As a side note, as you can see , I am no professional photographer nor do I claim to be. I’m just as clueless with a camera as I am with my life but I’m hoping you still get the overall picture (pun intended because I’m such a master of the written word).
– A Pearl of the Orient.
For the first leg of the trip to Vietnam in February, Benny and I decided we wanted to head to the beach before exploring the city so we headed to Nha Trang via Ho Chi Minh and let me tell you, I have never had a more stressful connecting flight. As we checked in for our first flight to Ho Chi Minh from Bangkok, the counter assistant informed us that they would not be able to transfer our baggage directly to Nha Trang. Instead, we would, upon arrival, have to pick up our luggage, leave the arrival hall and walk to the departure hall and check in all over again to catch our next flight, with a mere 90 mins in-between. Normally, I would’ve been easy but knowing that we had applied for VOA’S (Visas on Arrival) which were subject to inspection and approval after handing over an official letter from the Embassy which was applied for weeks in advance, I had a bad feeling in my stomach since the moment we took off , which ofcourse, was not on time. Upon arrival, I was ready to pounce like a tiger, till I realised our plane had not directly parked at the terminal. So, we had to catch a bus. After being dropped off at the terminal, we rushed to the office which was responsible for handing us our visas; There were atleast another 50 people waiting, and a bunch of tourists loudly trying to communicate with the officer who on his part, was choosing to ignore their flailing arms and wads of cash. When I did manage to fight my way through, I, half panicked, tried to explain the situation that our flight was due to depart in 50 minutes. While the other officers stood in the background chatting and checking their phones, he cooly told me to take a seat and that it’d be fine. With 35 mins left, our names were finally called. Not only did Benny and I have to jump the immigration queue whilst I was apologising like a crazy person, our luggage had not even arrived at the carousel. How we managed to make that plane is still questionable.
Anyway, we’re here to talk about my impressions of Nha Trang. We stayed at the Alana Nha Trang Beach Hotel, which was (suprisingly) next to a….beach. The first thing that I noticed on the drive from the airport was the vasts amount of ongoing construction of mostly hotels and resorts. Any space that wasn’t occupied looked pretty desolate. Despite the 45 minute drive to where all the action was at, Nha Trang seemed really small. One thing you’ll also notice when visiting are the Russians. I’m assuming Nha Trang is their “go to ” place because there were definitely more Russians than locals . In addition, pretty much everything was written in russian, as well at the menus and the staff were more likely to speak russian than english , which I found amusing. This was only somewhat disappointing in the sense that we didn’t feel like we were experiencing much of the ‘local culture’ and that everything was geared towards tourists. It was only when taking a late night walk towards the “inner city” where the tourists began to disappear and you began to see actual homes and locals riding on their mopeds. Speaking of mopeds, the traffic was crazy. Not only did I really notice the absence of traffic lights and pedestrian crossings, no one actually stopped for you when trying to cross the road unless you were literally in their face. You know that scene in Mulan where the old lady claims to have a “lucky cricket” which will protect her? So to prove her point, she crosses the road blindfolded? Thats basically how you felt, because if you gave a driver eye contact or hesitated in the middle of the road, well, it might not have been pretty.
Though I personally didn’t feel that Nha Trang was the type of place where you had a checklist of a million things to do, I did enjoy lounging on the beach, and visiting the mudbaths at I-resort. If you’re planning on taking a trip there, I would recommend that you go early to avoid the large numbers of people arriving at noon. The street food was also pretty great. Writing this post is making me crave a Banh Mi. What I loved was that each stand had their own unique way of making the sandwich. My favourite one had slabs of butter, pork belly, vegetables and a ridiculous amount of chilli. Hurts so bad, but tastes so good. Seeing as I feel like I have said everything there is to say about my stay, I’ll let some pictures do the rest of the talking!
– A Pearl of the Orient.
Over the semester break in February, which yes, was almost four months ago (I’m a little behind on my writing) , Benny and I took a hiatus to go back to continent of culinary delights…Asia! With the intention of exploring a new destination, we opted to visit Vietnam but no trip to Asia would be complete without a cheeky stopover in Bangkok. After our wonderful experience in 2016, we had to go back .
This time around we opted to stay at a Hotel near Khao San Road to be near to the hustle and bustle. Casa Nithra was the perfect option as it was within walking distance as well as super clean, affordable and had the friendliest staff!
Having done all the “touristy things ” the year before we could focus on the one thing we came to do: Eat. I came to Asia prepared to pack on the pounds because it would be a crime to not take advantage of Bangkok’s street food culture. Every meal/snack was a new adventure. Though simple in appearance, I find thai street-food to be as comforting as mum’s home-made chicken noodle soup and packed with flavour and I’d pick it over a fancy five-course meal any day.
When we weren’t eating (which was almost never) we just took the time to relax by the pool, get a massage or drink a cold Chang at one of Bangkok’s many street bars/ restaurants. Though this post isn’t filled with useful tips or adrenaline-filled tales, I just felt the need to convey my love for the city. The bright people, the dusty streets, suicidal tuk tuk drivers and of course countless food stands make Bangkok a breath of metaphorical fresh air.
That’s all for now, Folks! Look out for my next post on Vietnam.
– A Pearl of the Orient.
I’ve always wanted to visit London and two weeks ago I finally had the chance to go in combination with a visit to the Warner Brothers Universal Studios to experience the making of Harry Potter and watch the play Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. I guess you could say it was more or less a pretty nerdy trip.
We arrived in London early in the evening, got out of the airport, purchased an Oyster card, took the Tube and bus and arrived at our Airbnb pretty smoothly and swiftly, or so I thought. Turns out that my boyfriend and I miraculously managed to end up on the opposite side of town due to a certain misreading of street names. After a much lighter wallet and a cab driver as a new friend, we made it to our apartment as our stomachs were already ingesting themselves. We dropped off our things and headed to the nearest Restaurant (which happened to be pretty authentic Hong Kong cuisine) and I helped myself to a portion of chicken wings and char siu fan (Chinese bbq pork with rice). Too tired to explore much else, we turned in for the night so we could get an early start the next day.
The following morning we headed to Watford Junction to catch a train to the Warner Bros. Studio Tour. According to Google Maps, what should have taken twenty minutes from Watford junction, ended up taking sixty. I have since then come to learn that there are actually two trains (one of them being an express one with fewer stops) and we OBVIOUSLY went and got on the slower one. Sometimes, I question my intelligence… sometimes! We however, did get a chance to have a look at our surroundings on the journey and the stark contrast between the flashy cars and shine and glamour of Central London and the outlying areas was pretty shocking. The neighbourhoods looked desolate in combination with the grey backdrop of a sky. The homes looked broken and the gardens untended with piles of rubbish and junk scattered everywhere, a sight one does not naturally associate with London.
Upon arriving at the studios, I felt like a seven year old again. Not only did we get a glimpse of some of the real sets used during filming, such as the great dining hall or the Gryffindor Common room, we got a close look at all the props and costumes used. We boarded the iconic Hogwarts train, posed for pictures in Hogwarts robes and got our first taste of Butterbeer (which is pretty much like Cream Soda topped with Ice-cream) and it was magical. I grew a new appreciation for the series and the amount of work and effort that must’ve been put in by the whole production team. If you’re an avid fan as I am, I highly recommend a visit, if you haven’t already been. I also read somewhere that the Forbidden Forrest will be a new addition to the studios in March.
For once, thanks to what little self-control I have, I managed not to spend a fortune at the gift shop. I got myself a mug and the boyfriend came away with Voldemort’s wand. In the evening, we finally headed to the Palace Theatre ( a year and a half after booking the actual tickets) to watch the first part of the play. I must admit, after giving up on reading the book, I was concerned that the play would not not live up to my expectations but J.K.Rowling had our backs all along and I couldn’t have been happier to be plunged back into a world of wizardry. The plot was gripping, the acting was wonderful and the production was effortless and well…for the lack of a better word, magical, a feat which evidently took a lot of time , practice and funding. For fear of spoiling someone else’s’ experience, I’m going to stop there.
The next day was spent visiting the British Museum which is much larger than I had imagined and is very overwhelming to try fit in a day so we stuck to the areas such as “Ancient Egypt” which interested us the most. I must also acknowledge that I was pleasantly surprised that there is no entrance fee.
After a few hours at the museum, we were already off to watch part two of the play, which filled me with sadness once it was over but I will be back when it heads to Broadway!
Now as much as I’d like to get into all the other fun touristy things we did on the remainder of our trip, well, we didn’t.
With Benny catching a cold and the freezing and gloomy weather, we couldn’t bring ourselves to do much else than walk by the Tower Bridge and Big Ben and visit a cozy little market in the evening. How local Londoner’s manage to walk around in shorts and mini- skirts while it’s snowing outside is beyond me. Really.
And that was pretty much my trip in a nutshell. Before getting on our plane home, we popped into a a local diner for a proper english breakfast ( which in my opinion should be an everyday thing) featuring beans, eggs, bacon, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes and hash browns . I felt that we left a lot out on this trip and didn’t get to do as much as I would’ve liked but on the other hand, the two extra days there would’ve cost a fortune! I had heard that London was expensive, but the prices were bordering on insanity. On most occasions I had found that i’d be able to get two full meals in Austria for the price of one in London and when I was told my small beer cost about six euros, all I could do was stare like an Idiot. Nonetheless, I plan to come back for another adventure in London, perhaps when the weather is more suiting.
– A Pearl of the Orient.
Like most other foodies, I’m always open to trying new things. It just so happens that I’ve come across a few comments this month about Grilled Peanut Butter, Jam and Brie Sandwiches. Apparently they are the shit. So after coming home starving from Uni today, I popped my head into the fridge and realised I had all the ingredients available so I thought, why not?
Now I know for a fact that oven-melted camembert and cranberry jam go together like Barbie and Ken so I figured, this wouldn’t be much different, except for the addition of peanut butter.
So how did I do it? Simple.
I took out some bread, slabbed a bunch of peanut butter and strawberry jam on each side, stuck thin slices of brie on the top, formed a sandwich and grilled them in a pan.
My verdict?
Meh.
I mean it’s alright… but after reading about how AMAZING this combination tastes, I was left a little disappointed. My mind was not blown. As a result, I’m going to rate this dish a 5/10.
Have you got any weird (but tasty) food combinations for me to try? If so, do let me know!
Hope you all have a great week!
-A Pearl of the Orient.
The weekend has arrived and with it, the promise of another night out spent dancing your troubles away. That, and perhaps one tequila shot too many. So how do you handle that hangover from hell you ask? Here’s the biggest secret of all: Just don’t drink.
I got you didn’t I. Don’t be alarmed, I am not here to convince you to give up your ways or face eternal damnation. I’m just here to help you be more responsible about them.
I’m sure some are thinking: “Well, I don’t need alcohol to have fun!” and I salute you. To those who believe otherwise, a comforting quote:
“I hate when people say you don’t need alcohol to have fun. Well you don’t need running shoes to run but it sure helps“.- Unknown (but genius).
I’m going to start the show with some preventative measures:
It’s common knowledge to not mix your drinks throughout the night. However, in the case of an open bar or that one friend handing you different shots left, right and centre it’s easier said than done but your future self will kiss your feet for it. In addition, I’d highly recommend a glass of water between every drink. Yes, EVERY drink. I’ve done this many times and it’ll make a world of difference. The fact that you may need to pee like a water buffalo is only a minor inconvenience in comparison. Those trips to the bathroom are also a great way to gage your state of mind. If you’re sitting on the toilet/ leaning on the wall and giggling to yourself or are beginning to talk to your reflection in the mirror, you should probably slow down a tad.
Now, if you’re in the cab home realising the damage has been done, you’ve got to have a plan of action for the next 24 hours.
First of all, eat. Pizza, chinese noodles, kebaps, the world is your oyster. In the case of nausea, I would skip this step. You can however order a meal online (if you’re able) and set the delivery time for around noon the next day so you’ll firstly, be forced to get out of bed and secondly, have a steaming hot meal to cure you of your misery. Then, force yourself to drink at least a litre of water and have a Panadol at the ready on your night stand. I would remind you to go brush your teeth but you know you won’t because by this time you will have already dived into bed. Should the world be rotating too fast for your liking as you lay down, leaving one leg to hang off the bed and touch the floor apparently helps to reduce the spinning.
In the morning, you’ve just got to accept that you’re a disaster and will not have a productive day. You already feel like crap, no need to pile on the guilt. When you’ve gathered the courage to leave the bed, go and shower! You’ll no longer reek of last nights decisions and you’ll feel much fresher afterwards. Then, grab a bottle of pop ( Pepsi is my personal favourite), assume the fetal position on the couch and switch to Netflix even if you’re going to fall into a coma anyway. Should you manage to wake up before 7PM, go for a walk. I know it sounds absurd, but fresh air in your system will do wonders.
There you have it. The true guide to handle a hangover like a BOSS.
After having passed on such “wisdom” I wish you all a wonderful weekend. Happy hangovers!
– A Pearl of the Orient.
I have been holding back from writing this post for a LONG time in hopes of finding my inner-peace but when I came home today to find MULTIPLE snot stains on my couch I thought I was going to turn green, rip my clothes off and start beating on my chest. So here it is, another rant. Grab a cookie, a glass of milk, take your socks off and bask in my anger, apparently it’s entertaining.
I’ll acknowledge that I’m probably not the easiest person to live with. I’m incredibly protective of my food and am prepared to suffocate anyone who takes the last slice of pizza without permission. Do you even know the pain of waking up first thing in the morning, thinking to yourself: “Great, I’ll have some Pizza for breakfast (eaten cold because i’m hardcore)”, only to open a greasy box which has evidently been put back into the fridge due to the fact that it contains nothing but a measly piece of salami in it? Additionally, I’m pretty much a grandma on weekdays and don’t have much tolerance for large groups of people and noise when I’m planning to catch my Z’s at ten pm. My eighteen year old self would hate me. However, the thing I’m most particular about is cleanliness.You’re picturing me as the crazy asian version of Monk now, aren’t you? Well in that case, picture this.
You’ve come home after an extended weekend away.The apartment is empty so your roommates must to be out. You hang up your keys and run to the toilet because as per usual, you got the urge to pee as you were in the lift. You slam the door shut and just as you’re about to sit down , what do you see? A toilet bowl which has clearly been violated. A person (or a bear) has clearly taken a ‘big one’, flushed and decided to leave a huge stain for the next person to clean up as a nice little bonding activity. Tasty.
Then, on the way to kitchen, a dull stench wafts down the hallway. Its source is a rubbish can, filled to the top and overflowing on to the floor. Juices and all. Someone was definitely going to take that out today, no cause for a commotion. You navigate around the trash pile only to notice your stocks are sticking to the floor. It appears as if an unidentified brown sticky substance has coated the floor and been left to dry. Pepsi? Barbecue Sauce? You’re not going to taste and find out.
You open the fridge which is covered in ketchup stains and are caught off guard by the cheesy aroma which drifts out. You poke around to find the culprit, an old, open mozzarella packet, with it’s juices leaking out. You push it to the side because you are strong and refuse to clean up someones mess again and continue loading in your groceries.
You then proceed to cook your dinner, ignoring the stove which has become slightly crusty and the various remnants of whatever meal was put together before on the kitchen counter. With the intentions of putting away your own mess, you open the dishwasher to find that it is curiously full though there are a total of maybe five items inside. “Somebody didn’t play Tetris as a child” , you mumble to yourself. You go about reorganizing the dishwasher to fit in your pan,plate and glass. Before you can escape to your room, you decide to take a nice relaxing shower.
You grab a towel, strip yourself down and hop into the tub. There appears to be a fluffy hairball in the drain. You swallow hard, take a cotton pad and attempt to remove it slowly. It catches. It’s stuck in there pretty good. You pull and pull until finally, your hand is free! You shudder and toss it all in the bin. It is done.
You feel yourself relax as the hot stream of water beats down on your tired muscles. The smell of your shampoo calms you. After you reluctantly step out, your fogged up reflection greets you in the mirror. You take the corner of your towel and quickly wipe over it. For some reason, you still don’t clearly see yourself. It dawns on you that this is due to the fact that the mirror is actually covered in toothpaste stains. You feel your head get hot. The vein in your neck begins to pulse and then…you black out.
When you open your eyes, you are standing in a spotless apartment with a fresh sheen of sweat on your forehead, a bottle of CIF in one hand and a washcloth in the other. You’ve lost the battle.
Disclaimer: The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this post are fictitious. No identification with actual persons, places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
*Not.
– A Pearl of the Orient.
The other day, I was asked by a representative of Adore Me, to create a sexy, summer inspired Flat lay and I thought I’d share it with you all.
A simple, white, lace bra is a staple of the summertime. It compliments tanned skin and looks very elegant slightly peeping out from underneath a simple T-shirt. In addition, I’m just as lace -obsessed as everyone else this season.
Keeping with the minimalistic theme, a basic accessory completes any outfit. I think crystals or cool stones are wonderful to wear around this time.
I’ve also included one of my all time favourite perfumes. Though it’s one of my go-to’s and is used year round, its scent is the perfect depiction of what summer should be: Classy, flirty and fun.
And lastly but most deliciously, a plate of juicy watermelon because what Summertime inspired flat lay is complete without one?
If anyone was wondering, Adore me is a Lingerie brand, for whoever would like to check out their amazing collection! And fear not, my plus-size friends who complain that there is not enough nice lingerie out there for you, they’ve got you covered!
Enjoy the rest of the Summer!
– A Pearl of the Orient.
Now that I’ve grabbed your attention with a misleading title (I know, I’m just SO devious), I will reveal to you that today’s blogpost has nothing to do with Pokemon, rather, with Poke Bowls.
For those of you who don’t know what that is: a Poke Bowl is a Hawaiian-inspired dish with a rice base, topped with greens and raw fish ( usually tuna) which has been marinated in an asian-style sauce. So basically…sushi, but cooler.
One thing you should know about me? If you tag me in a photo of food, I will instantly crave it. My cravings know no boundaries. So yes, after being bombarded with photos of Poke Bowls on social media, I knew I had to have it. However, after multiple google searches, I realised that not a single place in Vienna serves them. If any entrepreneurs are looking to invest in the food industry…here’s your market!
Anyway, seeing as Poke Bowls are not yet a thing over here, I decided to make my own…which was a bad idea. I don’t think there was a problem with the recipe itself, I just happened to succumb to a series of unfortunate events.
Firstly, I went to the store and was quite honestly offended by the price of fresh, sushi-grade salmon. Double the price of sushi from a restaurant, yet half the quantity! So me being me, I thought : Meh, smoked salmon will do. Then, while combining the ingredients, I put in WAY too much soy sauce, obviously forgetting that smoked salmon in itself is pretty salty. In combination with cooking too little rice, my Poke Bowl (though pretty) just ended up tasting like sodium and not much else. So why am I still sharing the recipe with you? Because I feel that if you can follow basic instructions (unlike me) , you’d have a masterpiece…so here it is!
Salmon & Avocado Poke Bowl
– A Pearl of the Orient.
As a kid, I often imagined myself all grown up. I pictured myself in my mid-twenties, living in my own apartment in a big city, with a successful job, an adorable golden retriever and a bathtub filled with 100 dollar bills. One day, reality got out of bed and proceeded to give me a slap in the face. So without further ado, here are a few things that didn’t turn out the way I expected.
Not looking like an adult
This is not to say that I get mistaken for a child but …a prepubescent teenager at the least. Whereas this generations 12 year olds are busy looking like young adults, I’m still getting ID’d at the local supermarket for trying to buy a bottle of wine for gods sake. WHERE IS THE JUSTICE!?
Not being a makeup godess
I have yet to master the fine arts of makeup. Though I can just about manage to put on foundation, blush and mascara, anything beyond that is pushing it. If I try to do anything out of the ordinary or involving more than two eyeshadow colours I tend to end up resembling Ursula from The Little Mermaid. I’ve also pretty much given up on trying to work false lashes for a night out. Most attempts have ended in a tantrum, tears, a faceful of smeared eyeliner and me back in my pyjamas. Ladies, it ain’t pretty.
Not being mature
Wasn’t I supposed to go through a life-changing transformation by now? I thought I’d wake up one day and I don’t know…know how to adult? I’m pretty sure I have the same mental state as I did a few years ago, I’m just better at hiding it. Someone farting? Still hilarious . Getting ‘cooties’ from boys because they are ew? Still a thing.
Not being able to eat whatever
I know, I was shocked too. Contrary to wishful thinking, one can no longer eat Mcdonalds 5 days a week as well as a variation of sweets and chips without consequences. Now I actually have to TRY make health-conscious choices. When I don’t ( which happens more often than not) at least I feel guilty about it! I am going places.
Not being at the epitome of my party life
I thought finally being legal, I’d go all out. I’d leave my inhibitions behind and spend countless nights partying till dawn. Instead of having my tolerance increase, it has hit rock bottom. When three beers get you borderline drunk, you have a problem. Also, hangovers feel 100 times worse. I don’t know how I ever went out over more than 2 consecutive nights in a row. I can try to stick to wine spritzers all night to minimize the damage but you can bet that I’ll still wake up feeling like my bodys been dragged to hell and back again. Twice. Plus let’s admit it, the best part of a night out now adays is the kebap on the way home though technically, it could probably be made of carpet and it would still taste bomb.
My love for red wine
Ok I realise I was just whining about hangovers but red wine is love. Women in movies like Sex in the city are portrayed for loving their wine and lots of it. Not that long ago I would have gagged at the thought so I don’t know how I got here, but there’s no going back. A glass of red wine after a stressful week or accompanying me on a night in is like having a warm, emotion filled embrace (in liquid form). Then I pass out, mouth open, hand in spaghetti, feeling like I’m lying in a bed of roses.
Having a schedule
I used to heavily judge those who had a calender and had to ‘check their schedule’ before agreeing to making plans.It sounds so obnoxious , right? I HAVE BECOME THAT PERSON. I probably wouldn’t make it through my semester without ical and god forbid if I lose that planner. I can actually use that pretentious line ‘I’ll pencil you in for Wednesday from 7 to 745pm’ and be dead serious about it. When it comes to brunches with my friends? It takes intense planning and swapping of schedules before we can agree to meet…three weeks later.
Not finding my calling
I have so many talented friends who have really figured out where they are going in life and are headed straight to the top. Me? I’m pretty much just chilling. I don’t quite know what to do with myself just yet. As for exceptional talents, I’m still looking. I can make really ugly facial expressions though? And my eyelids are really pudgy? That must count for something!
So a lot has changed and not everything happened like I thought it would but that is the wonderful thing we call life and as we’ve all figured out, sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.
Have a great weekend!
-A Pearl of the Orient.
apearloftheorient.wordpress.com 