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Warwick Volunteer Exec Training

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It's quite a story how I managed to get the exec position in Warwick Volunteer, but i am not complaining! I am now Fundraising and Development Officer / Project Leader in Warwick Volunteer, which is like one of, if not the only society with staff working full time in it. And it is huge too, with appoximately 2000 members. (hidung tinggi now)

Anyway, was surprised to get the position given my crappy manifesto, and even more surprised when we were offered to go on exec training at Peak Districk in Derbyshire. To be honest I was a bit put off by the fact that I did not know anyone beforehand, but now that I am back home from the training, i am glad that i did go. Afterall, to frame it more precisely, it was a 'awesome holiday at a wonderful place, with EVERYTHING paid for!'

Sladen Lodge was completely ours for the weekend. The kitchen was stacked full of food and snacks that I just need to grab and open to eat, the scene was wonderful, the activities was well planned and organised, we even had a massive trampoline to jump off the calories we accumulated with all the food! At one point we even begin to wonder what do they expect out of us in return. By the end of the course, we finally saw the massive amount of work we were expected to do in the coming year, and if you remember what my post title is, yes, I am supposed to find funds for next year's activity, including the next exec's 'holiday away'!

Anyway, have been reading a few blogs recently, seeing how many long-term relationships are breaking apart, i begin to think when will some of us 'settle down for good', or will any of us decide to go 'against the flow' and remain bujang. 'Oh dear', such an interesting thought!

Random thoughts

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Why is everyone studying Medicine/ Dentistry? And why does everyone think i am also studying that?

I met a few ex primary/ secondary schoolmate online recently. Havent't really talk for a very long time. All of them gave me a very surprised look ( ok, i cant really see their facial expression, but that's how i think they look when they put ??!!!! in their msg) when i said, no i am not studying Medicine/ Dentistry /anything alike, I am doing accounting ad finance. Some expressed disappointment that I pick such a uncool subject even.

Somehow, together with a few things that happened recently, I start to wonder whether I will regret my choices one day in the future.

The world is changing too fast, everything is moving forward, the best option today might as well very well be the worse tomorrow. I have been trying to change, to keep up, or merely, to change to suit my surroundings, still, there are differences I cant ignore, things that I want to preserve but have to give up if I want to make things work.

I hate choices.
I hate changes.

Can tears blur the distance between us? I have been walking the distance, walking OUT from my confort zone, why is there still an ocean in between? Or is it an ocean of tears from trying too hard?

* This is just a random post I put up when i m too bored of doing my integrative project. Not to be taken seriously*

Mum's visit

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No it's not 'auntie's visit' or anything along the line, my mum actually visited me in UK, with my dad and gran.

It was kind of a surprise to me since they have been talking about coming to the UK for the last TWENTY years and I would have thought it's another 'sudden urge' which wil dissicipate as soon as it surfaced. But no, the next thing I know, I spent the next 2 weeks picking up their calls from Malaysia to answer questions like, 'what's the weather like in the next 2 weeks (even BBC only gives weather forecast for the next 5 days -MAX-), which are good hotels in Paris (imagine being asked that question about Kuching, or Kota Kinabalu, or Segamat, or just anywhere you have never been before)

No matter how much i grumble, I still can't describe fully how excited I was when I realised they were already on the plane here. For a week before they arrive, I was up on quiet area in the library among all other over-eager-to-do-well-in-exams / doing-last-minute-cramming students trying to do some revision so i have a valid reason to take a break and go to sheffield (my mum brother's place). Oh, and have you ever realised how quiet and SCArieeeee library is at night? Walking in between the rows of books with most lights off feels like I am lead acting in some horror movies.

Anyway, their visit was great, not just because I can have good food and not having to cook and work on trying to make the chicken taste like chicken, but also because I can finally feel that my 2 seemingly unrelated worlds in Msia and UK connects, which is good cause one world have always seem to disappear whenever the other one emerge. =)

Hitchiking to Morocco!

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Hi guys. I am back from Morocco! Luckily we came back earlier than planned so I 'only' have 12 days of event to blog.

It all started with Jimmy telling me about a 'guy who needs a partner for hitch' at the first Bruneian Social. I was merely being polite when I said, 'hmm, interesting!' Somehow I ended up registering for the hitch with Zhiyang, a 2nd year M'sian (FYI, he's not the guy Jimmy was talking about)

VISA, THE MAIN HEADACHE
Anyway, preparing for the hitch was much harder than i initially thought it would be. First we had to raise 300 quid EACH, or else we had to donate from our own acccount to LCD, 'so that no one treats this hitch as a free holiday'. -.-" Everyone doing the hitch went all out to raise the targetted amount of money. Selling Krispe Kremes, blackmailing their friends to donate... Jimmy and Zhiyang even auctioned themselves to run from University House to Rootes in bikinis at lunch hour for 60quid each! (They chickened out though, and are going to be singing chipmunks at the Piazza in boxes instead)


Visa was another problem for us. Apparently only Malaysians need a Visa to go to Morocco, even Singaporeans do not need one. (It somehow makes us wonder what shit the politicians are doing in our country) I won't elaborate too much but many groups applied 3 or 4 times (each time cost 50 pounds), bought ferry tickets, flights, and accommodation in Morocco just to get the Visa. Aaron finally called the Moroccan Embassy up and cleared the matter. It seemed that they MISREAD our documents and thought we are fundraising IN Morocco instead of FOR the Moroccan. $%^*!#$#

Frustrated, Zhiyang and I went to the Moroccan Embassy in London to sort out our Visa. Took us 2 days ('come back tomorrow, we only open at 9-10am for Visa application') and when we finally got it approved, -it was the most hideous looking Visa I'd seen in my life but i almost kissed it in tears-, we left immediately to Portsmouth to catch the 2300 ferry to LeHarve in France.


OUR JOURNEY BEGINS!
To our dismay, we discovered that we weren't the only group of hitchers there! One look across the ferry told us that there were practically more hitchers in our green hitch uniform than potential 'hitch-giver'. After one whole night of perturbing the people on the ferry, we got 2 ladies, (and 2 year-old Grace), to take us to Angouleme in France. Our first hitch was the best, despite the fact that Grace kept asking us to cut apples for her. Here's part of our conversation.

Lady: I need a knife to cut these apples *fumbling for a knife
Zyang: I have a pen knife
Lady: *Act slightly taken aback* AHA, that's a trick question! Get out of my car now!
Zyang: Oopsie
Grace: I want you cut my apple!
Zyang cuts apple into slices
Grace: It's too big!
Zyang cuts again
Grace: It's too big!
Lady: Grace, you are making fun of your new friend here aren't you?
Grace grins : It's too big!

We managed to take a short visit to her sister's house in the village where they are ending their journey before being taken by her sister to a nearby petrol station so we can continue our own journey. She was a nice lady too, for she helped us talk to the truck drivers at the petrol station as we speak no French nor Spanish and got us on a van that goes straight into Spain that night! One day and we got pass France!

I have to say that we learnt most of our Spanish in the van with Santos. He spoke a little English and we spent 8 hours in the car flipping through the back of our Spain guidebook with prints of some common Spanish words trying to string them together to form a conversation with him.

We arrived in Burgos at 2300.

HITCHHIKING- HARDER THAN WE THOUGHT IT WOULD BE
Our luck ran out the next day. We woke up to find ourselves at a very broad bend towards the motorway to Madrid, at the first day of EASTER BREAK, and almost no car in sight! After an hour of walking and waving, our 'AUTOSTOP CARIDAD' (hitchhike for charity) and 'Ir al sud' (Towards South) signboards saved us and we got picked up and put at a nearby petrol station, where we got our next hitch to Madrid.

Somewhere along the way

I cant describe the disappointment I felt when this guy decided to drop us off somewhere at the bottom of Madrid when we realise that he was going all the way to Morocco! Imagine getting all the way to Morocco in 4 hitches!! You must understand, I am sleeping in the car tonight and it's for my own safety. Awwww-ghhhh. To add to our misery, his estimation of 'bottom of Madrid' was slightly off. When we saw another hitch group at the same petrol station where we got dropped off, we knew we were stuck. Indeed, we spent the whole day begging everyone and still stood at the exact same spot at the end of the day, with friends/competitors beside us this time.

STRANDED IN SPAIN
We started looking for a place to stay after a guy promised us that he would take us to Malaga the next day at 8am. Maybe it's our haggard appearance, with card boards, backpacks and our limited Spanish, or maybe they are genuinely fully booked; we were shunned from every hostel, motel, hotel, pension we asked! We almost went into a church to ask for help (as suggested by one of the hotel receptionist) but went away after hearing people singing inside. Fortunately we met a family on the street and they helped us talk to one of the pension owners (pensions are small hostels where you have to call and ask for a room, we couldn't get one before this as we couldn't communicate beyond 'Ola' (hello)) and we successfully avoided sleeping at a bench outside the church, where we had previously decided that it was the safest place for homeless people like us around Pinto.


What happens when there's too much time to kill......


Our worst dreams can true the next day as we found ourselves still standing at the petrol station hours after the agreed time, frantically calling the guy's mobile for the millionth time while shivering in the cold, cursing the guy for 'flying aeroplane'. At 10, We started asking around for hitch again in turns, (one of us ask whilst the other go into the shop to regain some body heat) and only left the 'most horrible stacion gasoline on earth' at 3. After a few more short hops, we got on to a cool-couple-who-kept-trying-to-offer-us-weeds's car and got to Granada, at the bottom of Spain.Deciding that we had enough, we took a bus to Algeciras, stayed a night, and got on to the ferry into Morocco. That's when our 'holiday' begun.

Really cool couple who kept offering us weeds.


MOROCCO- 'BEAUTIFUL CITY BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE'?
Stepping out of the ferry in Tanger, it felt as if I landed myself onto another planet altogether. The buildings are Alibaba-like, and I have yet to see another city whose altitude can differ so vastly in a short distance. Again, we walked up and down the steep alley, trying hard to ignore the stares from the locals, for hours before we got ourselves a room.

There are a few things that one can't help but observe when in Morocco. First, jobless bloke -even kids- looking for tourist to con are aplenty on the streets. Kids snatched my food away in Fes when I was eating, taxi drivers hiked up the price by 800%, random people told us 'What are you looking for? I just want to help' and asked payments for their help thereafter...

RISSANI- A TOWN WE WILL NEVER VISIT AGAIN, EVER
This situation was particularly the worst for us when we were at Rissani, the city that we had to pass if we were to go to Western Sahara. Literally EVERYONE we saw was trying to get us to part with our money. Lady begging on the floor, petite taxis, grand taxis, boys on bicycle's with a back seat, restaurant owners, and even, bus ticket seller. He tried to sell us a 90 Dirham (45 ringgit) ticket to Kenifra after telling us that the direct bus to Marrakech were sold out. Not taking up his advice (we learnt that it's best to use our instinct instead in Morocco), we bought the 55 Dirham ticket to Midelt. However after we came back from lunch to wait for the bus, he approached us offering us 2 refunded tickets to Marrakech at its original price, 140 DH, whilst refusing to refund our tickets. Desperate to get out of the terrible place, we grudgingly bought the tickets, declining his offer to 'sell our original tickets for us'. Then We went about selling them ourselves.

Somehow we managed to get to this 2 men who gave their 2 Marrakech tickets to the ticket seller to sell for them, as they decided to go somewhere else. After a short chat, we both realise that we were cheated as the ticket seller sold us the ticket at full price but told them he couldn't sell the tickets. He must have done this trick more than a million times as when he was confronted, he made up all sorts of stories, diverted out attention and ran out of sight. It didn't help our mood when a kid pointed us towards the direction of the ticket booth when asked, turned around and asked for 'payments'; nor when a man stood between us and the place where one put one's baggage at the bottom of the bus, demanded us to give our backpacks to him, turned around, threw them in and asked for 20 DH. To complete our mishaps, the bus broke down after 20 km towards Marrakech. Great.

HIGHLIGHTS OF MOROCCO
All was worthwhile though, as we get to see the beautiful desert, silent with more stars than I know existed twinkling in the sky. The sand was the best. It was so dry and powdery, it just falls off once you get up after rolling in the sand. The architectures are very different from what we have, most apparent in Fes and Tanger, with Medinas where market place lies. Marrakech was also a very interesting city. It was similar to Petaling Street, but much bigger. Avoid looking at the preparations of the food and you will definately enjoy them as well.

Hitchhiking to Morocco is an amazing experience to me. I am not sure whether I will do it again, (lazing around at the beach is still my definition of holiday) but I will definately recommend it to anyone thinking of doing something that they will not forget in their life.

Camel ride


Dancing in the (Day)Light


Beautiful Sahara

When Hitchers meet


Food!


Koutobia- Symbol of Marrakech



End of our journey



Daniel at Coventry Bus Station


Our journey- recorded


For more pictures, feel free to visit my facebook photo album :)