While the mobile ones, as the name suggests, include snails, crabs and other crustaceans.  From far, the communities on the rock surface look like unsightly love handles hanging around the otherwise muscular boulders.

Growing teritip

The boulders by the brown sandy beach in the outskirt of Melaka are the source of side income for Pak Ramli, or more fondly, Haji Ram, a fisherman who harvests teritip, baby oysters – the ingredients for ‘O Jien’ or oyster omelets – during low tide season, when the boulder is not submerged in water.

Haji Ram

Haji Ram carries with him a metal rod that has a hook on one end, empty milk can, and a fork.

The dun-toothed old man picks a teritip that is more than 1.5” wide; otherwise, the flesh is too little for the effort. The wider part of the teritip is the face, where it opens up to feed when there is water, while the sharper end is the behind.

Knocking on the broader part on the teritip, Haji Ram pulls the grayish cover upward. The juicy larva is now exposed, which he picks out with the back of the fork.

On a good day, Haji Ram will do this for a few hours until the harvest fills up a milk can. On average, for two weeks in a month (during low tide season), Haji Ram would be able to fetch RM50 per day. If a specific request comes in, usually Chinese hawker, he would fill up the milk can and charge RM75 for the hard labour.

Promoting growth

When the larva is picked out of the shell, its eggs would drip on the rock surface and a new breeding cycle would take place, hence promoting growth. Besides harvesting the teritip for a living, Haji Ram is also regulating its growth, keeping the community on the boulder from dying. If left untouched, the community would reduce to mold and algae.

Life by the beach

On a good day, a fisherman would be able to pick up two loads of catch (dua pikul), approximately 120kgs. While that may sound a lot, it is hardly a daily celebration.

When the weather turns against them, they have to be patient and wait out the torrential rain and storm. Patience has to be virtue in this part of the world.

As I walk on the rock surface, stepping on layers of teritip beneath my feet, I am ashamed of my oblivion – folks here live a hard life. However hard life may be, everyone here still has a smile to spare.

Shah, the anchor of my new-found adventure

Shah, when not fishing and not working on land, takes fishing groups out to the sea for fun-filled fishing trips. He knows exactly where the fish are waiting. The father of five have been out in the sea since the age of ten as a sidekick to his father.

Bhat, Shah's 4-year old son

Initially shy, this buddy soon becomes my pal on the deserted beach in Tg Bidara. Unlike other healthy growing child, Bhat’s growth is stunted by repeated surgeries to fix a serious birth defect -Imperforate Anus, also called anorectal anomaly. At birth, Bhat did not have anal opening. Since then, the minor has gone through four surgeries in General Hospital in KL. At such a young age, Bhat has been a patient in the hospital more times than he could endure.

Gerimis

Gerimis is a type of shellfish that the locals cook with soup noodles. It looks pretty similar to the lalas, only these are much smaller, and with patterns.

Girls digging for Gerimis

Girls spend their after-school time digging for gerimis for dinner. They will first wash the sand off the gerimis and cook them (with shell on) in soups, usually with mihun (rice noodles). This is literally cari makan.

Mee goreng special at Balai Nelayan

No travel experience is complete without a local favorite meal and the photos would have to be in color, of course. The scrumptious early dinner, mee goreng special, managed to stay where it should throughout my journey in the sea.

Shah gets ready his boat

After dinner and a little time thereafter to facilitate healthy digestion, we set out. The brand new engine is Shah’s new investment.  Together with the boat, the gears have cost him around RM10,000, an amount that is substantial enough for him to strike any holiday plan in his reality.

After all is set, we ride against the waves for Shah to make a day’s living and for me to be a speck in the sea.

A makeshift lamppost

After ten minutes, the engine is switched off, and the anchor is thrown into the seabed 100-ft below us. This is a battery-powered lamppost. The fine string that curls below is a fishing line. Shah hooks a dead squid on the fishhook as bait and lets it dip in the sea. Squids are generally aggressive by nature. So, when a squid sees another, either one will launch attack. Once a squid swims close to the bait, Shah will scoop it, with a net. A less hassle way to fish for dinner, otherwise, a huge net is usually deployed.

As all this happens, the boat is rocked and buoyed by ripping waters. My head spins and my stomach churns. I feel my early dinner rises up to my throat, but it managed to stay in. My only regret during this trip is that I did not catch a single comel. I should have taken the anti motion sickness pill long before.

We move from one spot to the other for a couple of times. The movement helps ease my sufferings a little. To not waste my early dinner, I stay out of the action. I fall asleep, a couple of times but wake up in time to catch the action.

Patir with his 2 kilos garoupa

As we move to another spot, we stop to check on other fisherman’s catch. Patir fishes with gawai, a 2ft by 2ft round plastic container, that night.

The more rewarding catch would be Jenak/Jehanak (John Snapper). In the market, a Jenak below 10kg fetches a decent rate of RM28 per kilo, heavier than that, the price goes down slightly to RM22 per kilo. Shah had caught one that weighed 12kg and 800g once with a fishing line. The biggest one known to the locals was 20kg. The catch, when cut open, had 17 fishhooks buried inside its stomach. It is time to give in when you have no stomach for more fishhooks.

At midnight, lightning pierces through the clouds, the fierce veins threaten us with much aggression. We return to shore shortly thereafter. I hear from Shah the next day that after the rain has stopped, a turtle has come onto the shore to lay eggs.

Malam tadi, ada penyu datang. Dalam pukul 3 lebih lah. Kalau Joey tinggal kat sini, Shah boleh panggil Joey tengok.

(Yesterday night, a turtle came (to the shore) at around 3am. If you stay here, I can call you so you can see.)

How I wished I had stayed. Just a couple of nights before, Shah had seen a turtle on the shore which laid 181 eggs. The eggs were later transferred to the hatchery center in Padang Kemunting Turtle Management Centre. The turtles visit on a regular basis, apparently and usually, after rain.

If you are a fan in fishing, Shah is possibly your best guide and Tanjung Bidara has more to offer than you can stomach. Stay over at RNC Challet or Tiara Chalet (though basic) and hang out with local fishermen at the Balai Nelayan. Join the locals for a truly localised experience. Shah will wake you if there is turtle visiting the shore.

If you want a fruitful catch, there are a few local terms you need to know about the sea. Knowing them also helps you to prepare better for a fruitful catch.

1. Bani Terang a.k.a Spring Tide – strong tides that occur during the full moon.
2. Bani Gelap or Neap Tide – tide’s range is minimum and result in less extreme tidal conditions.
3. Air Besar – though I still couldn’t grasp the science behind it, but this generally happens during the first four days in Muslim calendar. The best catch during this period are prawns and shrimps, especially geragau that is used in making sambal belacan and cincalok.
4. Air Kecil – this generally happens during the last four days in Muslim calendar. The best catch during this period is fish.

Tiara Chalet or RNC Chalet

Shah – 016 – 622 3752

Weekday – RM80/room/night, Weekend – RM90/room/night

Jalan Bukit Tinggi, 78300 Masjid Tanah.

Coordinates: Lat: 2.298059 Long: 102.082798

These are the exact coordinates for the Balai Nelayan. Once you turn into a Jalan Bukit Tinggi, you will come to a narrow road overseeing the beach, you can only turn left. After turning left, the chalets will be on your left, and Balai Nelayan should be behind you. Ask the residents nearby for permission to park your vehicle and walk in reverse direction to go to Balai Nelayan. Don’t ask me how I remember.

In addition to this pictorial post, visit THE STORIES BEHIND for a more detailed account of my experience.

Next up is a story on how teritip (baby oyster) is harvested.

–

After my aimless stroll on the beach, I found a new purpose for my trip in Tanjung Bidara: to go fishing for comel (squid as how the locals call it).

At close to 6pm, I sit with Shah at Balai Nelayan, a simple canteen where he hangs out with other fisherman friends (not edible). A group of them usually occupies a corner of the canteen for a few games of carom and fill the wooden eatery with much good-natured banter.

At 7:30 pm, the darkness begins to loom over the ocean and the water horizon line begins to fade; soon, the water and the skies would be inseparable.

Under the dimming daylight, Shah fixes a motor to his small-size boat while his friend, Deli, helps pushing the boat out to the water. All is set. Shah walks up the shore again and retreats with his back facing the sea murmuring, perhaps a prayer requesting for a fruitful catch and a safe return.

We set out at 7:45pm, riding against the tide and bouncing over waves. I stretch my arms wide, holding both side of the boat, to keep myself from bouncing off the shallow vessel.

After ten minutes of chopping waves, Shah stops the boat in a spot only he knows where. The engine is switched off and the wavy waters now buoy the boat that has lost its momentum. The boat moves more vigorously when Deli anchors the boat. He pulls and loosens the rope to secure the anchor on the seabed that is approximately 100-feet deep.

Five minutes later, the anchor is secured and Shah switched on the battery-operated florescent lamp that is hanging on a wooden holder with a fishing line (and a fishhook) dipping in the greenish water. Shah hooks a dead squid onto the fishhook as bait. Squid makes excellent bait for cephalopod as no two can coexist in harmony. The bait will lure the squid close to it and the latter will eventually get caught.

As we wait and rock along with the waving water, a squid zooms in fast to the bait and starts to pick a fight. ‘Splash!’ Shah scoops the squid at once with a net.

Stuck in the net, the squid activates its self-defense mechanism by spitting ink. The translucent creature is tossed into a pail. Lying helplessly in the pail, it hisses and wiggles weakly. Eventually, the hissing stops and its body turns white.

When all this is happening, I feel my head pounding and my stomach churning. I think I feel my dinner rising up to my throat too. Getting away from the action, leaning on the backpack, away from the light, I close my eyes.

I find solace in the tender, albeit chilly, breeze, and the rippling sound of the water. Indifferent to my condition, the boat continues to rock. I soon fall asleep.

When I awake, the pail is already filled with more than ten squids. The catch soon reduces. I think the squid finally finds out our trick. We move to another stop. Deli repeats the anchoring and my head and stomach spins and churns again. I fall asleep, again.

When I awake this time, Shah has caught a baby swordfish. Then I hear a ‘click’ sound and the ‘sword’ is broken; its body is cut into half. Shah uses the tail half to make bait for Jenahak or in short Jenak (John Snapper). The gill-covers of the other half still open and close. I close my eyes again, just to rest.

Shah is fishing only with fishing line tied around his toes. His fingers and toes work together to trot the fishing line every now and then. At times when he feels the tension on the fishing line, he is actually merely feeding the fish below. Hence more baby swordfish are caught to make bait.

Just when my head and stomach adapt to the rocking, lightning pierces through the clouds and the ferocious white veins threaten us with much rage. Shah estimated that the rain should come in an hour after this phenomenon and we will return to shore in ten minutes. I am happy my misery will end soon but I am not quite happy because I have not caught any comel.

The light is off and the engine roars again. The boat starts speeding and bouncing its way back to the shore. In less than 10 minutes, we are back on the shore with a bucket of squids that weighs approximately two kilos.

It is 1:00am and my head and stomach seem to have lost its bearing altogether. I wave goodbye to Shah and Deli and wobble back to the car.

My body is ready to drop but my spirits is very much lifted. Catching squids is probably not a big deal; but there is something about the unplanned itinerary. I have not had such an impromptu adventure for a long time and this is a refreshing change. Having said that, I should have taken my anti motion sickness pills much earlier.

Check out the PICTORIAL NARRATION too.

–

Compared to other beaches in the east coast of Malaysia, Tanjung Bidara hardly strikes an impression on travelers. Its cloudy water and fishy aroma is hardly soothing for vacationers to begin with. I come here to see one thing: How teritip (baby oyster) is harvested. The locals call the harvest, ketuk teritip. Teritips, as we hardly know, are the main ingredient in oyster omelets.

On a sunny and humid late afternoon, I reach Tanjung Bidara but see no beachfront that warrants this mostly deserted place a worthy mention. I drive through arch that welcomes its guests to this faraway edge of Melaka. However, there are no road signs to facilitate navigation thereafter.

Off the beaten path by a couple of kilometers, I think. That side is where the resort is.

I try my luck and steer through narrow trunk roads at a cautious speed of 10kmph, passing low but well-kempt village houses along the strip of elevated tarmac. The quaint little kampung (village in Bahasa Malaysia) hardly seems like the place I intended on going.

As I approach more and more winding lanes, I pass by an immense farm on my right. At this, I believe I am lost. More houses rise before the windscreen as I drive on. Turning left or right seems to lead me to one place: nowhere.

Soon, I find delight in meeting a group of children who have gathered in a circle among themselves.

‘Dik, kak nak tumpang tanya. Pantai Tanjung Bidara kat mana?‘ I asked.

The school-going age children chirp and point to a doubly narrow road that is almost on par with the roof of the house next it, on  my left: ‘Kat situ.’

‘Kereta boleh masuk ke, dik?’ Five of them nod in unison: ‘Boleh!’ And beam.

I did just as directed. Carefully, I maneuver into the lane. More huts and houses, that are tough and ready, ahead of me; quite a change from what I have driven passed earlier.

At the turn of a sharp corner, I finally see the ocean – waters rippling and waves beating the shores – that is about 50 meters from me.

Away from the coastline, few elderly men and women put their feet up below a shabby-looking hut.

They turn from each other and stare at the moving mobile. Hostility starts to taper off as I smile and nod at them.

To my delight, I pass 2 blocks of chalet facing the beachfront. Both have a renewed look with a fresh layer of yellow and brown color paint. I am not that lost after all; people do come here.

I continue to cruise on the narrow path until I reach the end of the tarmac, a dead end. I examine my surrounding and look around to find my bearings.  I see huge boulder rocks thrust on the coastline and the rocks’ belly has rough deposits grown around it. I figure they must be the teritip that I am looking for. A man is sitting on top of the boulder with a fishing rod in hand. No one else is there.

No one else is there but a man with his fishing rod

Boulder rocks has teritips growing on its belly

An empty shell of a teritip. Its flesh has been harvested recently.

After twenty minutes of aimless strolling and pacing up and down along the brown-sandy beach, I get back to the car and contemplate my next move. I entertain the thought of giving up as it flashes across my mind.

In a place where I thought I was lost, I ended up making friends with Shah, Hussin and Pak Haji Ram, fishermen who have not only turned my adventure around but have widened, perhaps a little, my knowledge in fishing.

When you are lost, giving up, sometimes, may not be the best idea. Instead, you may find more than what you have come for. That particular day and the following day are my most memorable days during my stay in Melaka.

Tomorrow, joeygan.com will share an account on the author’s experience in fishing for comel – squid – as how the locals call it, with Shah. Another account will follow, the next day, to expose how teritip is harvested, with Pak Haji Ram.

Bibik means auntie in Patuah, a Peranakan community language formed by an amalgamation of various languages including Bahasa Malaysia, Indonesian, Hokkien (a Chinese dialect), and during the colonial era, Portuguese and English.

A 7^th Generation of his Peranakan ancestry, the animated actor recently moved from a food business partnership to become a cook for his own venture: Kenny’s Delight.

Sitting across from me, the chirpy comedian has white facial hair sprouts, sparsely, at his lower chin. Facial pores dot, systematically, across the face, looking like an over-pierced dartboard.

Despite feeling exhausted from his daily routine that starts from six in the morning, Kenny still puts on his best for everyone in his midst, a marked difference from his irreverent alter ego, Bibik Kim Neo.

We are sitting at the outdoor area of the restaurant and the wind joins me in making his acquaintance.

Prior to appearing on screen, Kenny used to perform in private functions (he still does on request) with his mouthy manner and the traditional nyonya costume. The show eventually caught the attention of a sitcom producer and talks pursued to shift the gig to household TVs.

Produced primarily for its comedic value, the actor did not expect the series to become a hit. Having entertained fans of all ages with 509 episodes, the series was awarded the longest-ran sitcom in the country by Malaysia Book of Record.

As we get acquainted, we talk about Peranakan heritage and how much is kept alive in the twenty-first century.

I used to be embarrassed being a Peranakan because our clan is neither Chinese nor Malay. But today, I am proud to have inherited such a rich tradition, which is a mix of both. That is my identity.” Kenny speaks with authority.

 

One of the old traditions he still keeps is performing Soja on the first day of Chinese New Year – a routine where the younger generation kneels before the parents, bow with both hands on the floor, and wish them good health, wealth and longevity. Only then the Ang Pow exchange hands.

His steadfast devotion is deemed fanatical by the less informed. To the 60-year old, he is determined to keep the tradition alive amid the rush of modernization.

“Chinese New Year is about remembering our ancestors, our parents and subsequently our family,” he adds.

 

Kenny’s Delight sits on the peaceful Jalan Laksamana Cheng Ho, open for breakfast and lunch. For a party of 10 or more, you may call in to order some rare and lost-in-transition Peranakan cuisine that is not in the menu.

Otak otak with fish paste inside

Mouth-watering cendol. You can never have enough of this in Melaka.

Peranakan food tops many Melaka visitors’ must-have list. Whether it is authentic or otherwise, a few knows for sure. Food choice is usually personal. If you are on the quest to taste as much Peranakan food as possible, do pay Kenny a visit. If you are lucky, you might catch him in his kebaya and gold rim glasses.

Kenny’s Delight

135, Jalan Laksamana Cheng Ho

75000 Melaka

012 – 612 8978

Big Bibik and little Nyonyas Series on YouTube

In 2009, Kenny puts on his signature costume again in the YouTube series Big Bibik Little Nyonyas. The production hopes to gain sufficient public attention to pave its way back to the TV screen soon.

Though little is left, the Peranakan culture is a rich heritage and it is worth keeping. It is part of what makes Malaysia unique. Feel free to catch more following series on YouTube. Enjoy.

This story is the second in the quest of A Stranger at Home Travel Series – Melaka. The author has previously stopped-by at The Baboon House at Heeren Street, now Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock.

Stay tuned for more.

The glory of yesteryears, despite dim and subdued, still lingers at the front yards of the centuries old buildings in Heeren Street today.

It is now named after Tun Tan Cheng Lock, the founder of Malayan Chinese Association (MCA). Named by the Dutch during the latter’s colonial era. It meant Gentlemen Street or, with airs, the Millionaires Street.

As I browse through the ancient architecture at almost 38°C heat, I reach a 250-300 years old house, now called The Baboon House. It is a western café that is operated by a passionate art lover, Roger Soong, 31.

Formerly an industrial engineer, the Melaka-born Soong now devotes his time to reviving this antique house while honing his craft in art. The passion is, according to the 31-year old, a love for every living thing.

Judging by the money and energy involved, despite noble, the idea appears to others utterly ridiculous, which inspires its present name – The Baboon House.

In his knee-torn jeans and simple tee, the bespectacled Roger leads me to the backyard of The Baboon House called the Baboon Garden. Retaining as many original details as possible, Soong has transformed the backyard into a mother-earth-like garden, where mankind and nature coexist in harmony.

Soong and his faithful companion, Roro, a 12-year old Golden Retriever

“We try to salvage as much as possible and to create an ambiance of nature. That is why there is only wood and no plastic,” he quips.

The expansive wall is patchy and moldy, the crack lines form wrinkles on its face. We sit by the wooden pavement as I venture deeper into Soong’s noble passion.

A rustic Baboon Garden, the sphere that connects present and the past

“The building has a lot to tell us. First, it starts from the wall. When a new generation takes over the house, a new layer of paint is applied to give it a fresher look. The most basic restoration method is to scrap the old paint off to the core, until the bricks surface. This should allow the wall to breathe,” Soong said.

“Each layer tells of changes and transformation of each generation. There are already almost five layers on the wall and you can imagine the heritage that the building inherits,” he added.

“The building has aged but it is now coming back to life and the building is growing with us,” Soong remarks fondly.

A wall of history. Left is original and right reveals layers underneath, after scrapping

A section of the balcony wall before the paint is removed.

After the top coat of paint is removed, it reveals a painting. According to a student from China, this is a classic single-stroke painting drawn on the wall just 30 minutes before the cement dries. The single-stroke technique tells a lot about the skill of the painter as there is no room for mistakes. The color of the paint, since its first application, is still fresh until today, despite being buried underneath layers of paint for so long.

Unlike his more business-minded counterparts that capitalize on its Unesco World Heritage Site status for monetary gain, Soong occupies this ancient house with an objective to restore its original façade and most importantly, reviving its vibes, thus creating a space for the present to connect with the past.

The Baboon House’s principle is not to be commercially bonded with any entity – a tough call for a new setup in the commercially competitive street.

Despite the challenges (mostly monetary), Roger stands by his call. His restoration activities are making promising progress, albeit slow. Funded by the café that occupies the front section of the approximately 200-feet long house, the café churns out sufficient profits to sustain a team and its dream.

“The owner is pleased with the restoration idea. Hence, our rent, as compared to the market rate, is much lower. The team members get by with a moderate income. The profit is put back into the restoration work such as buying paint, wax and working tools,” Soong explains.

Soong notes that The Baboon House emphasizes on its identity rather than its commercial offerings.

If you share Soong’s passion, do drop by The Baboon House and get acquainted with the past. The homemade beef burger is what would make you stay longer. For like-minded art lovers, sit with Soong over a cup of Hazelnut-fragrant Vietnamese Coffee, and explore art and history.

Homemade Beef Burger with wholemeal bread

Hazelnut-fragrant Vietnamese Coffee

Soong's sketch of his grandmother, a second generation Peranakan

The Baboon House

No.89, Jalan Tun Tan Cheng Lock, 75200, Melaka

+606 283 1635

Stay tuned for more posts in the quest of A Stranger at Home Travel Series in Melaka.

The planning took more than a month, longer than expected, and it had not been easy. What an irony for someone who claimed to be a Malaysian, born and raised in the country in the past three decades. One more irony for the record, I bought a copy of Lonely Planet – Malaysia, Singapore & Brunei – to get me started.

My first destination is Melaka. I will be meeting a long-time friend, and her family. Melaka is familiar enough for anyone to trot about on his own but for me, I would like to find a sense of place and get to know the intricacies of its history and heritage, its buried and hidden charms in the 21st century setting. I am due for a visit to the Baba Nyonya Museum too.

Then I will be checking in at a guesthouse in Jalan Kampung Pantai – Oriental Residence – which is run by a couple of non-oriental lineage. On Sunday, I will be moving to Apa Kaba Home&Stay for 2 days in Kampung Banda Kaba.

There is something about taking the less beaten path. The guesswork in finding your ways in an unknown place is a quest in its own right. It gets you talking with the locals, especially when you are asking for direction.

If you are chatty and readily open-minded enough, there is even space and time to exchange some stories over a cup of teh-tarik. These unique experience and encounters are not listed in the guidebook. In my trip that is to begin tomorrow will include the following itinerary: to explore places, to meet people and to write stories.

Over and above sights and activities,
traveling is an engagement of the mind and the heart.

I have not have anything planned out from Tuesday until Thursday. I will leave the days open for the locals to fill them up, as they say: the best usually comes unplanned.

A stranger at home is a debut travel series on JoeyGan.com that documents the quest in discovering parts of Malaysia that are unknown to many. The destinations in the planning include:

• Finding a sense of place in Melaka (May)
• Trekking and getting lost in the wonders of nature in Pahang (June)
• Celebrate the Anniversary of Declaration of Penang as a World Heritage in the food haven, Penang (July)
• Tasting, and hopefully cooking, some of the greatest native buka puasa dishes in Kelantan and Terrenganu (August)
• Hoping 64 islands and stamping foot prints on shy sandy beaches in Johor (September)
• Embark on a jungle railway journey up north to Kedah and Perlis (October)
• Getting back to the far-from-mind and far-from-sight places in Selangor and Kuala Lumpur (November & December)

As often as possible, JoeyGan.com will recount encounters and stories of everyday during the trip in a 500-word journal. If you don’t want to miss out the odds, subscribe to our FEED now.

Our first post should be up either tomorrow evening or the morning of Friday.

Have a good day.

With a destination in mind and boarding pass in hand, I am excited that my quest to Vancouver will begin shortly.

While lingering, a lot is going on in a space that I share with other travellers. On my far right, an executive is squawking on the mobile while pacing up and down. A business deal is on the edge, perhaps.

Outside Delifrance, a man hugs two toddlers while a woman, possibly the estranged wife, nonchalantly stands in front of the three as the emotion unfolds.

I started traveling overseas when I was 23. Since then, I have developed a peculiar fondness for airports. They are, to me, a no-boundary stage for free plays and an adventure waiting.

Behind the immigration counters, those who are leaving look back, swiping their hands back and forth above their heads, waving their final goodbyes at family members who wave back in quick succession.

The departure concourse in the Satellite Building and the boarding gates in the Main Building are connected by a people mover system – an Aerotrain. At 52 kmph, the train winds out of the tunnel, curves along the 1.2KM track.

It passes huge aircraft hangars that sit, dignified, on the left. The warm yellow lights in the hangars cast wistful glances on the idle airplanes to a point of exuding an ominous silence. The starry pole lights on both sides of the track only enhance the dreamy dark surrounding.

Two minutes later, the train gradually comes to a halt. My senses soon wake up to the default stimuli in the civilized surrounding: crowds, noises and concrete.

Radiating uninspiring white lights, the Main Building is a dull sight as compared to the dreamy ambience at the hangars, and less vibrant than that of the departure concourse.

Kuala Lumpur International Airport is Malaysia’s pride, and aches, if you are in the loop of its behind-the-scene stories. This monumental structure marks the beginning of my journey in discovering people and places beyond the country’s boundary. The airport has since been my favorite imaginative place. It will remain so for a long time, as long as I am the one who is traveling.

I join the crowd and stroll towards the gates. I never try to remember the layout. The crowd just makes it look different, somehow. I just follow the signs.

Since I am not traveling lately, I choose to relive some memories from my first backpack trip in Cambodia.

Here it goes:

The act of urinating is supposed to be a natural, effortless task. However, when performed in places besides the latrine, in a moving bus for instance, it proved to be a new motor skill. If you mess it up, the aftermath could be frustrating and embarrassing, but hardly amusing.

I had no choice but to acquire this new motor skill when I boarded a bus in Phnom Penh bound for Sihanoukville with no lavatory on board. Suddenly, I was hit by a sudden urge to relieve myself but nobody could comprehend my need and urgency.

My usual sign language – both palms signaling ‘T’ for toilet break, squatting and pretending to pull my pants down – proved to be uncommon in that part of the world. Naturally, the bus driver kept on driving with no compassion.

My bladder was nudging with full force. I contemplated ways to answer the untimely nature’s call while the bus zipped through the uneven tarmac road. I finally resorted to stacking up my sized-up backpack to block curious eyes from peeking into my impending illicit private business.

My newly invented latrine was ready, which was essentially a zipper bag laid with layers of tissue paper. I will spare you the details, which are far from pleasant. In short, the content in the zipper bag, thereafter, leaked and the rest area was more than 2 hours away.

The blue color bus is where my bladder and my frustration leak

Finally reached the rest area to clean up.

At the time of the incident, this experience was less than amusing. But today, it has become a comical account in my collection of travel anecdotes.

Not that I look forward to such incidents to reoccur, but, when taken in stride, it becomes the essence of a travel journal, and never be embarrassed to share.

Looking out from the balcony, there were school-going children splashing water in the pool, harassing each other, making the water ripples with laughter. The pool is surely a better place to be than in the school. I speak for myself.

When I was a primary student, I always yearned for play time at the wrong time. When the Malay language teacher rambled on on a subject that only she knew better, I imagined playing masak-masak with my neighbour. When mathematics class was pursuing multiplication, I imagined counting and tracing the marbles that had slipped off from my pocket to my opponents’.

Sunday is my favorite day of the week, also my least favorite day of the week. Because after Sunday, it will be Monday. I used to hate Mondays. I had to make sure my shoes were chalk-polished, nails cut and school bag tidied. Most important of all, I had to make sure my homework was done.

I usually don’t realize it until it is bedtime. That usually means, I have to keep my head down and work my tiny brains while everybody else tuck in for the night. In case I couldn’t finish my homework before my sleepy eyes got the better of me, I would scribble down some excuses I could make up at my last sober moment as alternative submission for the next day.

When I think back, Sunday has helped me grow. I learned that it is perfectly fine if you can’t finish your homework. It does not decide how long you would live. However, the excuses you give as alternative submission do. Heard of news about children beaten to death when they lied about their unfinished homework? Yes, that kind. The fact that I still live today, my excuses must had been safe. But then again, I think teachers at that time were less stressed out.

I also learned that besides teacher, lawyer, doctor, policeman and fireman, there were thousands other professions you could name to impress the teacher, none of which you had came across during a composition exercise with the subject: My ambition. At least PR Consultant was not in the common list.

That is not too bad considering the closest profession I can think of, that could possibly resemble a PR consultant, is lawyer. Go figure.

Today, on a Sunday evening, I learned that Sunday unties me from other social forms and practices and allows me to ramble on with no apologies.

I hope you have had a happy Sunday so far. Happy Sunday!