The last hurrah before the beginning of everything else, of the rest of our lives. I didn't get to travel anywhere besides a short getaway to Malaysia in December of 2022. That period which is traditionally the 'winter' holidays- or as much as you can call it that while living on the literal burning equator without batting an eyelid, anyway. It was, then, very fitting that I should kickstart my happy new year by going on trip together with my hall friends, the group we dearly and jokingly refer to as kookabar (missing three individuals and yes, you were very missed). We've gone from little dweeby Year 1s not knowing the enormity and the weight of what was to come, to where we all are now as near-graduates, poised on the precipice of the future. This flight to Bali was coming full circle. Some time ago, at least in my memory, my world was that building at 8 College Avenue East, but that's the funny and wonderful thing about life, it expands at whim and with no warning- so now, we fly. *mixture of film and digital shots used DAY 1: TAKE-OFFOur flight to Bali, Denpasar was early. As in, so early that one of us actually slept over in the airport to save time and money travelling at 6a.m., choosing to tuck himself away in a corner of Changi like a hobo. The rest of us arrived like normal people, though in various states of alertness and still dazed with sleep. But one wonderful thing about Changi Airport is its (for the most part) automated efficiency, so I think we found ourselves through the iconic departure doors in good time and set off in anticipation, Bali-bound.
We headed directly to our hotel, the Ramada Encore by Wyndham, after a flight that was so bouncy I suspect my head might have left an imprint on the plane's ceiling. Now that I'm looking back, I realise I didn't even take any pictures of our apartment, but it was spacious, clean, and comfortable, with a charming balcony that overlooks the hotel swimming pool, as do all the other units, atrium-style. We'd chosen a serviced apartment type accommodation in a hotel for better central location and to still have the option of hanging out together in the living room, just without the bells and whistles- and marked up prices- of a luxuriously fitted villa that dots the island probably by the thousands. By the time we managed to reach our lunch place via walking (the first and last time we'd choose to walk anywhere over 15 minutes) it was already about 1p.m., the sun was relentless and blazing, and we were famished.
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THE PRE-MOVE Truth be told, I wasn’t thinking very hard when I chose to go to the Netherlands for exchange. In fact, I wasn’t even hoping that much for this option. Admittedly I romanticized my other choices more, like France or New Zealand, dreaming of the glamorized city streets of Paris or sweeping landscapes of Wellington, the kind that takes your breath away. Rotterdam didn’t even sound that nice (as an English speaker of course, forgive me), rot had an ominous ring- and not that lovely is it?, and I didn’t have much to go on by other than that my sister really liked her time in Leiden, plus that the Dutch really love their bikes. Well, I am not a great cyclist. At least I wasn’t when I first went over. Terrible, actually. Just a few months prior I’d gone on my very last ‘night cycle’ of Singaporean hall tradition and vividly remember crashing, almost in slow-motion, into a barrier just as we were returning our bikes to the rental shop at the end of the night. Now I was meant to jump directly into the most prominent cycling culture in the globe and do it well? Jesus, take the wheel(s). The weeks leading up to my 14-hour flight were also slightly panic-riddled and can only best be described as…scrambling. I’m a pretty chill person and try not to be overwhelmed by simple tasks, but moving anywhere is a HUGE event no matter the occasion, the extent of my experience being packing one huge luggage for CAPT Residential College like twice a year where my family home is literally a couple bus stops away. By some miracle I managed to cobble together essential belongings and arrange official matters adequately. Slowly but surely as the sun rises, came the day of the flight: 23 January 2022. I was holding it together by tiny fragile strings as I looked at everyone who’d come to see me off at the airport (please receive my unending gratefulness, you know who you are); my family, my precious networks of support and love and knowing, even if only a brief time in this grand universe, I am about to step into a world of unknowing, a new frontier. THE MOVE I cried on the flight. I’m a self-proclaimed largely unsentimental person, meaning I move on from people and places fairly easily- keep moving, don’t look back. It’s go go go. But it was a bit like a baby chick leaving their nest- okay, fully. For any international readers though, let me blame it on classic Singapore Asian culture. There isn’t so much of a concept of young people moving out of our family homes early, unless you’re loaded or don’t care or probably both, so a lot of us have never been away from familiarity for that long. So I cried, head bent, tears dripping off my nose onto the pages of my diary before me, trying not to be to attract attention from other passengers like a weird emotional girl having mental break-down on a machine 35,000 feet in the air. To this day, I don’t quite know what those tears were for. I was definitely partly afraid, that odd sense of fatality I get when travelling anywhere, expecting things to go wrong at a moments’ notice. I suppose also a pervading feeling of loss, being unseated from my position of safety and status. In Singapore, I can comprehend who I am, I understand how I navigate the concentric circles of home, with people I trust wholly and accord that same trust back to me. Arriving in the Netherlands, I forgot who that person was. I became someone who knew no one, and whom no one knew. SETTLING IN The undoing of myself came first, my most initial realization. In the first week I arrived in Rotterdam, I wasn’t due to move into the school dorm yet, so I stayed in an AirBnb with one host, also a Chinese lady, who’s a researcher and Master’s student. She was out of the apartment a lot for work, so I spent the days whiling away in the bare space of the house, skidding across her floors, playing videos non-stop, just to block out the deafening silence that would sweep across in their absence. I hated the silence, really loathed it. It made me think about how alone I was suddenly in the total foreign-ness of Europe. Anecdotally, during this period I watched channels like Try Guys and Kelly Wakasa, Ashley, etc. because their content is fun and lighthearted (most of the time) it distracted me. However, affairs need to be set in order too. Trying to follow legal procedures like getting my residence permit, a social security number, and so on was a nightmare. Not pointing fingers on European administration, but it was really hard to book a date for appointments running on months in advance- by which then I would’ve become an ILLEGAL resident in the country. I called and sobbed on the phone to Dorcas multiple times which is hilarious looking back on it now, but back then it felt like I was simply going to face Dutch court, be deported in 90 days, and possibly expelled from NUS. Well, by divine grace these boxes were eventually ticked off. In tandem I tried to bring myself out of the house, explore the city, which was frankly the whole reason for going earlier. Those early days of wandering a 500-metre radius around the apartment in Rotterdam’s Chinatown, not daring to go further just in case, coming back well before 5pm because it started get dark early in winter. One particular evening, I’d come back from a relatively nice dinner with the other Singaporeans on exchange- but slightly on edge because it was of course already dark and I had to make a portion of the way home alone. As soon as we parted ways the nervousness built up in my chest until I was almost jogging back to the apartment, keeping an eye out for any possible signs of danger, of strange men emerging from the shadows (if only in my imagination). Only to arrive breathless at the doorstep and find out the keys wouldn’t open the goddamn door, and I waited, sat crumpled and wrung on the floor gripped in inexplicable fear, for over one endlessly terrible hour until landlady came home and showed me how to open it: simple as 1, 2, 3. THE REAL MOVE What are your goals going into exchange? I wonder how many of us will say that we intended to put down real roots in the chosen country, apart from “getting to know” a different culture, lifestyle, school. Of course, everyone’s idea of exchange is different. The goals can and do range widely. From travelling to as many places as humanly possible to just stepping out of your comfort zone by cycling to school every day, to hitting up as weird foods as possible. I never intended to make Netherlands a home. Yet when I got to move into my permanent accommodation in Hatta Building, 328K, I looked around and thought: finally, I can place some roots down. I really did try to. And in the end, I do truly think room 328K unit #2 was my safest, comforting space, my home base. I bought fairy lights, a must-have in any bedroom. I bought a clothes rack that I had to lug halfway across the city like a madwoman and thereafter assemble with my bare hands, given my pertinent lack of screwdrivers. I bought a sweet vintage floral mirror. I arranged and rearranged and cleaned. Became used to my lovely roomie’s quirks, like Ema’s alarm going off for each task she had set for the day, or Zhiheng’s morning rush to the library before all the best spots were taken. Maybe it’s true what they say about Tauruses, that we like a sense of structure, a bit of routine day to day. Written in the stars or not, I loved busying myself with home building. We outfitted the kitchen with new appliances, a requisite toaster for me and an oven for some variety. We allotted one cupboard for each of us and inside mine I stored up food- my own pantry!- simple kitchen staples plus Asian dried goods. Life was starting to shape up. Look up. THE DISCOVERIES Is it perhaps Maslow’s hierarchy of needs coming into play? Settling into a proper home paved the way for wider exploration. I felt ready to get acquainted with the city and its people. In a twist of fate, I had the chance to go for ‘Wintro Days’, a paid Erasmus Uni orientation programme that I hadn’t signed up for before flying over, as one of my friends had fallen sick and couldn’t attend. That, along with one other orientation day specifically for exchangers in Erasmus were my two formal introductions to the school and a glimpse into what it’s all about. I think the events showed a commendable amount of effort. We were brought on a walking tour around Rotterdam, across its famous Erasmusburg, giving us space to talk to each other too. There was a pub crawl one night where I, being truly myself, ordered nothing but iced tea the entire time. (More on alcohol a little later). We went ice-skating in an indoor rink, which was so hard but also very fun. They took us to try our first Dutch frites, a large cone of french fries doused liberally in any sauce you like: ketchup and mayonnaise being the most popular. But honestly, my biggest takeaways from these orientations were the other Singaporean exchangers. I talked to as many a nice individual as I could, and everyone was obviously on their best conversational behavior too. I spoke to Italians, French, Turks, as well as students from the wider Asian diaspora, but maybe at that time I was still new and apprehensive, so I preferred to stick with the deep relatability and sense of belonging of ‘us’ Singaporeans: Jamie, Zhimin, Jeremiah, Allysa, Isha, Wei Bin, Eunice, and others. Remember how we had a pub crawl? That should have been a hint to how social life reigns in Rotterdam. Did I also mention that I generally don’t even like alcohol? I have a secret rule for myself; that I don’t drink unless, and only if, I’m hanging out with people I trust and love. I know, that defeats the entire purpose of social drinking. I’ve just never believed you need to imbibe to get to know another person, nor bolster your personality or confidence. And because most alcohol doesn’t taste nice to me (I have the flavour palette of a child), not to mention being in possession of a severe Asian flush, drinking is a symbol of admission, of recognition that you’re already a friend. House parties, pubs, and clubbing are huge in the city, the former especially on campus. They’re ways not only to jive with your clique, but to talk to acquaintances and strangers alike. I’m not saying there’s completely no other way to make friends. I’m sure there is, less intense and more universally palatable ways, just that I was less aware of them or simultaneously that they existed on the fringes, rather than a focus. THE PEOPLE So how did I even make friends? Two words: Facebook and class. I guess you can say I went back to my roots, the quintessential Ly-way, having spent my teenage years talking to strangers on the Internet through Tumblr, and turning back to what everyone had in common: school. With the first, I found a page called Girls Gone International, which is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a group for the international female community in Rotterdam, and sounded like everything I needed. There, I linked up with a girl called Miah, originally from South Africa and graduated from Uni in Netherlands, along with some other girls: Tasha, from Zimbabwe; Maddie, from America; Alice, from Germany; and sometime later Bella, from Suriname. The first time I met them I was pretty nervous, mostly worried at what everyone would think about me, what with all our different backgrounds. We’d decided on burgers in South Rotterdam and drinks after, but because of the Sunday night crowd were forced to make our way back to Centraal and get a Spanish dinner with sangria instead. On that evening I realized that I was the youngest in the group life-stage wise, because everyone else was already graduated and either working or looking for work. It was a funny observation, but honestly over the next few months as we hung out more I didn’t think much about it anymore because despite that we could still talk about the other 99% parts of life. I think one of my best memories is when Miah hosted a midsummer (Midsommar) themed dinner at her house and we cooked carbonara and desert, ending off the night with a game of WNRS: something lovely and simple but sweet, an ordinary night turned out of the ordinary. Another fave memory of mine is when Maddie and I went to club together at Rotown. We agreed later on that we both felt super awkward and hesitant at the time, which I laugh about now, but that the night turned out pretty fun amidst pounding Spanish music and a couple that seemed to really enjoy dancing with us, insisting on taking a selfie that I have somewhere on my phone now. Miah and I also eventually collaborated on a video podcast together, as she’s a content creator, which is also extremely cool to me because duh- I have not (and still don’t feel) “worthy” of being collaborated with. It’s nice enough that some people like you guys find my life interesting to follow. Anyway, the GGI girls, as I call them in my head, became really important to me, an oasis of lighthearted but uplifting energy. One ball of light I met through class was an adorable Vietnamese girl Mai. I’d noticed her as soon as she walked through the door, just one of those Asian recognition moments I unconsciously developed in Netherlands, but we didn’t talk until there was a loo break one time and as I came out, she was outside drying her hands. I can’t remember what she asked anymore, but she was super friendly and we started chatting all the way until break ended, linked up again after class, and made plans to meet for lunch again. I was so surprised at having made a friend in the toilet, but it’s one of those funny things looking back. Mai’s adventurous yet sweet, sassy but caring. We talked a lot about our experience being foreign students, hobbies- she does pole!, family, and dating. We cooked a deadass delicious japchae in her house. We even managed to meet up recently in my trip to Hanoi, and it felt really cool, a familiar face in a totally foreign country once more. Another unexpected friendship came in the form of Sabine, my tall and gentle Dutch classmate in Science Fiction in the Media. I’d unwillingly struggled awake for the ungodly 9am physical lecture to find her standing outside the room, unsure, to which we entered together and sat next to each other just because, struck up a conversation at breaktime, and continued along to a second meeting at Backyard Café for coffee and a real cultural exchange. I must have asked her one thousand questions about Dutch living so it’s a miracle she stayed there LOL. Genuinely I just had such nice vibes in her presence, it’s like how you can tell with your gut sometimes which people you jive with from the get-go. We managed to catch a picnic at Kralingse Bos before I left, which is till this day one of the most peaceful places I’ve been in in my life. I met so many people in the course of exchange, each one a thread in the rich fabric of connections there. My neighbour in Hatta, Pearl, is also from NUS and she’d invite me over for dinner at hers with her groupie of international friends, a loud energetic bunch that always made me laugh. The morning to evening small hello’s or bye’s or catch-ups with Zhi Heng and Ema were part of my routine too, peppered with socializing here and there: going shopping with Shafa from Indonesia, and my one friend from Erasmus Sports class Vencha, a Chinese-Dutch medical student. I’d be very remiss though, to not mention my already-friends who also traversed Europe- Harini & Gavin, whom I managed a trip to Greece with (it was amaaazing); Eli giving me heaps of helpful tips about Rotterdam; Grace, who stayed with me for a night; Chloe, stopping over on the way to Germany from Canada; Ivan on a two-week vacation, seeing Em and Darrell in Spain; even Derpy, who is an ancient working man somehow on an extended overseas work arrangement. So the fabric of connection was woven both thin and thick, but overall, kept my heart warm, especially on those cold days with blustery wind. THE LESSONS I wrote about change here, in the thick of it all. Now that it’s over, I safely conclude I saw less than 10 cats overall in those months, which is kind of sad. Lots and lots of dogs though! Another change is that I like the occasional club session now, plus a tiny bit more alcohol than before. Most of all, I learned that everyone’s exchange story is wildly different, and that mine being what it is is totally valid, it’s true, and worthy. I might not have done much except for travel a little, eat out once in a while, and generally attempt to take care of myself, but truthfully that’s enough for me. My favourite activity is still the weekly market runs at Blaak, where there was bustle from stall owners hawking bread and blueberries and vegetables- so many colours, sights and sounds. I’d cycle back with bags heavy from groceries, alternately cursing and blessing the wind, weighed down yet light, each time completely alone; open. I learned that love comes in great and small forms. I had to love myself when I hated myself, feeling lonely and friendless, because if not life can’t move on. I had to accept love, through calls with friends back home, unanticipated friendships, people who for some reason wanted to make time for me and to know me. I felt God’s love through these things, when the sun broke through on a cloudy day for what seemed like an eternal sunshine, illuminating the sky. THE LOVE
I owned two bikes in Netherlands. The first, Rose, my one and only. After she was stolen (listen to my podcast for the full story), I got Rebel. On these bicycles I got to know how to navigate the signature red bicycle paths of Rotterdam, going from being afraid to turn my head to cruising along comfortably one-armed, the other lazily dangling by my side to feel air rushing between my fingers. I still can’t ride with both hands free from the handlebars, but I’m working on it, promise. Far cry from crashing headfirst into a metal barrier eh? I came to know myself again on those bikes. That’s when I felt the most free, “that moment when your heart is about to burst.” It’s that I return to, time and again, feeling infinite- the unbearable lightness of being. Does anything look different to you? The answer is..yes, it really should, because everything is different. To be honest, I don't even know where to start. I will just talk about some of the things I have noticed as a freshly minted exchanger in Netherlands, and maybe you can see for yourself if these can be sufficiently categorised as real, true change. So I love the wind. I don't care if that sounds corny or ridiculous. I LOVE the wind, I adore it when I stand on my fourth floor balcony at home overlooking nothing and there's a slight breeze that ruffles through my hair, over my skin. I feel like I can lift off and fly, and on an unrelated tangent my childhood dream power was to be able to fly. I love cycling because the air whooshes past your moving body and you feel almost invincible. I love being by the seaside because air absolutely rushes there, and when there's nothing but big blue below and above, you're just a speck in the universe. Here, there's always wind. Always. In Singapore, we do get wind- usually before it rains, like an ominous signal to the country's biggest thunderstorm where we wash out in grey. Or if it's a hot day, the wind is kind of warm and balmy, like when you point a fan at yourself and it blows heat back at you. There's wind here, so much of it, so powerful, that windmills are dotted all around the country. The wind's existence is impossible to ignore. In the morning, when I wake up, I hear it whistling outside my window. When I'm outside I get near buffeted by strong gusts, and if I'm cycling against the tide of the wind, nature wins out. For the first time in my life, I hate the wind, but past this newfound annoyance, I still love it deeply. Another thing is, I see so many dogs here. I swear there aren't even that many dogs on the street back home, but here in Rotterdam people love taking their dogs out for walks, into shops, on the trams. I am of course a huge fan, but my question is: where are the cats of Holland? How come, since the four weeks I've arrived, I have not seen a SINGLE cat? Do the Dutch hold a grudge against them? There are dog people and cat people everywhere. Sometimes they are firmly in their own camps and will not acknowledge any positive aspects of the other creature. That's unavoidable and a fact of life. In Singapore, I have met housecats and stray cats aplenty. I've also met (more) domestic dogs and the occasional street dog. I like them all, I'm a both person. So while my dog side- one can even say my bitch side- has been happy here, my cat side is kind of sad, like are they considered pests and just kept off the streets? I guess the thought that is holding it together is that they're all just indoors, being cared for by responsible pet owners, and none of them have to suffer surviving outdoors in the damp and cold. Then there's me. As I sit in my (new) room and type this, I'm wearing a (new) matching pyjama set, listening to a (new) Spotify playlist, glancing occasionally at my (new) thrifted mirror and wondering...how a lot can change in the space of a mere 3 weeks.
Today, I walked and cycled around the city alone and had the time of my life. I visited Blaak open-air market, as if I haven't been to SG fish markets ever, but okay it is less typically wet and fishy than, well, fish markets. I bought kibbeling, which is Netherlands' version of fried fish and it was piping hot and delicious. I browsed through much fresh produce and got some blueberries, avocados and oranges. I treated myself to some sweet coconut balls after boxing class. When I cycled back home, I didn't see a single cat as per normal, but the wind was strong and blew at me, past me, into present and future, carrying the secrets only it knows. Lx We were truly hungry in Hong Kong this time round, and it shows from all the food-tripping we did- what better than to discover a city in its famously delicious cuisine. Whoever thought of stuffing shrimps in a rice wrap? I must shake his hand vigorously. I used to be such an angmohpai, because every time we went to HK (up to twice a year when I was younger) we'd have dimsum so many times I grew tired of it, and I had home cooked Chinese dinner almost every single day of my life. I craved Western restaurant food. To me, that was a real treat.
What a fool I was. Chinese food is held very fondly to me now. It is gotdamn tasty, Westerners can fight me on this. Fish and chips or a monster pizza against glistening roast pork? Or perfectly steamed Xiao long baos? Plus, what can I say? It's our culture. Here is my memory log of a fraction of the nosh we had. I will dream of it, counting down the days until we fly back again. This was one of the rare non-solo trips that I went on while in Australia this June, but it was one of the best. It was a trip that my grandfather, my 公公, suggested to me, and my aunty- Daisy 姨姨- jumped on board to make it a whole family outing. With 婆婆 getting on in years, particularly in her mind, it's really quite hard to convince her to go anywhere that's not within a 3km radius of the house. She has problems walking, needs a cane, and dementia. She refuses to let anyone hold her. There was once 公公 had to literally drag her to the neighbourhood park for a little walk. I actually snorted a bit at that, because it's like battle of the two wills.
So travelling all the way out to Auburn is no mean feat. We piled into the car, I started giving dubious Google-mapped directions, we made it there in one piece. It was a sunny day perfect for a stroll in Auburn gardens. It's every bit as Australia as I would imagine it to be. Lx |
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