteous snow against ironic night, I wondered which of the two is icier. The soft crunching of snow beneath my feet is the only reassurance I get.

Waterfowl

There's something rather endearing about British weather. I woke up to bright sunlight streaming through the sky window. Tad bit annoyed. I throw open the covers and windows in response to the stifling heat. Sky was a cloudless blue and it promised to be gorgeous day.


After brushing my teeth and a shower later, I was breakfasting on buttered toast over an article in the Economist. Interruption: soft, even patter of rain on the moss- and lichen-covered roof. The leaves on nearby trees danced gracefully to unseen winds whilst the grey clouds raced above.


Having packed everything after breakfast, I set off as the sun shone through a break in the clouds. The damp gravel crunched softly beneath my feet as diamonds glinting in the light of the sun showered down on me from the leaves as I made my way through Burrell's Walk.


Ten minutes before the train station, it begins to pour. All around me, people open their umbrellas and pull their raincoats over. I try my best to walk under the cover of the trees lining the road but within minutes, I'm drenched to the bone.


Anger overcomes me for a brief moment: it's easy to think that even the universe conspires against you. The feeling goes away just as quickly when I rationalize to myself that the universe is not conscious, let alone has intention. It's really least of my worries to be honest, albeit very uncomfortable and a pain up the arse.


Calling at its stations, I see people in short khakis and Bermuda shorts and polo shirts and t-shirts. Large black aviators offer protection from the glaring sun which has decided to show its face once more. Inside the train, I'm feeling slightly cold under my wet clothes as I roll my eyes at the irony of it all.

Happiness is a full stomach II

Because of its success, I decided to organize another potluck between us. Only this time, it was us three gay boys who cooked. Two reasons: Ting had been cooking for each of us every now and again and I felt bad for not having cooked for my friends thus far.


So despite not knowing how to cook, I tried to recall any simple dish I knew I could cook other than cup noodles or fried eggs, any whiff of a memory from what mother had taught me when I wasn't listening back then.


I won't divulge which dish is mine although you can probably guess. Coach joined us later on and we got him to guess which was whose. His comments for each of our three dishes were: 'Authentic. Confused. Obviously Tong.'


Yeah. So mine was 'confused' but to be fair, it was pitted against two other dishes cooked by a proper Asian and someone who took cooking lessons in Thailand. So it was well unfair. It didn't turn out too bad though considering how we ended up finishing it.


Coach said my dish brought back fond memories of his childhood days when he used to go camping in the woods with his mates and had to cook over an open fire. It's not very far-off is it? Sitting around the table instead of a fireplace with good food and those who truly matter.


And just for comedy value: our drawings of a wolf after Pictionary which seems to be the latest obsession. We play it at all of our little parties. Guess which one's Ting's.

Sick

Monday again. I walk the Ting back to her house like I always do. Decide to take the long way back: through the green. Just to sort myself out with some time alone in the fresh air.

Early October. Yet it's so cold that my breath disappears into the thick fog covering the green. Floating orbs of light send rays through the trees like they do in horror films.

Trees sigh. I sigh. And the cold night wind stirs up my thoughts and emotions. I'm angry at myself. Frustrated at other people.

Wind blows again. Lifts my spirit outwards and upwards for a brief moment. How nice it would be to haunt the world as a weightless floating spectre with neither aim nor direction.

Busy roundabout. I cross it. And the usual desire to jump in front of the oncoming car is unusually strong.

I want to feel alive. And the only way is to lose life itself first. In that few seconds, when realization smacks you right in the face before the car does, you know you're alive.

It's late. Training ends late all the time. People take their own fucking time to leave. I've got tonnes to do. And it's late. My head is spinning. And I'm just so.sick.of.everything.

Post-exam hedonism

After six continuous days of drunkenness and debauchery, I've finally copped out for a night of sobriety and propriety. But despite my patchy memory, I'll try to recap the past week.


Day 1 (Tuesday)
Immediately after my last paper, I rushed straight to the Mill for what would be my first alcoholic drink of many to come within the following days. It took a Herculaneum effort to contain my happiness. I could hardly stop myself from jumping up and down and skipping along the road.


Whilst waiting for the rest of team to turn up, I had a nice warm cup of tea with Peter at Pembroke College and caught up with him. It's been too long. The last I saw him was probably last term. Dinner followed soon after with some of team at the swanky Zizi's. Sweet wine flowed freely and we had a nice buzz going by the end of it.


More drinks followed at the Maypole with more of team turning up. Cocktails accompanied general banter and before long, we were too far gone to be saved. The rest of the night was spent dancing at Life.


Day 2 (Wednesday)
Celebratory drinks at a pub in commemoration of Andy who finished a day later despite doing the same course as I am. The small affair ended with more wine back at college.


Day 3 (Thursday)
Retail therapy with my beloved Sam from late morning to early afternoon. Drinks accidentally started at around 4.00 pm. We were drunk surprisingly early. But who would ever resist Cherry Brandy? Mmm! The alcohol was accompanied by thumping music and texts were immediately sent out to the rest of team. 'Spice up your life! Come to k's room! You know you wannabe! Say you'll be there!' You get the idea.


Tired and hungry, we retired to a quiet meal at the classy Pizza Express. With the night being so young, more drinks were in order after dinner. Same went for music and dancing. Second round. An episode with the vodkamelon followed of which more to come at another post. Like previous nights, the entire sordid affair ended early in the morning at around 5.00 am.


Day 4 (Friday)
When you're with team, you come to expect every night to begin with drinks. Cocktails and dinner began at Old Orleans where we were tipsy enough to chat up the waitress and play pictionary.


Satisfied and satiated, we trouped over to the University Centre for General Dancing. More drinks followed after at the bar before retiring to my room for even more alcohol. Once again, music and more dancing ensued. Twister is always a good idea when you're drunk and with team. Before long, we were progressing on to Advance Twister which can only be left to the imagination.


Day 5 (Saturday)
All I can say is: Special day. Also, Ali's birthday celebration with lots of alcohol and random banter. Didn't stay for long because of too much alcohol and general happiness.


Day 6 (Sunday)
Team Garden Party at Darwin Island. Alex prepared the Pimm's whilst his boyfriend Dan got the barbecue started. That was until I replaced Alex who had diluted the Pimm's way too much with Lemonade till it was just as good as Lemonade. Oh and not forgetting the much anticipated vodkamelon.

It's unbelievable how inappropriate team can be and the fact we put up with it. Life followed immediately and boy, was it packed! But again, when you're with the dance team, it's not a problem getting our own space on the dancefloor. We're not trying to make the others look bad. Honest.


Funnily enough, my room became the last stop after Life where we had nice cups of tea and good soothing music. It was a good relaxing way to end the night.

And so, I rest on the seventh day. Only to ready myself for the coming week: May Week. And the rest of my Summer break.

Happiness is a full stomach

The Ting's counter (note ingredients)

'Kenny! I need your help!' the Ting says to me as she opens the door. I roll my eyes. When you're friends with the Ting, you come to expect these things to happen. 'It's a mess!' I roll my eyes again.

The Tong's stove

She leads me to her kitchen and I finally understand her exasperation. Before us, her ingredients strew the kitchen floor, dinning table and counters. Raw food still in their wrappings, pre-prepared food on plates and in tupperwares as well as plastic bags of condiments. 'We're so not taking your entire kitchen with us,' I say to her.

A ting tong evening

Eight plastic bags, five tupperwares, a plate of prawns and a potted basil later, we cram ourselves into the coach's car. The Tong's cheerful greeting gets lost in his apprehension when he finds out that the Ting's ingredients fill the entire boot and backseats. He's clearly unimpress by her coloured candles with rose petals and orange peel decoration.

The Tong's zucchini and porcini risotto with rocket salad

Joining the Ting's promise to cook for me and the Tong's promise to cook for the coachess was a good idea. With such company, it'll be a weekend of endless merriment and laughter. The coach's car is like a time machine and before long, I'm back in my long-gone childhood days spent running barefoot over soft green grass under a benevolent sun without a care in the world.

The Ting's flowery prawns

The coachess greets us warmly when we arrive and shows us her kitchen. It's bigger than the Ting's. Big enough to dance in as the Ting practises some Cha basics. The Tong follows her example and soon, we're all working the floor.

The Tong's dill salmon on asparagus with minted baby potatoes

Satisfied with their basics, the Ting and the Tong start cooking. Within an hour, the Tong is almost ready to serve his starter while the Ting is still preparing her ingredients. Realising she's behind time, she recruits me and the coach to help her. 'The only things I can cook are cup noodles.' She doubts my cooking abilities but gets me to cut bread into little perfect cubes.

The Ting's chicken lemon grass and salad

I try my best to fulfil her demands. Tediously.and.painstakingly.slow. Finished with butterflying the Ting's prawns, the coach relieves me of my suffering and starts to shred the bread into small indistinguishable shapes at a reckless speed. 'She won't notice. And even if she does, we won't be eating at 9.00 pm at the very least,' the coach whispers to me. The Ting glares at us.

The Tong's raspberry cheesecake

Two hours later, we gather in the tastefully furnished dining room and sit ourselves around the dining table where the Ting's candles cast a soft red and blue glow. Alternating between the best of both Western and Eastern cuisines, we subject our taste buds to a mind-shattering explosion of orgasmic tastes. With our tongues occupied, we tease our intellects with discussions on chilli and other trivial matters.

The Ting's yellow mung bean sweet soup (with whiskey)

Two hours and six courses later, the coachess compliments the chefs and retires early from the night. I pity the baby. All he or she will be getting are simple sugars and amino acids. Then again, being carried around all day in a warm squishy waterbed must surely make up for it.

The Ting 2-0 The Tong

The rest of us waddle into the living room and flump ourselves onto comfy couches. We nurse our palate with steaming cups of tea over small talk. Once our stomachs stopped protesting, the coach sets up his EyeToy which we play well into the early hours of the morning. The Ting gets a tad bit too excited in my opinion but amazes us by winning the Brad Pitt quiz.

The hurdles race

We didn't know it then but we would all awake late next morning with aching arms due to the Ostrich race. Still, live life for the moment I say. And right there and then, that was my life: Spent with the ones I cherish and love the most.

General Dancing

The music plays from the four speakers at the corners of the hall. Bolted and secured high on the walls, they are a first for the Cambridge Dancers' Club, replacing the old portable sound system. Before me, couples dance the graceful Foxtrot, in circles of rise and falls. From my experience, I can tell the professionals from the amateurs.

Many people come up to me and say 'hello' or 'hi'. Acquaintances. Some start a conversation with me of which I lose interest almost immediately. Friends. Two of them force me to dance with them. Not that I don't want to dance with them. I'm just not in the mood.

'Maybe it's just for the sake of being polite,' I thought as I try my best to ignore anyone I know. Eye-contact. That's the key. No eye-contact means no obligation for people to talk to me. All I want is to be alone.

When I have my moment's peace, I watch them dance. Their mistakes. Errors. Flaws. Through their mistakes, I correct my own as I run a mental video of my routine. Most of the dancers on the floor have appalling posture. It sticks up like a sore thumb. Sore thumbs in this case. Self-conscious, I check to make sure that my own posture is spotless.

It's a habit. Not that I go every week. But I always leave during the last Waltz. It's a mystery. Been a while now.

The cold air is refreshing. I make my way slowly to Clare Bridge, my favourite bridge. In the semi-darkness, the Cam is eerily beautiful. I let my thoughts run loose. I collect them. With a deep breath, I obediently head back to my room as revision beckons.

Jogging

Just got back from one. The long one. The exhausting one. Three days running now. I've been experiencing a lot of pent-up frustrations recently. Three days. That says a lot coming from myself.

But it feels great to just take it out on the beaten path at the backs of the Cam. So much better than pumping iron in a stuffy gym. The scenery does nothing to allay my anger. If anything, it fans it into a blind rage. The world isn't this beautiful at all. Mother Nature's a liar.

And when my frustrations surface, I push myself even harder. Faster. So the wind blows it all away. So I leave them behind without a backward glance. With only the firmness of the path beneath my feet reassuring me in my times of doubt.

At the end of the day, your sweat runs down your rugged face. Your shirt clings to your broken body. And your muscles scream at you. 'Hell yeah!'

Surreal

Opening his small black umbrella, he emerges from the laboratory into the cold wet dusk of night. As the rain falls around him, he walks down the old cobbled streets of Cambridge. The dim yellow streetlights dance upon the rippling puddles which he cautiously avoids. And all around him, pedestrians hurry home as cyclists whiz past.

Shaking the raindrops off his umbrella, he ascends the staircase leading to his room. He unlocks the signposted door with his name printed above it. With a sigh of contention, he enters his warm familiar room, kicks off his shoes and snuggles underneath the duvet of his cosy bed.

The good

On the other hand however, I had a really enjoyable weekend. Here's an account of it:

Friday night was spent watching the monthly meteor shower orionids with a friend until the wee hours of the morning. It was a cold night despite the low clouds which threatened to stop us from seeing any meteors. But we brought a few of packets of crisps and a flask of steaming milo with us as we made our way on foot to Castle Mound - the highest spot in Cambridge. It was perfect. When we arrived, the clouds had cleared and it was dark enough to make out the faintest of faint stars as we laid down to watch the dance of the celestial bodies. We passed the night away, kept each other company, made small talk, seemingly insignificant, but nonetheless meaningful. And witnessed three meteors. It was my first and I made three wishes.


Saturday was a very hectic day with dance taking up most of it. But it all ended very nicely with a potluck dinner I organized with a few friends and freshers. It was a pre-Halloween celebration and we all came in costume. It was a very enjoyable meal with just about enough food and alcohol while the chatter was lively and funny. After the meal, I rushed off to my friend's room for our weekly mahjong session before heading to Queens' for their R&B Ents with the rest of the Dancesport team. It was a very good night indeed with some of us getting slightly tipsy and dancing energetically on the dancefloor. Saturday night ended with a rather interesting chat in Sam's room to which I shall not divulge the contents in order to avoid embarassing myself.


The weekend ended with a relaxing formal at Pembroke. Peter invited me over for a free formal meal at his college to which I accepted. It was my first formal of the term although not my first at Pembroke. This is how busy I am. But the food was good and so was the company. Peter gave a tour of his college before ending with a friendly chat in his room where we discussed many matters including our future involvements with OCEP. It was definitely a very good weekend although I doubt it'll happen again. Very much less as the term progresses. But it was a good respite from it all.

And the bad

The past two days have been the worst days of the term so far. Here's an account of it:

I woke up really early at 7.45 am on Thursday morning hoping to catch up on some of my work before my first lecture at noon as stated on my lecture timetable. While having my breakfast, I thought it slightly suspicious that I've had three consecutive Thursdays starting at noon and this being the fourth one. So I decided to recheck my timetable and to my horror, I realized that I've been looking at the previous week's timetable with the current one stating that I've got a Neuroanatomy practical starting at 10.00 am. So I plowed through the practical manual in order to familiarize myself with the experimental procedure whilst feeling absolutely terrible that I had to postpone my revision.

When I arrived at the laboratory, I was utterly dismayed when we were told to conduct another experiment instead of the one I had already read. It also didn't help that my laboratory partner was not keen on the experiment and just couldn't be bothered to do anything which really got on my nerves. But the one thing which annoyed me the most was when he asked for my answer to a supervision question which I had already submitted. After telling him my answer, he patronizingly shook his head and proceded to explain why my answer was wrong while giving me his correct answer. I honestly do not understand why he even bothered to ask me for my answer when he already had the correct one. The fact that I had already submitted my assignment made it all even worse because that meant I couldn't change my answer.

So after a gruelling two-hour practical which I conducted on my own, I had to attend a Pharmacology lecture which I look forward to as much as going home. The current lecturer has as much passion for the subject as a cold body waiting for an autopsy. It's the way he presents himself. It's the way he stands, walks and talks. It's the tone and slur of his speech. Think of the teacher Mr. Garrison from Southpark and you have a pretty good replica of him. I have never in my entire educational life felt such a strong urge to throw something at him after every. single. god. damned. lecture. I would've followed the rest of my friends and skipped the entire lecture series if I weren't so afraid of regretting that I did not try my best when I fail my Pharmacology exams.

And just a moment ago, I was notified that I wasn't selected to represent England in Germany which I found slightly disappointing although I was expecting not to get selected. It just seemed as if all my efforts for the past few weeks - rushing my work during the day so as to dance the nights and weekends away - were flushed down the drain. Despite the fact that I got selected to represent England in Vienna, I think I'm going to give it a miss because I was really banging on Germany instead. Oh well. I just hope the weekend will take a turn for the better.

It's nice to be part of it too

So I spent the whole day along the banks of the river Cam just in front of Trinity College's Wren Library. The sunny weather was just to gorgeous to be spent indoors and the place was absolutely beautiful. The library overshadows the green lawns which border the river as it takes a bend beneath two willow trees. I like it there.



There's a bench which I've already claimed as my own after spending hours on it writing up my coursework. From it, I can see the hillarious antics of novice punters tackling one of the hardest bends of the river. More so because the furthest edge of the riverbed isn't covered by gravel resulting in a lot of stranded poles.


~


So I struck up a lively conversation with an elderly lady sitting next to me. I like talking to the elderly. They have such a jaded view of the world - one that comes from wisdom and experience after having lived for so long. We both shared the same love for the river - for the reassuring sound of the pole striking the gravel. And after having talked for hours about family, punting and life in general, she said:

"It's amusing to see the world go by, it's nice to be part of it too."

and the world suddenly seemed so different to me.

~

I think people are getting more spoilt by the generation. In Hong Kong, I witnessed a maid carrying a student's bag in one hand while holding up an umbrella for her royal highness in the other in order to shade her pale skin from the sun. And back in my time, my parents couldn't afford to fly with me to England. Back in my time, they couldn't drive up from London to Cambridge. Back in my time, they couldn't help me unpack and decorate my room, sort out bank account applications for me or buy groceries for me. It's quite clear what the world is coming to and it doesn't look pretty.