In Transit #3: Homebound

In Transit #2: Evening Reflections

In Transit #1: Moving House

Missing Borough

I. Miss. Borough. Market!

See: In and Around Borough Market

Rijeka

"Like Opatija, much of Rijeka's architecture is reminiscent of the glory days of the Hapsburgs. But unlike Opatija, most of Rijeka's buildings haven't been renovated in the last century or so, giving it a seedy, gritty, past-its-prime feel. Avoid Rijeka if you can. However, since it's a major transportation hub, there's a good chance you'll pass through."

The advice was to 'avoid Rijeka if (we) can'. But we couldn't. It was late in the afternoon and we were hurrying to the bus stop to catch the (last?) bus. We had been walking the whole afternoon, taking in the beauty of the Plitvice lakes. Now, carrying our backpacks, we were making haste as the rain drummed down on our weary bodies.

As our trusty travel bible explains, Rijeka is a transportation hub which we need to get to in order to get to other towns. Zagreb is much further east, Pula and Rovinj are on the western coast, and Rijeka is somewhere in the middle. Time is not on our side, so we decided we shall spend the night in Rijeka before continuing our journey the next morning. In any case, we plan our journey by the day, so pretty much anything goes.



Arrival

It was 8 plus at night, and we finally arrived at Rijeka, but with a slight apprehension. I mean, the book's advice is 'to avoid Rijeka if you can'. That says something, doesn't it? As the bus navigates the fringe towards the city centre, I could feel the words of the guidebook coming alive. 'Past-its-prime', 'gritty' - these words were reverberating through the lifeless buildings, inanimate rail tracks, dilapidated houses and pitch-black streets that passed us by.

The echo of the words continued after we alighted the bus, but it was the 'seedy' part this time that rang through. Hungry and tired from a full day of journey, we wanted to find accommodation quickly. But the tourist information center was closed, and the computer directory (if I remember there was one) wasn't very helpful. As we stood pondering our options, the young girl sitting at the pub beside us accosted us. She had streaks of highlighted hair, and her company at the pub was a man many years her senior and probably old enough to be her father.

She came to us and offered us her parent's place for accommodation. We had concerns, and it was later that I realised my companions weren't comfortable with her, given her dubious credentials. Still, we followed her to her apartment to check out the place. I think before we reached her place though, we had already made up our mind that we would try other places. For we walked through a desolate street that was dimly lit (to be fair, most of the streets were like that), giving us the creeps and imagination to think of all reasons to flee the place. We were after all in a city that the travel bible advises its disciples to avoid.

Dodgy Fugitive Hideout



Suffice to say that we were very blessed to subsequently meet with a wonderful soul. Hungry, tired and faced with the prospect of not being able to find lodging, we finally managed to get a room of affordable price at a somewhat dodgy-looking motel which JG described as a 'dodgy fugitive hideout'. This was solely the result of a kind lady who is the staff of a hotel which we did not stay at because we could not afford it. Despite not becoming her customers, she helped us call the dodgy motel and reserved what later seemed to be the last available room (a family had arrived at the motel the same time as us but was turned away). Not only that, but she also helped us flag a taxi and gave the driver directions. We were totally impressed and grateful to the lady, who had tirelessly assisted us three Asians whom she could have ignored.

Highlights of staying at the dodgy fugitive hideout include a claustrophobic old-fashioned elevator that contributed to the dodgy vibes; JG using his limited polish vocabulary and colourful sign language to communicate with the matronly caretaker, who speaks not a word of English; boiling hot water using glasses heated in a mirowave; and eating whatever leftovers from the day to fill our stomachs. If it all sounds as if we were in a rather pathetic state, I guess we were to some extent. Even then i relished the experience and knew that I would remember that day for a long time. Five months down the road, I am writing this as if all the things had taken place only yesterday.

Check-out was early the following morning. Somehow, at the end of our trip, we all remarked that our holiday was shiong. We wanted to nuah and slack, but the trip was anything but. It was irony that I didn't mind though.

The next day

Having had a rough day yesterday, we agreed last night to have a proper breakfast, enjoy a cup of latte before we start the new day's journey. We so badly needed to recharge and pamper ourselves. Breakfast time was also when I could steal some time to take some quick snapshots of Rijeka. In the day, Rijeka looks just like other cities that we have been to or passed through. The buildings' architecture was reminiscent of an earlier era, and the scores of cafes injected much life and bustle into the city. This was after all the city centre, so it has much character and zest compared to the desolation and run-down images of other parts of the city.

We never planned to visit Rijeka, and indeed we only stayed for a night there. But boy, did it turn out to be an unforgettable experience. There's the uncertainty that inevitably accompanies a lack of planning for any trip, but this is also what provides the thrills and fun that would ultimately combine into making a lasting impression.

To the kind lady from the hotel whose name I now can't recall, THANK YOU so much. I hope you get promoted and take over the hotel and earn lots of money!


Artefact 1: damaged lift signal


Artefact 2: dodgy elevator


One of many stunning buildings


More like capitalist life or globalisation




Our breakfast: Toast and Latte/Capucino. Yum Yum.




Lots of cafes, but all had quite pricey menus


Blues Corner

chunky

Mum took up the helmet the other day and remarked: 'This is so heavy'.

I couldn't hide my grin.

I wonder what would be her reaction if she learnt that besides that grotesque chunk, there are tons of other chunky, detestable items that my poor head and delicate body have to support.

Make love, not war!

close of Jan twenty ten

Red Brick House


Uniform Pattern


Lovely snacks


Pretty Sights


Wonderful Place


Small things


Weekend Postcards

End of Jan, twenty ten. Next chapter.

today better than yesterday

Shouldn't be breakfast. Make it breakslow.


Windows to the sky - they need opening


Oh, how it draws you in


Which is your Happy?


Underscore, Abovemarks


Shine below, hear their silent speeches

Friday Blues

It's usually the day I look forward to, but today I am feeling restless and down.

Running the eastern coast

Weekend came early on Friday last week. I had a run at East Coast Park in the afternoon at three plus, with the invisible warm rays of the sun shooting down on me. People asked me was it not hot to run in the afternoon? I couldn't really reply, for what would their reaction be if I told them that I enjoyed the run, I enjoyed the warmth of the sun, and I enjoyed running in the warmth of the sun with the sea beside me. It was hot, but it wasn't sweltering or scorchingly hot. I could do with the heat.

A's reaction when I said I was going for a run was this: 'Such a solitary activity', and she gave me a rather sorry look. Yes, running can be solitary because you don't need another human being to be able to run. With a pair of shoes and socks, and running shorts, you are good to go.

Yet some of the best runs that I had were hardly solitary affairs. I remember running with Eugene for more than an hour, covering part of the route that includes the stretch I did on Friday. We were having a conversation throughout the run, talking about our interests, sharing our opinions on different matters. It was thoroughly enjoyable, and we probably had a better workout than if we were both running on our own. And it was during the run that I found out snippets of his journey thus far in life, like how he used to cycle with his Dad.

Then there were the Friday training runs with Jon and Teddy Bear. They always start with jokes and stories from Jon, which inevitably fade into sounds of our breathing and thumping on the ground as the run progresses. Short runs eventually became something like 12km; long runs would be a loop along East Coast, from the SAFRA chalets to Fort Road. It was crazy, but foolhardy men like us like the idea that we can be crazy. We need to prove our mettle as we grow older.

The runs would invariably end with dinner/supper at Bedok 85, where we would order bak chor mee, stingray, bbq wings, carrot cake and lemon lime juice to fill our famished stomachs. Whether we run or don't the calories don't bother us. We eat what we like and what is nice. More than once I took a midnight cab home, the consequence of living on the other end of the island, while friends who drive live on other ends. If not, I would be on a long journey home on the train, which I don't mind because I get to sit down. The endorphins courtesy of the run and the company of the night help ensure that I was never feeling a moment down, and sometimes the happy feeling spills over to the next day.

Despite the sorry state of the beach, East Coast Park is still a wonderful place to do a lot of leisurely things. Its position as the eastern coast of Singapore and its affectionate household name have ensured it a place in the lexicon of famous Singapore places. Where else on our tiny red dot can you enjoy a long, scenic uninterrupted stretch of path where you can walk, run, cycle or roller blade? A pity I don't drive and can only depend on Chance to bring me to the stretch for running. When the opportunity does come, I will be running down the peaceful and seemingly unending road, past familiar landmarks that I have mentally noted, stop at the toilets to have a few sips of water, soak in the sea view, and finally finishing with a splendid cool shower, changing into a fresh pair of clothes and slipping into my flip-flops.

ScrabbleliciouS

The last few minutes of 2009 shall be remembered for the scramble to a certain house in Bukit Timah to pick up Scrabble and other assorted board games, and then fervently praying that I would not have to celebrate the new year in a car with T or, worse, while we are rushing from the carpark to jw's home. That would have been, well, pathetic. We did manage to dash into the apartment in time, and even had a few minutes before the fireworks began - on the screen, of course. Instead of sparkling champange or wine, we had pokka green tea to toast to a new year.

The first few hours of 2010 would be remembered for a mind-boggling session over forming English words, short and long, common or never seen before. I also learnt a new word - the first in a year that had just barely begun: Tufa. It sounds suspiciously fraud but, yes, there is such a word. Henceforth my vocabulary expanded by one more word - within the first two hours of 2010.

Scrabble can be an intense game. No, change that to - Scrabble IS an intense game. Or as my friends would likely say, yours truly takes forever to make his move and, going by rumours, need the help of women to compete (those treacherous gossipers!). I was one Man pitted against 3 pairs of brains. I put up a brave fight, but was defeated still in the end, no thanks in part to Mr Z and Ms Q which are notoriously known to be difficult to rid of. One of them cost me negative 10 points, which is negative ten too costly. By the end of the game, nearly two hours later, I was brain dazed.

But scrabble is a lot of fun. In fact, Cal & Sab played scrabble for 12 hours while in transit during their honeymoon. I don't know how they did that, man. It must have been many rounds because Sab the strategist and analyst must have easily killed off Cal!

Untill the next game, I shall endeavour to unravel more Tufa-esqe words and unleash them at the battle. Hear my war cry, Scrabblelicious!!!

a rare treat

I made an unexpected but pleasant discovery on Sunday. I chanced upon a quiet corner in the dazzling Ion mall, that current crème de la crème shopping haven that still oozes sass and luxurious appeal even though it's opened for some time already.

It is a small café that is hidden away at an inconspicuous location inside the tastefully styled bookstore Prologue. I have never visited the bookstore since it opened for business even though I very much wanted to. This trip was, however, a coincidental stopover: I was in town to run some errands and decided on a whim to drop by to check out if it sells any diary planners for 2010 (this was already 3 days into the new year).

I was looking for the stationery section when the floor space suddenly opens up to a more spacious area that is occupied by the snazzy cafe. The small space was clean and sleek in its design. Most important, it is devoid of the obnoxious crowds that have descended upon the other cafes in the lower floors of the popular mall. Dinner was not long away but it didn't take long for me to decide that I shall finish my errands quickly and visit the cafe.

For Style, Taste and a Classy 2010

Cheers!