Since Hannover, I haven't quite been able to look at rich food and meat as hungrily as I typically would.
I remember finding my left hand oily midway through the pork knuckle, only to find it was because the lard was dripping down my fork when I held each piece to my mouth. Except for the last picture, these were from lunch and dinner on the first day I was there, by the way.
Some say Hannover isn't representative of what Germany is really about. For that, you should go to a busier city like Berlin, they say.
I wouldn't know—I haven't been to Germany before this (transiting in Frankfurt doesn't count), but some of the stereotypes did surface: serious and dour faces with gruff service attitudes, although things were nice and orderly and clean.
I hate to default to this assumption, but on more than one occasion I did wonder if racism had a part in the sometimes icy reception. I don't make this assumption often, but in less cosmopolitan Western cities, I meet standoffish reactions more.
In the cab yesterday, one of the Hong Kong journalists pointed out a dog by the side of the road. The taxi driver immediately chimed, "Yes, dog. Pet. Not food."
Were we the only Chinese people around? I scrutinised every other yellow person on the street for signs of not fitting in.
Nonetheless, I perhaps didn't get around Hannover enough to experience the city for what it was worth. Travelling here for a conference meant that most of my contact with the locals was limited to service staff and sales clerks—oh, and the occasional staring passerby.
(I figured out how to add captions to photos from within my iPhone. Go, me!)
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Maybe this isn't as bad as the time I sat next to that guy with a prosthetic arm on a long haul flight, and he kept prodding me with it to ask me questions.
But fake arm or otherwise, it's the prodding to ask questions I really take issue with. Like this guy. Shoulders McElbowson. Who was crossing into my territory of the arm rest barrier the whole flight, and passed the time by randomly prodding me to ask questions.
Like where I was going and if I was a student and oh, you're going there for work, what is it that you do, are you from Singapore. Umm. Clearly, monosyllabic responses and a dramatic show of annoyance at removing my earphones were not big enough hints that I didn't care for the impromptu conversation.
And why also did he have to wait till I settled in to go to the bathroom each time? I wouldn't have taken it personally if not for him obviously choosing not to go the three times the guy on his other side got up. He perhaps took me for the friendly sort when I helped find his earphone jack. But it was only because he kept flapping the arm rest up and down like he was trying to extract water from a well. Just call me Miss Approachable.
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The Twin Towers, some street performers keeping very still, a man passed out on a link bridge, the ceiling of the Twin Towers, much nomming, and an unfortunate spelling error—what appears like "moronku" is supposed to spell "muruku".
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I'm convinced that the only reason we associate snow with magical fantasy is because somebody coined the phrase "winter wonderland" and it stuck.
Otherwise, winter is often no wonderland. It is the land of layered clothing, bloodied snot, static shocks and numb faces. That having been said, the thing that sticks out for me about Helsinki was the nice, warm people there. (Mm, pun unintended.) Maybe I have low expectations, but it's not everyday you get a consistently pleasant experience dealing with shop clerks and service staff. A country that doesn't make it intimidating or offputting for foreigners gets my thumbs up. That's my sort of wonderland.Comments [0]
In transit in Bangkok, free of wool and the paralysing fear of touching anything metal for fear of static shocks.
Also, static does this to my otherwise very predictable hair. Goodbye to that.Comments [1]
The biggest difference between Helsinki and what I'm otherwise accustomed to seeing in many other cities—in particular, Asian cities—is the mall culture, or absence of one here.
I'm used to the way malls figure in the Asian cultural landscape, where each has its distinct feel and even smell: some small with long-time anchor tenants, others sprawling megaplexes housing everything from cinemas to hypermarkets. Maybe it's the lack of better thing to do, but a lot of time can be spent enjoyably in an Asian mall. Not so much here. They're not even like most American malls, which feel exactly the same. The average mall here, for some reason, feels like dull and dingy counterparts from the Midwest, instead. And they're small. Take Stockmann's Helsinki flagship store. It's the largest in the Nordic countries, and after its expansion next year, it will be one of the largest in Europe, at 50,000 square metres. Ngee Ann City in tiny red dot Singapore holds 110,450 square metres of retail space—more than double that. And it isn't the largest mall in Singapore. People in Europe have four seasons and lakes to row across, I guess. Mountains to climb. We in Singapore will have to contend with Orchard Road, our natural landscape to traverse, weekend after weekend.Comments [0]
Thank heavens for the end of the longest day in a while. Touched down this morning at 6 am Helsinki time at a temperature of -3 degrees Celsius. Not my favourite sort of weather by a mile, no. The city was covered with a gloomy fog throughout, which stunted much of my point-and-shooting, free-hand holding pictures. The fog did, however, make the city walks cosy, albeit chillier. I even attempted to sit for a while to sketch the people walking by, but I got as far as 45 minutes outside, wielding my pen clumsily through thick gloves, that I realised numbed hands were not going to help my novice drawing skills. Which brings me to the end of the day. It's 9:30 pm but I'd say I'm well ready for bed, at 3.30 am Singapore time. Oh, and I'd like to add that the crisp, fresh air here means I am mostly likely not going to be able to crack that Helstinki pun I had been planning. This saddens me substantially.
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Going to Finland via Finnair tonight with zero expectations of the inflight-entertainment even remotely resembling Singapore Airlines' Krisworld.So I'm arming myself to the teeth with books, mags, sketchbook and laptop. Got to remember to pick up a copy of Wired and some trashy celebrity gossip rag later too.
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