tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65612182024-03-24T12:22:21.172+03:00Have passport will travelWhen we see something different, somehow our understanding of the world changes.
How we view the world as we know it alters and we become a different person. Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.comBlogger426125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-81455014879769435042015-05-05T23:22:00.001+03:002015-05-05T23:24:32.228+03:00I should listen to my daughter more ......<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Its May in the desert and the temperature has been rising rapidly.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">As we drove into the golf course, the driver pointed out that it was 41oC. Summer was here to stay and the temperature will only keep on rising.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So it was of great surprise to me when my daughter came to me after a round of putting with,"Mommy we should go home quickly! Its going to rain."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But of course, me being the Mommy said, "Don't be silly darling. Its May! its not going to rain! Maybe a sandstorm but not rain!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"But Mommy! Its not impossible that it will rain right?!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"Of course its not impossible now that you put it that way. But it is not very likely that it will rain." I told my daughter, confidently.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Well guess what happen later that evening, after I put her raincoat that was hanging at the back of the door in the washing machine??? (I honestly thought that it was impossible that it would rain in May!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It rained!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So Dear Daughter, I apologize for breaking a promise I made to you long ago. From now on I promise to listen to you with an open mind and open heart. I do confess that sometimes I do forget. Mommies are human after all. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">PS Thanks to Kakteh and her revival of Sentraal Station!</span></div>
Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-15911542345179646572010-04-09T21:32:00.005+03:002010-04-09T22:07:56.976+03:00I am enamouredLife sometimes bring me surprising turns. Turns that make me sigh with gratitude, "Alhamdullilah."<br /><br />I have never been much of a water or beach person. I had always seen myself as a mountain girl. Water and the sea just scares me. I stay away from them.<br /><br />We had talked about this trip semi seriously. I was somewhat interested, only because I like seeing new places and our friend Oi Lin kept telling us how wonderful her trip was last year. Me going was contingent on a few factors, that our friend could get us rooms with special rates and my friend Oilin could come with us. My Dearest could not make it over Spring break as he had to use his leave for his seminar else. So it was to be girls only trip; Amalina, Oilin and me.<br /><br />Suddenly our friend told us that he could confirm the dates we said we could come. We could not believe it. Oilin had even given up her leave. I had resigned to staying home and meeting friends for coffee.<br /><br />But it was meant to be. And I am truly grateful. Grateful for the opportunity for me to appreciate another aspect of this wonderful world created for us.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxahwk9mPpWX9Q2b2yv920jRKsQUJjPiaVN4fKHXsKsbFIuroaGyNWAjVorkZV6uW-jaqTLMUzAGXKgiM_5C6ioJsr9ULLIfhkSirNBBQ2xfZGZJALGn1DlMSsdJ_lqau96Zn/s1600/05dolphins.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJxahwk9mPpWX9Q2b2yv920jRKsQUJjPiaVN4fKHXsKsbFIuroaGyNWAjVorkZV6uW-jaqTLMUzAGXKgiM_5C6ioJsr9ULLIfhkSirNBBQ2xfZGZJALGn1DlMSsdJ_lqau96Zn/s400/05dolphins.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458209234927978130" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When we arrived at Male airport, we were greeted by the Four Seasons staff and whisked off to the sppedboat. Kuda Huraa is merely 25 minutes away by speedboat. We were greeted by ice cold drinks and refreshing cold hotel, scented with lemon grass. Luxury is about paying attention to the littlest details.<br /><br />Just 10 minutes on, the steward approached Amalina and asked her if she wanted to see dolphins. She wasn't certain what that means. Dolphins to her are seen either in aquariums or performance shows in amusement parks.<br /><br />These were wild Dolphins, free as free as they can be in the deep blue sea, the Indian Ocean. They even came up and greeted us. They swam by the boat as we stood eagerly, both nervous and excited.<br /><br />Very special treat indeed! They wanted us to come! They wanted us to see them.<br /><br />Then they seem to have announced our arrival to the rest of the inhabitants of the sea because the Pilot Whales came to pay their homage!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgPQVTLbu6nYYG8krV3SQ_t91Nc5nHl7iTe9KuMwrcawDvy8yWt3Qat-FJvc_h5DRBw2irzO4raVZju06Vnd6C9rVkrl4yq4_fB1OXturL_4vRaZ8_JQdpDF4qe1auFpw_Mhh/s1600/07pilotwhale.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCgPQVTLbu6nYYG8krV3SQ_t91Nc5nHl7iTe9KuMwrcawDvy8yWt3Qat-FJvc_h5DRBw2irzO4raVZju06Vnd6C9rVkrl4yq4_fB1OXturL_4vRaZ8_JQdpDF4qe1auFpw_Mhh/s400/07pilotwhale.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458213033225526034" border="0" /></a><br />This was the first time the Pilot Whales are seen this year! What a wonderful start to our trip! We haven't even arrived at the resort yet!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4uugHqtDCxFMdY7ZnuFpWdyfPQeepxrclbT0XccIeRiukoujBg7iErRk-WJ12x8vdvtNqQmjmjP71HLxTaTt09Xx9hWwC5w2jtkIWFb_JA3o75yY8NI0ca9-0iko4ZnPuWbDb/s1600/02waterbungalows.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4uugHqtDCxFMdY7ZnuFpWdyfPQeepxrclbT0XccIeRiukoujBg7iErRk-WJ12x8vdvtNqQmjmjP71HLxTaTt09Xx9hWwC5w2jtkIWFb_JA3o75yY8NI0ca9-0iko4ZnPuWbDb/s400/02waterbungalows.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458209235352419586" border="0" /></a><br />The water bungalows at Four Seasons Kuda Huraa is amazingly wonderful! I have nothing to say but wonderful things about the marine life around Maldives and the resort.<br /><br />And I yearn to go back.<br /><br />Just to give you some highlights of our trip, enjoy these amazing sights.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-qf1v_1H8-rTwKZjqN8RKn2Si1AqXF0CdpZumkflGlFqV7MFY0QvnyL9PIpxsCYlVm1dPdtmPx3djKHWcpdunuGET6LgsNDG0zmh36xeN169QpZGUUT_cf4OBXV71fybspZd/s1600/shahruljetski.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl-qf1v_1H8-rTwKZjqN8RKn2Si1AqXF0CdpZumkflGlFqV7MFY0QvnyL9PIpxsCYlVm1dPdtmPx3djKHWcpdunuGET6LgsNDG0zmh36xeN169QpZGUUT_cf4OBXV71fybspZd/s400/shahruljetski.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458209251088378370" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Jet skiing before sunset. We saw another school of dolphins again.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB73vnH7ZIds69dBVIQ9SiMEvdSlPqqUl6E_iLfh3DVEJxTsE3qC8uKjbCSA4v9w9TvMie_t_gbi3HAnlGa1FidhDNPz6sX2q6qmzQNQ0Z1Sab08Eyn00qjDGolwmcF_1ui2RX/s1600/synset@sunsetbeach.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB73vnH7ZIds69dBVIQ9SiMEvdSlPqqUl6E_iLfh3DVEJxTsE3qC8uKjbCSA4v9w9TvMie_t_gbi3HAnlGa1FidhDNPz6sX2q6qmzQNQ0Z1Sab08Eyn00qjDGolwmcF_1ui2RX/s400/synset@sunsetbeach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458216367060438818" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivUWL783qAQ5mZQHz1A9Ogmn9yo78k_nKbqkrWgGoLWMpR-7SL_D-8612DmPs4cI4FSgzSBw0shfEnAL_zjbBpiSs5LSCoUfi7qwpB6vTqQP-sIqo5HPsjpWdgzmbZBpU6YVV5/s1600/amzasunset.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 327px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivUWL783qAQ5mZQHz1A9Ogmn9yo78k_nKbqkrWgGoLWMpR-7SL_D-8612DmPs4cI4FSgzSBw0shfEnAL_zjbBpiSs5LSCoUfi7qwpB6vTqQP-sIqo5HPsjpWdgzmbZBpU6YVV5/s400/amzasunset.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458209238272888914" border="0" /></a><br /><br />If you want to see more highlights of our short trip, you can see them <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=214975&id=801711109&l=a265d6a213">here</a> and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=217086&id=801711109&l=6ebae29e57">here</a>.<br /><br />Yes Maldives, I want to see you again. Till next time.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-75032045352266102572010-01-22T01:41:00.010+03:002010-02-07T17:55:33.963+03:00Il Vaggio al Courmayeur IIAosta - Courmayeur<br /><br />Day 06 continued<br /><br />The train 12:45 hr for Pre Saint Didier consist of one carriage with one door in the middle. It left on time on the journey that was filled with pleasant surprises.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4y8yrTR2rATfo4bpbuO0yvwtdaHHPt3o03AbBIvqe3oVdQ5VDmf72oIBmhc6InZsST_hkM-koLsIe7Gw-PltXb98amTVNHZGoFTfntX-Fd0wizH-QYXL_SLtJ1cXg0eJKLYus/s1600-h/9Aosta4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4y8yrTR2rATfo4bpbuO0yvwtdaHHPt3o03AbBIvqe3oVdQ5VDmf72oIBmhc6InZsST_hkM-koLsIe7Gw-PltXb98amTVNHZGoFTfntX-Fd0wizH-QYXL_SLtJ1cXg0eJKLYus/s400/9Aosta4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429326180461992642" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiH9keCyrcifG34ZfoWZvWRmaoQ9SdH-zBTrefL17VnDLCWuwZUfqOzAPO0GtmF3kataSoWgdvGx3hAS7hVLhaDWkSfO5yil1v2gBInQenaAj7cLUiH95WyFM1OHFzq50XY0zs/s1600-h/10Aosta5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiH9keCyrcifG34ZfoWZvWRmaoQ9SdH-zBTrefL17VnDLCWuwZUfqOzAPO0GtmF3kataSoWgdvGx3hAS7hVLhaDWkSfO5yil1v2gBInQenaAj7cLUiH95WyFM1OHFzq50XY0zs/s400/10Aosta5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429326384816460450" border="0" /></a><br />If the Aosta station was small, the train stations to Courmayeur were tiny!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIQQcs68N8bckeh6NeM62MD54zpbXvtaJdwjZnj0NCvkCFWmWomiQ8miMBvB1lMpgnKEfjaAlwkff5ZeHQqn0s1Wwn0TN5h90B4_tVYbkA0vOC3-_OuWuOC84PGDeG1I0gbJ9/s1600-h/11Aosta6.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEIQQcs68N8bckeh6NeM62MD54zpbXvtaJdwjZnj0NCvkCFWmWomiQ8miMBvB1lMpgnKEfjaAlwkff5ZeHQqn0s1Wwn0TN5h90B4_tVYbkA0vOC3-_OuWuOC84PGDeG1I0gbJ9/s400/11Aosta6.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429326377812999042" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Does the Capo no longer have an office?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJv0Faj2cWmOMXR6vesnmeEYcRx2owASgrQmBPIampHIGJLv3_3igHMp4TjwpTb7Dhavshq5J2R9owmH5KHjaj0zdXdWHujMwMVRG2FOfp-8FBMjwHXySXDmNQCaJ3Tq2XM5G/s1600-h/12Aosta7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJv0Faj2cWmOMXR6vesnmeEYcRx2owASgrQmBPIampHIGJLv3_3igHMp4TjwpTb7Dhavshq5J2R9owmH5KHjaj0zdXdWHujMwMVRG2FOfp-8FBMjwHXySXDmNQCaJ3Tq2XM5G/s400/12Aosta7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429327993338958194" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Some of the train tracks were running practically behind someone's backyard.<br /><br />After what feels like eternity, we arrived at Pre Saint Didier. Since I had kept my camera away to free my hands to handle by backpack, Amalina and the stroller, I could not capture the picture of the station. Perhaps the Villineuve station will give you an idea what the size of the Pre Saint Didier Station was.<br /><br />We had planned to take a taxi from Pre Saint Didier to Courmayeur. Afterall, from the information I found, Pre Saint Didier was merely 5 km away from Courmayeur. What I didn't realize that there were no taxis waiting for passengers at Pre Saint Didier Station. In fact, we were the only ones who got down there! Perhaps we could call for a taxi but to my dismay, our WIND Italian sim card had no reception at Pre Saint Didier!<br /><br />We thought, why not ask the train driver if he could help us with directions and to our dismay both him and the train were gone!<br /><br />At the corner of the station was a tiny bar which was still closed. Trying our luck, we ventured inside, hoping that someone in there could help us call a taxi. The cleaning lady, whose Italian accent was different than what I was used to, kindly gave us a business card for a taxi for Courmayeur whom we could call to fetch us. I asked if she has a telephone for us to use and she could not help us with that. Instead, she suggested that we walk to the Piazza which was 5 minutes away.<br /><br />Slightly nervous, we trudged along; Saiful with a huge rucksack on his back and our huge suitcase, me with Amalina's stroller and another backpack on my back, in the slush on a quiet road, with no signs of another vehicle.<br /><br />At the end of that quiet road, I saw a boy, no more than 10 years old, shoveling his front walk. My Italian came back in a hurry. I greeted him and asked if the Piazza was in that direction. And he said yes it was.<br /><br />I asked him if there were taxis there to take us to Courmayeur. And he shook his head and said nope, there won't be taxis there.<br /><br />Instead he pointed to us the bus station (which we did not notice before because it was hidden behind a mountain of snow) and told us that there are buses to Courmayeur from the l'fermata. I asked him what time the bus will come and he said well I'm not sure you'll just have to wait there.<br /><br />I was slightly nervous as we could be waiting for another hour for the bus to come. Luck was on our side as a bus pulled into the bus stop merely 5 minutes later. We were the only passengers on the bus and the driver waited patiently for us to haul all our luggage onto the bus.<br /><br />The bus fare from Pre Saint Didier to Courmayeur was EUR1.30 and the journey took no more than 20 minutes. As we pullled into Courmayeur I was excited and nervous at the same time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg90llkD-jZsyc_kpF0Wcl9JrlLO9pPe7_VytIAOEWqnDMeoPsSRhieprMiAsM0Qqk_uLdCPWoKEceEQ0MjXBkLeHOklddkjthbWnumme8WGgoyPJsyAllcuVpqCVY4RNhdmrQ2/s1600-h/13a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg90llkD-jZsyc_kpF0Wcl9JrlLO9pPe7_VytIAOEWqnDMeoPsSRhieprMiAsM0Qqk_uLdCPWoKEceEQ0MjXBkLeHOklddkjthbWnumme8WGgoyPJsyAllcuVpqCVY4RNhdmrQ2/s400/13a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429443454827205122" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I had tried to look for directions for the hotels via google maps before we left but could not find details. I tried asking the bus driver after he boarded the bus but he didn't know where the Hotel was and suggested I ask someone.<br /><br />The main bus station where we got off its actually very convenient. There is a bus ticket office, Tourist Information office and Hotel booking office. Unfortunately the Tourist Information office was closed. What a day right?<br /><br />Luckily I found a big self service map showing where all the location of the hotel was in Courmayeur (yes it was that small). We followed the directions for the Hotel Bouton D'or which was as follows:<br /><br />Take the steps up on the right side. There is a path from the front of the Post Office that lead you directly to the front of the hotel.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdtYiWuT_UaBhpH-TIDZcUcfy7coI24-L78W-xY9avgFUxzvb5N6X333bG9zxHZDHA5Jnc05jGRslVyYEyOZ9YAOzG3XQiKCTm4RnVU-o5fp3u6YilyeAAmm1sP8KYZ0JgwAZ/s1600-h/15Courmayeur3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIdtYiWuT_UaBhpH-TIDZcUcfy7coI24-L78W-xY9avgFUxzvb5N6X333bG9zxHZDHA5Jnc05jGRslVyYEyOZ9YAOzG3XQiKCTm4RnVU-o5fp3u6YilyeAAmm1sP8KYZ0JgwAZ/s400/15Courmayeur3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429445495611600658" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Sounds simple enough right? Except the path mentioned was covered knee deep with snow. took us a few minutes to figure out with one the correct path was! Not to mention that it was impossible to pull the luggage through knee deep snow!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn93cd6VxCQ2PBMkzSgVMeiX3eqFA3qJsqnEsKo4MjZ5LAohGlCJRkkPJ6bBYsg904PbSeto8ePkYtwvm4AWMSultES9yn_Go1Nig76hP7PA-BNzZbGZ4rNxd_wl9mmjgUeQks/s1600-h/17COurmayeur5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn93cd6VxCQ2PBMkzSgVMeiX3eqFA3qJsqnEsKo4MjZ5LAohGlCJRkkPJ6bBYsg904PbSeto8ePkYtwvm4AWMSultES9yn_Go1Nig76hP7PA-BNzZbGZ4rNxd_wl9mmjgUeQks/s400/17COurmayeur5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429446567871051490" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This was the path after they had shoveled it the next day.<br /><br />So DH and The Little One stayed behind at the Post Office while I trudged ahead looking for the hotel and perhaps I can ask for help there.<br /><br />Upon arrival at the Hotel, I recognize Patrizia, the owner, from the picture on the website. I introduced myself and told her about our problem. Patrizia told me not to worry and her husband will pick DH and The Little One up from the post office. She also informed me that she has instructed the chambermaid to put extra pillows in our room for The Little One.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-63813443065905252412010-01-20T14:55:00.000+03:002010-01-22T09:04:26.011+03:00Il Vaggio al Courmayeur ITorino - Aosta <br /><br />Day 06<br /><br />We has a early start. Left the hotel at 750 am to catch the 825 am Train to Aosta and then to Pre Saint Didier.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjG2A9cPUU5D-1FKEDMxat0BMTv7gVeTKo4s0Cc-_JIm3PO7GHIap72QBwAn9x7GxP5sO7-wwi9Gtvlt-WmAmrWxX8nDMBRCMAeE91DHFp_DyCNNDHx6lfCsDAaElXPCzCf9d/s1600-h/1a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqjG2A9cPUU5D-1FKEDMxat0BMTv7gVeTKo4s0Cc-_JIm3PO7GHIap72QBwAn9x7GxP5sO7-wwi9Gtvlt-WmAmrWxX8nDMBRCMAeE91DHFp_DyCNNDHx6lfCsDAaElXPCzCf9d/s400/1a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429323249350581730" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />At the station we found that the earlier train to Aosta has been canceled. We banked on hope that our train will still run! Had to change platform. Found train filled with people. We were grateful when the train departed on time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcu5eD-0l6fFb2zRmblo3MCo1JTLi5tHQkmGSEEoAkKK6aZqOAz7USguFmPopE6gerTZvgan5s8NawjXL2JvL29k4wbE5w3jQknp1-A5A7gZd1pwEZnhQinmkq0NUH9EhJrV2/s1600-h/1-23dec.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKcu5eD-0l6fFb2zRmblo3MCo1JTLi5tHQkmGSEEoAkKK6aZqOAz7USguFmPopE6gerTZvgan5s8NawjXL2JvL29k4wbE5w3jQknp1-A5A7gZd1pwEZnhQinmkq0NUH9EhJrV2/s400/1-23dec.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425136538146555522" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The view from the train.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6ptOayJ5PcoQ8GPsBKH3-82WceqtSaxa01qe4cMU6OMYfU0Yd3qIsa96pq9adwjQFSDS3HfRVe-c6aaXADblkg8p0SjivK7CaD1hLETSIaIbyOEdBWZYdovJtSK3K_4xohh4/s1600-h/2Abahtrain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig6ptOayJ5PcoQ8GPsBKH3-82WceqtSaxa01qe4cMU6OMYfU0Yd3qIsa96pq9adwjQFSDS3HfRVe-c6aaXADblkg8p0SjivK7CaD1hLETSIaIbyOEdBWZYdovJtSK3K_4xohh4/s400/2Abahtrain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425136755860922098" border="0" /></a><br />DH catching up with some sleep while Andrea Bocelli croons to him as the Italian countryside fly past.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVLJR1xlmSKiNSOYjSoJPneSzD8Abrjm2Xeqqel5lwtCYBoIFodOmi8Dyqz7AL-HVKNXJphzWfog8s_wlP1GSYyKOjzBYX00JEjgf7N5hTKXu2qDKqcyq-_2wWYDCC7TJU6vs/s1600-h/3Amalinatrain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjVLJR1xlmSKiNSOYjSoJPneSzD8Abrjm2Xeqqel5lwtCYBoIFodOmi8Dyqz7AL-HVKNXJphzWfog8s_wlP1GSYyKOjzBYX00JEjgf7N5hTKXu2qDKqcyq-_2wWYDCC7TJU6vs/s400/3Amalinatrain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425136877700001890" border="0" /></a><br />Amalina having a snack.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNXJ8eLscZtyF7dit_hA3LYKYbHIDkQDuNE-_958LVlhULZUKOYauA_lFzTLAijZD9flO1ngylT_mDGmDrEasaH9fvoiaMJ3AQKyetJtfGeA907bkNdAdtvsNp7CkfRxj5B77/s1600-h/4ViewTrain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzNXJ8eLscZtyF7dit_hA3LYKYbHIDkQDuNE-_958LVlhULZUKOYauA_lFzTLAijZD9flO1ngylT_mDGmDrEasaH9fvoiaMJ3AQKyetJtfGeA907bkNdAdtvsNp7CkfRxj5B77/s400/4ViewTrain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425137085032991890" border="0" /></a><br />First sight of the mountains.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMFlPGwsXzVx7rxbDK-didTmz_tb5zgo0TvnLexUZNoFP43dnbAFklHfr1hYQHkRV92G0z5k_4S51HSeAPMpBRMhwYBRlgJ-7-UiKjqZo61UD-GKn7rnIwY0Fn4jXsKkS6eVw/s1600-h/5ViewTrain2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEMFlPGwsXzVx7rxbDK-didTmz_tb5zgo0TvnLexUZNoFP43dnbAFklHfr1hYQHkRV92G0z5k_4S51HSeAPMpBRMhwYBRlgJ-7-UiKjqZo61UD-GKn7rnIwY0Fn4jXsKkS6eVw/s400/5ViewTrain2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425137459456533938" border="0" /></a><br />View as we pulled into Aosta.<br /><br />The train arrived in Aosta. We arrived over an hour late behind schedule. We had planned to deposit our bags at the left luggage at the station to make our way to Pila. Read somewhere that the Pila cable car was not too far from the train station.<br /><br />But alas, the train station was small and had no left luggage facility. Did not feel like lugging our huge suitcase plus 2 big bags to the cable cars.<br /><br />The next train to Pre Saint Didier was at 1245. The staff at the Aosta train station suggested that we enquired at the Tourist Information office for more information.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUA34pQat5L2s_fONGUACr0N6Q4-zhdmk-sM4Xdh6tPuzJPIRH6Af-uQ77pGYJphs2Mn5vWWqghCI-enst3d6bdSnenw7RIXzgpZ7ZQ7vLMNSS0-_1itsW89g_qsZMH-9O22PX/s1600-h/6Aosta1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUA34pQat5L2s_fONGUACr0N6Q4-zhdmk-sM4Xdh6tPuzJPIRH6Af-uQ77pGYJphs2Mn5vWWqghCI-enst3d6bdSnenw7RIXzgpZ7ZQ7vLMNSS0-_1itsW89g_qsZMH-9O22PX/s400/6Aosta1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5425138289572396434" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Amalina, however, was unaware of our constantly changing travel plans and couldn't resist playing with snow. This is, afterall, what this journey is all about!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWt22HkTWlka9Zo95HPmZCIvFNTUekIIp5fv9aYtK0DXji2J2mU_jIVDV7g9YeHzvLBEHYuqjc8yZafQA_MSZ66r1h4xUwG5KilpTwm04UFZDw-Z86efjepry-727Vk63nbE6U/s1600-h/7Aosta2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWt22HkTWlka9Zo95HPmZCIvFNTUekIIp5fv9aYtK0DXji2J2mU_jIVDV7g9YeHzvLBEHYuqjc8yZafQA_MSZ66r1h4xUwG5KilpTwm04UFZDw-Z86efjepry-727Vk63nbE6U/s400/7Aosta2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429316754068563954" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Checkout how much snow there was on that car!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFVRlWJ-ZQAtYbNm3jkwZh-i97ejXtU4IDabCWPT8hlSwgNh6Un8JkS-dJptLd7LoESGmLvp3MCR94UDkyw0rEFCl8HB8vXCpXUL7HhyphenhyphenF28F9cijLk1mYpKYr525piig3Bw43-/s1600-h/8Aosta3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFVRlWJ-ZQAtYbNm3jkwZh-i97ejXtU4IDabCWPT8hlSwgNh6Un8JkS-dJptLd7LoESGmLvp3MCR94UDkyw0rEFCl8HB8vXCpXUL7HhyphenhyphenF28F9cijLk1mYpKYr525piig3Bw43-/s400/8Aosta3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429317194434076754" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I am so amazed how easily she made friends. Another little girl seeing her playing with the pile of ice approached her calling her "Bimba! Bimba!" She didn't respond to the girl that time.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig9xnGX97jUWVj5ygCxNOo6UrO2zVmuvJrEk3iVSCCTS1pZ8erJIVVWzWI70mZZ4Vom3Ub2RoBmq3QDAHTkICyARZ_E6AA80aZ88Jan7Yj5AYA4WFHl-z8LEWzRyiYd8kwHnMv/s1600-h/8aAosta.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEig9xnGX97jUWVj5ygCxNOo6UrO2zVmuvJrEk3iVSCCTS1pZ8erJIVVWzWI70mZZ4Vom3Ub2RoBmq3QDAHTkICyARZ_E6AA80aZ88Jan7Yj5AYA4WFHl-z8LEWzRyiYd8kwHnMv/s400/8aAosta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429321184583855010" border="0" /></a><br />Afterwards, on their way to the Tourist Information office, they met up with the girl again and played in the snow for awhile. The girl thought it was funny to push Amalina into the snow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4t4QMPPHKlkb4V1RH9-fjnzixAxvQ9pyTRE2QUvAHwL4Ha09QyV8S4JrqvUmeQ-6ELFfqWVZAOMQB6IOwkved9Cioel_pR2-MqhgfoLkKpngogjanCUdo6hXGwtPOTpsutmo/s1600-h/8bAosta.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs4t4QMPPHKlkb4V1RH9-fjnzixAxvQ9pyTRE2QUvAHwL4Ha09QyV8S4JrqvUmeQ-6ELFfqWVZAOMQB6IOwkved9Cioel_pR2-MqhgfoLkKpngogjanCUdo6hXGwtPOTpsutmo/s400/8bAosta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429321191422378866" border="0" /></a><br /><br />But alas, the Tourist office was closed! Amalina found time to play with some snow instead!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVEqgyZ78sVB3_QA5xgp64CIt8m2UViwSzNioc9mpNiYmMEfITT2ClLw9G5IazGg711HV8XF0Rpy-UUeGfSbE3po7mAymdXVQ8MlemcRgCGxTGGBRAR10YhS6tVUYnBrnuPRF/s1600-h/8c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitVEqgyZ78sVB3_QA5xgp64CIt8m2UViwSzNioc9mpNiYmMEfITT2ClLw9G5IazGg711HV8XF0Rpy-UUeGfSbE3po7mAymdXVQ8MlemcRgCGxTGGBRAR10YhS6tVUYnBrnuPRF/s400/8c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429324280814438258" /></a><br /><br />Turns out that buses do run from Aosta to Courmayeur and the journey would take 1 hour. Since we had the Eurail pass for the day and the bus leaves at 1230, merely 15 mins earlier than the train, we opted for the train.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-52243503504733410852010-01-08T12:52:00.021+03:002010-01-08T15:53:05.884+03:00Dolce VitaFirenze - Torino<br /><br />Day 05<br /><br />From Firenze, we parted ways with our travel companions. Since it was their first time in Italy, they decided that it was a must to do Rome. DH and I have done Roma before, albeit separately, so we decided to venture into the Alpi or the mountains instead for Amalina to play with snow.<br /><br />Our initial plan was to travel directly to Courmayeur but during my <a href="http://www.ferroviedellostato.it/homepage_en.html">research</a>, I found that the journey would take over 7 hours on the train. And that would mean all daylight hours and we didn't fancy arriving at someplace new when it was all dark. So we decided to stop at Torino overnight instead.<br /><br />We had traveled to Torino before via Ryanair (tickets cost us 1 pence, came to GBP17 total for the ticket, happy days...) before so it would be familiar.<br /><br />We departed at 7 15 am. The staff at Cantinetta da Verrazzano (where we have been having our breakfast) were busy preparing for their opening. We wished them, "Buon Natale!" and good bye and they waved us off. (Did I mention that the people in Firenze were very friendly?)<br /><br />The journey from Firenze to Torino on the FRECCIAROSSA was 3 hours. I would recommend to anyone planning to travel up and down the country by train to purchase a EURAIL pass. We found the cost difference between first class and second class were marginal and it was very comfortable, clean and good value.<br /><br />We arrived in Torino late by 60 minutes. The train had to slow down at several areas due to the unusual snow. We immediately checked in The Best Western Hotel Genova, which is right next to the station.<br /><br />Funnily enough the guy at the reception told us that he wants to move to Malaysia. (He thinks Singapore was nice but too clean.)<br /><br />Our plan was to travel to Arquata Scrivia to shop at the <a href="http://www.mcarthurglen.it/serravalle">McArthurglen Serravalle</a> so off we set off to the train station. But alas, the trains to Arquata were canceled due to the weather. Initially we thought of taking a different train and change but since that train was delayed indefinitely, we decided to abort the plan and spend the day in Torino instead.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRugwsF8r_iw2Gw2mYE-obn3tz8poSSxSUuVpK_lSfVx2FLnunjCGUbPQIHgPKCM9NxRLf8fIffXC5V3sekGamYfwINmLHxhVob5xSPzUCmScj084v657KIWgJIK87K3ZDgd4o/s1600-h/AmalinaPizza.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRugwsF8r_iw2Gw2mYE-obn3tz8poSSxSUuVpK_lSfVx2FLnunjCGUbPQIHgPKCM9NxRLf8fIffXC5V3sekGamYfwINmLHxhVob5xSPzUCmScj084v657KIWgJIK87K3ZDgd4o/s400/AmalinaPizza.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424320630535662642" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Amalina enjoying the Ligurian style focaccia or pizza by the slice on an airy soft yet crispy bread.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlm5ciQRoCbJakiCdDc5JeWRPXAIjsdtET34xUzYv-skclqfU99HrVHIuRojix15QjgJJDPJWzaPk3BHtoEkiwqyIkJX8yv8Xt2mz6_Ge1Tw9wRLvctyFl59TMt1ZGdKNTwKxi/s1600-h/IMG_0377.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 282px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlm5ciQRoCbJakiCdDc5JeWRPXAIjsdtET34xUzYv-skclqfU99HrVHIuRojix15QjgJJDPJWzaPk3BHtoEkiwqyIkJX8yv8Xt2mz6_Ge1Tw9wRLvctyFl59TMt1ZGdKNTwKxi/s400/IMG_0377.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424325968703157042" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Mother and child outside the Palazzo Reale in Torino.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdH3IImRDga_60U5DVlyTjHuigSEPrUgKFqiKPOagJ3kmYLTBZFDN7PDLu3dMtdrP-XX257cywspVizpvX2T37eFbdGEFYcG2J-_EcpOx8FEpVivOaRcwz9wC2viG7i9XHwP90/s1600-h/torinowoman.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdH3IImRDga_60U5DVlyTjHuigSEPrUgKFqiKPOagJ3kmYLTBZFDN7PDLu3dMtdrP-XX257cywspVizpvX2T37eFbdGEFYcG2J-_EcpOx8FEpVivOaRcwz9wC2viG7i9XHwP90/s400/torinowoman.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424326578598648322" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Lady in Torino looking very cold as she walked across the square at Palazzo Reale.<br /><br />The news in Torino for the day was about how much snowfall they encountered and how the public transportation was affected. They even had to mobilize the army to help shovel the snow at the square.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0IEMTISJ9d3bxFRsy-cDBsXVvKLj7IjttYRbqRVyDlmKBHl4Wb7voZtoTJm5oqMKaNzRvvvqb-Pb_0EDY-mCZffjcNmQPmyKotKLLDA5DnwLijYqguRzYR9gPjfiC3h7Z4YP/s1600-h/mousse.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0IEMTISJ9d3bxFRsy-cDBsXVvKLj7IjttYRbqRVyDlmKBHl4Wb7voZtoTJm5oqMKaNzRvvvqb-Pb_0EDY-mCZffjcNmQPmyKotKLLDA5DnwLijYqguRzYR9gPjfiC3h7Z4YP/s400/mousse.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424328744542132850" border="0" /></a><br />Salmon mousse anyone?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiza5DXUEV4-2DKAZfqHqI7SliXis_7NtN03_00PpRaSVA1uxnACsKeEzhMDOal9xVmMOfgfuw1TjuTghg6kthdMZEbDZPi-_-8AIqj22V9nZJ3TCynUEcDBRE4DJIhC8l2MpEu/s1600-h/MostardadiFrutta.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiza5DXUEV4-2DKAZfqHqI7SliXis_7NtN03_00PpRaSVA1uxnACsKeEzhMDOal9xVmMOfgfuw1TjuTghg6kthdMZEbDZPi-_-8AIqj22V9nZJ3TCynUEcDBRE4DJIhC8l2MpEu/s400/MostardadiFrutta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424328592081560098" border="0" /></a><br />Mostarda di Frutta, fruits preserved in mustard oil. I didn't know why I didn't buy some to try that day. Now I wished that I did!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEg0QJ976ZqJE7x3fVtfUtS6N88FpLSRqopZVmnqpekkMe4Enw3Nmlc1WNC1gZuyD9qK4sgqguu7IhjDC5M-fKGcV88iUEAfU_zFLOrcX8p3gQuaQ4B9TZE3WLYsuPs7C_NXgy/s1600-h/torinodolce.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEg0QJ976ZqJE7x3fVtfUtS6N88FpLSRqopZVmnqpekkMe4Enw3Nmlc1WNC1gZuyD9qK4sgqguu7IhjDC5M-fKGcV88iUEAfU_zFLOrcX8p3gQuaQ4B9TZE3WLYsuPs7C_NXgy/s400/torinodolce.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424328927991263394" border="0" /></a><br />Do you think they like cream?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhml9oTc3uvsVqiIO5tgZgwb_YEVwiP6Inhm3NMYPXd2QCSpQqmmy6lZjWjoGcn43EGL_1ogKQzNUlKGpDI5W0SxiL_N7lYOwlnMPnowczUjl5oD1Nm9j9MciuxLoP2oibqk4E5/s1600-h/torinodolce2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhml9oTc3uvsVqiIO5tgZgwb_YEVwiP6Inhm3NMYPXd2QCSpQqmmy6lZjWjoGcn43EGL_1ogKQzNUlKGpDI5W0SxiL_N7lYOwlnMPnowczUjl5oD1Nm9j9MciuxLoP2oibqk4E5/s400/torinodolce2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424329132483430610" border="0" /></a><br />Price clearly marked, something I like very much.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjUOn8iH3LxZYKY2ZTbd-BEIgqhpyt1B3ebq6sQWpSmW9ICbSSQIL17EVG9r4quGn5Y26kFHWlgBZ34PB-wuBKgbwNSKOoZ-fyij5lbJqASOURpu7_3jbxPUz30EWkNSbVl57/s1600-h/torinogelato.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 211px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcjUOn8iH3LxZYKY2ZTbd-BEIgqhpyt1B3ebq6sQWpSmW9ICbSSQIL17EVG9r4quGn5Y26kFHWlgBZ34PB-wuBKgbwNSKOoZ-fyij5lbJqASOURpu7_3jbxPUz30EWkNSbVl57/s400/torinogelato.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424329373601951122" border="0" /></a><br />Gelato anyone?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nVPtpWEqgerUoysD-9HuBz87JqSZu8Hz2p6DOPG0R2tB-ZNwHmZ7iBjWYkOtb96Cokw1LUwkmQLB_VYrlMexaFPFb8tJrBZCvRRRKyecMePfWAUZmtIMIEXLGJzk4M-7kGIn/s1600-h/Amalinagelato.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7nVPtpWEqgerUoysD-9HuBz87JqSZu8Hz2p6DOPG0R2tB-ZNwHmZ7iBjWYkOtb96Cokw1LUwkmQLB_VYrlMexaFPFb8tJrBZCvRRRKyecMePfWAUZmtIMIEXLGJzk4M-7kGIn/s400/Amalinagelato.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424335360785161698" border="0" /></a><br />Amalina had one. Even though it was freezing cold.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWRyIvi8j1WHXpGNHKF7ZducPBxADZSg8yFI7-j0fv2oOfYriUGeWSv4zAFwOek85xl1OcdnLIkkSdYkWKfQdBf7Y5izUXLyJVFXd2Zmf9x5kvt-z7FcFjOSnbdrzCVit56Yk/s1600-h/torino1802.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgWRyIvi8j1WHXpGNHKF7ZducPBxADZSg8yFI7-j0fv2oOfYriUGeWSv4zAFwOek85xl1OcdnLIkkSdYkWKfQdBf7Y5izUXLyJVFXd2Zmf9x5kvt-z7FcFjOSnbdrzCVit56Yk/s400/torino1802.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424331858367597330" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Playing on a pile of ice/snow on the square. It was only 6:02 pm but it was already dark.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasaIrvuhU_mkecnRHXuVe8S9aWrGoora_0hnEMxKQrMJnqswVIikSTA3K1tONcDhP3YNd-A3vAsrXifbS1f5hFfomwKYA8YQPZoCCJlxI-Ibtjx3eLZDcbBRShnvXztTr52ZT/s1600-h/torinosnowball.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiasaIrvuhU_mkecnRHXuVe8S9aWrGoora_0hnEMxKQrMJnqswVIikSTA3K1tONcDhP3YNd-A3vAsrXifbS1f5hFfomwKYA8YQPZoCCJlxI-Ibtjx3eLZDcbBRShnvXztTr52ZT/s400/torinosnowball.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424332139689364274" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'm making a snowball.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgug7hmwIlBURva-REFaWtYqofGkpifR0jxWxPhzRKxrfsdowgsM9pQGEbe8lb3m5GSv_1xao_K2BVAsG5jg-h-84UxAkZCELPmTpvUAzTuLFJllfWr8qrpdPqGIKS1gaHNkEZy/s1600-h/torinosnow.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgug7hmwIlBURva-REFaWtYqofGkpifR0jxWxPhzRKxrfsdowgsM9pQGEbe8lb3m5GSv_1xao_K2BVAsG5jg-h-84UxAkZCELPmTpvUAzTuLFJllfWr8qrpdPqGIKS1gaHNkEZy/s400/torinosnow.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424332315707475506" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It started to snow again and getting really cold so we decided to head back to the hotel and get ready for dinner.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-30226962705740379422010-01-06T01:42:00.017+03:002010-01-08T12:49:28.441+03:00Fare spese<span style="font-size:130%;">San Lorenzo Mercato Centrale</span><br /><br />We decided that Day 04 would be dedicated to visiting the famous markets of Firenze. So a visit to the San Lorenzo mercato centrale was in order. The city's major produce market, the mercato is full of fresh produce, delis and sundry items from around the region.<br /><br />Outside the market are rows and rows of shops selling leather goods like bags, belts, hats, scarfs etc. We didn't take any pictures though, partly because it was cold and partly we didn't want to be distracted. I had read a tip somewhere that there could be pickpockets about in the area.<br /><br />Once we stepped into the produce market however, we found the place less crowded and more relaxed. Out came the camera.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Bd-RGS9tp3ox5bRaHb2KVenP9stDconBW7I-mRYi6bSl_jC-zimih7H0zNl6xrmN1eNl3P1G_qUPNQoN6Ur4PBwGYRBHPC4GqyQ4CeSpXdOsjr053IOlqZnNWy2ItGNm8Veu/s1600-h/market1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 313px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2Bd-RGS9tp3ox5bRaHb2KVenP9stDconBW7I-mRYi6bSl_jC-zimih7H0zNl6xrmN1eNl3P1G_qUPNQoN6Ur4PBwGYRBHPC4GqyQ4CeSpXdOsjr053IOlqZnNWy2ItGNm8Veu/s400/market1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423398351526508450" border="0" /></a><br />Balsamic vinegar? How old do you want them? 10 years? 15? 25? or 50? The 50 year old one was over 100 Euros.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY09v1MEMxMdL6iCLNtE1HNQU84XxEAuq09XdPuSmnd2aWuvFIPCX1g_A9AY1U8rOujD-eLHPaNkwcFxmXwtmbOzpMfDypv9iTAmrJ3cC18V8J37e4CgQQlClMJ4iqGJ_eOY2J/s1600-h/market2.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 347px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY09v1MEMxMdL6iCLNtE1HNQU84XxEAuq09XdPuSmnd2aWuvFIPCX1g_A9AY1U8rOujD-eLHPaNkwcFxmXwtmbOzpMfDypv9iTAmrJ3cC18V8J37e4CgQQlClMJ4iqGJ_eOY2J/s400/market2.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423398361064048082" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />What about some of that aromatic porcini mushrooms?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0VUjo06joozIYpzb0RNy0usLaMlQ8GdxJvY6PnNlzR_qNi-9y54Bad7amcEH7HXnyWOevF95A0PWMusE3xM1cgOgAapcQxOJ614NImTSAxrsr_CqeSr4TPHG5OQoR45z9mhwl/s1600-h/market3.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0VUjo06joozIYpzb0RNy0usLaMlQ8GdxJvY6PnNlzR_qNi-9y54Bad7amcEH7HXnyWOevF95A0PWMusE3xM1cgOgAapcQxOJ614NImTSAxrsr_CqeSr4TPHG5OQoR45z9mhwl/s400/market3.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423398367529357506" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5Cz3MPdISLk4qmhY8UQmaMrCquejVZ0uqdr9QFd9ZENNlPwyXxnSzEGDa9t4G-SHHCBjq3Zls9MbxxwCdwLqYW457mAjYRn0S-qd-aGjIc4V94nx6pFiPz4Xe54nGJ074Cmm/s1600-h/market4.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy5Cz3MPdISLk4qmhY8UQmaMrCquejVZ0uqdr9QFd9ZENNlPwyXxnSzEGDa9t4G-SHHCBjq3Zls9MbxxwCdwLqYW457mAjYRn0S-qd-aGjIc4V94nx6pFiPz4Xe54nGJ074Cmm/s400/market4.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423583799398755234" border="0" /></a><br />I like how the goods are displayed in the area. All prices are clearly market so no guessing is necessary.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSz-c0dtJvwBfAdsUJelJZ-6RRQPX1Tnm3F3pK_ccPmTI9ydZJDgMvH4vAw2BPgXaLoD-q62AL0pEI26vlsr9fRdcNZeOXrBr1PVg876wVvv25rYlmzYczBzQ8qgdkCuj6NRZD/s1600-h/market14.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSz-c0dtJvwBfAdsUJelJZ-6RRQPX1Tnm3F3pK_ccPmTI9ydZJDgMvH4vAw2BPgXaLoD-q62AL0pEI26vlsr9fRdcNZeOXrBr1PVg876wVvv25rYlmzYczBzQ8qgdkCuj6NRZD/s400/market14.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423594317148427842" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRV36R5yjlZLCNZeQqQDvGnIf3j88pUnD-pfYCq3x03dAp63qy5kM7mgK-iqeuWKakol4-FJdYsfkYleO7zrlb1b5N2gn7d-tqvSM3I67UU3U_aUT031jkPHIrI4vLfNo4jNnV/s1600-h/market13.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 325px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRV36R5yjlZLCNZeQqQDvGnIf3j88pUnD-pfYCq3x03dAp63qy5kM7mgK-iqeuWKakol4-FJdYsfkYleO7zrlb1b5N2gn7d-tqvSM3I67UU3U_aUT031jkPHIrI4vLfNo4jNnV/s400/market13.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423589794073075218" border="0" /></a><br />It got colder and colder in the market and the gentleman decided to but a beany on.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLH8iVxVbxxQupd9dnaIDEYeaZjM-0alkhPwLrKyisaHJ0wptbMuprQ_T1LSWaqmck5mnapVpdNrCr3NHX5WH6YQGun4QpdGWmYJG2awM6HnqW201VpDAtR52YGZ6weY6ZintR/s1600-h/market5a.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLH8iVxVbxxQupd9dnaIDEYeaZjM-0alkhPwLrKyisaHJ0wptbMuprQ_T1LSWaqmck5mnapVpdNrCr3NHX5WH6YQGun4QpdGWmYJG2awM6HnqW201VpDAtR52YGZ6weY6ZintR/s400/market5a.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423588280510048498" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHNXpcdkqhrh75WRobIi4E6lxSFjgyEqAsaLNYNKuYxOYCHjbrtvSOnr8XG3G2jCPdUUmzVmBoFT7m5D8OW_2PyLA8tR7ImqwCw8KKsG10gH1-lLelf6kzyUM4tDzq-FMIIMJ/s1600-h/market6.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHNXpcdkqhrh75WRobIi4E6lxSFjgyEqAsaLNYNKuYxOYCHjbrtvSOnr8XG3G2jCPdUUmzVmBoFT7m5D8OW_2PyLA8tR7ImqwCw8KKsG10gH1-lLelf6kzyUM4tDzq-FMIIMJ/s400/market6.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423588526093376978" border="0" /></a><br />They do cater for the Japanese tourists.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzxDB_vCFE3u0QNwfhpnESMmAXU85k5I5cpzSuiuK3uJIZBtkz6qSIut6p2am8Jl0lUC-kO_KimwMMg6xVN6by1cOTK-6xyWdAdj4QOnuyrQrPE3_TQXZqxw-id9O7TVDQCke/s1600-h/market8.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 284px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtzxDB_vCFE3u0QNwfhpnESMmAXU85k5I5cpzSuiuK3uJIZBtkz6qSIut6p2am8Jl0lUC-kO_KimwMMg6xVN6by1cOTK-6xyWdAdj4QOnuyrQrPE3_TQXZqxw-id9O7TVDQCke/s400/market8.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423588903462660786" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUsSBg4dOtRETzs7zBo2Fc6bDpveSjoxjXlHhtNsQgbPnYILxTbgDyzoNpn4NFnW-37xEp28HJkBElpHJAYo-IoW3E-ICLZaWPVKhR0odqihZl9QCMUsOnxOYZSOI7TKTiF8j3/s1600-h/market7.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUsSBg4dOtRETzs7zBo2Fc6bDpveSjoxjXlHhtNsQgbPnYILxTbgDyzoNpn4NFnW-37xEp28HJkBElpHJAYo-IoW3E-ICLZaWPVKhR0odqihZl9QCMUsOnxOYZSOI7TKTiF8j3/s400/market7.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423588748504224146" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Are you buying for today or for Natale?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTT-UudASrk_-01Agc9iHDaBxarunyrgyfPK8e4IjKVVkujp0i4qa2ROCz7VkLG4Aye9Pttq1RyU5R_rzfl8PCiPBxKX0AyY39b-vKjyNMEn_fmImnzD7_Er3C-R21U97mTlit/s1600-h/market9.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTT-UudASrk_-01Agc9iHDaBxarunyrgyfPK8e4IjKVVkujp0i4qa2ROCz7VkLG4Aye9Pttq1RyU5R_rzfl8PCiPBxKX0AyY39b-vKjyNMEn_fmImnzD7_Er3C-R21U97mTlit/s400/market9.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423589094909169778" border="0" /></a><br />This lady whose name I forgot, got the lion share of our purchases as she was kind enough to welcome us and took a lot of time to explain and educate us about the different balsamic vinegars and the different tastes of olive oil. Also had a large sample of cheese for us to sample.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyNAC1s3Bn9st3oYUsMB5isW3rxgEJNQKB8WhUgIR_81jZxa4EHKtmhoKJGUTzmZnusFzWe9ojrJ50uoAr5Zzrq-rIFwYzRobIG6BOikrOuzJ7zjX1rubjwbZA6IMJTVbspt_/s1600-h/market10.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSyNAC1s3Bn9st3oYUsMB5isW3rxgEJNQKB8WhUgIR_81jZxa4EHKtmhoKJGUTzmZnusFzWe9ojrJ50uoAr5Zzrq-rIFwYzRobIG6BOikrOuzJ7zjX1rubjwbZA6IMJTVbspt_/s400/market10.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423589095902909090" border="0" /></a><br />The 100 year old Balsamic vinegar was lovely but costs way too much for my pocket. Perhaps a real connoisseur can appreciate.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhPmaNd6Gs-YHcCy9gV3xIZEl36xegPUx6E4nj7HOsXuu-QC-iGNPdAJsROMLUEHLCkwp6oeqMWCMa0XeFWlfwzTr1yTk9Aqimf0okEkh9Q-72g2SJlnTMKfScpkdlkgBQ0Eji/s1600-h/market12.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhPmaNd6Gs-YHcCy9gV3xIZEl36xegPUx6E4nj7HOsXuu-QC-iGNPdAJsROMLUEHLCkwp6oeqMWCMa0XeFWlfwzTr1yTk9Aqimf0okEkh9Q-72g2SJlnTMKfScpkdlkgBQ0Eji/s400/market12.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423589791096915906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdnZbUILtKYsstS7ftqcD6LUpnDyUTmAByhapWpopWBswf_vWAqZIQFnUTyWJjceOKWEewBWaiGyO1avUC8eZb7T_CSEvSwjFgjEUmdQmPidShd-j-7Ys0Wa2PNq2_lBsJt3K/s1600-h/market11.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdnZbUILtKYsstS7ftqcD6LUpnDyUTmAByhapWpopWBswf_vWAqZIQFnUTyWJjceOKWEewBWaiGyO1avUC8eZb7T_CSEvSwjFgjEUmdQmPidShd-j-7Ys0Wa2PNq2_lBsJt3K/s400/market11.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423589786404192178" border="0" /></a><br />Our travel companions enjoying the sampling session.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5a4_1UNpSlBNUJCskW68v3funnCoaJb3HMTGQm7S381NDr6e94UsZkBvN8Eg3BURl1uMFZQzQjfTQRX7EAmOspx-wuHi-5njvAb-RrrSZoiONO2Bucgl2vfIBjlbHrswsWYE/s1600-h/market15.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5a4_1UNpSlBNUJCskW68v3funnCoaJb3HMTGQm7S381NDr6e94UsZkBvN8Eg3BURl1uMFZQzQjfTQRX7EAmOspx-wuHi-5njvAb-RrrSZoiONO2Bucgl2vfIBjlbHrswsWYE/s400/market15.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423594321286938834" border="0" /></a><br />Here we are after our purchases. After which I asked her where we could have a good lunch and she directed to a place that looked like a hole in the wall. But it was jammed packed with locals and the food was delicious and reasonably priced.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-7222065556341215262010-01-05T23:43:00.017+03:002010-01-06T01:52:43.610+03:00La Torre de PosaDay 03<br /><br />Amalina's fascination with the Leaning Tower of Pisa began after watching a Little Einstein episode. I didn't realized how much that stayed with her until one day, after stacking some cups upside down, they went a bit lopey and she declared, "Look Mummy! The Leaning tower of POSA!"<br /><br />Leaning Tower of Posa? She meant Pisa? Since then we realised that she had a little fascination for The Leaning Tower of Pisa and decided that we would bring her to see the real thing one day.<br /><br />And the day has come.<br /><br />The train ride from Firenze is just over an hour.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfHmyYUz6VKYrOGqBdvXpxSneDXowazbOCS_82gKxJciL9F_FhCEMn6E8duhJhQWhyazy470rL4k4rc37ZgDNKu746mEPN4lM3uLeQN6H5QVmpldh46e-iFBjbj7fpjqq0bpw/s1600-h/Road2Pisa.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQfHmyYUz6VKYrOGqBdvXpxSneDXowazbOCS_82gKxJciL9F_FhCEMn6E8duhJhQWhyazy470rL4k4rc37ZgDNKu746mEPN4lM3uLeQN6H5QVmpldh46e-iFBjbj7fpjqq0bpw/s400/Road2Pisa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423359392137383026" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The train ride to Pisa was littered with scenes of the countryside covered with snow.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvt782x9UMOXS0YZQiyZrc_qGHyyCY4T_1FSGohxtakAapzXSDjPCgbHNoPYuR2yxrEmA8DZEX0s4iuKJoGHuB-xFjuNDXchIVMmEde5nKzTA5_N_HmXbxR8e8fv6plXMWp0a/s1600-h/road2pisa2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnvt782x9UMOXS0YZQiyZrc_qGHyyCY4T_1FSGohxtakAapzXSDjPCgbHNoPYuR2yxrEmA8DZEX0s4iuKJoGHuB-xFjuNDXchIVMmEde5nKzTA5_N_HmXbxR8e8fv6plXMWp0a/s400/road2pisa2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423359386447238306" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We arrived at Pisa not knowing where to go. I know we had to catch a bus to the Torre. Found a bus Map that told us that we want the Rossa line or the Red line.<br /><br />A lady who was standing at the bus stop kindly informed us that the l'fermata (bus stop) for the Rossa line towards the Torre is in front of the albergo (hotel.) By this time by old Italian classes are coming back to be quite quickly!<br /><br />I asked her where we should get the biglietti (tickets) for the l'autobus and she told us that we didn't need them as the bus was free on Domenica (Sunday.) Hooray! Imagine that! Free bus on Sundays! So here's a good tip for you travellers to Pisa out there! Buses are free on Sundays! (In Dec 2009 that is.)<br /><br />I am so grateful for the hospitality of strangers to tourists! She told us all that information with a smile. What would we do without the goodwill of friendly strangers?<br /><br />When we got on the bus, I heard two Singaporean girls behind me. I could tell they were my countrywomen not only from their accent but also from the following conversation.<br /><br />Girl 1: How did you know this one is the bus ah?<br />Girl 2: I asked the guy at the shop. And he told me.<br />Girl 1: So ah, how do you know where to get off?<br />Girl 2: You will know one.<br />Girl 1: Aiyaa Pisa so ulu and so kampung wan ah? Look like Malaysia like dat.<br />Girl 2: Ulu? This is not ulu yet. Later I show you Ulu.<br /><br />Wah you see ah. I cannot tahan wan the girl talk like dat! She says ah Pisa Ulu like Malaysia like dat. But ah, nevermind ah, gud wan she is travelling to see the world. If not ah she thinks only Malaysia ulu and kampung one.<br /><br />I smiled at myself as I listened to that conversation. I hope that I will be able to broaden my child's horizon so she can see the world and the big picture.<br /><br />Girl 1 however was quite right. Pisa on Sunday was rather quiet and there wasn't much going on there except for the Duomo and the Torre! As soon as you get into the walls of the Duomo, one sight you will see a lot of are people taking photographs!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4znCZjkeOhQ-uC-4qfJDHe9_qE7SLpHAv4yvy9C92WRqbbDo5R5tDxCRpwLob-MW7SQXHcieoVwbMCFIEhTethT2TOEsN7zb__Ct6X1TPgf0gqpFCHFxgUemtviWDAw0dfEW/s1600-h/Amalinatakingppicture.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu4znCZjkeOhQ-uC-4qfJDHe9_qE7SLpHAv4yvy9C92WRqbbDo5R5tDxCRpwLob-MW7SQXHcieoVwbMCFIEhTethT2TOEsN7zb__Ct6X1TPgf0gqpFCHFxgUemtviWDAw0dfEW/s400/Amalinatakingppicture.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423364017026922050" border="0" /></a><br /><br />David, on the left side of Amalina, is not the only one with the weird poses in the vicinity. Almost all the tourists were trying to capture all sorts of poses with the famous leaning tower.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOS9xAJ-OmLiuJLd8QD-z85AjcUAN39Llk9gijng4yUGGs__FqYsQeMGS1ztlnTZUf7OzYcbuntPXROOrkcWfoHwupYzuAg1cZnCvxyRyUo_rPy8cD__NDakALsGwl2GqXkcS6/s1600-h/Umi&Abah.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOS9xAJ-OmLiuJLd8QD-z85AjcUAN39Llk9gijng4yUGGs__FqYsQeMGS1ztlnTZUf7OzYcbuntPXROOrkcWfoHwupYzuAg1cZnCvxyRyUo_rPy8cD__NDakALsGwl2GqXkcS6/s400/Umi&Abah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423369015803685090" border="0" /></a><br /><br />And here is the picture Amalina took as Abah took her picture. As you can guess, yes we are sometimes a picture taking family.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3tSTCmfkpskBpeJqrGGhEBKhz7s93GuyknWbmMnd5C8TTBHpdASV-6mmois-Yrre8vhaA0Y54tjuZfAGaZqfwDaHth0DcqMTo90ShhE2DeBglXr1jlQO_AS1um231ALMJrEZo/s1600-h/P1050687.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3tSTCmfkpskBpeJqrGGhEBKhz7s93GuyknWbmMnd5C8TTBHpdASV-6mmois-Yrre8vhaA0Y54tjuZfAGaZqfwDaHth0DcqMTo90ShhE2DeBglXr1jlQO_AS1um231ALMJrEZo/s400/P1050687.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423364852579255938" border="0" /></a><br /><br />For posterity's sake we all had to take pictures with the Torre because otherwise there isn't that much else to do there. The sky looked different between the two pictures because we each used different cameras.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileegi3awJXN-3z2eUfb1cihLM5XyijC0CUy72zyFSrbCK3BuIMTpDxnHq9glG0VNC2xjsND7dJl0l97QWyhhQ7Gn7t8SqQJOCG8cp1t2xzY3qyAQ58wyWHD1w_77gHT5irAUU/s1600-h/UmiTorre.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEileegi3awJXN-3z2eUfb1cihLM5XyijC0CUy72zyFSrbCK3BuIMTpDxnHq9glG0VNC2xjsND7dJl0l97QWyhhQ7Gn7t8SqQJOCG8cp1t2xzY3qyAQ58wyWHD1w_77gHT5irAUU/s400/UmiTorre.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423367512813459698" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I didn't even pick up a fridge magnet there! Everything was made in China and costs a bomb.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt8Z9H3ZoWaIVl8mEJfA6MIJX80x7Q01QZltwXIp7gxXqIeP89FNfNhhuSvji_tY1xsj4-fRA_XlK3arWeqZUBdTi1E2kE5LxeEodGnjmjjUcrCcB_MlXtXYdbSEz8YZJ7q5q/s1600-h/AmalinaAbah.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbt8Z9H3ZoWaIVl8mEJfA6MIJX80x7Q01QZltwXIp7gxXqIeP89FNfNhhuSvji_tY1xsj4-fRA_XlK3arWeqZUBdTi1E2kE5LxeEodGnjmjjUcrCcB_MlXtXYdbSEz8YZJ7q5q/s400/AmalinaAbah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423371809098484034" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After all those pictures we were ready for lunch. Now I had read another tip that suggested we ate further away from the Torre area itself because some were overpriced and not as delicious.<br /><br />However I could not resist entering a chocolate shop, Dolce Pisa, Caffe Pasticceria at via S Maria. Found out they served pasta as well as delicious hot chocolate!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPfoba-NBenO4KbzpHXCUoykVUQqSNcdhM8QV8DwqUSuBCvgm6pBEbnPxchyhu1snPfRz0Vzvj9lCxczbLBcP-5XAPYO1HuaADxFNxTLgMds9M2AGkraRn0CugxKi_R-TLlR0/s1600-h/Spaghettifruttamare.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBPfoba-NBenO4KbzpHXCUoykVUQqSNcdhM8QV8DwqUSuBCvgm6pBEbnPxchyhu1snPfRz0Vzvj9lCxczbLBcP-5XAPYO1HuaADxFNxTLgMds9M2AGkraRn0CugxKi_R-TLlR0/s400/Spaghettifruttamare.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423374258961749682" border="0" /></a><br /><br />This was Amalina's Spaghetti con frutta di mare. We had wolved down the Risotto con Aspiragi before I could remember to take a picture. (It was a cold day and posing for pictures is hard work!)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Qsnw0RIbyJMbMKDCgMj9tuNh6JKnAeLnvR03SXWxuHip0-eo0I8Ygy5WbsVt1g1_12W-OflUZT8fwXF9qiS-2ZAjbw-RwAW5HI7z3zTiG9T8gaz-bvLjRtN3jUFA7kMyyUmH/s1600-h/CiocolataCaldaFondantte.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 391px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Qsnw0RIbyJMbMKDCgMj9tuNh6JKnAeLnvR03SXWxuHip0-eo0I8Ygy5WbsVt1g1_12W-OflUZT8fwXF9qiS-2ZAjbw-RwAW5HI7z3zTiG9T8gaz-bvLjRtN3jUFA7kMyyUmH/s400/CiocolataCaldaFondantte.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423374864957859138" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I ordered Ciocolatta Calda Fondante (Dark hot chocolate) and DH ordered one with some pepper in them. Can you see how thick the hot chocolate is? Taste exactly like melted chocolate!<br /><br />We then decided to take a walk. Without a map, and not sure where to go, we decided to follow the direction where other people we walking. Finally arrived to a place that looked like the town center and found their Sunday Market!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwampOx3ZjWfB_ikj09gKU9-9B-oe0SnD-jTNlNapGiDlNYbpqejSZM9CPmFOJpHAnz1GmHr5GaCp3myu5isPkpMrrkywHkwhFrue39xqPVHzDsQxvSmGs5sA86wTPa__941K/s1600-h/SaraPisafermata.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwampOx3ZjWfB_ikj09gKU9-9B-oe0SnD-jTNlNapGiDlNYbpqejSZM9CPmFOJpHAnz1GmHr5GaCp3myu5isPkpMrrkywHkwhFrue39xqPVHzDsQxvSmGs5sA86wTPa__941K/s400/SaraPisafermata.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423378543894806130" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Finally found a bus stop that was serving the Rosso line. Our travel companion was looking at the bus schedule.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6XEDOWFjlNnZzNzpIozzRHvDJ36tIKaoiVwyS8wAG1tCwWD2GwBVh7mLYJyR9z-Iw-Ozd6NXLeoo6RYNWNx623LVPRy_sFWqUMesb1cpjQ-igQjC2_C6yYWoCKCIK-JHT61T/s1600-h/pisariver.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx6XEDOWFjlNnZzNzpIozzRHvDJ36tIKaoiVwyS8wAG1tCwWD2GwBVh7mLYJyR9z-Iw-Ozd6NXLeoo6RYNWNx623LVPRy_sFWqUMesb1cpjQ-igQjC2_C6yYWoCKCIK-JHT61T/s400/pisariver.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423377670696237058" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Do you still think Pisa look like kampung in Malaysia?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55R93o79DjWHaomsAQZ42qpqrHjP2gjkTJGpHnqU1oA2Tm7RHw_eqK4nJFH-GPHb53iDfJc7eYUSgZqlt4Z0oWL7dawYrKXKHeXZWhekRviQohoym0QZIC0VS0smWRbh22ISh/s1600-h/UmiBusstop.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh55R93o79DjWHaomsAQZ42qpqrHjP2gjkTJGpHnqU1oA2Tm7RHw_eqK4nJFH-GPHb53iDfJc7eYUSgZqlt4Z0oWL7dawYrKXKHeXZWhekRviQohoym0QZIC0VS0smWRbh22ISh/s400/UmiBusstop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423377670993473106" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We managed to get the train back to Firenze and I could not resist paying homage to my mothership.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5OW_3yRU1NB2VY48cW4fMtGXBCo4B-7ht-QcKGejV_khYFPGlgUAyqkpNIsSsdQGggzKDAAc0BrD9uXqIKcBTw9JbHiGDIvVM8_PnRWj0K6RefIswNQGPURQYyKY4PEWO-Tw/s1600-h/homage.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 268px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5OW_3yRU1NB2VY48cW4fMtGXBCo4B-7ht-QcKGejV_khYFPGlgUAyqkpNIsSsdQGggzKDAAc0BrD9uXqIKcBTw9JbHiGDIvVM8_PnRWj0K6RefIswNQGPURQYyKY4PEWO-Tw/s400/homage.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423382468833978162" border="0" /></a>Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-28224533055184078142010-01-04T00:19:00.013+03:002010-01-08T20:03:57.716+03:00Beautiful attractions of FirenzeDay 02<br /><br />Its the day we decided to visit the <a href="http://www.virtualuffizi.com/">Uffizi</a> Gallery in Florence. The line was not too long. Tickets costs EUR6.50 per adult. Child under 4 is free.<br /><br />I was rather proud of The Little One and her patience as we viewed paintings from room to room. Of course many questions were raised like why did they look so sad? Why did they look angry?<br /><br />I tried to explain the paintings as much as I could without touching the religious nature or history behind the paintings except that most of them are about "Madonna and Child" and how the Mother is told that her baby is coming (Annunciation) and how she realizes that the baby will be an important person one day (Adoration of the Magi.)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ZZTbWU3gCC7trUajbrhh-9fIpFS9dANQTZa5exgi83l6B6RzhMiDD6J4GYdI2I9guJefbm-kBmXqXhCEser_zvH1JGRnxG3fp9BKTHhl8SQ75HSTdysrQr8wP8BMu2LMXiW6/s1600-h/FilippoLippi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 271px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ZZTbWU3gCC7trUajbrhh-9fIpFS9dANQTZa5exgi83l6B6RzhMiDD6J4GYdI2I9guJefbm-kBmXqXhCEser_zvH1JGRnxG3fp9BKTHhl8SQ75HSTdysrQr8wP8BMu2LMXiW6/s400/FilippoLippi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422628517878265618" border="0" /></a><br /><br />She decided that her most favorite painting was of the Madonna and child (and Two Angels) by Filippo Lippi, which I admit is one of the more pretty Madonnas we have seen in the gallery.<br /><br />We got up to room 17, The Hermaphrodite Hall and declared that she was tired and hungry. So we proceeded to the cafeteria to get some orange juice and sweeties. Just as well that around that time we saw several Santas (they were firemen really) trying to scale down the walls of The Uffizi.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0DMuhPJoI5QQ0J7fcDnAjPbQ8DxhamWSkP_RovtDdfPCapbzK5yRd8Len4OQ3fLwYmSOQIhDUpmWmWhMrnv32ynfIhhgKR4zJzCHcrmw4z-IRIvVIU9EOMtqoDeb46owi-bf/s1600-h/SantaUfizi.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy0DMuhPJoI5QQ0J7fcDnAjPbQ8DxhamWSkP_RovtDdfPCapbzK5yRd8Len4OQ3fLwYmSOQIhDUpmWmWhMrnv32ynfIhhgKR4zJzCHcrmw4z-IRIvVIU9EOMtqoDeb46owi-bf/s400/SantaUfizi.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422630135048702034" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The view from the terrace was absolutely beautiful that day. Too bad it was too cold for us to go outside. But it was nice to capture some snow on the dome.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-wqbxtMP2bPCNnmMzxIgf3EoGGUoIz5pYSeBZ2SOGwPYpuUJeeNLA7FdytXS1rkhwFikXcANjtxBAwSF0sa_rqQA_TgE9u8MeOPctWx_9CvqcMv8mLIGcjWDULJnbKZewwCM/s1600-h/Uffiziview.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq-wqbxtMP2bPCNnmMzxIgf3EoGGUoIz5pYSeBZ2SOGwPYpuUJeeNLA7FdytXS1rkhwFikXcANjtxBAwSF0sa_rqQA_TgE9u8MeOPctWx_9CvqcMv8mLIGcjWDULJnbKZewwCM/s400/Uffiziview.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422630765163042706" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Apparently it hasn't snowed in Firenze for 20 years and the bus services and cars were in a bit of a muddle that day with all the slush on the road.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSylsIolsI1GP7tdSiGEq1zoSvV_PebgNVES_UhTz5QaW0-P-0-M6K4GlXkqnOeM6l3J1nBd-ztdMIyO3YrpYMqfn_mSvxLSTpT8cCIWGJn2xL4TpmmPY-x82mNYV7Ri61Q08c/s1600-h/Iceblock.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 345px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSylsIolsI1GP7tdSiGEq1zoSvV_PebgNVES_UhTz5QaW0-P-0-M6K4GlXkqnOeM6l3J1nBd-ztdMIyO3YrpYMqfn_mSvxLSTpT8cCIWGJn2xL4TpmmPY-x82mNYV7Ri61Q08c/s400/Iceblock.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423353601811028018" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />After lunch we went to <a href="http://www.scuoladelcuoio.com/index.html">The Leather School</a> at the Santa Croce area. I had read a tip that this is the area to go for Leather jackets and/or other leather goods.<br /><br />Funnily enough The Little One thought that we were enrolling her in the leather school. She said, "I have never been to school in another country before, have I?"<br /><br />Turns out the Leather school has seen quite a few celebrities who went there to have leather jackets and all sorts of leather things made for them. They don't do cheap, but they do good quality craftmanship.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDof7CgN8s89im78091SKkiRwduY8Nrls9le-nD53PanbBlYMwo2_95P5GSTBxsGAch9s5pPymMKikHJMt847A3KD-r5pKwdhPYKIVwHGkd_7XxiQX_EZ7UdUhcZnf6B9IbEwv/s1600-h/Leatherschool.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 352px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDof7CgN8s89im78091SKkiRwduY8Nrls9le-nD53PanbBlYMwo2_95P5GSTBxsGAch9s5pPymMKikHJMt847A3KD-r5pKwdhPYKIVwHGkd_7XxiQX_EZ7UdUhcZnf6B9IbEwv/s400/Leatherschool.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423350125123614034" border="0" /></a><br /><br />As you can see the Leather School wall of fame behind Amalina and David. Apparently the likes of Ozzy Ozbourne, Madeline Albright and a whole bunch of other people I can't remember have been there ;)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtnTQobL6ady5Huo67Qd_bJ4e0qDRXh_DF6WD2oDLlfhOMcFVhozuF4xGv0csm99tF8PB5qwETIuMShLKv3rG5FSZd79FM01tPNLlA6CsVculY3b__3yNvOz9cwc_5YbtxB2rO/s1600-h/leatherschool3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtnTQobL6ady5Huo67Qd_bJ4e0qDRXh_DF6WD2oDLlfhOMcFVhozuF4xGv0csm99tF8PB5qwETIuMShLKv3rG5FSZd79FM01tPNLlA6CsVculY3b__3yNvOz9cwc_5YbtxB2rO/s400/leatherschool3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423353606341577266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Their service was brilliant never mind that we were some shabby travelers looking for a bargain. My dearest who was eying the bomber jackets at 50% off, ended up getting one tailored made for him. And yet they still entertained us in the same friendly and accommodating manner.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2KP5QJD8FyDb-_HZWNrAo4DamH5yacOhVxBWR2nffO3hYT-0ShH74Yz2yR-VWzCDyArhcqYeRDWLyXEhG2yql-AG0THw020xZZxkzThJvvs0XK6Ke1XnUn6H6ZVqvfat-Cyb/s1600-h/Leatherschool2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy2KP5QJD8FyDb-_HZWNrAo4DamH5yacOhVxBWR2nffO3hYT-0ShH74Yz2yR-VWzCDyArhcqYeRDWLyXEhG2yql-AG0THw020xZZxkzThJvvs0XK6Ke1XnUn6H6ZVqvfat-Cyb/s400/Leatherschool2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423351357776772194" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The kids ended up falling asleep as some parents were shopping.<br /><br />Suggestions:<br /><br /><a href="http://www.vestri.it/">Vestri Chocolates</a><br />11 Borgo Albizi<br />Florence<br />Italy<br />Tel: 39 055 234 0374<br /><br />North of Piazza Santa CroceSunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-13883695825115937392010-01-02T10:30:00.010+03:002010-01-06T01:57:42.623+03:00Il Bel PaeseMilan-Firenze-Pisa-Torino-Courmayeur-Milan<br /><br />Day 01 - Milan - Firenze<br /><br />We arrived in Milan after an uneventful flight. Went through immigration, got out bags (which took a little while) and off we go. Found the Biglietteria and bought tickets for the Malpensa express (EUR 3,75 one way for children EUR12 return for adults) for Milano Stazione Centrale.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_UKESk20LRgQviyP7Vl5q5TcsuB0Hi-wuzbAQObw5NgijUij-h0Y_WZT0p8vYnRZAO9c-jJ0_QJ4tXxq1-cQi4hcew1feFhzTgRNRJimD2a1o2AIW7Cy0EgeYf811rKgfIB3/s1600-h/AmalinaDavidbus.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0_UKESk20LRgQviyP7Vl5q5TcsuB0Hi-wuzbAQObw5NgijUij-h0Y_WZT0p8vYnRZAO9c-jJ0_QJ4tXxq1-cQi4hcew1feFhzTgRNRJimD2a1o2AIW7Cy0EgeYf811rKgfIB3/s400/AmalinaDavidbus.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422411506447878626" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There were hints of ice and snow. The sky was grey but we were happy and excited. Arrived in Milano Centrale about 1.5 hours later. That was were we got conned #1. A main saw us struggling with our bags and offered to help us with our bags. EUR5 right to the train carriage. I told him we needed to get tickets first, he says no problem showed us to the concession place. To cut the story short he showed us where the elevator was and abandoned us there. Welcome to Milan!<br /><br />Left the men on the platform where I went in search of the Trenitalia ticket office. Finally found it downstairs and there was a huge long queue. No wonder the guy didn't want to show us there. Waited patiently in the FRECCIAROSSA line which was shorter than the other line. Finally got a busty blonde Italian dame who was friendly and helpful. Got our Eurail passes validated and paid EUR10 per ticket for each seat on the fast train to Firenze, first class.<br /><br />The men however were freezing on the platform and had brought all the bags downstairs in search of fresh Italian coffee. No such luck as we had to rush back to the platform to catch the 10:15 train to Firenze.<br /><br />Found our cabin, then our seats and settled in. Still trying to get that first cup of Italian coffee, the men went to the Buffet car, only to be told that they had a problem that morning, hence no food or drinks.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sUvJqQ1mxe4vbp0WbkokXrL9hez50qKkXLxlAQYpLg3zZs2Ol6XkKorCIxcSl4gzqps3WwEYu2wm95nXAeWR8tnnkyoO9CRtb5C-VggFdgaBVodJx0WcW-Hd2RfbqjfZJxBi/s1600-h/Amalinatrain.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8sUvJqQ1mxe4vbp0WbkokXrL9hez50qKkXLxlAQYpLg3zZs2Ol6XkKorCIxcSl4gzqps3WwEYu2wm95nXAeWR8tnnkyoO9CRtb5C-VggFdgaBVodJx0WcW-Hd2RfbqjfZJxBi/s400/Amalinatrain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422412153880941554" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The journey was 1 hr and 45 mins. Amalina decided to catch up with some sleep after she was bored with the iphone.<br /><br />We arrived in Firenze, cold. I was glad that I had my thermals on, (although I was feeling hot in the plane.)<br /><br />It took us awhile to get ourselves oriented to the area. Started walking in the general direction we thought the B&B was. Not easy with big bags and narrow pedestrian paths. After awhile I suggested that we stopped for Ciocolata Calda or Hot Chocolate and Amalina had Gelato to pacify her.<br /><br />Turns out that the hot chocolate was the best our travel companions ever tasted and somehow Stephano's was never open when we wanted to have more of his hot chocolate later. (Rumour has it he already went home for Xmas.)<br /><br />Stephano told us that our B&B was just straight ahead and after finishing our hot chocolates we went off on our way.<br /><br />We found the <a href="http://www.residenzadellasignoria.com/index.php?lang=en&page=home">B&B Residenza della Signoria</a> quite easily after that. Turns out that the residence is right smack in the shopping area!<br /><br />After we put our bags away, we decided to have some lunch. By this time it was almost 3 pm. There were quite a few restaurants near the Residenza. We chose the eatery round the corner because it was packed full when everything else was empty.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-C7vR-11_FWwvZSaGpZQ-X7ShBKyTj4Df1pJZRPic_j4GYeaqzplwRjbS5li_ZEt1I3KDeVSSmJKhMNcozqP5yTiF2qJ7XrDxgiko0P3Thpuvbq7gSlvM6HR_Sy4KgNuye2N8/s1600-h/BirreriaCentrale1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-C7vR-11_FWwvZSaGpZQ-X7ShBKyTj4Df1pJZRPic_j4GYeaqzplwRjbS5li_ZEt1I3KDeVSSmJKhMNcozqP5yTiF2qJ7XrDxgiko0P3Thpuvbq7gSlvM6HR_Sy4KgNuye2N8/s400/BirreriaCentrale1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422415909165907634" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The food served at Birreria Centrale was delicious! We had the risotto with porcini mushrooms, ordered the Salmone Carpaccio (that came with orange and pomegranate) for Amalina and the husband had Tortellini con Tartufo. The food was absolutely delish! All the flavours just burst and went dancing in my mouth!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazCds_2V-_oM1wMZDRrQb9Qmos0wEvKM5SGfm7VgrHfEioBRCFzxhdVqtLx2xL5J_OQSZkVJISmCudViwiTmnfxvkvRIRzOqm8Uw7ZFRk1pcyRdzarLYGxGwXZyJDSTCv3vfQ/s1600-h/Fruiterer.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhazCds_2V-_oM1wMZDRrQb9Qmos0wEvKM5SGfm7VgrHfEioBRCFzxhdVqtLx2xL5J_OQSZkVJISmCudViwiTmnfxvkvRIRzOqm8Uw7ZFRk1pcyRdzarLYGxGwXZyJDSTCv3vfQ/s400/Fruiterer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422418962460108802" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After the wonderful late lunch we walked around the area and found a fruiterer. Are those good looking tomatoes or what!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi903slY2zKi-BYz9dz1sIBuZOaSQYO-izlLvKW9MmOruQqJ7yxoAd6x36Gt2bdXLl5j0SIiSmcoan0MEPYPDc2tOlZSgetC5q0y08L_6EuafYdiUQdPUTxDGZKVl98W1KQ5iRE/s1600-h/fruiterer2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi903slY2zKi-BYz9dz1sIBuZOaSQYO-izlLvKW9MmOruQqJ7yxoAd6x36Gt2bdXLl5j0SIiSmcoan0MEPYPDc2tOlZSgetC5q0y08L_6EuafYdiUQdPUTxDGZKVl98W1KQ5iRE/s400/fruiterer2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422419825416184370" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We bought some fruits to be eaten as snack the following day.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-1224232986966451492009-12-30T12:21:00.000+03:002010-01-02T12:28:13.868+03:00Happy 4th Birthday my Little One!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypJjZ9QGxnNLxKrYP8xRSR0EUvHiQr7cJMahF_apWnjI5ZSnq2uFvJuXWI5hIjP_0xA3nBU6wI7ZOAK4fcvmE9TlcogHoH3Nhw74WqPTaKVH70g7mUROoXN31s9UL_0cOEUy9/s1600-h/Amalina.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiypJjZ9QGxnNLxKrYP8xRSR0EUvHiQr7cJMahF_apWnjI5ZSnq2uFvJuXWI5hIjP_0xA3nBU6wI7ZOAK4fcvmE9TlcogHoH3Nhw74WqPTaKVH70g7mUROoXN31s9UL_0cOEUy9/s400/Amalina.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422070367751011970" border="0" /></a><br /><br />May all your dreams come true my darling child.<br />You can achieve everything and anything you want to do as long as you work hard and focus your mind on success.<br />We want you to know that we love you very much!Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-49945417768418634642009-05-16T09:20:00.003+03:002009-05-16T18:21:06.130+03:00Its a special day mummy!Somehow The Little had the inkling that I was having a long weekend.<br /><br />"Mummy I want to stay with you at home," she cried and she clutched on my arm.<br /><br />"But darling, if you stay at home then I won't be able to send you to school," I answered.<br /><br />"And you will pick me up too?" she asked.<br /><br />"Of course I will," I answered.<br /><br />And so she slept. She is finally sleeping in her own bed albeit its still in our room. She had requested that she wanted a Charlie and Lola bed sheet and she will sleep with Charlie and Lola.<br /><br />On the bus this morning she exclaimed, "Oh mummy. Today is a special day isn't it because you are sending me to school," she commented.<br /><br />"And you will fetch me from school later right?" she asked.<br /><br />I sure will.<br /><br />Days like this sometimes make me wonder that perhaps I should be at home with my child.<br /><br />But its just 5 more weeks before summer holidays and she will be joining me in my school in August anyways.<br /><br />I have to say that me getting this job is actually a <span style="font-style: italic;">rezeki</span> for her as much as it is mine.<br /><br />She has blossomed really well at her Preschool. She now recognizes some of the alphabets and all of the numbers. Her motor skills are developing well and her social skills are improving.<br /><br />Because Mommy has to go to work myself my Little One recognizes that we all have "jobs" to do and schools to go to. There were many days when she was tempted to skip school (as what her best friend often does) but couldn't because there was no one else at home to look after her.<br /><br />But I have to confess that I do miss my social life. There are friends whom I haven't talked to in ages. Friends whom I used to hangout with, I just see occasionally. I no longer know who my neighbours are because I no longer use the shopping bus. I haven't sewn or done anything creative in ages. I come home tired. I still have to cook and spend time with my child. Somedays I feel like I'm on the treadmill and I play catch up during the weekend for groceries etc.<br /><br />However, I am very grateful that I am working because I want to, and not because I need to.<br /><br />And I am grateful that I've been given this opportunity because not everyone who wants to have the same chance.<br /><br />So I will spend today being grateful that I have the day off and that I can fetch my daughter from school. And be grateful tomorrow that I have a job that I love doing.<br /><br />Alhamdullilah.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-52083285184835227492009-05-02T23:31:00.003+03:002009-05-03T00:06:00.166+03:00A death and a lifetime of commitmentDear AM,<br /><br />I went to a neighbour's house to convey my condolences today. You did ask me where I was going and I said I needed to visit a sick friend. I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth because I didn't want you to get sad and I'm not ready to answer your questions about death.<br /><br />The lady is young. Early forties. Her husband, who was 47 died of heart attack at his house about 2 weeks ago. He died about half an hour after having an argument with his 15 year old daughter. His second son is 12 and his youngest son is 9.<br /><br />Understandably, they are all in shock. Heart broken. Faris, the youngest still does not believe that his dad passed away. Yesterday he asked his mum, if it was true his dad passed away. Khalil the elder son is still grieving. He was with his dad when it all happened. He is probably still traumatized. The eldest daughter, well at the moment, is the cause of her mother's concern and pain.<br /><br />"I cannot get back the one I lost but I'm afraid I will lose Christina if I don't do anything about it now."<br /><br />She told me that Christina had always been a difficult child, even when she was carrying her up to today.<br /><br />Suddenly, I recognize that this will not be the sort of relationship I want to have with you now or the future. I feel for this lady's sorrow. And for me to avoid this, I have to start working with you now.<br /><br />I want you to know that you can always come to talk to either one or both of us if you have anything in your mind. And we promise to always listen to you with an open heart and open mind.<br /><br />I promise that I will share the truth with you as much as I can, age appropriately.<br /><br />I want to give you as much respect and freedom as I want for myself, within boundaries and limits. I want you to always feel that I respect you for who you are and who you will be.<br /><br />I will love you, unconditionally and try to give you as much time as I can. Especially when you are asking for my attention when I am catching up with my friends or cooking dinner. You are more important, than anything else to me in this world. And I want you to know that.. always.<br /><br />Please accept that I am still a mother in training. I promise to update myself, as much as I can, to understand your needs, your desires and your wishes.<br /><br />I will always let you know that I love you and no matter how upset I am, I am upset at your particular behaviour, and not all of you.<br /><br />I promise to always see your true and hidden potential.<br /><br />And there is nothing more I want in this world, to have a wonderful journey with you and your dad into your adulthood, to see you bloom into a sensible, loving and wise adult.<br /><br />No matter what happens, I will never place the blame on you. I will accept the situation as a life lesson for me to learn. So that I can share with you better directions or instructions.<br /> [This does not mean you will not have the face the consequences of your actions though!]<br /><br />I hope you understand why I didn't bring you along. This was my life lesson to learn. I had to concentrate on the experience so I will be a better mother.<br /><br />With lots of love,<br /><br />MomSunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-14009350775777215232009-04-28T17:07:00.007+03:002009-04-28T18:25:36.400+03:00The perils of reading to your child"When I grow up I want to be a painter."<br /><br />"Will you be a famous painter who sells her painting for millions of dollars?"<br /><br />"No mummy I want to keep all my paintings, I don't want anyone else to have them."<br /><br />What brought this on, I pondered.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12PJXNLa3dpJOC_gzRdI4ZS1lmj9cTxCwCuCJhfhYabsiq8P7TDE3wREY4i70sBFtj7NQutntKeJM9u_CjB3P4aBL_rI1mrpAKYCWaRjUCRMAWlpcnXGU-Z2Qc-qGjNg0-oHN/s1600-h/smDot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 181px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj12PJXNLa3dpJOC_gzRdI4ZS1lmj9cTxCwCuCJhfhYabsiq8P7TDE3wREY4i70sBFtj7NQutntKeJM9u_CjB3P4aBL_rI1mrpAKYCWaRjUCRMAWlpcnXGU-Z2Qc-qGjNg0-oHN/s400/smDot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329756358399773906" border="0" /></a>And then I remembered that we have been reading her Reynold's <span style="font-style: italic;">The Dot</span>. <span style="font-style: italic;">The Dot</span> has inspired my child to paint everyday. Sometimes much to my annoyance really.<br /><br />She once decided that she wanted to paint just before bedtime.<br /><br />On the following day she decided that she needed to paint just before we left the house to go for dinner.<br /><br />She managed to paint when she comes back from school.<br /><br />She even insisted on painting just before we left for the airport to send the ILs off.<br /><br />Who knew books could put in such strong inspirational ideas into children?<br /><br />Then we read her "<span style="font-style: italic;">The Princess and the Pea</span>." After we finished the story, she quickly pleaded that "Mummy please do not put a pea under my mattress. Otherwise I will not sleep very well."<br /><br />I guess I don't have to worry about her being a princess then. A good night's sleep is more important for her.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbR9UVDYuiyYsKR19bxTsf1Bz5yj6DbF3MYuBLmVy2X2pwbupiByKsRZdbevlfuJvvwDURJj5dieurAujNp5rRO5fKJHgz9GrSi8oq5TjmHQfV9wHLercnk7EUH_0_68OU_io-/s1600-h/timothy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 97px; height: 124px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbR9UVDYuiyYsKR19bxTsf1Bz5yj6DbF3MYuBLmVy2X2pwbupiByKsRZdbevlfuJvvwDURJj5dieurAujNp5rRO5fKJHgz9GrSi8oq5TjmHQfV9wHLercnk7EUH_0_68OU_io-/s400/timothy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329756696059883410" border="0" /></a>Just yesterday she told me, "Mommy I missed you while I was in school just now. I don't think you gave me enough kisses in the morning."<br /><br />I guess she thinks Rosemary Wells' Timothy gets more kisses from his mum than she does in the morning.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlsM1qY0QYk52dMHKRN8t2XqWM0oITrO0XlXyt4lxoY_tnnlfnh3nCzYEpffHcR5Y2hJrOp2_4wbnZgL8fmX_pbPO1zAgyFamA8Hd_rSlHYG0r8rFzBgGunAkUiIplepo6xNK/s1600-h/greensheep.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 210px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWlsM1qY0QYk52dMHKRN8t2XqWM0oITrO0XlXyt4lxoY_tnnlfnh3nCzYEpffHcR5Y2hJrOp2_4wbnZgL8fmX_pbPO1zAgyFamA8Hd_rSlHYG0r8rFzBgGunAkUiIplepo6xNK/s320/greensheep.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329759801878943618" border="0" /></a>Have you been asked to read Mem Fox's <span style="font-style: italic;">Where is green sheep</span> in the morning, lunchtime, afternoon and bedtime? In the car, at the kitchen table and on the bed?<br /><br />If your child is anything like mine, she will not leave me alone and will ask me repeatedly until I manage to negotiate for a suitable time.<br /><br />Luckily she hasn't asked me why the sleep were multi-coloured and did all sorts of things.<br /><br /><br />Some days I get detailed request from her for books, "Please bring me a book about a bee, a giraffe and a bear."<br /><br />Is that all in one book or 3 different books?<br /><br />Then there was the time when I got her <span style="font-style: italic;">A Cow, A Bee, A Cookie and Me</span>. When she found out that the recipe for the cookies was at the back of the book, all I heard for 3 consecutive days was "When will we make the cookies mummy? Is it today"<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5RYjuPdrCEQZm4AFgs29WGRUQFTQteDr2lXBc45tZmLA09fjS_fGF7Y3_a-OMiPYqi16Fddruz1XZqcOXKVafqVLm4DA_8TFaJ6EqolTA7N3BRhpalBWR-nPSfw15s7sb_1l/s1600-h/meredithhooper.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi5RYjuPdrCEQZm4AFgs29WGRUQFTQteDr2lXBc45tZmLA09fjS_fGF7Y3_a-OMiPYqi16Fddruz1XZqcOXKVafqVLm4DA_8TFaJ6EqolTA7N3BRhpalBWR-nPSfw15s7sb_1l/s320/meredithhooper.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329761327576111282" border="0" /></a><br />And when I finally found the time to oblige the cookies were her precious possession. I was allowed two because I helped her bake them. Her dad could have one to taste.<br /><br />She kept her box of cookies someplace in the cupboard and told us that "Its a secret place I put it mummy so one else can eat them but me."<br /><br />Even when daddy asked for a second cookie to taste again, she said no. "Sorry Daddy they are mine and they are very special. Only for me."<br /><br /><br />I am lucky that I work in a library and have access to children books. But I am terrible in the sense that I love to purchase our own copy of her favorite tittles so our house is bursting with books.<br /><br />So my advice to all parents is, if you want lots of free time alone for yourself to surf the net and everything else, don't start reading to your child. Because once you do, they will never want you to stop and they'll be very disappointed when you tell them you don't have the time for such trivial pursuits in life.<br /><br />Especially when you start introducing to them the joys of reading, they'll be hooked. Possibly even for life. And you'll never have peace until perhaps when your child learns to read to himself/herself.<br /><br />You've been warned!<br /><br />Signed,<br /><br />A mother of a 3 year oldSunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-17645809384246858852009-04-11T15:39:00.002+03:002009-04-11T15:52:01.680+03:00Missing an Editor Lite software and DongleMy DH bought me the Bernina Aurora QE 440 as a gift after my Little One was born. He knew I've been eyeing it for ages and decided that we should go ahead and get it. To sweeten the deal he bought the embroidery module as well to go with the Aurora 440.<br /><br />But I didn't open the embroidery module. I've been wanting to test it out but never got round to do so due to many many reasons. Motherhood. Everyday life. Didn't have the space on my sewing table. (Got a new sewing table.) Didn't have the computer to load up the software to go with the machine. Didn't take a project in mind.<br /><br />Whatever my reasons were, I've left it in the box it came in until yesterday because M@rie called to say that she will be teaching a class on how to use the software.<br /><br />So I finally opened the box until to find the dongle, and the software missing. Two things needed to make the embroidery module work.<br /><br />I do accept that it was my fault that I did not open the whole thing right away.<br /><br />But at the moment my heart is just bleeding. I am upset.<br /><br />On the other hand, if its meant to be mine, it will be returned to me in other ways?<br /><br />Life lesson for me, open whatever you buy right away.<br /><br />In the meantime if anyone is selling theirs cheap, I would consider all offers.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-28173400069883789412009-03-24T19:28:00.006+03:002009-03-24T22:25:59.257+03:00She is saying grass..."Did you know that our daughter says grass in school?"<br /><br />"Grass? What grass?" I muttered, caught by surprise.<br /><br />"So what do you do when you say grass in school Little One?"<br /><br />"We thank God for our friends and our food," she answered as she hopped around the kitchen like a bunny.<br /><br />Bells were ringing a little. Some how saying grace (to us) does have a Christian connotation. Is my child being taught values of a religion which may be different from ours? So how come I didn't blink when they had Santa come to the school and I am somewhat uncomfortable that they are saying grace?<br /><br />Surely it is a Muslim quality to be thankful and grateful for what we have? Isn't it why we are encouraged to say Alhamdullilah as much as we can?<br /><br />So we had to ask her exactly what they say when they say grace.<br /><br />"We say thank you for our friends and our food." Is that all? Anything else?<br /><br />Its not that I mind her being thankful for her friends and her food. In fact I do encourage her to appreciate and be grateful for what we have.<br /><br />Just last week she has begun to ask me questions like, "Can we eat pig?"<br /><br />"No darling, we don't eat pork because we are Muslims."<br /><br />Should we explain to her more? How much more?<br /><br />I guess she is telling us it is time for us to teach her more about our faith. She understands that when we hear the prayer call, its "Solat" or time to pray and often asks to pray with us.<br /><br />I am grateful that she is sent to us not only to bring us joy and strength, but also a reminder such that we can be better people ourselves.<br /><br />I pray that God gives us the strength and light to teach her the best we can. Not just values of the religion but values that will build the strength of her character that will allow her to make good choices in all aspects of her life.<br /><br />I would like to think that I am teaching her a world full of unity and similarities and not be afraid of diversity and differences, be it culture or religion.<br /><br />My daughter, you do put me in a pickle sometimes. It is a precious gift that a person give to another when you make me want to be a better person so I can be a better example for you.<br /><br />Its tough being a parent! And I am grateful for the opportunity<br /><br />And most times times it is my little one who is teaching me to be a better parent!Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-38347920623350543382009-03-01T11:51:00.003+03:002009-03-01T12:17:37.992+03:00Always for a reasonI cannot tell you how many times I walked past the bookshelf with the books, "<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Tuesdays with Morrie</span>." It is something that I would normally pick up but I didn't. The time didn't feel right. The book did not call my name.<br /><br />It just happened that a friend had borrowed a book from a neighbor and I was the intercessor. And the book came to me. I had a weekend when plans had to be shelved. My body seemingly tired. Sulking I buried myself in the book. And oh boy, the words just snowed me under.<br /><br />If anything, it pointed out to me that I have nothing to sulk about. I have everything to celebrate about my life. And I should embrace and celebrate every minute I can before the inevitable happens.<br /><br />Here are some of my favorite bits of the books which I want to remember. To remind myself every now and then because the book would have to go forth and bring wisdom to the next reader.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Do the kinds of things that come from the heart. When you do, you won't be dissatisfied, you won't be envious, you won't be longing for somebody else's things. On the contrary, you'll be overwhelmed with what comes back."<span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span> pg128<br /><br />I believe in paying it forward and I believe what you put out there is what you get in return. And I always must remind myself, whatever it is i do has to be Ikhlas, or sincere. From my heart. I should not recount it later but just to cast it out to the wind and forget all about it.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Part of the problem, Mitch, is that everyone is in such a hurry," Morrie said. "People haven't found meaning in their lives, so they're running all the time looking for it. They think the next car, the next house, the nest job. Then they find those things are empty, too, and they keep running."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Once you start running, I said, it's hard to slow yourself down</span>. Pg 136<br /><br />I must remember to slow down. To take each day as it comes and not try to rush and cram everything in all at once. Sometimes I feel bogged down by implied expectations. Implied because I know too well myself that its an expectation that I thought was expected of me.<br /><br />I must remember that its OK to say no. That I don't have to say yes all the time to please other people.<br /><br />To always take a moment and ask my heart, myself, do I want to do this? So that I am not constantly running on a treadmill on a road to nowhere.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">If we saw each other as more alike, we might be eager to join in one big human family in this world, and to care about that family the way we care about our own.</span> pg 156<br /><br />Its Ok for me to love other people and its OK for them not to love me back. Because the love will come back to me, in other ways and avenues I can't anticipate.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">There is no formula to relationships. They have to be negotiated in loving ways, with room for both parties, what they want and what they need, what they can do and what their life is like.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Love us when you are as concerned about someone else's situation as you are your own.</span> pg 178<br /><br />If not, more ...<br /><br />I am grateful that the book came to me. Right to my door.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-89089868881950264532009-02-28T21:47:00.003+03:002009-02-28T22:12:23.799+03:00All I want is .....To provide the best I can, with all the information I have, for my child. <br /><br />I want her to have a good stable foundation and grounding for her future. <br /><br />I do this by loving her unconditionally on beautiful days as well as on cranky days.<br /><br />I try to educate myself as much as possible to equip me for this role.<br /><br />I must remember that she too has her own destiny and that the Universe, our creator will take care of not just her but us as well.<br /><br />I will accept that everything happens for a reason. And often enough it is revealed to me the good or the reason something happens or don't happen.<br /><br />There will be many times that I may not know what to do. But I will explore all possible options and look into all avenues to see what I can do.<br /><br />In the meantime I must trust that things will work out. One way or the other.<br /><br />And often, the test is to see how and in what way I will react to the tribulations of life.<br /><br />I promise to keep an open mind and accept whatever journeys that may come upon us and to learn in whatever way I can, either from the journey itself, from the people I may meet or the places I may see.<br /><br />I am truly grateful that there are always people around me who are like my angels, who helped to light up my path, one way or another.<br /><br />I like that she has brought my journey to different paths and makes me see the world and the people around me in a different light.<br /><br />You make me want to be a better person. You make me want to take care of myself so I can love you better. <br /><br />And that is the greatest gift anyone can give to another.<br /><br />Its a huge responsibility my child, and I love you more for it.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-15172987630078199192009-02-07T02:04:00.004+03:002009-02-07T02:37:19.996+03:00Remembering to be gratefulThe days in a week seemed to just fuse and melt away together. The weekend is filled with errands and things to do.<br /><br />I was asked recently, "Why are you so busy?"<br /><br />I was taken aback by the question.<br /><br />"Busy right now? Because I am ordering teh tarik or being busy in general?"<br /><br />Busy because I am working?<br /><br />I am often surprised when others remarked to me, "Its good now that you are working, It gives you something to do so you're not bored."<br /><br />Bored? Something to do?<br /><br />Thing is, I was already busy even when I was not working. I always had something to do. Books to read. Blogs to read. Projects to do be it sewing or other craft related. Travel plans. Emails to write. And most importantly, raising my child. I do not believe that one can ever be bored while raising a child. There is so much to do. Meals to cook. Cakes to bake. Books to read. Activities to plan. Research to read, plan and implement.<br /><br />I apologize if I cannot empathize with people who says they are bored and claims that they have nothing to do. There is always something to do. Even prayers take time and boy I have lots of prayers to do. Doesn't everyone? Irregardless what religion they are?<br /><br />Of course some questions were raised before why I needed to work. For me, the opportunity came by chance, through the goodwill of friends and acquaintances to my lap. And perhaps I am one of those people who is always game to try something new and/or different. (Perhaps thats the reason I seldom have time to be bored?)<br /><br />I did it both for me and my child. I needed to know that my brain still works. There were days I could not string sentences properly together. There were times I thought some brain cells were permanently lost. And I wanted my child to see that women can work too if they wanted to. And to give my child the space so that she knows she is capable of having fun without mummy around.<br /><br />I've seen how she is a different person when I am not there. It made her grow up a little so to speak. She is not whinny when I'm not there. Suddenly she sees me, she goes, "Mummy please carry me."<br /><br />This works for us. I may not recommend it for everyone but for the moment this works for us and I am grateful.<br /><br />Of course there were many mornings I wish I could just sleep in. Or when my child is sick I wish I can tend her at home.<br /><br />Whatever it is, I constantly have to remind myself as I am doing so now, is that I must always be grateful for the life Allah has given me. For the opportunities he presented to me. For the people and friends I get to meet. For the good health we have. For the happiness we enjoy. For the wonderful food on our table. For everything.<br /><br />I am only human and I try to do my best with whatever I can. Its very easy to get into a complaining mode (which I initially thought I was going to do) but I must constantly remind myself, how much more wonderful it is for me to be grateful. <br /><br />I am grateful that my weekends are just so fast that it seems something just pops up for us to do. <br /><br />Good or bad, I am grateful. <br /><br />Alhamdullilah. Alhamdullilah. Alhamdullilah.<br /><br />What's on your gratitude list today?Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-66341209894143675292009-01-30T03:04:00.003+03:002009-01-30T15:12:41.713+03:00Ideological differenceI met A* 5 years ago at an embassy function. We had very little in common except that we were both born in a small tropical island and now stranded in the middle of the desert.<br /><br />A* is married to a middle eastern gentleman. They met in S/ngap0re when he was working there, their romance blossomed and they got married and she followed him since.<br /><br />What I find most difficult is that she does not have a mobile phone herself or a home landline number. Her only connection to the outside world is through her husband's mobile phone which he carried with him everywhere he went including work. <br /><br />"So if you want to call me, you can call him after 9 or 10 pm when he gets home from work and he can pass the phone to me."<br /><br />"Why don't you get your own? Its easy enough to get a SIM card now and phones are cheap?"<br /><br />"Well my husband said its not easy. He is busy at work all day long and he comes home tired and stressed out."<br /><br />"So what is something happens to you in the day should you fall sick or faint or fall?"<br /><br />"Well I can go to my neighbours and ask for help. Most of my neighbours are his countrymen so they know him well."<br /><br />At first I thought well if she wants my old mobile, perhaps I can give it to her. But then I realize that perhaps it was not a question of economics or logistics but rather a control and/or emotional issue.<br /><br />I always prided myself as someone who can empathize other people, their situation, culture or even economic circumstance. However this goes beyond my personal tolerance.<br /><br />It makes me so mad that she accepts her situation. I have little respect for a man whom I consider controlling.<br /><br />Last night I met her again and she looked very thrilled to see me. I however had to restrain myself very hard from shaking her into her senses, "Whats this woman! You still have no phone?"<br /><br />Granted I don't know them well and has not made any effort to bridge the gap.<br /><br />And what did I learn from this lesson? That I can be very judgmental and prejudiced much to my own chagrin.<br /><br />If she is happy, why burst her happy bubble. Sometimes the feminist in me cloud my judgement of other people.<br /><br />My child, if you meet a suitor who cuts you off from your friends or family and controls how you get access to them, run! Run as fast as you can! I am raising you to be a person who can have her own opinion and her own choices. Liberty is your birthright! Work hard to maintain it and don't give it away to anyone. Liberty does come with responsibility like everything else, but once you let it go, it may never come back. You may be a chained changed person forever.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-66016753817668848272009-01-27T23:44:00.006+03:002009-01-27T23:59:45.777+03:00Of a mum's guilty feelings and slings<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNv2evUbxjHbdNGY0q8tzQOVzT_gu5807gy4GKCVwbvXXBi8aPlH3rdBDRyDFARksZbshIloLg0fEv86L_e44qlQVMz7uBe7yYcoFrtfZDWTQPO9hMq44bFfdimYwgogVoE8ml/s1600-h/B&Watlibrary.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 275px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNv2evUbxjHbdNGY0q8tzQOVzT_gu5807gy4GKCVwbvXXBi8aPlH3rdBDRyDFARksZbshIloLg0fEv86L_e44qlQVMz7uBe7yYcoFrtfZDWTQPO9hMq44bFfdimYwgogVoE8ml/s400/B&Watlibrary.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5296078495374499714" /></a>I cannot explain what has come over me but some days I just feel guilty about not spending enough time with My Little One.<br /><br />It feels like she is growing up so much each day and I often wonder if I am letting precious moments pass me by.<br /><br />Did I do enough today? I do sometimes wonder.<br /><br />Just the other day she gave me a hug at the skate park and declared, "Mummy I am so glad you are here with me." And somehow that just made my tiredness melt away.<br /><br />She has been a little unwell and just the other day I put her in our Didymos sling again because I needed to cook dinner and she wanted to be carried. And I think she enjoyed being carried in the sling again.<br /><br />My child, some days you are 3 going on 20, and on other days you remind me that you but a baby and need her mummy to pamper her.<br /><br />I must say, the sling has been and still is a lifeline for me. We decided that she has outgrown the Ergo as she was complaining that they pinch her. The didymos however does spread her weight well except that the amount of fabric is sometimes inconvenient to deal with.<br /><br />Dear Little One, I want you to know that I love you all day long. I love you when we are together and I love you when we are apart. And I love you even more when you are being brave!Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-39726227164612245062009-01-19T18:10:00.003+03:002009-01-20T00:47:18.168+03:00Surviving on miracles"We'll be out of debt by the end of the month," she declared.<br /><br />What's this I thought. It turned out they had to repay the bank for a loan they took out for a business plan that went bust. And all this time she never breathe a word about it.<br /><br />And so I had to ask.<br /><br />"How did you survive all that time your husband lost his job?"<br /><br />"On miracles. We have a supportive family," was her answer.<br /><br />I first met this lady about 10 years ago during a training stint in the civil service. Of course during that time I didn't realize that we would be as good friends as we are now. But looking back, all these years, I never heard her grumble. She has had many trials and tribulations in her life.<br /><br />As I told another friend, we all have our own struggles in our lives. What makes it different is how we deal with those struggles.<br /><br />Do we learn to grow up and deal it with maturity and grace?<br /><br />Or do we sulk and begrudge others whom we think are better off than us?<br /><br />Or sink in depression with a woe is me attitude?<br /><br />I realize more than ever now, the true character of my friend is her strength and resolute to be happy with the life she and her husband have built for themselves. Lesser people would have let this get in the way of their lives and their marriage. But not the Ss.<br /><br />Congratulations my friend. You both are an inspiration to me. May this signify a new beginning in your lives. May the new year bring you more happiness and prosperity! Good luck.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-79977617153851644432009-01-03T18:20:00.002+03:002009-01-03T19:22:19.523+03:00Death of my N93?It all started when I brought my N93 phone to the Singtel Mobile shop in AMK. I wanted to know if its true they would give me SGD200 as a trade in value. It turned out that they could not give me the trade in value because I did not buy the phone locally.<br /><br />Which was fine by me really. Because I was only 30% sure that I would buy a new phone. <br /><br />My N93 has served me very well but lately it has not behaved itself. It sometimes turns itself off. Which is not a very useful feature on a mobile phone because sometimes other people may want to contact you. Without the "ring when someone is calling you" facility, my phone would be no better than a low resolution camera and video thingy.<br /><br />But after I had brought my phone to that counter that fateful day, it has behaved more badly than ever! Just today it turned itself off just as I was having a conversation with a friend. Previously, it would do so after perhaps 10 mins of talking, and I had previously blamed it on the uncharged battery. But just today, after I made sure that the phone is fully charged, it still reset itself, turned itself off as I was talking and my time is spent making sure that my phone is still turned on!<br /><br />Argghh!<br /><br />Hubby dearest is leaning towards the iphone which I am reluctant because I am a faithful Nokia user. I did think of the blackberry but I just haven't put much thought into these sort of gadgets lately. [I'd rather get another sewing machine to be honest.]<br /><br />One thing for sure I'd better extract all the phone numbers in there while I still can because I haven't stored the phone numbers else where.<br /><br />I found some suggestions online on how to revive my dead Nokia N93, whether it works or not, I'll have to find out.<br /><br />If anyone else knows how to deal with a hurt mobile phone's feeling please share it with me. Otherwise may I suggest you refrain from bringing your phone to ask its trade in value in case its feeling gets hurt like mine.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-12269818171733732032009-01-02T07:39:00.004+03:002009-01-02T08:52:59.924+03:00Hello 2009, good bye 2008How quickly time flies!<br /><br />2008 presented me with wonderful and new adventures. The ever pending dreaded move did not happen in 2008 and I've decided that no matter where I am or will be, I will learn to adapt and love the place I live. I shall fear The Move no more. If it happens, we'll deal with it. It not, I'll enjoy the wonderful things about living here as much as I can.<br /><br />I am truly blessed that I've had many opportunities to meet people who inspire me, who teach me a little bit here and there about life. Some became friends along the way, some became my sounding board. I am truly grateful for that.<br /><br />My motto for 2008 was to invest in myself, doing whatever I can to make myself a better person. To my amazement, the change happened quite quickly, much quicker than I ever anticipated. Opportunities sprouted like wild mushrooms.<br /><br />For the year ahead, I hope to live a life of gratitude, to see life as a glass half full. I must appreciate what I have and live in this moment and not yearn for the things that are not here or I cannot get.<br /><br />Contentment is the state of the mind and I am determined to live a life of contentment rather that of discontent.<br /><br />I will concentrate on what I do and do it well. I will ignore any sort of politics, gossip and Chinese whispers. And I will stop thinking of what others may think of me.<br /><br />The only person I can control is me and I will work on me. I will continue to work on myself, to make myself a better person mentally, spiritually and health wise.<br /><br />I hope to live in the here and now, at the same time work on my goals and dreams.<br /><br />I will continue to reduce my clutter and not keep things that I can no longer use. Things are what I use to make me live well, they do not definite me as who I am. They are my tools.<br /><br />I will eat well and eat healthy. Will try to prepare as many meals I can myself rather than resort to eating out.<br /><br />I will keep positive people and positive energy around me. <br /><br />I will continually appreciate the wonderful things I have in life; family, love, wonderful friends, great job, comfortable life, wondrous travels.<br /><br />I began to learn not to over commit myself in the second half of 2008. I hope to continue to do better in 2009. I'm not at my best when I spread myself too thin.<br /><br />We will save a lot more for The Little One's education. We will endeavor the best we can afford for her.<br /><br />The round the world trip is still in the IN tray. Perhaps it will happen in 2009?<br /><br />SO what do YOU have planned for 2009?Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-54895781928465432562008-12-26T03:59:00.004+03:002008-12-26T04:30:29.715+03:00A mother's journeyUpon arrival at Changi airport, The Little One remarked, "Mummy, there are lots of people that look like Mark."<br /><br />"That is true honey. Thats because we are in Singapore."<br /><br />I suppose living most of her life in the middle east, she hasn't seen that many Chinese looking people in any one location. I wonder if Mark will be flattered that Amalina chose to identify him as quintessentially Singaporean.<br /><br />******************<br /><br />Last night when we reached home, she declared. "Mama, sometimes when someone leaves me, I'm a little bit sad." <br /><br />Even though I was trying to prepare for bedtime, I had to stop and give her a moment.<br /><br />"Why are you sad?"<br />"Because uncle Ariffin left me so I'm sad. I want to call my daddy to tell him I am sad."<br /><br />Ariffin is my youngest brother who had gone to the zoo with her yesterday. I guess she must have enjoyed his company a lot.<br /><br />What does a mother say about these things? There are no manuals for me to refer to.<br /><br />So I offered, "Darling, its OK to be sad sometimes. The important thing is to be brave when you are sad. And tomorrow we will get to see him again."<br /><br />*********<br /><br />We visited a family in bereavement yesterday, and I tried to brief her on the way just to explain what she may be seeing.<br /><br />"We are going to visit somebody who has just passed away," I told her.<br />"Did she passed away like your Mummy?" she asked.<br />"Yes and this lady was her friend."<br /><br />How young or how old do you explain these things to a child?<br /><br />It took me a long while to explain to her what passing away means.<br /><br />*******<br /><br />My child, I understand that you are trying to figure out the small jigsaw pieces that we call life. I am glad that you are sharing your curiosity with me. All I pray for is the strength and wisdom such that I can be a good companion on this journey with you.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6561218.post-73502021545800303722008-12-24T18:12:00.002+03:002008-12-24T18:18:17.938+03:00What my friends taught me...That we all have our own struggles in our lives. The difference is what we make of it. Do we try to overcome it with a positive light or do we get all depressed and upset with the world? The choice is ours.<br /><br />Thanks for sharing. I'll remember that as my life lesson.Sunfloraahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11131797811687154441noreply@blogger.com0