The mountains and hikes seemed to inject me with new energy and new lungs. An hour jog round the park, 9 km. I sweat like a chicken and it felt ooooh soooo gooood.

and we didn’t realise how comfortable it was until now.

Today’s hike was quite painful, mainly because my body was already feeling exhausted after the last 2 hikes and also because an outdoor bed is not the best way to rest my body.

We started the hike at Charamillon-Balme, 7172 ft, climbed 1706 ft to Refuge Albert 1er, a mountain refuge perched atop a scraggy crag, lateral moraine of the Glacier du Tour.

The ascent saw us crawling precariously over piles of jagged rocks and during the descent, a loose shoe lace caused a bad landing and I thought I couldn’t escape the fate of a sprained ankle. Fortunately all was well, I was still able to make it down though at a much slower pace. My knees hurt and my left toe was already blistered from yesterday’s descent. I never find descending gentle slopes such a torture. We took 4 1/2 hour to complete the hike.

I thought I had seen quite enough glacier but today’s view atop humbled me. The huge mass of glacier stretched almost endlessly and the resulting waterfall that gushed from underneath huge masses of ice once again reminded me of mother nature’s unrelenting power.

Time like this, when the body aches and the butt sore, I wished I never have to climb further, but I knew better than that.

All it takes is a good night rest and another beautiful day and we will be tempted to go again.

We are currently camping in a little camping village tucked in the middle of the woods, near Chamonix, the main town in the Mont Blanc Valley. It wasn’t as wild and rugged as I thought. Phew! We still have water to bath, electric power to start our stove, potable water from proper taps and toilets to do our business. The facilities are mostly shared except for a personal tent we pitched, our little blue portable table from Carrefour and an open air kitchen we set up next to our tent.

Things wasn’t looking good on our first day. It rained in the middle of the night which kept me awake worrying about rain seeping through our not so professional tent. I woke up every now and then shifting position as my body proved to be too delicate for an outdoor bed. I finally started my day at 8 am when rescue helicopter from a nearby port boomed right above our site. My body ached and my hips were bruised. I was already feeling grouchy and grumpy before starting our hike, which ended up in the rain! The 3 hours hike brought us to million years old glacier and it was only on our way back that the sky started to clear up. The gloomy weather and unrestful sleep did dampen my spirit and I was quite sure I would pack my stuff anytime but I stayed on.

Day 2 started bright and cheery and so was my mood. Maybe it was due to our first day hike. I slept like a baby and a restful sleep did make hell of a difference. We did another 3 hours hike but this time in sunny sunshine and with a panoramic view of the Mont Blanc mountain range.

Strangely, I looked forward to coming back to our little tent. I felt an odd sense of belonging, a strange familiarity. Queuing for shared bathrooms, brushing teeth with total strangers and greeting our neighbours from Germany, Netherland, Great Britain and Spain with my just-out-of-bed look seem to bother me less.

I am beginning to think that such open and non privacy living is good for the human soul. I am beginning to love this communal living stuff.

~ posted from Mont Blanc valley

As crazy as it may sound, we are setting off again! This time to camp and hike in the French Alps, home to Mont Blanc, the highest mountain in the Alps and Western Europe. Very last minute, very impromptu, very unplanned.

Our bodies are still recovering from our long trip, our muscles still ache from our last hike. But we know this may probably be the last chance for us to camp in the Alps before we head home next summer.

So while the heat is still on and the momentum is still with us, we are setting off.

When we were in Italy, we spent 1 week in Florence, in the Tuscany region. Florence is a small city and like many cities, has its fair share of crazy traffic and tourist crowd. We rented a 1 bedroom apartment, just outside Florence and it was one of the nicest accommodation for our whole trip.

This little apartment was tucked nicely up in a little hill, shielded from all the buzz in the city, yet within walking distance from Florence. The apartment was tastefully decorated. Very Tuscan style and extremely cozy. I fell in love with the ochre coloured and very classic wood furnishing. There was a HUGE balcony with a perfect view of the city, where we had our meals everyday and thereafter, catch the sun set in the evening. It was amazing how well it was shaded from the Tuscan sun throughout the day, which thus provide a perfect place for a good siesta.

For once, I don’t mind the buzzing mosquitoes as the scent from the burning incense made me feel nostalgic, reminded me of the good old kampong days when I was a child.

Thanks to the mosquitoes, Mal had fun every evening helping Daddy light up citronella candles and mosquito coils.

and here’s an attempt to capture the view from the balcony on paper

and here’s one from Malcolm too.

We are finally back in Paris! After being on the road for close to a month. The trip was awesome and it was a real eye opener and frankly I DON”T MISS PARIS.

It is now back to crazy traffic, concrete jungle, dogs’ poo infested streets and potent bird dropping over our Golf! The amount of laundry we need to do is crazy. So far, we are done with 4 batches of washing and we are still not through. Our house is literally turned into a laundry hanging backyard and it doesn’t help when the weather is gloomy and grey.

It was only a day and I am already missing my snow capped mountains and long hikes in desolated wilderness. I concluded that the human soul is a greedy one. Indulgence and satiation can only lead to laziness and unsatiable desires.

In an attempt to calm my soul, we set off to the park. We found a really nice open field near our place. While the duo kicked ball and flew planes, I did a good half hour jog around the lake which miraculously lifted my spirit.

How could I have forgotten what exercising can do! All I really needed was a dose of endorphin to take away my blues.

Scarpa is the brand

from a little town called Wengen

right in the middle of the Swiss Alps

Daddy says they cost more than Mummy’s

Even more so than his own

It is a tough looking pair

in brown, beige, green and black

made from something called Goretex

Daddy says these are good stuff

strong, waterproof and they breath too

With my new boots

I can now jump in rain puddles

and waddle in muddy tracks

Daddy says it is fine

so long I keep my pants up high

With my new boots

I can now walk on jagged rocks

and sink my feet in fresh soft snow

Daddy says how he wishes

for a pair like mine

With my new boots

I hike through mountain trails

and tip toe across mountain streams

Daddy says I look just like a pro

the youngest hiker he ever known

Daddy says it was the boots

or maybe the chocolate

My legs suddenly grew strong

He says he had never walked this much

when he was just my age

Mummy says it could be all those

plus all of Daddy’s words

that makes my legs go on and on

like the youngest hiker

you ever known.

~ posted from the town of Murren

but for the likes of HER, they demand respect , simply by being there.

We almost learned our lesson through the hard way when we ascended close to 4500 feet up Schilthorn, a summit in the Bernese Alps in Switzerland. The hike took us 7 hours, the experience was terrifying and the view was spectacular but we were just too tired to take more pictures.

We were given the ‘are you sure’ look when hikers at a midway rest point heard about our intention. Others were either optimistic or trying to be encouraging. They assured us that we should have enough time to make the ascent and catch the last ski lift down at 6pm.

I was determined to do it as it was our last day at Murren and we were blessed with the best weather that day. It was clear blue sky for the first time since we reached Switzerland. The trail was marked as an ‘experienced hiker trail’. We had been hiking almost everyday on trails marked under the same category and so far, we were comfortable with them. This however will be the longest hike. It took us 3 hours to reach the midway. According to the sign, the hike to the Schilthorn peak will be another 2h 50 minutes. But for us, lugging a 4 year old, an hour buffer seem reasonable, which left us JUST enough time to catch the last lift down.

After a good lunch at the midpoint we were ready to go.

We walked on trails marked with manure from grazing herds, balanced precariously across rocky rivers, crawled on all fours up rock piles and walked on narrow trails with loose gravel. We stopped to catch our breaths and realised that it wasn’t very wise to ascend with 2 litres of water in our backpack when we could quench our thirst with mountain streams.

Malcolm was good, he walked whenever his leg muscles could bear it and rocky terrain seemed to make him forget the strain on his little muscles. Other times, he sat obediently on Daddy’s shoulders, with a towel to support his chin, once a while chanting ‘jia you‘ (keep going in Chinese). I realised that the trail wasn’t very distinct, unlike others we had walked so far, which could only mean one thing, not many have walked this path.

We met some hikers, all going the opposite directions. 2 of them warned us about the narrow ridge ahead with steep slopes on both sides. One was kind enough to tell us quite frankly that he didn’t think we could make it over with a kid, the other warned us to be very very careful with a smile. My determination began to waver, I began to second guess my decision, What IFs started to flood my mind but it was too late to turn back. I wasn’t confident that we could do the descent with Daddy balancing Mal on his shoulders. I was assured that we could do it but I knew my man too well.

Fatigue seemed to take over our bodies rapidly as we climbed higher. The summit looked deceivingly near. The terrain seemed to get worse and at the back of my mind, the ‘narrow ridge’ that we were warned about kept haunting me. Malcolm was in a great mood after his few bars of chocolate and we couldn’t be happier when he agreed to climb some of the rugged terrain on his own with Daddy supporting him. He crawled up metal bars built for better foot hold, climbed up a flight of metal stairs to go over a huge boulder. The cold wind sent chills down my spines and I channeled my energy to focusing on the next step and grabbing onto the supporting cables. Mal was unaware of the danger and his laughter and chattiness lifted up my mood a little.

To keep our spirits high, we began to talk about What We Will Do When We Reach The Peak. We will give each other a BIG hug, we will give each other a BIG kiss, Malcolm will be allowed to eat ALL the chocolate he wants, we will THANK the mountain for letting us climb her… just at that moment, 4 french hikers passed us and the words that came from them were music to my ears. We were told that the peak was only a mere 20 minutes away. It was 5.10 pm.

We made it over the top of the huge boulder, walked across the narrow ridge and saw the plateau that led us to the final steps to the summit. Time checked 5.35 pm. Just in time to catch the last ski lift down.

We were exhilarated, elated, ecstatic. We hugged, we kissed and we let Mal have all the chocolate he wanted. I couldn’t remember the last time I felt such joy and relief. We have a lot to thank.

We couldn’t have made it if not for Mal’s cooperation to walk on some of the roughest terrain on his own and we couldn’t have made it if not for the mercy the mountain had shown to us. We thanked her for letting us climb her on that day.

P.S.- The next morning at a souvenir shop, we met one of the hikers who warned us about attempting the summit. He gave us a "My god, you made it to the top alive look" and we subsequently blew a fortune at the shop as a reward to ourselves.

2 days before the hike, we went up the summit by the ski lift. This is a picture of the narrow ridge which was snowed over then.

These lovely Corelle dinnerware are for sales!
A friend of mine manage to bring them in from US and is currently selling them from her home in Singapore.
All sets are brand-new with only the box that are opened and slightly damaged. All the sets are from the Livingware collection except for Square Kobe 16pc set.
Please drop her an email if you are interested.

Today is our last day in Mestre, a concrete jungle which reminds me more of Asia with its hot humid weather and numerous Indian immigrants. We just did our grocery shopping at a nearby Indian ‘mama’ store and we managed to replenish our rice, not just any rice but Thai long grain rice!

So I was rather disappointed when we checked into our hotel 2 days back, I couldn’t imagine how Venice would be like,  being just a mere 10 minutes bus ride from our hotel. I lowered my expectation to prevent myself from further disappointment.

The 10 minutes bus ride crossed the strait and brought us to Venice bus station which really, reminded me of Johor bus station in Malaysia. SO, here we are, at Venice! the sinking city that intrigued many and probably the dream destination for many lovers. I was still hopeful that it will not turn out to be another myth.

We started walking, crossing our first bridge by foot, saw the canal and were greeted by graffiti walls and overflowing trash bins. I was lamenting to myself that graffiti might just be Venetians’ favourite past time, maybe they are simply too artistic and constantly need a channel to express themselves or maybe they are too suppressed and graffiti is way of letting all out. I wasn’t very impressed and found it quite a pity how this medieval city was not spared from such vandalism. These were my first thoughts.

As we walked along, the flaws of the city started fading into background and I was slowly charmed by the uniqueness of this city, even with its not so glamorous side.

From its winding lanes and dark alleys to its ocher coloured facades and delipated walls. I realised that everything added up and contributed to the beauty of the place.We took the water bus, saw many gondolas with their very charming and manly gondoliers. We walked some more, took tons of pictures and chatted with local painters. We chased the famous pigeons at St Mark Square, fed them lots of breadcrumbs and we went back the same place again the next day to do it again.

Malcolm was simply fascinated by this sinking city and his questions were endless. If you asked him what he loved about Venice, he would probably tell you, the water, the pigeons and the ice cream. As for me, I will say that the gondoliers are really hot and so are the gondola rides! Imagine baking under the hot sun for an hour without shade, it is like riding in a rickshaw in Singapore without a shelter overhead during midday, maybe some of you may find that romantic.