Hyde And Seek

Dear ________,
The second day in London started with breakfast in the Executive Lounge located on the 9th floor - 2 level below our room. Funnily enough that brainless hussy was still on duty at the front desk. We just waltzed into the Lounge without acknowledging her presence when she suddenly called out to us and asked for our room number. My husband muttered something to the effect that we're from Room So-And-So, the one asking food to be warmed up for the baby....In slow response, her eyes just glazed over - either from lack of sleep or total ignorance. Oh well, you can't teach an old dog new trick.

Following breakfast, we packed our 'family' wallet, baby necessities, and snacks into hubby's slingbag and thereon strolled to the nearby riverbank area to snap some photos with the Tower Bridge and Tower of London in the background.




With visiting Harrods and Hyde Park foremost on the itinerary lists, we proceeded down the riverbank pavements towards the tube. On the way, we stumbled on Hay's Galleria, a magnificent 'alfresco' shopping alcove on Tooley Street, boasting some UK-based stores, a few specialty shops, restaurants and pubs.

We took the customary Jubilee Line to Green Park and changed on the Piccadily Line for Knightsbridge stop. Harrods, spanning an area of about five acres on five floors, is London's premier and opulent departmental store. I had wanted to bring hubby to the great Food Hall that I had the pleasure of eating with my family years ago. Unfortunately, the so-called Hall has ceased to exist and replaced with a diverse choice of cafes, restaurants, bars and anything in between! Each has its own theme, decor and cuisine. We opted for Cafe Harrods on the 2nd floor, specialising on sandwiches and the traditional afternoon tea. Sadia's antsiness with her new surroundings also prompted us to select the next available eatery, that being Cafe Harrods. My hubby ordered the famous crab cake with mango salad while I chose scone with jam and clotted cream. Simply divine!


Gauging from Sadia's mood barometer, we couldn't bear to stay any longer inside the maze-like interiors of Harrods. After purchasing Harrods' emblematic shopping bags as souvenir, we walked outdoors and perched ourselves on a makeshift cement bench to quell Sadia's disquieting tantrums. As usual, she was sleepy but refused to doze off in view of the fascinating external stimuli all around her. We placed our bets on Hyde Park to provide all of us the sanctuary and peace from London's pedestrian traffic. Amid the confusion in getting to the Park, Sadia drifted off to sleep inside the baby carrier.

Thanks to the kind direction of a staff of a currency exchange booth, we sighed a huge relief upon seeing the breathtaking panorama of Hyde Park. We found a shady spot under a willowy tree overlooking the man-made, 40-acre Serpentine Lake. Loving the prospect of quiet solitude, I helped myself to a lawn deckchair, one of many stacked (almost) randomly on the grass. Unbeknownst to me however, the chair was NOT free. A guy, with a manual receipt issuance machine hanging by his neck, came by to collect money for the chair. We had to part with 1.50Pounds for a two-hour use! My auntie chuckled when I later told her the price, saying during her days it only cost 20 pence!

Nevertheless, we were gratified by the solitary refuge that Hyde Park has to offer. Sadia also got a chance to nap longer in the afternoon. Hyde Park is by far, the highlight of our trip to London. No rushing from here to there, no pollution of noise or smoke, and most importantly, no stress.









After more than one and half hour sitting idle by the lake, we got up to our feet in search for a public toilet. Sadia finally woke up as hubby went to see a man about a dog. We fed Sadia a late lunch of muffin and milk on the expansive, rolling lawn. This being her virgin step on the grass, Sadia was afraid to move an inch and let out a cry when we moved away from her stationary position. It was a funny sight, nonetheless!





After the failed attempt to persuade her to walk on the grass, we headed back towards the sea of pedestrians on the streets outside Hyde Park. Next stop - Trafalgar Square to see a swarm of rock pigeons!

Hugs from London,
Eleez

Bleep of the Day - Since When Do I Wear a Bindi?

This morning we traipsed over to the nearby Gemeente Delft (Local Municipality or 'LM') to pick up finally Sadia's and my Residence Permit ('RP'). My entry detailing the snafu behind the whole RP affair can be read here. As predicted, our respective LM letters informing of RPs' arrival only came on Tuesday, as postmarked on the envelopes.

Since yesterday was a public holiday due to the Easter weekend, the place was packed with people - local and foreign - settling immigration, local tax and other municipal-related matters.

After a 45-minute wait, our number was called and we proceeded to the designated Balie or Counter to submit our pick-up letters. The lady in charge took them away to look for our RP cards. Apparently, it is in a card form, NOT sticker as I mentioned earlier.

My husband went 'Woohoo! Finally our ordeal is over,' to which I replied 'I won't get so excited until the RP is in our hands'. Probably I was being a wet blanket but I needed some 'concrete validation' before jumping up for joy. Or perhaps my womanly intuition was telling me something.....

The LM staff appeared again at the counter - a working desk and chair separated by cubicle walls from other Balie(s) - and keyed something in on her computer keyboards. At this time, I was busy tending to Sadia who wanted to be released from my clutches and onto the floor. As such, I wasn't really paying attention to the lady's stolen glances and facial expression. But my husband already had his suspicion.

She released Sadia's RP card first to us together with a piece of paper printed for one of us to sign. Signing thus indicates the receipt of the card. As we looked at her card, the staff quickly shoved 'my card' in front of us and said "This is not you by any chance?" On the said card, a woman's photo of South-Asian descent looked back at me. It was my name and the correct details but the photo is not me. Unless of course I was an Indian - prominently sporting a Bindi - in another life. But since I'm NOT of the Hindu faith nor do I believe in the concept of reincarnation, I can surely attest to this fact - LM screwed up BIG TIME!

I laughed at first looking at MY card but the lady was not the least amused. When I said that's funny, she coldly countered "I don't think it is THAT funny." Yeah, tell that to your staff who mixed up my passport photo when he or she sent my RP application to the Immigration Office.

Later, I was peeved when she just shrugged and lifted her hands up in the air to gesture "I dunno" to our inquiry as to when I would be able to get the CORRECT RP card. We had to run back home to get my extra passport photo for LM to rectify the photo mix-up. Luckily, we live near to the municipal centre.

Remember I was laughing when the staff first showed me the photo? Aside from the obvious lack of facial resemblance, I chortled partly because of the painstaking hassle and double-checking we had to endure during our first appointment with an LM staff for the RP application. She practically parsed each and every word of our certified documents from Malaysia. With respect to my place of birth and place of residence, she even googled 'Kota Bharu' and 'Kota Damansara' respectively on the internet to ascertain the existence of such places. "Some people made up places in their application" she willingly explained. When Kota Damansara didn't come up on Google Map, she looked concern. After we pointed that it's part of the Petaling Jaya district (which did come out in the search results), the furrow in her forehead immediately disappeared!

And after all that intense scrunity, LM unbelievably still managed to bungle my RP application via the easiest and most idiot-proof route of all - the photo! Certainly and contrary to the petulant staff's protestation, the risible quality of this particular episode is both appropriate and interminable!

This level of incompetence is something I'd have readily expected in Malaysia's public service. So to experience such inefficiency in the Netherlands rendered me speechless. It clearly demonstrates that a developed nation status doesn't necessarily translate to a change in the attitude of its people. Or in this case, the adroitness in ensuring willy-nilly things like this won't ever happen.

Probably my friend Ina is more on the money when she pointedly said "I wonder if Malaysian government departments have inherited their run-around policy from their former colonial masters."

postscript - From my own estimation, it will take between 2 to 4 weeks before I likely to receive the correct RP card. Or if they decide to be thorough, I might have to wait a few more months even! Even then, I keep my fingers crossed that I will get the card before the 'actual RP' expires in September. If not, it defeats the purpose to apply for the RP in the first place!

The Queen Has Landed

Dear ________,
Before I resume this missive on my Britannia sojourn, I'd be remiss if I fail to mention the following trivia: the cute, quaint cottage in Guildford - 100 years old and all - owned by my uncle and aunt was bought from one Ms. Sara Crowe, who played the bride in the first wedding for the runaway hit movie 'Four Weddings and a Funeral'.

Oh yes, also, during our stay at their lovely abode, we had our share of mouth-watering desserts (asides from coffee, that is - she knows how much I love coffee) comprising the English trifle (first night), moist chocolate cake (second night) and apple crumble ala mode before we left for the airport. And that's ONLY desserts! We might have put on the pounds (no pun intended) purely from her unremitting, gastronomical largesse. Hehe.

Ahh...London. We arrived in the super-busy International train station of Waterloo around 1pm and quickly filled our stomachs up at the instore Burger King. The Big Fish and fries were enough to tide us over before we joined other harried, frantic, composed, clueless, frail, boisterous, streetwise, and yuppie commuters on the tubes underground. Needless to say, the journey from Waterloo to our hotel around the London Bridge area gave me a slight headache. Being blissfully ensconced in my little world in Delft - devoid of traffic jams, honks blaring, double-decker buses hissing and drowning in a sea of pedestrians - I wasn't mentally and physically prepared for this rude awakening to my half-dormant senses. To make matters worse, I was feeling constantly tired due in part to a 'monthly visitation'.


So when my husband excitably summoned me to get up from our plush, 400-thread count cotton sheet of a bed, I begrudgingly obliged. Getting ready was such a laborious, slow effort that it really miffed my husband! Tick-tock, tick-tock! It's not everyday we're in London! Yeah, I hear you dearest!

First on the agenda is finding Abercrombie & Fitch's flagship store in Savile Row. We stopped at Bond Street, taking the Jubilee Line. Besides tourists, the throng of people, from all walks of life, were mainly attributed to the long two-week Easter holiday for university students and schools in general. And of course because the adjoining Oxford Street and Bond Street is one of London's famous shopping hubs. Thrilled by the long, festive pavements reminiscing of old times, I was more than ready to explore favourite haunts. Alas. our travelling itinerary nowadays is always dictated by the temperament of our one-year-old daughter. I'd be lying if I didn't say that Sadia's moodiness put a damper in our planned leisure saunter across the Rivercity. It's not easy to indulge in peregrination when a toddler keeps screaming in your ears! Our wide-eyed, listless Sadia is definitely no longer 'travel-sturdy' like before.

We counted our blessings when Sadia at last fell asleep while we tried figuring out how to get to A&F. Feeling peckish, we digged in on cheese nachos at an American 60's style Dee's Diner at Debenham's on Oxford Street. There, enjoying the quiet respite, we pored over the London map for the famous bespoke haven, Savile Row.

On foot, we traversed all the way down Oxford Street, past the Oxford Circus, into Regent Street, turn right into Conduit Street before turning left into Savile Row. We thought we're on the wrong footing, so to speak, hiking along the relatively deserted and silent Row. Turned out, A&F was situated at the end of Savile Row, across the street from The Royal Academy of Arts at Piccadily's Burlington House.




At its front door, two male models donning khaki shorts, t-shirt over windbreakers greeted would-be patrons. Overheard at the entrance as well were the squeals of some hormonally-charged teenage girls. We wondered what the commotion was and were amused to find a male model sans a top posing with some of A&F female clients against an A&F billboard background. The store was almost pitch-black if it were not for some strategic lightings on racks and shelves and a cluster of downlights. Since its opening on 22nd March, A&F pulled out all the stops to promote its casual merchandise - clubby theme, loud music and 'semi-naked' men! So it comes as no surprise that the hullabaloo A&F has thus far caused does not go down too well with the exclusive and long-standing tailor houses on Savile Row.


Half-way inside A&F's ground floor, we decided to retreat from the cacophony. Nestled inside her baby carrier, Sadia's kip is paramount if we wanted to turn her into a cooperative tot. To kill time, we went off Burlington House back into Regent Street and checked out an array of interesting shops like Japan-based UniQlo. Sadia came to as we were about to double back towards A&F for hubby to buy his summer shorts (his one and only was stolen when we were burgled last year). By this time, the topless model looked all lonely without anyone snapping pictures with him. We were more than happy to fill up his free time and took one hilarious shot where Sadia stared at his body-painted pectorally-buffed torso. Hehe!

After the purchase, we trekked all the way back to Oxford Street and stopped over Gap to buy some Spring essentials. By this time, evening rush hour had just commenced and Sadia was edgy again. We were pooped ourselves but hesitated in taking the sandwiched tube. Instead, we bought some foodstuff at Bond Street's Marks & Spencer's Simply Food. Considering the unnecessary protracted lethargy in waiting for the crowd to taper off, we subsequently hopped on the next tube for our London Bridge stop. After changing at Waterloo, the tube on our Jubilee Line was not as crowded. The walk from the tube station to our hotel took less than 10 minutes but we dropped by the neighbourhood Bagel Street and ordered out our bagel-laden dinner.

In no time at all, we scarfed our bagels within the soothing confines of our fragrant room. Thereafter, hubby went out to a Simply Food, only a few steps out of the hotel's lobby, to buy drinks, yogurt as well as to heat up the macaroni and cheese for Sadia at the hotel's Executive Lounge. When he didn't come back after half an hour, I was worried. He didn't bring his cellphone due to the close proximity and expected fast service. Unfortunately, the latter failed to live up to his expectations. He was livid when the hotel staff to whom he asked to zap the Mac & Cheese took 20 minutes to comply to his small 3-minute request. The lady attendant excused herself from fulfilling his wish to momentarily take care of one Executive hotel client checking in at the aforesaid Lounge. However, one after another came and eventually she left my husband in the lurch.

The hospitality maxim 'First Come, First Serve' must haven't been properly programmed in her addled brain. Else, she discriminated against my husband for NOT wearing a powersuit, unlike the other checking-in customers. Whatever it was, hubby plainly expressed his annoyance for others to hear "It took you 20 minutes to heat a 3-minute meal? I already told you this is not for me but my baby upstairs." Others gasped but she remained unremorseful. Adding insult to injury, the haughty young English lady didn't even apologise to him! What a *toot*!

Be forewarned, my husband is a stickler for great, efficient service. He recounted the story in a furious tone once he handed me the microwaved dinner. While waiting however, Sadia already had her fill of croissant. That first night, exhausted to the bones, we slept soundly against the din of passing boats on River Thames.

Until my next missive on London,
Theta

note: The first FOUR A&F-related photos are accredited to Reuters, taken during the opening of A&F

Surreal Surrey

Dear ________,
If you asked me one word to describe my five-day stint in the United Kingdom, I would have to say this: Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Hehe...I couldn't resist...

First thing first - it's GREAT to be back to my (temporary) humble abode, lying flat looking at the high ceiling of our loft bedroom and sleeping in late - NOT! At least not the last two parts. It's been a busy day of sorting out laundry and trudging out to a birthday do of a Malaysian friend's 1-year-old daughter.

The last time I stepped foot in United Kingdom was 10 years ago (it was either September or October 1997) on the pretense of accompanying my parents - me and my twin (yes, we were inseparable back then) - for my dad's hernia surgery. I still remember the time as being the onset of that notorious Asian currency crisis. Thailand's Baht was featured time and time again on the tv news. Actually, my twin and I had just gotten back from the UK following her graduation and a short holiday in July. So, we were more than ecstatic to walk down memory lane that soon in the future.

The very first time I came over to the UK was via the United States. To be precise, from Indiana to O'Hare Airport of Chicago and arriving in Gatwick. It was in 1994. The dead of winter during which I had to evict the dorm after the end of Fall Semester. I went to visit my twin sister who just started her coursework in Cardiff, Wales. The following year, same time, I visited her AND my younger sister who also opted the UK for her undergraduate studies in Birmingham.

So it was with capital feeling I came back to the UK after so long a separation. At the very least, I was excited at the prospect of taking in the sights, sound and smell so familiar in the days of yore.

Last Monday, by the time we exited Gatwick's arrival hall to be greeted with the beaming faces of my auntie Idai and cousin Adam, it was already close to 8pm, local time. According to Greenwich time, we gained an hour from the Netherlands. On the flip side, we lost an hour when we entered Holland last night.

The car ride home left Sadia agitated who had been travel-weary from the get-go. We were more than relieved to alight the car and enter the quaint, little cottage where my aunt resides (mostly) with my uncle David (a.k.a. Daud). Mostly, since Adam lives at the university's hall and the eldest, Lindsey is working and staying in bustling London.

Rest assured, my aunt and her family truly feasted us throughout our stay at her place. Sadia was properly cared for in terms of her favourite food like croissant, cornflakes and a variety of fruits! We were both grateful and content with the amount of attention and hospitality bestowed on us three. That first night, a delectable lamb dish took centrestage, with robust coffee for dessert.

The next day, much to our dismay, the weather reverted to a cold, windy variant. Auntie Idai recommended us to stroll along the duck pond just across the street from her house. The large, moss-infested pond was enclosed by grassy mounds on all sides. Indeed, the big field, to which football matches are often held, is a part of this massive bog habitat. The dazed and homesick Sadia eyed the wide green carpet apprehensively.



Taking the communal bus, our first afternoon was well-spent in town, hiking up the long High Street in Guildford town for the usual row of familiar shops and some interesting new ones like Pret, an all-organic new wave type thing of a cafe, where we sat down for lunch. My husband devoured a crayfish wrap, my health-conscious :) aunt had salad while I wolfed down my predictable tuna baguette. And our finicky Sadia nibbled on a healthy slice of apple-infused cake.

View of the entrance to UK's holistic powerhouse Neal's Yard where we bought this therapeutic shampoo (thanks to my twin for introducing it to me during our university days)

Save for lunch and a later coffee break at Starbucks (yay!), we didn't spend anything else. We just scoured the grounds of Guildford town proper to be ventured again during our last day in England.

Wednesday morning arrived for our much anticipated departure to London. Fortunately for us, the train ride to Waterloo Station in London takes less than 45 minutes. Unfortunately however, and commonplace to UK's high public transport expense, our two one-way tickets cost 18 in PoundSterling! My uncle even ranted that his train to York (in the north) cost about 100 in PoundSterling (ridiculous)!

My eyelids are getting heavier now. I will continue with the London part of my jaunt in an upcoming entry. Until then, take great care and enjoy a fabulous Monday!

Sincerely,
Tita