"Blows are sarcasms turned stupid."George Eliot, English novelist
George's a woman, by the way. That was just her pen name.
Looks like the gnarled, throttling fingers of medical school are wrapped firmly around my neck and are wringing whatever joie de vivre I managed to scrape together from the joy-parched earth of Manipal out of me. For like the thousandth time - I did keep count - I rue the day I opted for this course and learning.
Okay, now that I've explained my unenviable state of existence I'll go straight to the point. I was too busy to update this web journal yesterday and the day before (yes, it is possible for me to get too busy, believe it or not) and from the looks of it, I won't be updating in the next few days either. Rebecca (what I call my laptop) came down with a pernicious worm, and after reading through a whole lot of really dull technical papers on how to get rid of it, I have came to the realisation that reformatting the ol' notebook is way less troublesome ('cause someone agreed to do it for me). Anyway, she had been kind of sluggish these few months - so it's mind-wipe for ya, Becky girl! Thanks, Lingghezhi. I'll pay you in House episodes, as usual.
Oh yeah, and here's a few pictures of Malacca's Jonker Street's out-glammed lil' sister, Heeren Street. It's also known as Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock and it runs parallel to its more popular counterpart.
I always enjoy a walk through the narrow road which is flanked on both sides by sleepy and (some) crumbling old peranakan townhouses that date back to the Dutch era in Malacca all those centuries ago. They are often known collectively as the Millionaires' Row, and I guess it must have been some sort of Beverly Hills of the Malaccan town in its time.
Of course, emergency reconstructive surgery works have already begun on some of the more salvageable townhouses.
Most of the old house had intricate sculptures of phoenixes and flowers adorning the frontal facade, made from pieces of I-don't-know-what-but-i'll-just-say-painted-porcelain-bits-because-it-sounds-classy. Though they are in essence of Chinese aesthetics, the ethnic flavour in their crafting is hard to ignore.
And here's one of my favourite buildings in Heeren Street.
Incredibly picturesque, no?
On certain nice, clear days, I would take a walk down this lane alone and just drink up in the quaint oldness of everything along the walk - I've done so every time the urge got me. Sometimes, I even leave the main road and take walks through the maze of back alleys cobwebbing through the ancient houses and shops erected in a higgledy-piggledy fashion between Heeren Street and Jonker Street.
It's hard not to be proud being Malaccan. I really do love the town I grew up in.
I have always been partial to this street because it is still largely unspoiled. There's no millions of garishly coloured light bulbs strung across the road, posh pedestrian pavements and a-buck-apiece antique stores lining the drive like in Jonker "Commercial Cow" Walk. There, the ambience and charm of a few hundred years of Baba Nyonya history lay firmly buried under tasteless state capitalisation of heritage - particularly during the weekend nocturnal flea market. The feel of wonderment and discovery is just not found in Jonker anymore.
That atmosphere of awe is still intact and beating here in Heeren, thankfully.
However, I think that is fast fading too.
Damn you, Digi. First my movie theatres, now my favourite street.
k0k s3n w4i