On the way to Kampar, Dad & I stopped at the Tapah rest house to..- ah, relieve ourselves, and to have lunch.
And let me say that the toilet was fairly clean. No complaints here.
What I DO have to complain, though, was the state of the food stalls.
A foul stench lingered as we ate; it was the ‘dirty toilet’ kinda smell, and it appears every few seconds. I had to hold my breath for the most part while eating, and was relieved to leave the food court.
Another thing were the cleaners.
They wore white shirts with the company logo, white pants, gloves, and a hat.
Pretty snappy, no?
They only appear presentable.
The seat to my right (we sat on those four-seater tables) had a big piece of what looked like those coleslaw-ish salad, which is why I hadn’t sat there. The cleaner just walked to out table, and used her broom to sweep the thing right off the seat.
She used her freaking broom, which I have no idea (and don’t want to know, really) where it’s been, and swept the bloody salad straight off of the seat.
So yeah, I was ecstatic to leave.
It was all better after dad bought me Baskin & Robbins though. ;D
And as I was in the car, pondering, my thoughts flew to Mr Gino.
Before cny, I had not managed to join the Dance Club during their recruitment drive. I was not really upset. The society’s office said that we could join next semester.
But after what happened, more so after what happened, actually, I’m more persistent to join the dance club.
Sort of as a tribute or memory for Mr Gino, if you will.
There and then, in the car, I vowed to myself that I would never stop dancing, no matter what.
Not that I CAN live without dancing, to be honest.
Dancing was a big part of Mr Gino’s life, and it will be mine. Not that it hasn’t already, though. Just that I’m more determined to keep dancing now than ever.
I think I’ll find out who the chairperson of the dance club is, and ask if there is still room for Ann and I to join; Ann told me she wanted to join as well.
Wish me luck.