A Sparkly Bathtub

So bros, sup?

Well, I'm in Vietnam, terribly sorry for lack of recent activity, but au meme-temps frustrated due to the difficulty of typing coherently on an iPad (I blame this for that iffy introduction) and ridiculously content due to recent adventures/book-reading. I shall be quick cause sleep must be had to fully enjoy the Hanoi Experience, but I'll start with the book bit.

To be honest, I've found it incredibly difficult to finish any type of book since the HSC (to be extra honest, I found it incredibly difficult during the HSC too). This might be because I keep setting my sights on intriguing works such as Proust's Remembrance of Things Past, which incidentally my Extension Two teacher recommended for a spot of light background reading for my major work without mentioning that it came in several volumes, each several hundreds of pages long. But this afternoon I finished (and started) perhaps the greatest book ever, Starter for Ten by David Nicholls. Feel free to read it now. Go on. Much better than this load of relative crap.

So the book is devastatingly hilarious, I think I have developed a bruise on my arm due to the amount of times Bruv punched me for laughing aloud as I was reading it. Then the characters are very relatable as per the protagonist reminding me of my good friend Superman (not the real version, but nicknamed as such due to his slightly worrying and constant delusional remarks about his superpowers), as well as the situation, which is all about starting off at university (ultra relevant for those not taking a gap year). Finally, the amount of literary references and general knowledge packed into it really makes you feel good about yourself, that is, if you get them. At the start of each chapter there's a trivia question with an answer relating to the goings-on that follow, which is quite amusing although admittedly I only knew slightly more than half the answers, and throughout I found myself thinking things like, "LOL, I know who Brecht and Stanislavski are, let me write that essay for you dear Alice."

Anyway. Read it.

I promised (perhaps) to keep you up to date with my various Vietnam adventures and have failed miserably; granted, I only started writing my travel diary today, two weeks into our three-week trip, and in it I wrote, "In our hotel room we have a sparkly bathtub. It's like fairy dust. Maybe if I think happy thoughts I'll start flying? ... Oh gosh, how do I get down?" Witty, right? Thought someone else should appreciate it.

But anyway since we last talked I have:

1. Cycled 70kms along the Mekong River, which was amazing. My only regret was not having ridden a bike for ten years, except for sport around Centennial Park when Lox and Tersa and I used to do one lap, then sit around in the bathrooms talking about the mansion we were going to co-own in Provincial France when I was a famous actor, Lox a Disney star and Tersa a vet. This is what I reflected upon whilst trying not to fall off 50-centimetre wide bridges two metres in the air over the river, crowded with motorcycles, roosters, dogs and little Viet kids cooing "hello" in distinctly Aussie accents to us as we cycled past.

2. Ridden a Vespa around the streets of Ho Chi Minh City and lived to tell the tale.

3. Crawled along 100m of the Cu Chi tunnels in pitch darkness. Escaped with very dirty knees.

4. Told half a million people Chuc Mung Nam Moi! (Happy New Year, and the only phrase I feel comfortable saying with my despicable accent. Very useful on NYE of course. Now, not so much.)

5. Been hugged farewell by the receptionists at our hotel in Hoi An, the sweetest ladies ever I swear, who also told me to come back soon, with my boyfriend. I said, "Deal." If you ever go to Hoi An, which you should, stay in the Hai Au hotel and say hello to Sally and Tammy for me.

Urgh and there's so much more but I really must sleep and I think you've probably had enough of my rambling and incredible wit. I'll talk to you later, and tell you more things, including useful literary techniques such as description and the not-so-secret challenges I have been rather bad at completing.

Love you like lemon juice. It's seriously the most delicious thing I have ever had the pleasure of consuming. Which reminds me of the time I sat a PD exam and couldn't think of the word so wrote "consumpting alcohol" instead.

x

The Baxter Classification System

*For a long time now I have relied on what I find really a most important system with which to classify books by. I not only shelve my books in alphabetical order on my shelf, but I also have colour-coded stickers on them so that, at a glance, I can see which type of story I am about to embark upon. Believe it or not, by self-devised system for classification has saved by life, knocking hours off the time I might have spent searching for a book I felt like reading, or starting one that, after all, I couldn’t muster at that moment in time*. So I decided to share with you by brilliant system. YOU’RE WELCOME.

A Lemonade Book: A lemonade book is like a glass of lemonade. Usually, children or teenagers will read a lemonade book because it quenches their thirst without tasting disgusting, and it fills up their stomach with bubbles of air. It’s very bad for you and rots your teeth, often with its misplaced commas and air-head dialogue. An example of a lemonade book is Twilight. (OOH YEAH I went there)

A Wine Book: A wine book is more of an adult book, which, although it is yummy for people who are used to reading it, it can often give people headaches. It doesn’t taste very good and you only want a little bit of a wine book at a time. If digested too quickly, it can lead to nausea and dizziness. An example of a wine book is Oliver Twist. (Yuck.)

A Tomato Juice Book: Tomato juice books can be enjoyed by many. It fills your stomach with good nutritious dialogue, plot and descriptive passages. There are so many taste sensations when you read a tomato juice book that you wonder how the author put so much depth into the flavour. It can be read again and again, each time a new spice or flavour might be revealed. They may or may not be what everyone is drinking at school, but nonetheless, they are pretty brilliant, especially when consumed when it’s cold and rainy outside. An example of a tomato juice book is Slaughterhouse Five or, and it goes without saying, HARRY POTTER.

So there is the brilliant Baxter Classification System (BCS) (I hope that doesn’t already stand for something embarrassing, like Bowel and Colon Services or something …)

Bye.

*Sarcasm. Although the system itself is a good one, no?