Reliving a memorable adventure to Princeton University (Picture by Flickr/Yakinodi)
“Aww… I love these! I used to eat them in the US.”
One of my customers commented on the Krispy Kreme donuts that our student society was selling to raise funds for a homeless shelter in Cambridge. I smiled as I handed her some donuts. I remember the first time I tasted Krispy Kreme…
[Rewind three years back – Penn Station, New York]
I must be such a sight, in my Parisian black winter coat, lugging a rice cooker and running across Penn Station to catch the New Jersey Transit one early 18 November morning. I panicked when the screen showed ‘Trenton: delayed’. Merde! I cursed. The next available train was hours away at 12.14 pm (if they could fix the faulty wiring).
Oh no ... my friends Fadzilah, Azan and Nida would be waiting! It would take another 1.5 hours to reach Princeton Junction in New Jersey, and I still have to take the Dinky ride… What should I do? Give up? Arghhh…
The gentleman beside me looked at the screen in equal exasperation. He was going to Princeton Junction too. What should we do?
We decided to be adventurous and take the Path (what the heck is the Path?) and see if there were any alternative trains.
No one knew anything. No one gave us any information about what was going on. How could all of us squeeze in the Path train and where would we be heading? The other passengers were just as clueless. But we joked and laughed and that somewhat lifted everyone’s spirit. It gave some sort of assurance that things were going to be alright.
Desserts and politics
Daniel Harray that gentleman (apparently an actor) at Penn station became my incidental travelling partner who offered me my first Krispy Kreme and with whom I discussed politics and trashy American reality shows like Shot at love with Tila Tequila and I love New York.
After what seemed like never-ending train hopping and detours to other places we never knew existed, we finally reached Princeton Junction. A nice old woman I met on the train offered to drive me to the Wawa shop (of course the Dinky must not be running that Sunday of all days!) where Fadzilah would be waiting. Daniel smiled as he looked at my big bag.
“Your friend better appreciates that rice cooker!” he said. I laughed, bid farewell and thanked him again for the Krispy Kreme (the donuts friends had been raving about and I had been longing to eat).
Fadzilah and I huddled in the rain and walked around Princeton University. We then had a very late ‘lunch’ with Azan and his wife Nida.
What good food - satay, rendang, sayur pucuk ubi, kuih hari Raya... It felt like we were back home in Singapore! Laughter and conversations in Malay flowed with the evening…
The moral of the story: You have to go through arduous journey (be brave to take alternative routes, be patient, maintain that sense of humour, don't give up, encourage fellow passengers along the way) before you can reach the ivy-covered tower.
Just ask the rice cooker that endured the hardship and is now in Fadzilah's Princeton.
Hidayah Amin | 31 May 2011
