I’ve often been asked to write about my experiences, so after a good deal of hesitation I decided, why not? After all I have had quite a lot of interesting moments in my life which could serve as timely reminders of both my Impressions as well as my Recollections, hence the title of this page. I debated as to where to start, and then decided that it wasn’t necessary to “begin at the beginning” – and where would that be? I therefore decided to type according to how my thoughts translate themselves onto paper. My website gives an outline of what I’ve done and achieved in my lifetime and in leafing through all the accumulated photographs, pictures and documentation – not all of which could be posted on my website - I hope to describe as best I can, the impressions that created memorable moments. Let me start with Paris. I left for Paris in early October of 1967. I was a young teenager of 17, all fired up like most young people, eager to go abroad, yet sad in a way to leave behind the comforts and safety of home and my dear parents. I had been awarded a French government scholarship to study for a year, so I left with a group of people who were also similar scholarship recepients. We were booked on a flight on the then French airline UTA, Union de Transports Aériens, from Singapore. My parents accompanied me on the connecting flight from Kuala Lumpur, KL- Singapore, and then left me to board the flight to Paris where I was joined by the others in the group. Aircraft carrriers in those days were the Boeing or Douglas jets, and the flights one-way spanned almost twenty hours including just one stop-over at Aden most of the time, or sometimes at Muscat or at Bahrain in the Middle East. Since the flights left quite late at night from Singapore, it was a strange experience to be served dinner shortly after take-off at midnight! And then just as one had managed to settle into some kind of sleep position, to be awakened for the stop-over landing at Aden! However, as I was to travel this route by air several times, to and from Paris, I developed an admiration for these sturdy aircraft, especially the DC-8, which gave one a fairly smooth and uneventful flight. On occasion I was fortunate to have a whole stretch of three seats all to myself, which allowed me to sleep quite comfortably after removing the separating armrests. Upon arrival at the Orly International Airport in Paris we were met by a representative from the Students Scholarship Centre who efficently sorted out our Immigration formalities. All I remember of my first arrival was that it was quite early in the morning, and that it was cold since it was the onset of Autumn - and then we were taken to our various destinations. Most of the group I travelled with had to reconnect on flights to other towns in France depending on their choice of studies. My parents had arranged for me to stay at a residence which had been recommended by my Aunt Alcina, who was my mother’s youngest brother’s wife. Aunt Alcina had joined a secular order of nuns in France when her husband, Uncle Alirio died tragically young. This French religious order allowed the nuns to wear their usual clothes with only a tiny cross pinned on the lapel of their collars or jackets to show that they were nuns. I remember thinking that this was a more ‘civilised’ way of dressing instead of the usual nun’s veil and habit. I was met by one of these ‘Sisters’ who introduced herself to me as Mademoiselle Royot - pronounced “Mun-moi-zelle Roi-yo” – a petite and sprightly person who was to be my guide for at least three months which was indeed helpful, although many times I couldn’t quite understand her thick accent since she hailed from the south of France. Having learnt French from a young age with a friend’s daughter who used to love to play with me, and much later at the Alliance Française in KL, I had some understanding of the language but spoken French differed from the well-articulated French that I had been taught, which wasn’t tossed off as fast with half the words swallowed up! Doubtless I must’ve tried poor Mlle Royot’s patience a good deal as she rattled off volleys of seemingly incomprehensible sentences! Gradually, as I became accustomed to my surroundings and this good nun’s accent, we managed to communicate reasonably well. My first residence in Paris was a stately house at 12 Rue Monsieur in the 7th arrondissement, and had been the Residence of the last Princess Bourbon Condé. It was therefore considered a historic building and on certain weekends when the weather became warmer in Spring, there were guided tours open to the public. My lasting impression has always been of the extremely heavy door at the entrance from the street (or ‘Rue’). This massive door had to be pushed hard after one rang the doorbell to alert the concierge, or doorkeeper, whose apartment was right beside this entrance door in the covered porch. A wide courtyard of cobbled stones led to the front door of the Residence built all round this square courtyard. I was told that cobbled stones were quite common everywhere as horses and horse-drawn carriages were used in times past. This impressive courtyard of cobbled stones, as well as the lofty ceilings and period furniture within that stately and imposing house made me feel as though I had stepped into History! I half imagined that a liveried footman would appear dressed in a powdered wig and frilled shirt and that I would meet ladies wearing hooped gowns of a past era, as I had seen in pictures of French history. I was snapped out of my reverie by the excited chatter of Mlle Royot as she introduced me to the receptionist, an elderly lady, who greeted us at the main foyer, or parlour, of the house, and I was caught midway between trying to remember to reply in French while my brains were still tuned in English! My room was on the first floor and overlooked the Rue Monsieur. It was small but well-heated and had a washstand near the window. This place was a finishing school for young girls from affluent families, not just French but from other Western countries, and on my floor there was quite an international mix – I had an Iranian opposite my room and a Norwegian at the far end of the corridor. I was only staying as a boarder while the others had courses during the day. I joined everyone for breakfast, and dinner in the evenings, and over the weekends these meals, especially dinner, could be quite formal. Not all the teachers were secular nuns and everyone including the Directress were present and dined at a separate table but we all had our turn to sit with the Directress, Mlle Chabaud, usually at breakfast over the weekends. Mlle Chabaud was a tall and very aristocratic lady of Basque descent. Her striking handsome features and simple dignified elegance could be somewhat intimidating at first. Gradually over time I came to know her better and had glimpses of her warmer inner self especially when her niece, a little girl of eight, came to stay from time to time during the longer summer holidays when most of the boarders had left. I was allowed to practise for an hour in the evening after dinner at the ancient grand piano in the adjacent salon while most of the girls and the staff had their recreation elsewhere so as not to disturb me. Occasionally I had a few listeners who sat quietly at the far end of the room, wanting to hear me play. Then by 9pm we all retired to our respective rooms for the night. In those early days of my arrival in Paris I had much to learn and get acquainted with besides the cold weather. Mlle Royot was a bundle of energy and she whisked me through the streets of Paris at a brisk walking pace, rapidly explaining everything which I couldn’t always understand! Thanks to her kind and patient guidance I learnt how to use the public transport, mainly by Metro, the network of trains which ran underground. In order to study the different routes and their stations, I bought a booklet which detailed all the maps in the diffferent arrondisments, or areas, in Paris, the Metro stations as well as the bus routes, and together with a reliable French-English dictionary I learnt how to navigate around Paris on my own. With the help of Mlle Royot I got my shopping done for all the necessities from bed linen to towels and some warm clothing for winter. My parents were very kind and encouraging and wrote to me almost daily, so I looked forward to the post which we collected from the receptionist at the foyer downstairs. I too wrote back to them and since I always had a very comfortable relationship with both my parents, I could tell them everything. Handwritten letters which, if airmail delivery was prompt, one got a reply in two weeks! Or else, it took three weeks! Gradually my room looked less cold and uninviting, it felt a bit more like home at last and I felt less homesick although I must confess that one evening I had a good cry by myself alone in my room! There were no smartphones in those days, overseas calls were extremely expensive and via operator and had to be booked in advance because of the time difference between countries. How I marvel at the present-day technology of smartphones and the ease and convenience of long-distance calls via Apps that connect the ends of the globe in a snap! During my two years stay at this finishing school I made a number of friends who invited me to spend my vacations with them at their homes so I had the opportunity to visit London, Ireland, Holland and three different places in France. I will relate more about those happy holidays later. It was now time to meet my music professors! Although I had registered my arrival at the Students’ Scholarship Centre, known as CROUS, they merely left the students to enquire further into their choice of study venues. I was therefore fortunate to have had Mlle Chabaud, the Directress of the finishing school, who was kind enough to peruse the music curriculum of the renowned Paris Conservatoire. The first step was to get introduced to a piano professor and through Mlle Chabaud’s diligent enquiries, she selected Professor Pierre Sancan, then discussed everything with me before arranging for Mlle Royot to take me to meet him at the Conservatoire. There were about ten piano professors at that time and all of them were actively performing international artists with very tight schedules. Pierre Sancan was also a composer who had been awarded the coveted Prix de Rome, which was a very difficult Prize to get for music composition. He was extremely popular with students as his engaging approach to teaching was much loved by everyone who studied with him, therefore this meant that there was a slim chance of getting accepted into his piano class at the Conservatoire. His teaching schedule was always fully booked! I clearly remember my first impression of the Conservatoire which was located at No. 14 Rue de Madrid. It was an old building with thick walls and high ceilings. As we crossed the courtyard, this time more like a garden with trees, one could hear the sounds of pianos and violins drifting down faintly through the windows. Mlle Royot accompanied me up a wide staircase where the classrooms were located and then she left me to meet Pierre Sancan at his classroom, Salle Piernée. ierne Through the door I could hear someone playing the piano so I waited for a break in the music before knocking. I knocked a bit harder the second time and then, wondering what to do next, someone came to open the door. It was a student and he nodded for me to enter. It was a very large room with two grand pianos. Seated at one was a student and Sancan himself was standing up while he taught. Several students were listening intently so I joined them when I was offered a seat. I had only been accustomed to having individual piano lessons at home so all this was quite a novel way of attending a piano class. It gave me time observe how Professor Sancan taught. He certainly had plenty to say punctuated with hand and arm movements, and joked quite a lot judging from how all the students laughed – my French wasn’t as good as yet to catch all the hilarity. Besides, I was feeling really nervous as to how to introduce myself to such an emminent professor! Time passed by quickly as I found myself caught up in the lesson itself. But eventually, when everyone left, Sancan came over to talk to me. To my surprise I found the right words to say in French and I could understand what he said since he spoke to me at much slower pace. He was quite used to having foreign students in his class, many being Japanese students. However, never a Malaysian! His sense of world geography was vague beyond the countries in Europe - as was the case for nearly every French person I encountered! They had no idea of South-East Asia! Singapore and Hong Kong were at the same spot and that for them was somewhere near Japan! He asked me to try out one of the grand pianos and then I played for him the program of pieces I had prepared as I knew that he would want to audition me. By the time I finished playing it was already time to leave, so Sancan asked me to come back to see him on another day for my first lesson. I left feeling that perhaps this was an indication that Sancan had accepted me as his pupil. It was the first time that I faced travelling by myself without the kindly aid of Mlle Royot, and I experienced my first rush hour using the Metro! I had my trusted map of Paris with me and knew where to change trains in the Metro. I was back at No.12 Rue Monsieur just in time for dinner and after that was summoned to Mlle Chabaud’s drawing room where she was extremely pleased that Professor Sancan had asked to see me again. Mlle Royot was also present and was happy that at last I could fend for myself! The poor dear must have really been relieved of her having to chaperone me! To be continued NB) For photographs please refer to the page on ‘ My Studies Abroad ’ on my website. There are photographs of myself at some of my classes at the Paris Conservatoire and of some of my professors. For the other reference relevant to this Chapter, please click on the internet link below. The Residence at no.12 Rue Monsieur in the 7th arrondissement in Paris: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/H%C3%B4tel_de_Bourbon-Cond%C3%A9