The Love of My Life (and other furry animals)

This evening marks the four week anniversary to the day of my arrival to this wondrous land. Some of you may think it rather poignant that I have chosen today to write this post, those amongst you who know any better are aware that I've been too busy trying to achieve this. And failing miserably. Interestingly enough, that link is one of only 4 bookmarks on my Google Chrome.

Here is an assortment of things I have done (roughly) chronologically pre and post repatriation.

1. Morgan, Jason and I did something no man shall ever again achieve without incurring a high risk of heart disease and ate our way through realistically six times the average serving of Korean Barbeque. Though the last mango and sticky rice made the shine leave Morgan's eyes despite the recommended mint ice-cream palate cleanser, plans are in the pipeline for a plaque to be erected on Nathan Rd. where we crawled, dribbling, onto a bus bound for Lee On.

2. Glenda took me to see Hong Kong. Two years late, but I did appreciate it. There was plenty of food involved in that too. Sticky photos made me a little overexcited.

3. I went to the absolute back arse of an tSín. Like, Tajikistan way. 33 train tickets and a motley crew of Dilene, Halfdan, Adam and I left Hong Kong and returned sans tickets and Halfdan. We saw some yaks, ate our weight in lamb fat (excluding Dilly; she's a vegan with her own hemp footwear range), were almost always (in my eyes) excruciatingly late for trains (so much so that once when myself and Dilene were happily smug in our carriage whilst the rest bought noodles at the pace of a latino - surprisingly with only one present in the form of Pao - I almost wanted them to miss it for schadenfreude-y purposes), flew a beautiful kite called Mr./Mrs. Happy (depending on your take on gender constructs), sang a horrific rendition of Óró Sé Do Bheatha Bhaile in a strange Tibetan hostel 3000m above sea level amidst drunken Tibetan chanting, got ripped off by a baller in a yellow shirt with a popped collar and a smoking rate of 4 a minute, played Counter Strike in a smoke filled cavern of death, coconut juice, bitchslayers and G.Daddy Halfi's, wound up in the dodgiest amusement park the world has ever known (the one that sometimes comes to Gowran is like Oakwood in comparison), became the face of Urumqi Vogue following an impromptu photoshoot in the park and almost bought a burqa for Parker. 

4. Had Anna come to visit. Despite woe-filled tales of rain and depression, we actually had an incredibly pleasant time, much to the disappointment of my love of self (and country)-deprecation. There was drinking on the 'nal, cartoned white wine to Fergie's Glamorous on the beach, and a visit to the Natural History Museum Dead Zoo where we found a melodramatic bat and a couple of sloths. 

5. Went to Body and Soul avec le Morg. Interacted on a personal level with (read: groped/waved deliriously at) Wallis Bird, SOLANGE (that's only a few strands of DNA from Queen B and upping the cool stakes), Nick Cave, and the love of my life, David Kitt whom I got to sign a ratty napkin with "KITTSER MY CAMERA WAS STOLEN WILL YOU SHIFT ME?" written on it. He gave me the greatest hug and signed it with "big shifts, kittser xxx" so I reckon I have a massively decent chance when he comes to Kilkenny. Also met Longford's self-proclaimed greatest Nick Cave fan who was a bit Paolo Nutini-esque, enjoyed saying "unreal" and accidentally got me drunk on something out of a plastic bottle.

6. Became opinionated on the abortion bill. Sorry but if a woman can't get urgent medical treatment that might affect her fetus because both of their lives are worth the same then surely it's worse if two lives are lost as opposed to just one.

7. Rediscovered the rabbits. Some say they will outlast even cockroaches in the event of a nuclear fallout. All I know is that I think we've had them since I was in fifth class. Cookie (much to her disgust) has become my replacement for human contact, though it's a matter of days before she retaliates fiercely to my insistent whispering of "WHO'S MY BESTEST BUD NOW".

8. Became the proud owner of a debit card. This shall be my demise. Purchases so far include Polish bus tickets and a beanbag shaped like a wombat (the second part's a lie, but the internet is such a fabulous place).

9. Abandoned blog writing in favour of tea.

I'm Bringing Sexy Yak

So because last week I did a post on things I abhor, I thought it may be nice to follow it up with some things that I like. Aye, I am indeed supposed to be studying for my final exams which start in approximately a single week, but I have my 45 minutes of leisure time now before dinner in which I can blow some minds through the written word.

Or at the very least update the outside world on the (many) things I do not abhor.

Yaks

Yaks are truly excellent. The best environmental doomsayer we've had in school this year (and we have many) was the guy talking about how cool yaks are. In fact (and I quote) "Yaks are sexy in their own way". This baseball capped yak-enthusiast has inspired myself and Halfdan to kidnap Dilene and take her the long way around the Tibetan plateau on multiple trains averaging 36 hours each (the maximum is 52 hours - card game suggestions are welcome). Dilene was keen on a beach holiday, so I thought it would be considerate of me to make a stop at the most inland city in the entire world, Urumqi, whose local beach is 2,500 kilometres away in southern Pakistan. We're gonna bum all over until we get to Kashgar and then head on back - such is the plan but considering the fact that it is I who will have the most proficient mandarin means that a lot has been left to chance. Regardless, Uyghurs, yaks, lamb skewers and deserted cities from 1BC means that despite announcing that I would be home around June 10th, it is more likely to be never, as I prance around with yak in the wilds of Xinjiang.

Spoons

During a prolonged study period, my mind was degraded to the point where I google searched how to play the spoons, and spent 11 minutes watching this terrifying man. Summer plan complete (to be surprisingly proficient at spoon-playing by late August) I set about discovering the talents of the spooning world. Ruth kindly directed me to the one and only Simon Spoons facebook page which she had set up for him following an excellent performance of Poker Face. Insomnia is one of the greatest cultural offerings of our time. 

And thus ends the list of things that make me happy. Yaks and spoons lads, yaks and spoons.