Do miracles also suddenly happen on holidays?
Because first things first. I didn't grow fat, surprisingly, considering the good food I had. Let me write about one of my favourites. They're favourites because I can still feel the taste on my tongue when I look at my pictures of them. This one is the German burger I had. I may be confusing the meaning of 'perfect' with 'favourite' here but the bun was of my favourite texture. And it was absolutely perfect. I will always remember what Ratatouille (I love Disney zomg) taught me about bread. 'The taste of good bread lies not in its smell or looks but in its sound' - I believe this even more after my encounter with the burger. And this burger had warm and juicy meat covered in just enough gravy sandwiched in between. And surrounding my burger and was a live quartet dressed in Santa Claus costumes holding double basses and trumpets singing Christmas carols. The scene made my heart dance. And finally, accompanying that absolutely beautiful moment was a fresh but everlasting memory I made of me ice-skating for the first time on a winter day. Beauty does happen in Germany too.
A Sharmaine that didn't read about Amsterdam in John Green's book would have walked into Amsterdam different than a Sharmaine who did. That by the way, is The Fault in Our Stars and officially the most beautiful book I've ever read. Thanks to John Green I entered Amsterdam with a vivid imagination about what it would be like. And thanks to John Green, I had the extraordinary chance to watch that same imagination unfold and come to life right before my eyes. I cannot forget as well how humourous Amsterdam is. This was from a sign at the end of an Amsterdam red light district alley containing prostitutes showcased like Mannequins in front of glass doors - "No sex. Only relaxation massage." I would kill for another chance to have my imagination come alive again. Bring me to the East or West Coast of USA, to the foot of Mt. Fuji, or an old Greek temple in Olympus for that chance. I would go all over the world but I would end off each trip saying the same simple thing - I love travelling.
The day I witnessed ultimate beauty (in the form of the Eiffel tower) was my last day in Europe and also the day I met a French man whose alcohol was cheaper than my hot chocolate. They were right about French accents being sexy. The French accent is as sexy as the city of Paris. I'm also still right about the most interesting people being the ones who talk about life. French history doesn't particularly interest me as much as other things but when it's told to me by a French man himself, everything changes. If you're my history teacher and you tell me about the French revolution, it's education. If you're a French man, it's storytelling.
And then you have love. It doesn't matter who you are and where you come from. Because when we start talking about love there are no barriers. Anybody can talk about love any different way they want, but you'd realise eventually that there's nothing different about it at all. This guy was white and eloquent looking with partially greying hair, sipping alcohol and sitting cross-legged in a Paris cafe. Sitting on his right were two suaku Singaporean tourists who were simply too tired from squeezing with PRCs at Lafayette. But they decided to have hot chocolate the same time this guy decided on alcohol. And all because of one hop on a plane and one mind-blowing destiny, I could have the priceless chance of hearing how much someone so different had the same love I have for Bruce Lee.
One day I'll make sure I set foot on every. single. country there is. Because I wouldn't be Sharmaine otherwise.
//tbc in feb
#lovinglifesince1996
Because first things first. I didn't grow fat, surprisingly, considering the good food I had. Let me write about one of my favourites. They're favourites because I can still feel the taste on my tongue when I look at my pictures of them. This one is the German burger I had. I may be confusing the meaning of 'perfect' with 'favourite' here but the bun was of my favourite texture. And it was absolutely perfect. I will always remember what Ratatouille (I love Disney zomg) taught me about bread. 'The taste of good bread lies not in its smell or looks but in its sound' - I believe this even more after my encounter with the burger. And this burger had warm and juicy meat covered in just enough gravy sandwiched in between. And surrounding my burger and was a live quartet dressed in Santa Claus costumes holding double basses and trumpets singing Christmas carols. The scene made my heart dance. And finally, accompanying that absolutely beautiful moment was a fresh but everlasting memory I made of me ice-skating for the first time on a winter day. Beauty does happen in Germany too.
A Sharmaine that didn't read about Amsterdam in John Green's book would have walked into Amsterdam different than a Sharmaine who did. That by the way, is The Fault in Our Stars and officially the most beautiful book I've ever read. Thanks to John Green I entered Amsterdam with a vivid imagination about what it would be like. And thanks to John Green, I had the extraordinary chance to watch that same imagination unfold and come to life right before my eyes. I cannot forget as well how humourous Amsterdam is. This was from a sign at the end of an Amsterdam red light district alley containing prostitutes showcased like Mannequins in front of glass doors - "No sex. Only relaxation massage." I would kill for another chance to have my imagination come alive again. Bring me to the East or West Coast of USA, to the foot of Mt. Fuji, or an old Greek temple in Olympus for that chance. I would go all over the world but I would end off each trip saying the same simple thing - I love travelling.
The day I witnessed ultimate beauty (in the form of the Eiffel tower) was my last day in Europe and also the day I met a French man whose alcohol was cheaper than my hot chocolate. They were right about French accents being sexy. The French accent is as sexy as the city of Paris. I'm also still right about the most interesting people being the ones who talk about life. French history doesn't particularly interest me as much as other things but when it's told to me by a French man himself, everything changes. If you're my history teacher and you tell me about the French revolution, it's education. If you're a French man, it's storytelling.
And then you have love. It doesn't matter who you are and where you come from. Because when we start talking about love there are no barriers. Anybody can talk about love any different way they want, but you'd realise eventually that there's nothing different about it at all. This guy was white and eloquent looking with partially greying hair, sipping alcohol and sitting cross-legged in a Paris cafe. Sitting on his right were two suaku Singaporean tourists who were simply too tired from squeezing with PRCs at Lafayette. But they decided to have hot chocolate the same time this guy decided on alcohol. And all because of one hop on a plane and one mind-blowing destiny, I could have the priceless chance of hearing how much someone so different had the same love I have for Bruce Lee.
One day I'll make sure I set foot on every. single. country there is. Because I wouldn't be Sharmaine otherwise.
//tbc in feb
#lovinglifesince1996
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