Greetings from Warwick to one and all. Yes I am alive and kicking and no, whatsoever rumours that I got on the wrong plane and landed in Timbuktu or that I’m half dead from my own cooking are completely false and I’m blogging here to quash and overturn such false monstrosities. I’ve been too caught up in the wrenching sadness of leaving my loved ones and my home and the turmoil of packing and taking flights and being really really boyfriendsick and homesick and friendsick and food sick and weathersick and unpacking and finding my way around campus, making new friends (but I’ve not forgotten the old ones and neither will I forget you people), trying to fathom what the lecturers are saying, doing laundry and trying to decide on what to eat and cook and the easiest and tastiest way to do so, and basically, trying to keep my head above the water.

Thank you to all of you who dropped me IM’s asking me how I am and if I’m alright, I know I’ve been rather short and scarce with my replies and I apologize.

I’ll recap here what I can remember...

24^th September

I’m about to board the airplane that will transit in Bangkok and I’ve never felt so swamped with sadness, fear, worry and anxiety as on the moment I hand my passport to the guard and take the escalator down to the autogates. Having passed the point of no return, everything comes crashing down hard on me and tears pinprick my eyes as I will them to be held back so I can turn behind and have a final view of my family and friends who came to see me off. I try and sketch a brave smile as I turn behind and wave, not wanting them to see how sad and frightened I am. My vision is blurred throughout that long walk and aerotrain ride up to the departure room where I remember you and I remember all that I have to leave behind. I am about the very last person to board the plane. Thankfully, I’m the only passenger sitting in the last row of a compartment which means I have 3 seats to myself and a modicum of privacy. I can barely lift up my 15?kg hand luggage into a compartment and a helpful foreigner sees me struggling and gives me a hand. I politely thank him and leave him to wonder if he does at my tear-streaked face. The engines roar and slowly as the plane taxies on the runway, I turn behind for one last look at the lights of the city and I am engulfed in memories. Thank goodness there’s no one near enough to see the tears that come rolling down in such helpless desperation though I think I receive several glances from passing stewardesses. Having composed myself enough to state my choice of meal to the stewardess, I’m in turn surprised when she offers me wine. Perhaps it’s just Air Thai or have most airlines upgraded their fare and started serving wine to cabin class passengers? It’s been a good 7 years since I’ve flown to anywhere out of the Asian region and been a customer of any airlines that is not AirAsia or any other relatively glamorous Asia/China airlines with the exception of Cathay Pacific to Hong Kong and an internal MAS flight in a Fokker 50 during the Sabah and Sarawak expedition where they even had a steward offering juice. Anyway, I politely decline the offer of wine I don’t normally imbibe such things and drinking at a high altitude during a 12 hour flight really isn’t a smart thing to do. Drowning your sorrows is never a good idea, and even more so at this point of time I don’t want to get drowsy and blurr and miss my flight or board the wrong connecting flight! Touchdown in Bangkok’s new airport and I don’t think much of it, nothing beats the splendour of KLIA and I contact the parents and the boyfriend and I trundle off to find the passenger lounge which should have wifi. Damn, its password protected. Sigh. Asked around for a Starbucks and on being told there isn’t a Starbucks or Coffeebean or SanFran or anything of that sort, I immediately think, “What on earth, how can any international airport not have one of these?! Hello coffee-corporation America why haven’t youdescended on this final port of call and made your mark here?!” Desperately ask around for a wifi shop and descend upon Whittards for an ice-blended chocolate only to have it really bitter and not ice-blended and to be told upon paying that wifi isn’t free and its only for 45 minutes. “Con job!” my mind screams. But I smile graciously only to discover that their wifi modem isn’t working. The man at the next table witnesses my struggles and tries to help but alas, his laptop is an XP while mine is a freaking Vista *wants to kill Vista right now for all the additional trouble it has caused me* I ask around and finally find an internet cafe which has airport pricing *how the heck can an international airport not have starbucks or a working wifi cafe!!!*A couple of hours later, I barely make it onboard the plane and I leave the land of green curries and cheap shopping and I find myself one more stop further away from home.

25^th September 2007

I’m on my last and longest leg of the flight and I find myself sandwiched between a large framed blonde and a prosperously plump looking Middle East guy who is kind enough to give me a hand with my food-laden luggage bag and I alternately sleep, eat and read Scarlet O’Hara’s southern belle adventure. I feel like taking the pillow and blanket off the airplane because they’re so comfy but no, I will not do such a Malaysian thing. I notice a good number of Thai youths, I’m betting a quid that some of them are Warwick bound and there’ll be at least one doing F & A.(I’m right by the way, I meet a Thai girl called Nam who’s doing F & A and she’s staying in Emscote Hall, Westwood which is like the exiled and isolated hall of residence and her room is just opposite mine.)

Touchdown in London Heathrow Terminal at 7.25am local time and ye gods, the immigration like is damn freaking omigosh long!!! *pulls hair frustratingly* It takes me almost 2 hours to get to the head of the queue and I get banished along with other new students to a corner where those of us who brought our x-rays and medical reports get the once-over from an officer while the rest have to shell out £15 for an x-ray. Get in contact with the parents and the boyfriend to let them know that I arrived safely in London. The time for my passport to get stamped takes so long that my luggage has been pulled of the carousel and its on the floor. There’s no one in sight to give me a hand so I used some stranger’s luggage bag to leverage my humongous bag up on to the trolley cause I can’t lift it that high up by myself. *damn pathetic right? I need to start working out or pack less* I head out into the pickup area and search for people wearing bright red Warwick shirts and I find myself next to a Singaporean girl who flew her with her mum a few days back to visit her sister in London and they came back to the airport so they could take the free coach ride to the uni and save the hassle of travelling there themselves.

Arrive at the uni by bus a couple of hours later, collect my keys at the Rootes Social Building and try to figure out where Westwood is with a map and by asking loads of people how to get there. And from their looks of pity, I can tell that Westwood is a heck of a lot further than I hope it to be. Bloody hell, this isn’t even on my application list and I get kicked out to this forsaken hall on the edge of civilisation! I realise that my room is about the same size back home, just more rectangular shaped. Proceed to check out the kitchen which has 2 tall fridges and freezers and the bathroom which has 3 showers and 2 WC’s and I think, hmm maybe this isn’t too bad and I suddenly realise that the hallway is really long and there are 17 rooms on the floor. What the heck, am I sharing that measly space with 16 other people?! Collapse on the bed in shock for a bit before I realise its time to make the long trek back to the Student Union to pick up my luggage. And I start wondering, “Shit, am I going to have to drag my 30+kg luggage by hand all the way back here?” Thank goodness they have vans that go to the dorms, and the luggage helpers grin and give a little grimace as they load my luggage. This kwailoh girl just heaved it up the van and omg I don’t know how she did it. Girl power yea! I meet the previously mentioned Thai girl called Nam and we were delighted to discover each other, company in exile, at least you won’t be exiled alone. She helps me lug my 32kg wardrobe-like luggage bag and we huff and puff our way right up to the top floor. I unpack as much as I can and we meet up and go in search of orientation dinner which is lasagne. Nothing like the one in Italiannies, I can tell you. I meet a couple of her friends whom she just met on the plane and they mistakenly assume I’m Thai and I manage a passable sawadeekha before confessing that I’m Malaysian as soon as they barrage me in Thai. I head back to the hall and proceed to figure out how to make international calls back to the boyfriend. And I got it right too! =)

26^th September 2007

It was an option of either Stratford-on-Avon or Oxford and while I wanted to pay homage to the home of the great bard William Shakespeare, both my new found friends were keener on Oxford so I decided that I would do Stratford later at another time. Coached down to Oxford and they gave us a walking tour and I have to say this, I thought Warwick had a pretty nice surrounding, but Oxford is in a totally different category. I'm into the old ancient history-steeped buildings. The tour guide point out famous colleges and buildings and points out The Great Hall in Harry Potter’s Hogwarts. I snap pictures until my camera battery dies out which is pretty fast as I didn't charge it. We stop for lunch at McD’s and omg, one freaking doublecheeseburger costs £1.19. And that’s just a burger, not even a set! The exchange rate is about RM7 to £1 and I can’t stop converting.

I miss our McD’s moments very much. Those sundae cones after movies at night, lunches when we’re out and don’t know what to eat, late suppers that we bring home with cheeky little Daniel popping downstairs and munching on the french fries. And our McFlurrys in the car. God, I miss that so much, and I miss you even more.

27^th– 30^th September 2007

I can’t remember what really happens for the next few days, basically running around buying a high-speed internet cable because I forgot to bring one, grocery shopping, registering with the medical health centre, attending workshops and talks and introductions to sports and societies, buying a UK line because its cheaper to make international calls and texts and trying to sort out my bank account (I used to think HSBC was great but now I’m so annoyed at them) and missing my boyfriend and my family and everything else so badly.

1^st – 7^th October 2007

It’s the first week of classes, but all the lectures are introductory so I basically flip through my law pack and I’m horrified by the sheer amount of workload and brainpower capacity I think this will take. Pretty much try and stumble my way around campus without trying to rely on the map and I meet 2 girls who live in Loxley Hall in Westwood and the 3 of us stick together so we don’t have to go to Westwood alone; Crystal’s from China but she’s been in UK for over a year and Nicole’s from Hong Kong but she’s been studying at international school. And I bump into Jennifer whom I met on the first day who’s from HK but also did a stint at international school and stays in Arthur Vick which is quite near classes. Why is everyone I run into studied in UK or at some international school? Hello, hasn’t anyone heard about good government schools? Okay who am I kidding, good Malaysian government schools?! Haha. I see a few familiar faces that I saw at the pre-departure briefing but I don’t know where they disappear to. Hmm, doesn’t seem like there are many Malaysians doing law here, I bet a lot of them are in F & A, Econs or MORSE.

I miss you, especially even more so in the quiet moments which are ours, in the hustle-bustle of daylight and in my bubble of preserved solitude.

8^th – 14^th October 2007

Classes started proper and I’m already lost even though it’s just the first week. I’m up to my neck in terms of unread materials that should have been read ages ago and I haven’t bought a single textbook. Thank goodness I took A-Level law or I’d be dead like right from the beginning. At least now I’m not 100% lost, just about 98% lost only. Seminars are a nightmare because I can’t keep up with the reading and I can’t come up with that sort of analytical reasoning most of them seem to have. What have I let myself in for? I spend a small fortune, just below £200 on textbooks and I want to buy clear wrappers to protect them so that they’ll stay in their mint condition without dog ears and creases. I’m getting mistaken a lot for a Honkie, China girl or Singaporean. The first two is because the 3 people I hang out with regularly are from HK and China. And Singaporean because my English has that sort of most un-Queen’s like slang to it and the smattering of Cantonese that I can speak doesn’t sound so pure HK. I share groceries with Dana who’s from southern China but has studied in UK last year and is doing F & A, Stephanie who’s from Shanghai and doing translations and Nam; Dana and Nam do a fair bit of the cooking while I experiment around a little and help with the prepping and cleaning up because I don’t want to subject them to camp-style cooking and I want to regain some of those culinary skills which I’ve lost over time and thanks to having kakak around the house. I’ve been surviving quite a lot on sandwiches and chocolate chip cookies for breakfast and lunches. The weather is cold and windy and I’m freezing because all I have are t-shirts and jeans and jackets which I wear at Cameron’s and early China HK winters which means 15 degrees Celcius max. It dropped to below 14 degrees last week and a couple of days this week in the daytime! And it rained one morning and I wanted to skip lectures because I didn’t want to walk in the rain and I realised, shit this is England and its going to rain like crazy so if I keep skipping classes just because it rains than I’m going to end up skipping a lot of classes! Sigh. Out comes the purple foldable brolly which my sister bought from NY and left at home so mummy didn’t know where it came from and gave it to me and I set off for classes, getting my bag wet and my feet and shoes and socks wet and thoroughly chilled. And the sad part is, I only have one pair of covered-up shoes, my rubber sport shoes. I brought a pair of black high heels and beige low heels and blue-beaded Bali beach slippers. Yeah I know it’s damn silly in retrospect not to have brought another pair of sneakers or bought those lovely relatively cheap boots in China and Hong Kong and I’m regretting it like crazy now! I change to a low pair of heels and set off for classes again and my toes feel completely frozen and it’ll snap off from frostbite any moment like the pirate did in POTC 3. Now I know why people talk about the weather in UK, there’s so much to talk about it. And I need to get a proper raincoat or a mac or at least, a waterproof windbreaker.

Its only the second week and I miss everything even worse than I did last week and to top it off I’ve got studying to do. I wish I was coming home from Christmas.

15^th October till now

Second week of classes and I’m way over my head in piled up backlogged reading work which I still haven’t touched. I’ve been barely able to follow in tort and property seminars, especially tort because the property lecturer is at least a funny chap. I barely survive in MELS (Modern English Legal System) and criminal because I still have some remnants of A-Level’s background in law in my brain. Really really panicking because I find myself suddenly thrown to the sharks and my brain is on overload and screaming for a shutdown. Am starting to get a tad worried because HSBC is taking ages to get my debit card up and running, which means I have to be careful and not do any serious shopping because I don’t want to run out of cash and end up eating bread and water for meals. I’m drinking a lot water to help balance out all the junk I eat and my skin is really starting to get dry, I need to start making full use of that blue bottle of Nivea on my shelf. I’m not going for the Singapore society organised trip to something-shire Oaks that’s factory outlets which sells winter clothing and other stuff at reasonable prices because none of the girls are free to go or want to go and they do have proper winter clothing which I don’t because I didn’t anticipate it’d get this cold and I don’t want to shop alone and my debit card isn’t working which means I won’t have enough cash because the cost of the trip is £13 and a good winter coat costs about £150. Sigh sigh sigh. I wonder if I can last through November with the jacket and sweater I have till I go over to US and I can shop there with the parents and the sister will know where to take me to buy cheaper clothing. Hmm. Even if it costs USD150, the exchange rate is much lower. And mummy DHL-ed me a box with some winter clothes so maybe I can last till then. Oh damn. I just remembered that I haven’t filled in the release form for the DHL parcel which means I can’t collect it till then. That’s another thing to do on the seemingly never-ending list of things to do.

I know this is one long wordy post but this is for me to write it out, to read and remember. Feel free to scroll past it if you don’t want to tax your eyes and your brains. Pictures will be up later when I feel like uploading them than I’ll do them in one shot.

You’re asleep and you told me to go to bed and I said I would but somehow I just can’t sleep and I don’t want to wake you up so I decided to read through this and post it up. I’ll go to bed in a bit and talk to you later when I wake up. Goodnight and sleep tight alright.