If you don’t mind the mess in the background, I have actually become quite adept at taking selfies now. In a span of two months, I now know how to pretty much work my angle. Nevermind if it takes about twenty-eight tries to get that perfect shot. They’re right. It really is all about the lighting. If you were standing right outside my window on this afternoon, you’d probably be there mocking me and my vanity unless, of course, you play the game too. Admit it.

Anyway, we had our work Christmas dinner two weeks ago and I was waiting for my friend, Jia, to come pick me up so we can drive to the train station together. The dinner was in the city and we planned to catch a train which I was excited about because I enjoy train rides and it’s been ages since I have been on one.

The oncoming train brought with it a lot of memories of when I was just new here in Australia. I remember setting up my alarm at bloody 4:00 in the morning so I could walk 15 minutes in the middle of winter to catch the 4:54am train to the city to catch another one that would take me to Essendon. Not to mention the bus ride I still had to catch that would drop me off a block away from the hospital I was assigned to for my clinicals.

It was tough. And I was always freezing on those dark early mornings. I had layers upon layers upon layers of clothes aside from my ear muffs and the leather gloves my older sister gave me but I still felt cold. Me and my soul shivered during those downhill walks. Shoutout to my lungs for being such a trooper.

So, yeah, trains have a special place in my heart.

It’s been a while since I laughed as much as I did on this night. Either it was the moscato — which the server kept topping up as soon as she noticed that I was one gulp away from finishing the glass that at some point I honestly believed she was deliberately trying to get me drunk — or it was because I was seated next to a very funny person whose sense of humor, I found, was on the same level as mine. Typical Filipino humour. She’s very patient with my Tagalog, though. I gotta give her props for that.

I should’ve taken photos of the food. It was lovely. Those posh ones with elegant names it sounds almost obnoxious to somebody like me who’s happy with just charcoal chicken and chips.

What can I say, I’m a basic bitch.