oh, winter

oh, winter

Sometimes I wish there were seasons in this part of the world. I miss winter. Snow, unlike rain, dances in the sky instead of plummeting straight down. Laying a soft veil over the world, it paints everything white and creates a world of its own. Snow tastes mildly sweet on your tongue, something like morning dew, I'd imagine. 

I miss the cold on my cheeks when I step out of the house in the morning. The routine of picking out the outfit for the day, layer by layer, becomes precious in retrospect; and the act of bending over to zip up my boots sacred; and of course, the soft crunch of snow under my feet as I sink my boots into the white carpet magical. 

The cold air feels different in my lungs - reinvigorating. It courses through my body, makes my blood tingle with life and finally exits through my mouth in a puff. Winter changes the whole state of being. It makes me feel... alive. In the land of cold, I'm the only source of warmth. In the night sky, the shooting star is the only light, charting its own course, leaving a burning trail. 

Oh winter, I miss you so. 

nostalgia is a strange feeling

nostalgia is a strange feeling

It's 1am and I pick up my phone to see a missed call from G. I call back, and a sleepy voice mumbles, "Good night, babe." Only our daily phone call, but it feels like I've missed something much bigger, like my night can't find closure.

So I pick up the new card that arrived in the mail and examine my own face. The long side-swept bangs, the yellow glow of the light, the turquoise top that I don't wear anymore. 2 years ago, an afternoon in hall, a chore to complete. I remember sitting in front of my laptop, arranging my fringe, angling my face for that photo.

I looked so young.

And then a flash of memory of me in a crowded room, too warm in my thick winter coat indoors, queuing to have my photo taken. Montreal, a shopping mall whose name I forget. I had to get my metro card done. But the image that comes to mind turns out to be the face on my McGill ID card.

McGill. Late winter, early spring. The air was still cold, some days chilly, some days biting cold. I was walking up the never-ending hill, panting when I finally reached where Rue Peel meets Pine Avenue. Another evening, another gym session, already a routine. Then the hike across the frozen field to get to Italian film class, where I'd always fall asleep, snug and warm after the workout and the walk in the cold.

I can almost smell the sweet scent of the first leaves and savour the surprise of the late April snow now. Rue Peel still meets Pine Avenue, like always. It's just me who took a different turn one day and never looked back. If roads have hearts by virtue of having a name, I wonder if they miss me, like an old friend whose name they forget.

Nostalgia, it's a strange feeling. I remember the heartaches and the homesickness of those days too. But I would be there again in a heartbeat, back at the same spot, the same song playing on my iPod. Because that's how nostalgia tastes, bittersweet.

I left my heart and soul…

i left my heart and soul...


New York. Montreal. Paris. Rome. Venice. Santorini. Amsterdam. London. Glasgow. I think I left my heart and soul all over the world. It’s been three weeks, and every other night I find myself dreaming of all these places, dreaming up new homes that could have been or better still, could be, sometime in the near future.

It’s a funny notion though. Home was always been a fixed entity to me. But in the past year, I’ve spent nights in so many different rooms, slept on so many different beds and called 2 cities in separate continents home.

I miss the complete freedom I had in Montreal. Living alone and arranging everything around nobody else but me was liberating. I decide when I want to do the laundry. I decide what time I want to go to bed. I decide that I can have breakfast food for lunch everyday. I decide that I can live alone.

I loved the one-month old home we had in Glasgow. The long, long evenings, the daily walks along the river, the colds nights of us falling asleep next to each other, and then the simple act of drawing the blinds up in the morning. The redundancy of scheduling dates because we come home to each other. The thought of us, just us, living and building a life in another part of the world.

And then there were those days where we fall asleep in one city and wake up in another the next day. Those were the days where we live and breathe a whole new culture every single day. Those were the days we stood shoulder-to-shoulder on an unknown street corner, trying to read an unfamiliar map.

Those were the days… And now, back in Singapore, all I really want to do is to dive right back into those gorgeous photographs and relive those moments. Slowly, I find myself looking at cities in which we might build ourselves a home. Suddenly, I can’t wait to grow up. I can't wait to pack up all over again and find those pieces of my heart.

I don’t know if they’ll call this widening your horizons or withdrawal. I’d call it finding a new dream.

those montreal nights

those montreal nights

I was terribly undisciplined with my bedtime when I was in Montreal. For as long as I can (or want to) remember, bedtime was usually when the boy calls to say goodnight. So with 5 hours of time difference and a few thousand miles between us, the daily goodnight calls went into hiatus for 4 months. So did my regular bedtime.

Without the routine, without a worried Mom to knock on my door at 3am because my light is still on, I became a full-fledged nocturnal, especially when deadlines are near. Since I was on exchange, I also picked up the habit of starting on work some 24hrs before its deadline.

I'd make coffee for myself at 1am, so that I could stay up all the way till about 7 or 8am, and my surprised roomie would wake up to her day while I end my night. I know it's very unhealthy, but I actually miss the crazy nights somewhat. I really enjoy the hours when the sun starts to come up, and I'd watch its reflection climb the building across the street. Here's what I mean:

Tonight, I'll be attempting a Montreal! And let's see what morning brings. (:

best memory: april

best memory: april


Staying up the whole night on a sleepover at Nat's, just so we can have breakfast at Chez Cora at 6am. Or maybe the other night, when we walked out for coffee at 2am, thinking about how we're gonna miss this place and all its little wonders.

keeping my sanity

keeping my sanity

Why clowns, Fellini, WHY?

(Maybe if I tried looking like one, I might know better, you think?)

This is how I keep my sanity through all-nighters. My skin has obviously been very unhappy with my late nights and lack of care in general. I left all my masks and whatnots in Singapore, and never really bothered.

The onslaught of exams sent me on a spree for facial products. Now I even have a schedule for masking and exfoliating! The skin looks visibly happier, and so am I! Yayy. :D

the perfect spring day

the perfect spring day

Yesterday, I did something that I've always, always wanted to do while studying overseas. The weather was absolutely lovely. Sunny, clear, cool. It was the perfect spring day. The skies were blue, the new leaves on the trees were that fresh shade of light green, the people on the streets were smiling. Everything was simply great.

After having not stepped out of the house for 3 days over the weekend because I was trying to finish an overdue and particularly painful essay, I had to go out! I was even happy to go to school! And here's the best part - I checked my email just before I stepped out of the house, and found out that class was cancelled!

So Susheel and I made quick decision to go have an impromptu picnic on Mont. Royal. And study, because well, we are still students afterall. I quickly threw together some food, and off we went!

Oh, it was a gorgeous, gorgeous afternoon. The park was absolutely charming. It was so quiet and tranquil. You can hear the leaves murmuring in the breeze. You can hear wisps of the other picnickers' conversations. You can hear the squirrels scurrying around. And best of all, I could hear my own thoughts, some logical, rational thoughts on the articles I was reading, and other random, raw thoughts that bypasses reason.

I was so lost in the moment, until this little creature came right under my nose (literally) to ask for food! It was so bold, and very, very adorable. I was happily minding my own business when it walked right onto my notes, looked at me, and begged with its little paws for food. When I held the biscuit tight for a little bit just that I can get a photo of it, it start pawing at me just like Bubblez used to do! Aww. A very precious moment of park-going.

And then after I got tired of studying, I rolled off the grass and went for a jog. Outdoor air is so sweet. Plus, now I can say I've gone jogging on Mont. Royal! Oh fyi, that's probably the equivalent of "I've gone jogging in Central Park!" With less than three weeks left in Montreal, I want to enjoy as many afternoons as I can this way. I am going to miss this city.

always the people

always the people

I missed home for the first time today. It was not that I didn't miss home before that; I always do, but it's that kinda dull ache that lingers somewhere just below the surface. You know it's there, but it never surfaces to engulf you.

This afternoon, out of nowhere, it did.

No wait, perhaps it's not out of nowhere. I think I know where. It's from the new places I've been to. Yet there's nothing intrinsic about the cities that I visit that made me miss home.

It's the people I meet who have that effect on me. Sheryll was the first. 11 days in NYC with her made me realize how much I miss AC. The people you meet outside are different, not in the bad way, but just different. Sometimes it's a nice, refreshing kind of different. Sometimes it's a kind of different that you can't get around. It just isn't the same.

Then on the Easter trip, I met Pengfei at West Point. He's Sherlyn's boyfriend and Glenn's army buddy. We marveled at how small the world is when we went on a double date last December. Yet now, we're all apart. Now I really miss G.

And this morning, skyping with Mommy and Daddy over breakfast really did it in.

See, it really isn't so hard to start a new life in a completely new place; I was doing so well. Then you meet someone from home, and wham, everything comes back. Because it's always the people you miss the most.

With Sheryll, at Coney Island.

With Pengfei, at West Point.

And home is truly where the heart is.

conversation killer

conversation killer

So that day I was waiting for the metro and studying the Montreal map when some guy came up to me and said something in French. With the train coming into the station, I didn't hear him very well, and said "Pardon? Je ne parle pas français."

Then he switched to English and asked me if I was from Montreal and blah blah. You know, the usual conversation starters. And he told me more about himself - "I'm from Haiti."

And all my brain could think of at the moment was "OMG. Haiti. What do I say now? Is your family okay? Is your house still standing?" "But wait, what if it's not! How do I even begin to console a stranger on such a recent disaster? I'm not ready to handle a tragedy while waiting for the train! WHAT DO I SAY?"

So, all I said was, "OH. Haiti."

And him, "Yeah Haiti"

Me, "Hmm yeah."

Then him, "Do you know Haiti? Cos you look like... you don't know Haiti."

And me, abit too quickly, "Yes of course I know Haiti! I know Haiti."

Him, "Oh yeah, everyone knows Haiti now."

Then me, "Yeah I know Haiti."

And him, "So yeah. Haiti."

Me, "Yeah Haiti."

TALK ABOUT AWKWARD! I have so so sooooo glad when he moved on and told me how long he's been staying in the USA for before coming to Montreal etc etc. And then I realized he was being awkward because he thought I was being weird and didn't wanna talk to him. He was like, "This girl obviously speaks French because here she is telling me in perfect French that she doesn't speak the langauge!"

Hahaha oh boy. Yeah talk about awkward. I suppose I'm not the best stranger one could hope to meet on the metro, am I?

Meanwhile, I'm still working on the perfect non-idiotic reply to "I'm from Haiti." Or Chile. Or anywhere with a recent tragedy. So that the conversation doesn't end up being one itself.

sunday brunch

sunday brunch

Homemade pancakes drowned in maple syrup with fresh strawberries for a 3pm Sunday brunch. Bliss!

Every week, I must have a day to not do ANYTHING. Wake up only when I’m squinting to the sunlight. Have a huge and yummy brunch. Laze around. No meeting anyone. No dressing up. No school work. Just some housey things, so I’d have a great start to the next week.

And everyone should remember this is why we have Sundays. (:

the party scene

the party scene

Before you think I'm a weird, anti-social psycho who stalks kissing couples and eats egg tarts in between doors and then goes home to sweep the floor all the time, I need to clarify that I actually have a social life here! I've been to hottest Mexican restaurant in town and even the famous Club 737! So there, I'm not ALWAYS that sad soul who pumps her own toilet and then cleans it up Cinderella-style afterwards.

So, anyway! Here's what makes up the rest of life in Montréal! I'd like to say I'm totally living it up and unleashing the wildest party animal in me, but meeeh, it's too cold for that. I went clubbing ONCE when there was an international students' party, and I felt like a total dork because I didn't bring anything dressy. ): The local girls were showing off cleavages and belly buttons and love handles, and just baring so much skin! In winter! How do they do it! It's -19 outside!

Here's the trick: they wear their party gear beneath a thick coat, and bring heels to change into. The temperature indoors is just pretty much aircon temperature.

Ooh and the party scene here is fun. It's lotsa fun. You get space to dance. You get boys who want to dance with you and who can actually dance. You can get one-dollar drinks. You get pretty good music. And you get an awesome night view of the city!

Aside from that, you also get a great deal of "action" going on all around you, all pretty sexy. ;) Wait till I report back from the strip clubs.

First party at Club 737.

I've also been going out for dinners and house parties, and I met tons of new people. Most of them are international students, and everyone is just SO fun! We speak Singlish with our Indonesian/Australian friend, we learn the sexiest dance moves from our Mexican friends, we gush over Korean TV with our Korean friends and we feel like we've known our Thai friends for the longest time! Very exciting. The multiculturalism here makes Singapore's CMIO look plain sad.

So far, we've checked out the best Mexican restaurant, the best Korean restaurant, the best dessert place and the best Chinese restaurants in town! All thanks to Ben, who does his research very thoroughly. Thanks to him and Sengyew and everyone who turns up, we always have the best time. I love this life in Montreal!

First dinner get-together with a huge turnout at the best Mexican restaurant in town.

Oh, and have I mentioned? I ALSO THROW DINNER PARTIES! Yes, I actually invite people over to share my possibly toxic cooking, and they love it! Naturally, I love people who love my food. We've had so many dinner parties that we even found a resident dishes' person - TianXing! Brilliant, I get to bask in everyone's praises and I don't even have to clean up my own mess!

My first successful dinner party at home!

There's basically something on every other night - movies, dinners, random get-togethers, drinks, it's all really, really fun. I'm having the best time! Ah, on nights like that, I get completely torn between wanting to go home and well, staying here in this life for good.

Drinks night, no reason needed. :D

a little sunshine

a little sunshine

Nothing celebrates life like a little sunshine.

Lucky. We all are, really.

best memory: february

best memory: february

Walking home drunk at 3am after the best "Never Ever Have I" game, screaming at the top of my lungs and throwing myself down in the middle of nowhere and making my first snow angel. It was so much fun. Then I woke up to you breaking my heart.

newest hobby

newest hobby

This country has done something to me, friends. Because my newest hobby... is cleaning the house! The other day, when I got bored studying, I actually found sweeping the floor mildly therapeutic. A month ago, I swore they named that red thing a broomstick because everything just sticks to it. I could never get the floor clean! And now, I take 3 minutes to sweep my room, and actually get it clean! Hmm, I think I make Vietnamese brides look bad now.

best memory: january

best memory: january

We were too busy eating to take proper photo!

So this one will do - that's Chinatown.

Standing between the double doors of a bakery in Chinatown, hiding from the cold and eating freshly bought egg tarts with Pui and Robert, laughing as people stared at us and we excused them. Literally and physically. Oh, it was so fun. And yummy too!

wish you were here

wish you were here

October 2009, Singapore.

January 2010, Montreal.

I miss you.

Can't wait for spring/summer in Europe with you. (:

domestic goddess

domestic goddess

A month overseas, and I found new respect for my Mom. I always thought she has my highest respect, but hell, when you are your own Mommy, Daddy, boyfriend and maid (i.e. you do EVERYTHING yourself), you get a different perspective of things. For example, attempting to go to school on time is a FUTILE aspiration. I am typing this as I skip one class.

This is coming from a girl whose toilet bowl just choked and overflowed with well, EVERY GODDAMN THING THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE IN THERE. You don't need explicit information on what's in there now, do you? I hope you're not having your lunch in front of your computer. That's unhealthy, and even more so, now that you're reading this.

So yes, I actually used that pump thing, which I thought only exists in the toilet for show, because I've never used it in Singapore, not even once. Hell, I didn't even see my Dad use it before! And anyway, I used that while trying to flush the toilet multiple times simultaneously, hoping that it'll go back to normal. BUT NO. The water kept flowing and flowing but nothing was going in AND THEN IT FLOWED OUT OF THE TOILET BOWL AND ONTO THE FLOOR! I just stood there for 5 seconds and said wtf 10 times in a row, before I realised I had to remove the carpet and weighing machine and everything else before it was too late. I bravely pumped the toilet one last time, and viola! Everything went back to normal. Except the shitty floor. I can't say if that was literal.

AND YES I KNOW THIS MUST BE A SIGN THAT I NEED TO CLEAN THE TOILET ALREADY. The Big Man up there always knows when's a good time to do some housework. But the thing about cleaning ang-moh toilets, is that there is no drainage! The floor is like, I dunno, your living room or something. You can't just pour water and wait for it to flow into this little hole! And we have no mop in the house. So, I actually used the floor cloth to clean the toilet floor, WITH MY HANDS (okay, only the parts where I can't reach with my foot). But oh, SO GROSS! I bet you have never cleaned the toilet floor Cinderella-style. It's a must-try-before-you-die. I hope you believe me so I'm not the only sucker who did that.

Back to respect for Mommy - how do these women do it? Gosh, and I don't even have a kid! I need about 72 hours a day to have enough time to cook, do the dishes, keep the house clean livable, do grocery, make sure I have clean clothes to wear, look presentable when I step out of the house (I've become an expert at cutting my own fringe and trimming my own eyebrows), STUDY, go to the gym, have a social life and have a virtual life online. In any ONE day, I can only accomplish 3 of the above.

Usually I try to push everything to the weekend, but this morning I decided to pack in laundry, alongside with cooking and eating breakfast and lunch, and I ended up with a sweater that shrank two sizes in the wash because I forgot 100% wool CANNOT go into the dryer.

And the other day, I almost burnt down the house while I was BOILING WATER. I put the pot on stove A, and switched on stove B instead, where the table cloth was happily sitting. Then I went on to the toilet. Thank goodness Shuli was at home and caught the cloth catching fire! I know, nice pun right. Hahaha.

But other than all of the above, I'm actually doing great! Look, I'm haven't died of food poisoning of anything! Yet. And that's my goal for the rest of my time in Canada. Oh great, and I'm late for the next class now.

P.S - A word to the boys: the best way to domesticate your pampered girlfriend? EXCHANGE.

taking long walks

taking long walks

Best self-shot of the day. Haha.

I've always wanted to do this. I'm a big fan of the whole idea of taking long walks with someone you love spending time with, or just by yourself. Slow down your pace, watch the world rush by, enjoy the existence of everything around you. Except there's really nothing much to see in Singapore when you take walks. I get so bored. The only times I really enjoy taking walks were in the Esplanade area at night and during the Christmas period. And the fact that everyone is just insanely crazy doesn't help.

So, I promised myself I would do this often in Montreal. Being on exchange gives you the benefit of not having to study that much. And I really want to get to know the city on foot. Look at buildings, admire the old churches, take some pretty photos, enjoy the streets. It's refreshing, really, to live life at a slower pace and to learn to appreciate time alone.

The bridge near the apartment.

Old stone houses in the neighbourhood.

Happy European restaurant in the next neighbourhood.

I used to dislike the idea of being alone, but I think one of the best things you learn growing up is that there is a huge difference between being alone and being lonely. People are so afraid to be alone in general. At the risk of sounding narcissistic, I think it's wonderful to learn to enjoy your own company. (:

That's the amusement park on the opposite island, closed for winter.

Timer-shot, hoping no one will grab my camera and run, but I guess being outside the Church helps. Haha.

This wasn't even in B&W mode.

I love them old churches.

Next step, step into one of the churches, and hopefully attend a service.

my harry potter school

my harry potter school

McGill

McGill is a beautiful school. It's the study-abroad-dream come true. The campus is gorgeous, with European architecture, which I absolutely adore. It's one of those campuses that you see on brochures and go like "OMG I wanna study in that castle everydaaaay! And roll on the lawn in summer!" Yes, that how I feel! I love the Arts building with its ancient walkways and huge doors and dim lights. (I lost my pictures but I will take somemore soon, I promise!) I perpetually feel like Harry Potter is going to walk out of one of the classrooms and fly off on his broomstick.

The people in school are pretty cool, even though I didn't get Harry Potter for my classmate. And they are really vocal. It's true, angmohs like to raise their opinions in class, and everyone can't wait to talk. I suppose people are more tolerant with differences in views and such, so that you hardly feel awkward raising your point. But that also means that you have to sit and bear with the rubbish people tend to utter sometimes. Haha. Me? I say something once in awhile when I feel that I'm about to burst with my point of view, but usually I'm busy surfing Facebook or talking on MSN or something. Hee, hey I'm on exchange!

Oh, and the other thing they say about angmohs - that they don't really study? That is SO untrue. People here take their studying so seriously! Everyone has bought and/or read their texts even in the first week. I had no clue! Oh, and the readings here are like twice of that of Singapore's. But readings are all you have. Most of the professors have no concept of lecture notes, so you just go into lectures with a blank piece of paper and start copying whatever the lecture says. It's crazy! I bring my laptop everywhere cos I think all my pens will run out of ink by Feb at this rate. Oh, and paper is so expensive.

Having been an NUS kid for 3 semesters, I feel pampered and sheltered and I totally miss the ready availability of lecture notes. And webcasts. And cheap printing. So surprisingly, exchange makes me appreciate good old NUS a little more! I bet this was their ulterior motive all along. Show off their efficiency. Heh. Haha.

So, given all that, I've been trying very hard to go school as often as possible, but the 830am classes on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays are impossible sometimes. Seriously, it's a 10min trek up the foot of Mont. Royal for a 50min lecture, and yes the lecturer is cute, but somehow I always feel conned when I attend the class. Heck, and he's the ONLY one with lecture notes uploaded! Of course the NUS kid in me has been making full use of the IVLE-equivalent here. :D

And now, final verdict and the best advice I have for you: when going on exchange, pick a great city, a lovely campus and a pangsai school! Studying in the world's 18th best university is not the epitome of "partying your brains out on exchange". (Which will be the next blogging topic btw!)

And just in case you thought the previous picture was taken off somewhere, here's one of me walking to my Harry Potter school!

long-haul, indeed

long-haul, indeed

Have you ever sent someone off at the airport and picked her up at the arrival hall within the same hour? I bet you haven't. But thanks to me, my friends have that very extraordinary experience.

So this is what happened. I missed my flight to Montreal. Not the connecting one, uh-uh, but the very first one from Singapore.

How did it happen? Oh, I have no idea. I supposed I went in 5 minutes before the boarding gates closed, waited for the last call that didn't happen, and tried to do some shopping in the mean time. Tried, because I didn't manage to buy my moisturizer cos mine wasn't a direct flight.

And so, by the time I reached the boarding gates, it was 7.06am. I was 6 minutes late, and found a man in a sinister black suit awaiting me. The MIB spoke into his walkie talkie, and I heard "Passenger not boarding." I first went ballistic WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT BOARDING CAN'T YOU SEE I'M HERE?! Then I went hysterical NO I CANNOT MISS THIS FLIGHT ARE YOU CRAZY THE PLANE IS SITTING THERE ARE YOU BLIND??

Then, I started to cry. Yes right, very mature. I squatted down in the middle of the hall and started crying in front of everyone. My Mom called to check if I was the plane yet, and all I could do was blabber incoherently while she tries to yell at the MIB through the phone.

Okay, go ahead and be totally unsympathetic and laugh. Because hindsight, it was quite funny.

So anyway, they brought me to some person who could secure me another ticket on the next plane out, and then someone accompanied me to go through all the customs, and in the mess, all I can remember is this voice telling me "Don't worry, Miss, we're just escorting you back to Singapore."

In my mind, I just kept thinking "Wtf I didn't even leave the damn country and that is the problem, you need to shut UP." I sure hope I wasn't thinking out loud.

So they took me to collect my luggage (once again, notice they had time to unload my luggage but apparently didn't find time to do the last call thing, as in, PAGING FOR MS. LIU MENGQI, LAST CALL TO BOARD. Nope, didn't happen.) and "sent me back to Singapore", where dear Shan and Shena and my very worried parents were waiting.

And that's how they managed to have the phenomenal and once in a lifetime (I hope) experience of picking someone they just sent off. Friends who were on their way back home to sleep or to work thought I was kidding. Glenn, was well, let's say he was astounded when my Mom called him.

Thereafter, Shan and Shena trudged back to Golden Mile with me in the sweltering heat (in my heavy sweater and boots) to collect my ticket AGAIN. Thank God for these friends.

So that same night, I went over to spend some time at Glenn's place, since he couldn't send me off a SECOND time considering his own flight was the next evening. When his sisters and cousin came home one by one, they were all equally shocked to find me there, when I was supposed to be somewhere up in the clouds on that plane. Throughout the night, I retold my story about 4 times. Haha. And goodbye a second time that night wasn't any easier, it turned out.

When I finally caught ALL my flights (2 stopovers and I had to run from one terminal to the other in Chicago), my luggage didn't catch the last connecting flight. So when I arrived in Montreal, I was greeted with the lovely surprise that my luggage was still sitting in Chicago!

Just to let you know how screwed up United Airlines is, I overheard the luggage counter staff fretting over what do with a luggage that arrived in Montreal, Canada, while the passenger was bound for Montreal, Spain (or some other Montreal, I can't remember). The said passenger NEVER set foot in Canada. Haha!

It took a grand total of 3 DAYS for my luggage to arrive. I practically screwed United Airlines upside down on the phone. Oh and by the way, I'm getting pretty good at doing complaints through phone and emails. You're welcome to ask me for rates to write a 10 page long complaint letter. I take 10 minutes to accomplish that now.

And so, here I am, finally settled in Montreal for about 2 weeks now. I thought the 28hour flight defined long-haul, but hell no, my journey (and even more so, my luggage's as well) just redefined what's a long-haul flight.