Holiday Yearnings

Rome

Athens

Mount Kinabalu

Sepilok Sanctuary

It has been such a long while since the family holidayed together that I can’t even remember for sure the last time we did. By that I mean ‘holiday’ in every sense of the word, not the occasional trips back home to attend weddings or bury loved ones.

Any which way you look at it, such milestones hardly merit being called a holiday. In the case of a wedding, especially if it involves close kin like siblings, your presence is a must and your contribution, financial or otherwise, is expected.

In the event of a death in the family, it is highly unlikely that anyone would treat the sorrowful trek home as a jaunt. You are returning to bury Grandpa or Grandma, or worse still, Mum or Dad; how jovial could you possibly be?

For us, the last time we journeyed together as one was in May last year when we trooped back to Dungun for the wedding of my niece Reeta and the death of my mom, both of which, unfortunately, happened on the same day, within ten minutes of each other (read here).

Since then we had not gone together anywhere as a family. With everyone having their own work commitment, it is getting twice as hard to organise a proper getaway.

The last family outing we had that truly qualified as a holiday was eons ago, when the ‘terrible trio’ of Naj, Joe and Ann were mere school kids and Awwa had not yet made her presence felt in our lives. We went to Penang during one school term break.

Considering Awwa is 23 going 24, I can safely say a quarter of a century on, and the time has got to be ripe for another family outing! If we wait a moment longer, someone is bound to get married and drop off the ‘holiday with mom & dad’ scene.

The kids and I got to talking about this some weeks back. By ‘this’ I mean the holiday, not matrimony, the latter being a highly sensitive, super-duper touchy issue and an absolutely no-go area for us perennially hopeful parents.

As usual, I was casting my net far and wide - Greece and Italy, to be exact – because I had missed the opportunity of visiting these two countries while living in Britain.

Joe, who shared my interest in history and whose Holland jaunt last year was still fresh in his mind, concurred with my choice.

Awwa was the easy one to ‘kowtim’; she would agree to anything and anywhere Mak decided. Left to her, she would probably pick all the known shopping havens like Bangkok, Hong Kong, Jakarta and the like.

Naj had been to almost all the major cities of the world - courtesy of his five years spent flying with Malaysia Airlines before deciding journalism was his lot in life - so he was not exactly hyped up about where to go.

It was Ann who suddenly piped up: “How about Sabah and Sarawak? After all, apart from Naj, none of us has ever been to East Malaysia.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to shoot daggers at her, their visions of a European holiday crumbling before their very eyes. The fourth pair of eyes looked up and responded: “Hmmm, why not?”

Last night, over dinner, the subject of family holiday surfaced again. This time around, I am quite determined to see it through and the kids seemed thrilled at the prospect of Sabah or Sarawak, or both.

Naj specifically mentioned the orangutan sanctuary in Sepilok. Ann, ever the ‘lasak’ one, vaguely contemplated the idea of climbing Mount Kinabalu.

Awwa would be fine anywhere, as long as she could shop till she dropped. Joe was more in my mould, revelling in history and nature, so he would be fine wherever I was.

All the while, poor Pak Abu, the would-be financier of our enthusiastic escapade plans, sat there glumly, puffing away while observing our antics, no doubt making some quick mental calculations on the forthcoming 'damage' to his pocket ....