Wednesday, December 22, 2010

英汉语音比较

This shortened version of my three page essay? ... Part of the reason why I've wanted to stab something for the last three weeks.

英语和汉语有不同的语音体系。对我来说,本族语是英语的留学生,学汉语很难。学汉语的时候遇到了不少困难。因为英汉不仅有不同的语法体系, 而且汉语的元音、辅音、舌位等跟英语有很大的区别,甚至有些音在英语里根本不存在。

英语中的元音有短元音和长元音,然而汉语中没有。在英语里面,音长有区别意义的作用.例如“full” 还有 “fool”, 这两个词元音不同,一个是长元音,一个是短元音,意思也不同。那么我们不难看出在英语里元音的长短对意义有影响. 再来看二合元音,例如:“now”或者“eye”。虽然英语里有复元音,但是汉语的复元音韵母更复杂。以前我说英语的时候一次也没有遇到,比如:“凶手”的“凶”,拼音是“xiong”。

在辅音上,英语和汉语中[p],[b],[t],[d],[k],[g]的发音相似. 不过,汉语中,像 “x” 和 “q”的发音,在英语的语音体系中不存在。所以母语是英语的留学生在说“去”和“需”这种汉语词时,总是无意中用自己本族语的发音代替汉语中的发音。

中国学生在学习英语的辅音时也会遇到很多困难。英语中一般有很多的复辅音,比如说 “three”还有“spoked”。英语除了复辅音以外还有很多多音节词(英语的最多的音节词是?“Pnuemonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcano”,这个词有十九个音节)。而在汉语中以双音节词为主,多音节词一般也不会超过十个音节。

实际上,英语和汉语最大的区别在于汉语是一种带声调的语言。汉语中,不仅音素可以区别词的意义,声调的高低也可以区别词义。英语中没有声调,只有语调,而且语调对词的意义没有影响.
因为这个原因,大多数英语为母语的人听不出汉语声调的区别。

可是汉语里面,声调很重要,有区别意义的作用。汉语中有四个声调——平上去入。同一个音节,声调的不同会产生不同的意义。

除了语音方面的差别以外,英语和汉语的区别还有很多,学习起来也不见得英语比汉语难或者汉语比英语难。听起来,英语的发音跟汉语的发音没有关系。可是,只要弄清楚这两门语言的区别,无论是学习英语还是学习汉语,都肯定有好处。

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Fell in love today...

with Anthony Neely.



Chinese Name: Ni An Dong (倪安東)
Birthday: May 20, 1986
Birthplace: USA
Height: 178cm - 5'10"
Weight: 78kg - 172 pounds

He's a wasian -- for those who are unaware, that's a "white asian". A halfie. A mixed blood. A one and a half ABC. Or what have you.

An American who is now a Taiwanese pop star. He sings in both flawless English and flawless Mandarin, and I'm THRILLED. (I think it's INCREDIBLY sexy if a guy can speak another language fluently). Plus, did I mention? I have a thing for Asian guys, go figure.

He also covered "Blower's Daughter" -- probably one of my top favorite songs by Damien Rice, who is probably one of my top favorite musicians. When I saw "Blower's Daughter" pop up after searching for his music videos, I decided we were soul mates.

His first album "Lesson One" is a combination of Chinese & English songs. Since I've been going through a phase with Chinese music (mainly because I can't listen to English music when I'm studying Chinese, unless I want a major headache afterwards) -- I'm really happy I stumbled upon his music. I'm even more happy that all of it is free and SO easy to download in China. I've been downloading music as if my life depended on it -- Let's talk about how much I love Baidu and lack of copyright laws later. First? Let's recap:

Good looking. Check. Check.
Good taste in music. Check.
Good at singing. Check.
Good with languages??!! SOLD.

YES,
please.
Anthony Neely is delicious. Score ONE for CPOP!!!!

I legitimately haven't had a celebrity crush since maybe when I first saw Bi Rain in "Fullhouse" my junior year of high school... or maybe it was Joseph Gordon Levitt in "500 Days of Summer". So bear with me as I indulge my fangirl side for a bit. Legitimate obsession alert.



His own English songs are less than inspirational -- pure, simple, fluffy love songs. However, keeping in mind that most of his fans are Chinese, maybe simple English lyrics are the best. From what I've gathered -- the more simple the lyrics are in English, the more popular the song will be with not only Chinese people, but with the international community as a whole. I have a sneaking suspicion it's simply because it's just easier to sing along to... and god knows, Asians need their KTVs. Just ask the Chinese, Koreans, Thai, Mongolians, and Indonesians I've gone karaokeing with. They're all obsessed with Westlife. I've never even heard of Westlife.

WARNING: Please do not Google or try to find Westlife songs on Youtube after reading this post. They will hurt your ears and delete your brain cells. They're actually absolutely atrocious. I can't go over how dumb their songs are... or the fact that none of them are even remotely good looking to me. Ew. Vom.



But this one Chinese song -- I actually really loved. If only for the fact, that I know exactly how she feels...

Friday, December 17, 2010

Procrastination: A profession of my love for TED.com

So I already warned you guys -- working on my takehome final right now. No long posts, but I just had to share:

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2010/09/08/134-the-ted-conference/

SO happy it made the list.

But why as a Vietnamese-American girl, in CHINA, am I reading a blog about "Stuff White People Like"? Stop. Think. And chuckle to yourself.

Fact, I sometimes forget I'm Asian.
Fact, it scares me that "Asian girls" almost makes it to the top ten list -- we're at number 11. But we'll leave the discussion of yellow fever for another post.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Laundry...

When I was five…
I remember rolling around in the fresh laundry that my mom had just dumped onto the bed – much like a leaf pile in autumn, but a lot softer – deeply breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and scented fabric sheets – mainly enjoying how much I liked the warmth of the clothes, fresh out of the laundry machine.

When I was seven…
I remember, I obediently and diligently took to the chore my mother had assigned me -- matching socks. I remember thinking, "the biggest ones are daddy’s, the medium ones are mommy’s -- and the smallest ones are mine!" I’d always have to match socks in that order.

When I was ten…
We had finally moved to a REAL house, with a HUGE backyard, and we were no longer in the two bedroom apartment – so my mother hung clothes outside on the clothing line during the summer. I’d run in and out between the sheets playing tag with my friends… My mom would always get angry when I rearranged the clothing lines to box myself into a house, a fort, or a castle of sheets...

When I was fifteen…
Laundry became a chore. I knew how to sort colors, when I could use hot water, when to add bleach or woolite, and when I should hand wash delicates. I did the laundry for everyone in my house -- and with my OCD, I couldn’t bear it when my brother folded my clothes, so I had to do that too… but sometimes my mom would help me.

We’d watch an episode of “CSI” or “Law & Order", unfolded clothes spread out in front of us. We'd sit together, cross legged, slightly facing each other on her bed – chit chatting during the commercial breaks. We’d talk about this and that, about school, boys, how dad snores too loudly at night, how fast my brothers were growing up (in her opinion), why I really needed another winter coat, news, politics, about family feuds, and sometimes she’d complain about her boss… I still can’t fold my clothes as nicely as she can.

When I was eighteen…
I did my own laundry in college and it was one of those chores that made you feel like you were really growing up, you know what I mean? To have your own space and do chores for yourself – and not an entire family, including two brothers who both did sports and would peel off their dirty gym clothes, leaving a trail of grossness from their room to the bathroom. Doing laundry in college was a nice break from school, it was relaxing -- listening to music, watching a movie, or catching up on the latest "Colbert Report" episode -- as I sat on my bed, quietly folding my clothes.

Now I’m twenty…
And I’m in China, where I have to hand-wash my clothes – which is a lot more difficult than it seems. The process is tiring, an entire upper body workout. Give wringing out clothes a try. I dare you.

But, as I hang my clothes up on the clothing line to dry – music drifts out of my room onto the balcony. There are sounds of kids down below, people talking, sitting on the wall right outside. It’s peaceful. I hear bits of conversation in French and occasional conversations in Chinese. I wonder if one day if I have a family of my own, I’ll have the time in my summers to hang up a clothing line like my mother… I muse.

Free image hosting at imagecave.com

Free image hosting at imagecave.com

I softly sing along to the melody and I can’t help but smile -- I really do love doing laundry.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Finals, Snow, and Hot Water Pads

F.I.N.A.L.S. = Fuck I'm Not Asian, Life Sucks

Or so I was told by Olivia Lucas. But let me tell you -- as an Asian, I'd like to inform you all that life sucks for us too. Good luck to all back in the states who have finals now! :) I know the pressure is on -- but you guys are almost there! Home stretch! You can do it! 加油! I have finals too so don't expect any lengthy posts any time soon... though I might surprise you all during my bouts of procrastination.

Speaking of which... procrastination today was made entirely made possible by Changsha's first snow fall. Changsha rarely experiences snow -- let alone snows that sticks -- but I had the pleasure of looking out my window this afternoon and seeing rooftops dusted in white. More importantly, I had the pleasure of seeing people's reaction to seeing snow for the first time. Their faces lifted up to face the sky, smiling from ear to ear, with their arms lifted welcoming the first snow -- completely ignoring the cold around them. Like kids on snow days... I was delighted to be there and share in some of the magic of their first snow experience. Growing up in Massachusetts, I forget that half the world has never seen snow in their life. But in an area that rarely snows, snow inevitably brings about not only amazement but also a period of panic. Hats, gloves, snow gear, snow boots, electric blankets, cold medicine, you name it -- are selling like hot cakes. And I guess the "cold" weather is a good excuse to go shopping though I put "cold" in quotes as it rarely ever dips below 0 degrees celsius (32 degrees fahrenheit), let alone below zero.

Yesterday, I helped my roommate buy a hot water pad. Do we use hot water pads in Massachusetts? I personally have never seen one before -- but they're all the rage here. You can find them in every convenient store -- in so many different colors and in too many designs. It's almost a little overwhelming how overboard the Chinese people can go in terms of decorating something as simple as a hot water pad. There are ones that range from 10 RMB (roughly $1.50) to 32 RMB (roughly $4.75). There are Hello Kitty ones and ones wrapped in Chinese silk. There are ones that fit comfortably in your hand and ones that are so heavy you could probably knock the wind out of someone if you threw it the right way. Round ones. Square ones. And ones that have lights -- I kid you not.

But I bought one for 15 RMB (roughly $2.25).

Free image hosting at imagecave.com

It's cute, right?

I feel "old school" as I'm lugging this 3-pound worth of weight around. It's a little awkward -- but I love that its almost too simple to use. You can heat it up by plugging it in to an outlet for maybe two minutes, and then unplug it and use for two hours. It's probably the nicest thing ever to just have a hot water pad sit in your lap as you're studying. I could get addicted. I might take to just putting it under my jacket during the winter despite how cumbersome it is at times.

So for those back home complaining about the cold, the roads that are now grey with slush, the snow banks that take up parking spots, and how spring seems just too far away. Stop, look, and remember to take in how beautiful snow can be at times. Then, of course, you can snap out of your reverie and resume your complaints.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Weekends -- Part 1/2

So I take a break from writing about my first impressions to give you a glimpse of what I’ve been doing with my weekends. When I’m not out dancing with Chacey Bryan (hi, darling) – You can usually find my halfway across the city at 农大 – a university almost two hours away by bus from my own school.

“Over the river and through the woods”, almost works perfectly in describing how to get there -- but there’s actually two rivers, not one – and it’s not woods, it’s fields and fields of farmland. My roommate and I switch buses twice, and the final bus goes through a section of “paved” road that would put off roading to shame with the amount of potholes, mudholes, and near death experiences because of the oncoming traffic of cars, vespas, bikes, motorbikes, and pedestrians on a road meant for one way traffic.

But when we finally do get there – it’s worth all the trouble, 5 RMB for bus fares, dirtied shoes, and two hours of sitting or standing time (depending on whether or not we were lucky enough to get seats on the buses) – because we’re finally hit with the pungent smell of spice and a battering ram of music and laughter.

Welcome to Thailand!” they joke as we walk in.
“Sa-wat dee kaa! ” I reply.

I’m an honorary Thai person– as my roommates and everyone at 农大are Thai. We converse in a mix in a mix of English and Chinese… but often I just happily sit back and listen as they quickly go back and forth in Thai. If I’ve learned anything while I’ve been in China, it’s that I can spend hours just listening.

I silently watch their facial expressions, the hesitations, the stammers, their eyes dancing forewarning a joke that’s about to be told, their hands – clenched, open, expressively dancing in the air and fingers unable to stand still, the slight lift of the eyebrows, the twitch playing above the right side of the lips, the wrinkling of the nose or the furrowing of the eyebrows, and the air that’s caught in their throat as they try not to laugh. Surprisingly, I’m okay with the fact that I don’t understand a word of the conversation around me. I don’t have to.

Then I try not to watch, and try listening for a change. I’m quite content with just soaking in the atmosphere… it’s a little like music – where I listen to just the sounds and how they come together. I like noticing the differences and similarities in languages. How interesting... that there are so many ways to express one self – yet we confine ourselves to just one language. There are so many sounds we will never make because they’re not a part of our native language. Sounds that fit perfectly for certain situations, that we'll never know. So many words that don’t have translations. So many different rhythms that exist that can be found in different languages. Some languages are a constant staccato while others are more like whispers, like the soft brush of leaves in the wind. Some sound angry, harsh even, yet some are butter and melt away in your mouth, disappearing as quickly as its spoken. I love just listening, basking in wonderment, reveling at the fact that languages will never cease to amaze me. So many languages to listen to, and a lifetime to explore a never ending amount of sounds it seems.

I connect different languages with ones I’ve already heard, or quietly (in my head) repeat and fumble around with certain words that sound interesting, funny, melodic, impossible to say, intricate, discordant, or are just fun to say. Certain words tease my mouth, like candy for my tongue… slowly tasting the words and savoring them – hastily flipping them over in my mouth and on my lips. Pressing them to the roof of my mouth, I purse my lips smiling, quickly devouring them. They tickle my mouth and I can’t help but smile when I say them. I could go into more about how much I love languages in general – but I’ll leave that for another time.

What was I talking about again?
Ah, yes - we'll leave that for the next post.

A little Thai music so you don’t hate me for suddenly stopping:

Monday, December 13, 2010

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Rain

Soundtrack: “Lover You Should’ve Come Over” – Jeff Buckley Cover, Jamie Cullum

I hate rainy weather.
And if I have plans with you, I’ll always cancel them. Always.

“Sorry, I’m not feeling so hot today. Yeah. Mhmm. Rain check? No pun intended"
“I hate the rain. It’s miserable out – let’s do a movie and popcorn instead?”
“It’s raining again. I should get up. Yeah, right... snooze, where the fuck is the snooze button?”
I hate rainy weather.

I hate the fact that there’s always traffic in the city when it rains, no matter what. It’s as if people forget how to drive. It’s as if the rain is an excuse to walk slower, drive slower, and to not look up. Pedestrians become selectively blind – to street signs, cars, and signals – frantically walking, escaping to somewhere. Frightened that the water will melt them, as if they were related to the wicked witch of the west. Today, because of the rain, it’s particularly imperative for them to make it to an appointment, a date, a dinner party, or the lovely dentist's office – to a warm place – so they don’t need to care about traffic rules or the cars stuck in traffic. How do you spell jay walkers? It’s as if the rain is the director's cue for them to move as if they’re moving through water – which I guess they are, but it’s not an excuse. So, slow. I’m so impatient.
I hate rainy weather.

I hate the mud that is trekked in – on the buses, the normally clean white tiles of shopping malls, and especially in public restrooms. I hate slippery stairs and sidewalks that have been shaded in a repulsive shade of brown. If I slip now, I’m screwed.
I hate rainy weather.

I hate feeling permanently uncomfortable, cold. Unable to warm myself up and rub my hands on my arms in fear of getting my hands wet on my jacket. I stand on the bus, trying to hold my umbrella away from me, hoping it won’t brush against my jeans that definitely aren’t waterproof. I hate soaked shoes. Feeling soaked to the bones. What I hate even more is soaked gloves – they’re supposed to keep me warm, but when they’re wet, they’re absolutely useless. I can't touch any part of my self because they're wet -- and I don't want to take them off, because where would I put them? Not in my pockets where it's actually dry. I feel like a cat, frozen – paralyzed because of the weather. I hate it when people shake their umbrellas and the water sprays back onto my face, that moment, when the cold drops hit your face... Then, wait, it’s coming… the soft draft that would’ve been fine a minute ago, becomes ten times colder because your face is wet. I hate the rain more than the cold that comes with it.
I hate rainy weather.

But really? ... I secretly love it.

It’s as if all the world is muffled – it’s three notches quieter. People tucked under their hoods, clutching tightly to their umbrellas, rushing by, gingerly picking their way through the puddles, too busy to loiter or chat outside my window. Add the pitter patter of the rain hitting the pavement and all you have is a distant hum from the traffic outside – and a soothing cadence of rain thrumming against the window and water rushing through the gutters, carving out its own path down the walls and cracks of the dormitory.

I like being warm, inside. Shedding off my wet socks and settling down in front of a book and a cup of tea. I like being dry while it's raining outside. That sense of tiredness that you always get after coming in from the rain -- like after a swim at the pool, or a long day at the beach. I like not feeling guilty -- for not going out for the entire day. Just lounging around, sleeping in, listening to music. You can't call me antisocial. I get to be a homebody without judgement from others. Breathe, relax, and slow down.

My hands hate the rainy weather though. It cramps and stiffens. I think I might have arthritis like my mom, and her mom. So today I’ll just have to make do with typing out a journal entry instead of writing it by hand.

There’s something about the feel of a pen in your hand as it glides across the page though. Lifting up the pen, pausing, with the pen tip poised above the page – waiting, holding its breath. Something about the finality, the permanence. The need for certainty and precision to express your ideas, to not write too illegibly, to capture your thoughts, to not write too much, to find the right word, phrase, sentence, expression, idiom. What was that thought again? How did I phrase it before? Why didn’t I write it down then?

And as you press the pen tip back down, there’s a rush – thoughts that can’t be taken back because my OCD won’t allow me to rip out any part of my journal, cross anything out, or even use a pencil.

Friday, December 10, 2010

First Impressions – Part One: Beijing

Soundtrack: “Sunday Morning” – Maroon 5

Sorry for already slacking on my posts -- I really didn't know how to start off the second post. I was questioning whether I should start off recounting the beginning of my experience here in China, or just pick up from where I am now. I guess I'll do a little of both. So here it is -- a glimpse of the past.

When I first arrived to Beijing, I relied on the help of strangers, friend of friends, and not so good facebook friends to help me with my first few days in China.

There was Shelley, my plane ride buddy - from Tokyo, Japan to Beijing, China – who reassured me that my Chinese accent was fine, who reminded me of my own mother, and who happily chatted in Chinese throughout the entire plane ride even though I was ready to pass out. You look Japanese, she had stated very confidently. I'm not. I know, she had replied. She was excited to know that I knew where U.C. Davis is located, since she had just seen her own daughter off to college there. By the end of the plane ride, she had given me her number and offered me a place to stay in Beijing (since there was now an extra room in the house and she said she would love the company).

There was Newnew, a friend of a friend, an ex-Pat who had perfect Chinese, who without knowing really what I looked like, or ever even talking to me, picked me up from the airport. A sweet, incredibly adorable girl, who talked just a little too fast and had enough energy for the both of us (considering I had just spent almost 24 hours on a plane or waiting for one, her energy level was exceptional).

There was Christine He, who I had met from my last winter session in Beijing. A recent graduate who was about to spend a few years in the UK to finish her Masters. A very engaging girl, with a passion for her English studies, and a nonchalant vibe that allowed her to easily intermingle with foreigners. I’ve only talked to her in person once, one afternoon, for a few hours, while making dumpling. Yet after exchanging emails last winter, we had quickly decided to live together if I were to stay in Beijing and if she was still in Beijing. Despite plans falling through, I still had a place to stay for a few nights at her apartment and someone to help me buy train tickets to Changsha.

Then of course there was the scrawny Chinese boy who worked at the train station. Who, after I lost my 342 RMB train ticket to Changsha, was in a state of tears, and wanted to call someone but had no cell phone on me? Looked at me with such understanding that I couldn’t help but be thankful for his presence. He looked at me with such a look of worry, for me -- just another stranger, softly speaking “没事,没事—不用哭。别哭吧”almost afraid to touch me, as if I would break. For the half hour where I was panicking and was starting to regret my decision to come to China alone – he was like my life raft. I clung to him as he lugged my over-packed suitcase to the actual platform and waited until the train actually took off to Changsha, before disappearing from my sight. Albeit we exchanged only a few words, I’ll never forget how much I needed him at that time.

How embarassing -- and how silly -- I look back and wonder why I had such a heart full of worry.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Hello, again

So sorry I didn’t start a blog sooner.

Between school, applications, adjusting, getting lost, initially surviving without a proxy, wasting time on skype, and procrastinating -- I just never found the time. I also had writer’s block – literally for two or three months I couldn’t touch my journal. Every day I literally spent half an hour just staring at my journal, a pen in my hand, and a stricken look on my face. If I can’t write in my journal, what makes you think I could keep up a blog? This is for you Chris Silvia.

Initially, I was keeping a journal for my future daughter – okay, guys, stop it. Don’t say it. I’m not crazy. I honestly like the idea of keeping a journal now while I'm 20 -- to give to my daughter when she turns 20. I want to give a piece of my life now to her. My thoughts, my advice, my own questions -- about life, love, and happiness. Hopefully, she’ll learn from my experiences and more importantly from my mistakes – god knows I have a lot of those. And maybe when I’m 50, with this journal, I can prove that I was cool at one point and not just a mom. Too many details? Some of the guys scared away? No worries.

I’m still keeping the handwritten journal (which is a tad more personal), but I also want to share my thoughts with you guys back home too, if only for the fact that it might be easier to update you guys all at once instead of one by one. I’m terrible at keeping in touch with people, thinking that they’ll always be there when I get back. But… seeing that so many people are traveling the world (shout out to Annie, Jesse, Lucy, Kumar, Sarah, Courtney & Soukie who I know are all abroad now) – it finally hit me that I might not see people ever again. Some people that have been there for the best of times and the worst of times? (Dickens) -- have just fallen out of my life. I look back and sometimes wonder what they’re doing this very moment – and then realize they’re probably asleep because it’s daytime here.

So for those that just happen to click on this blog out of curiosity:

I’m 5’3”. I’m Vietnamese. I was born in Texas and grew up in Massachusetts. I live to travel. I want to backpack through Cambodia and Laos. I like the sun. I like the sun while hiking. I love the beaches of New England in the winter time. If I had the time, I’d spend everyday reading an entire book -- outside, under a tree, in a hammock, on a window sill, with someone as we’re cuddling, stretched out at a beach, in a quiet café, by the steps of Gore, out loud to little kids, on the subway home, or just before I fall asleep in my bed alone.

I love jazz. And wine. And tequila. Bossa nova. I fall asleep to classical. I still have a soft spot for Soundgarden. My summers are dedicated to folk music. I nap too much. The Low Anthem is my favorite band and I am currently rediscovering Damien Rice. I’m nostalgic for a different decade. I want a room dedicated to music when I have a house of my own. I also want a library, so I really don’t know how to fit all these rooms into one house. Let’s open a café together. I’m a romantic. I don’t need money to be happy. I need to dream. I dream too big. I admit I’ve often prioritized my travel plans in front of other people in my life. I’m young. I’ve been in love. I’ve worn my heart on my sleeve. I’ve been crushed. Screw the game. I’m in the midst of a quarter life crisis. I’ve broken hearts (I think?) or at least have been a huge tease at least more than once. I consider myself a narrow minded liberal. I am not religious, but I believe in God. I’m Buddhist. -- I admit, I need to figure out what that means to me.

I am at Central South University, which is a school in Changsha, Hunan Province. Don’t know where that is? I didn’t either. When I first got the scholarship notice I remember going “Where the fuck is this place?” You’d better google it. I was awarded the Chinese Government scholarship for a year of Chinese Language studies, which to some people would be impressive -- but to which my father asked,

“Are you taking a year off because you don’t know what you want to do with your life?”
To which I responded,
“Yep.”
He knows me too well.

I am taking classes with first year Chinese students who are studying Chinese (like how there are English majors in the U.S. – yes, some people need this explanation). In between learning, absorbing, breathing, and texting in Chinese? I am adventuring. Of course, I miss my family and friends – but I’m not ready to come home yet.

I have too many plans but at least I’m taking steps towards what I think I want. And to what I know I want. I’m walking confidently towards my future, but without a clue as to what’ll happen. I will not always succeed. I pursue my dreams passionately, albeit a little foolhardily. Once I know what I want, I will not falter or hesitate to chase after my ambitions.

This blog will not be tailored to suit any specific need. It’ll be whatever I want it to be – and not always necessarily about my travels or my studies. And also not necessarily always in English. It’ll have thoughts, musings, and random music. I’ll try to update everyday – but I have a life to live too. Sorry if this first post was a bore – but I know if you’re my friend, you’ll keep on reading ;)

Smiles and happiness,
Tc