Chinatown, night market.

I have been very restless of late. I am too comfortable that it is monotonous. Stifling even. I really want to work now. Work, please come in my way.

French class is fun, fun , fun, though four hours is a real drag no matter how engaging it it. I learned more naughty words than I ever did when I was studying in Alliance Francaise in Singapore. And there is this Englishman and a 25 year old lawyer whose sarcastic banter tickles me half to death. J'ai besoin de amore.

This morning, while in the toilet, I somehow twisted my neck in the wrong way. Now I have this nerve riding from my neck down to my shoulders causing pain every time I try to turn my neck. What a stupid stupid thing to happen. In the toilet, no freaking less.

I need new songs. Dear guys, if you have any recommendation, please send them this way. Better still, send the whole mp3 to me. :D Merci!

The experience of squatting by the roadside, shoving piping, hot food into your mouth, wiping dirty, oily, food-stained hands on your jeans, was all accomplished in one night, in Sydney, Chinatown. Funny how being far from home changes your perspective.

Night market at Chinatown! Selling a wide assortment of items. The best of all:is the food! Mamak: Malaysian roti chenai. I miss roti prata!

Stella's satay and my prata.

Next up was Takoyaki. Made by real Japanese. I got Stella to say: Samurai i-totsu, Shogun, i-totsu. Onegai-shimasu, to the cashier. Cashier went huh?? He was the only non-Japanese of the lot I guess.

Yeah!

Yeah, yeah! Nous sommes heureuse.

End.