I really think i should upload this.

I really miss you, will you call me?

A fairytale

When i was a little girl,in my equation, Europe equalize a fairy tale land. Of course, in the eyes of a 7 years old girl, a place where ice fall from the sky, a colourful chocolate mushroom house, enchanted castle, surrounded by beautifully dressed people, seems like a magical place to live in. I grew up believing that one day, me too, can be part of that world.

True enough, when i first went to my little town centre, that very night, the magic once again dazzled me. Till now, i still can remember precisely how i felt when i stood there gazing at the enchanted building soaked in beautiful light.

Then, little by little, the magic vanished. I no longer see the town the way i used to see them. It was all become part of me. Part of my life and my daily routine.

That's a clear sign for me to get out of this place for a while isn't it?To go out and travel. See more magical town and places. So that one day, I don't just have to read the fairytale from the book to my daughter, but i can tell her, I've lived there.

By the way, to you, here, i found some tips to travel I'd love to share. It's from my ultimate favourite, Paulo Coelho.

1. Avoid museums. This might seem to be absurd advice, but let’s just think about it a little: if you are in a foreign city, isn’t it far more interesting to go in search of the present than of the past? It’s just that people feel obliged to go to museums because they learned as children that travelling was about seeking out that kind of culture. Obviously museums are important, but they require time and objectivity – you need to know what you want to see there, otherwise you will leave with a sense of having seen a few really fundamental things, except that you can’t remember what they were.

2. Hang out in bars. Bars are the places where life in the city reveals itself, not in museums. By bars I don’t mean nightclubs, but the places where ordinary people go, have a drink, ponder the weather, and are always ready for a chat. Buy a newspaper and enjoy the ebb and flow of people. If someone strikes up a conversation, however silly, join in: you cannot judge the beauty of a particular path just by looking at the gate.

3. Be open. The best tour guide is someone who lives in the place, knows everything about it, is proud of his or her city, but does not work for an agency. Go out into the street, choose the person you want to talk to, and ask them something (Where is the cathedral? Where is the post office?). If nothing comes of it, try someone else – I guarantee that at the end of the day you will have found yourself an excellent companion.

4. Try to travel alone or – if you are married – with your spouse. It will be harder work, no one will be there taking care of you, but only in this way can you truly leave your own country behind. Travelling with a group is a way of being in a foreign country while speaking your mother tongue, doing whatever the leader of the flock tells you to do, and taking more interest in group gossip than in the place you are visiting.

5. Don’t compare. Don’t compare anything – prices, standards of hygiene, quality of life, means of transport, nothing! You are not travelling in order to prove that you have a better life than other people – your aim is to find out how other people live, what they can teach you, how they deal with reality and with the extraordinary.

6. Understand that everyone understands you. Even if you don’t speak the language, don’t be afraid: I’ve been in lots of places where I could not communicate with words at all, and I always found support, guidance, useful advice, and even girlfriends. Some people think that if they travel alone, they will set off down the street and be lost forever. Just make sure you have the hotel card in your pocket and – if the worst comes to the worst – flag down a taxi and show the card to the driver.

7. Don’t buy too much. Spend your money on things you won’t need to carry: tickets to a good play, restaurants, trips. Nowadays, with the global economy and the Internet, you can buy anything you want without having to pay excess baggage.

8. Don’t try to see the world in a month. It is far better to stay in a city for four or five days than to visit five cities in a week. A city is like a capricious woman (or a capricious man, if you are a woman): she/he takes time to be seduced and to reveal him/herself completely.

9. A journey is an adventure. Henry Miller used to say that it is far more important to discover a church that no one else has ever heard of than to go to Rome and feel obliged to visit the Sistine Chapel with two hundred thousand other tourists bellowing in your ear. By all means go to the Sistine Chapel, but wander the streets too, explore alleyways, experience the freedom of looking for something – quite what you don’t know – but which, if you find it, will – you can be sure – change your life.

As an old hippie, I know what I’m talking about…
The text was taken from my book “Like a flowing river”

Big Bike Race

Studying abroad is more like a big bike race.

At the start, we are riding together, sharing the camaraderie and enthusiasm. But as the race progresses, the initial joy gives way to the real challenges: tiredness, monotony and doubts about our own abilities.

We notice that some have withdrawn. They are still running, but only because they cannot stop in the middle of a road. They are numerous, pedaling alongside the support car, talking to each other and performing only their obligations.

Eventually we distance ourselves from them and we are forced to face the loneliness and the surprises of the unknown curves with the bikes. And after a while, we begin to wonder if it's worth the effort.

Yes, it is worth it. Just don’t quit.

Paulo Coelho

let's get intimate - (part 1)

I think it's time for me to get intimate. With you. Let me start by telling you what i love to do. What i am not, what i want to become, what are my hopes and dreams.

I hope, I'll have enough time and space, to peel it down one by one for you.

But for now, let's take a small step. Let's talk about me and my food. I've never cooked, not before here. I'd always think that cooking is nothing but an open option. You can choose to, and of course you can choose not to. Until you've come to point where you have no other option but to. That point, even so, come earlier than i thought it would be.

Just this evening, i was again in caught in a never ending internal battle of what to eat, thus, what to cook. I stood there for a long while gazing at my empty fridge, not knowing which way to move.

I really don't know how to put this correctly, but i think i've come to a saturation point. It was my own intelligent idea in the very beginning, believing that spending a little while lo

nger here in summer until you're done with exams won't make a huge different. Either way, I'll still be left alone.

Food brings people together. Food too, tear people apart. I've read somewhere that for prisoners, it's often food that stimulates their imaginations and sends them off on a mental journey. they can see it, touch it, taste it even smell it vividly in their mind's eye.

For people who left their homeland, a whole lot of them lost their customs, lost their languages, but they never lost their food, or at least that is the last thing to go.

Maybe that's why we spent hundreds of Ringgit each year shipping boxes and boxes of spices and coconut milk powder, or even soy sauce all the way from home to this foreign land.

I can share with you, a few snaps of what an amateurish cook i am.

(Please, don't be fooled by the fancy lighting).

In

In dwelling, live close to the ground.

In thinking, keep to the simple.

In conflict, be fair and generous.

In governing, don't try to control.

In work, do what you enjoy.

In family life, be completely present.

Lao Tzu

The one you feed.

One evening, an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said, "My son, the battle is between two 'wolves' inside us all. One is Evil - It is anger, envy, jealousy, greed, and arrogance. The other is Good - It is peace, love, hope, humility, compassion, and faith."

The grandson thought about this for a while and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf wins?"

To which the old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

It wasn't that hard, don't you think?

black and white.

Part 1: White

First of, it's started of with a white . A white coat if u may. i wore a head to toe bright smile white. It's supposed to be a summer holiday now, and from this summer on, we're obligated to do practical training. This very particular year, and onwards. 3 weeks this year, 4 weeks next, and well, you get the idea..i practically finished mine..Alhamdulillah..I'm not saying i got all the training needed, but i got the chance to observe some basic neurological examination in which im going to dig more in next year.Hopefully.

I reached home and finally let go off my white outfit.

---------------------------------END OF PART 1------------------------------

Part 2: Black.

He was the first Czech person i knew. He too, was the first Czech person that i shake hand with. My early admission here to this very university is a mess. I had one hell of a time deciding which to opt for and which to let go. I choose not to come here. I wrote that letter of rejection. And, as you can see, my letter of rejection got rejected.

It was Sunday somewhere in May 2007. There it was, my name on the list on the board that we all constantly checking and fear. The interview was at 10.00 a.m , the list wasn't out until about 9.00 a.m and the next day it's final IB math HL. What more can i say. Torn between last minute prep and the interview that might secure me to med school, i opt for the latter. I never like math anyway, so whatever.

There he was sitting behind the table in silence. Trust me, not a word. So, i decided to break the awkward silence. I talked n talked, but still, no response. Until I've come to a point telling myself, maybe, math is not such a bad idea.

He said thanks, we shake hand, and I left the room.

I have to say, he too, ruined my very first winter. It was a white blanket snow outside, softly touched drizzle. To see such view for the first time is a blessed. It is a virgin white beauty to the eye. But all i can afford to do was sit on my chair with a mug alternatingly filled with hot cocoa and coffee.He made chemistry the hardest hurdle we all have to jump.

It doesn't end there. We met again the very next year. Biochemistry was another story. Never not once he started his class without a test.A hard long answer question test. Not for the lesson of the day, but we need to dig back those chem book from first year and study them all over again. Those things that we teach you last year wasn't meant to be forgotten, he said. In the middle of the experiment, he will call us one by one by name and sort of 'discuss' the mistakes we made for the last week's test. Telling us what a catastrophic error we made by not putting the unit of the measurement. How a wrong position of -OH branched is a fatal blunt, or how absurd it is for us to become a doctor without knowing how estrogen chemical structure looks like.And yes, In front of everyone.. Oh, did i mention it's a 3 hour class started at 730 in the morning?What nice way to start a day, huh?

I have to admit, he wasn't really my favorite. But somehow, beneath all the constant fear and disappointment(of failing his test over and over), I owe him a lot. He earned my utmost respect. People can like him or hate him, but his words cannot be ignored.

He made it hard in the very beginning of med school, so that now, we are on the right momentum of studying.

He made it so hard to pass but when passing it, the feeling is indescribable.

He made it hard, but now the other things that follows seems doable.

Dear prof Jaroslav Vicar,

You trained us well, now you can Rest in Peace.

And (in that black dress), i left the stone..

------------------------------THE END OF PART 2----------------------------