Ok. An account of my life in Salisbury Apartments on (Duh..) Salisbury Street, Christchurch City. Hm. Now, how do i start. ok i am going to type them all in lowercase. can't be bothered to go tabbing shift all the time. looks like i am not that ocd after all.
hm. its ugly. Fine.
Well Rajarshi Nath, Tony Ran Jing and I moved here last October. There's been up and downs. You need not know though. Those are domestic confidentials. *wink*
Three rooms. One bathroom. Normal enough, yeah. Oh, and we have a balcony too.
Evening time is the most busiest time in the apartment. There's normally some vague Indian food being cooked by Raj after an intense crying and weeping period of me cutting the onions and garlic. Sometimes Raj cooks Bengali food (he being Bengali) and when he does, he makes sure his flatmates know.
All good, bro. As the kiwis do it.
(Hm. And by the way, Elisha converted me to Red Bull today.)
Mornings are rather dreary at home and thats because we don't see much of the morning as a family. Rush to class one after the other, or if we bunk we sleep way past what human beings formally call morning.
Groceries time? Let's not say much there. Pak and Save (our preferred supermarket) is frikkin YELLOW. Need I say more? Yellow saps your energy man. Otherwise we go to ASian Warehouse. Just a block from our place. Where I get my Haldiram's and Indomie noodles (the official stomach saviour of the apartment).
We just watched a movie (forgotten the name), which was very funny, about some he-whore business and the people of Europe that we laughed our heads off to (which reminded me of Holland and Amsterdam, though NOT in the he-whore context!).
And we have our free gym. Well, yeah the gym fees are paid off in our rent I guess, but then it is a very good excuse to start gymming (gymning?).
There used to be a Punjabi group of people who lived across the walkway frommy window who played loud bhangra music. Note, noise can be a big offence in New Zealand. It IS quiet here. I am listening to Portishead song called Roads (that I got from Lina Tszyan, a Russian classmate who is presently attending a Claude Monet ORIGINAL EXHIBITION in Wellington. How cool is that? She asked if I wanted to go too. I want to see Monet's work in real, but then ahem, nah. I am far too conservative to do that too randomly.) and the rain is drizzling and I can still hear it though my room is nowhere near the outdoors. This is how quiet it is here.
Well its been a great stay I should say. We have our own worries and concerns and uphills as brothers (though formally flatmates), and yet somehow we stick together not because of the walls of the apartment but because we decide to, I guess. Well, whatever the reason is, this is what we are at. It is no accident. All purposed.
Whatever man. We still got to do groceries tomorrow after class. Damn it.