I went to stay over at Ee Min’s the last weekend at Opal Gardens, and after playing ping pong and observing a group of Ee Min’s housemates play beer pong at the common room well into the night, Ash suddenly suggested we cycle to Etihad Stadium at midnight. Needless to say, I chickened out of that because it would take about 20 minutes to reach there by bike and we ended up just going to Curry Mile right next to Victoria Park for fried chicken.
Despite it being so late at night, Curry Mile was the opposite of empty, streets and roads-wise. It was my first time riding a bike in so long and on the bicycle lane right next to the road at that so I was really unstable and anxious during the ride there but halfway through I just threw in the yolo towel after being pretty sure that we weren’t going to be in any imminent danger.
It was also my first time having fried chicken in the UK. The English are not as gung-ho about KFC as Malaysians, it seems.
The ride back was more relaxed, and I allowed myself the opportunity to take in the bright lights of Curry Mile (not exactly New-York-City-skyscrapers material but vibrant signboards advertising 24-hour fast food joints and nightclubs will do), breathe in the lingering shisha scents in certain districts and feel the sharp, cold approaching-winter wind against my face, numbing all sensors and stinging my eyes but deriving gratification from the adrenaline these all brought, however short-lived it might be.
We reached Opal Gardens at around 4AM and I woke up the next day with a sore throat but the night’s event was a nice blip in my comfort radar.
I’ve been supremely unadventurous and languorous since coming here, I’m not entirely sure why. All I feel nowadays is tired and sad and hungry and honestly, I’m just trying to lowkey survive in this weird world of wintery whiteness, seeking refuge within the anime posters-plastered walls of my room playing Undertale or, well, writing blogposts.