I am not out to frighten anyone. I am merely relating what had been told to me by the very people who had experienced it.
Of course, the choice is yours. You may want to take it a step further or you may just want to laugh it off as one of my many paranoia.
As always, I prefer to err on the side of caution because one of the few things I dislike most in life is being reproached with an "I told you so", (not that it never happened, by the way).
I used to collect things. Those unkind enough would probably say I was a hoarder of junks, which in a way wasn't so far off the mark.
The recent house-moving, however, was a blessing in disguise for it finally saw me casting aside sentimentality in favour of practicality. Truthfully, there was nothing left save for a few cherished items.
Apart from those souvenir plates I mentioned in an earlier blogpiece, there is this pre-Victorian, English-made, blue and white porcelain bowl that I inherited from my late grandmother.
By virtue of my previous work with the Royal Mint, where I got to know a number of people in the worlds of numismetic, philately and objet d'art, I realised there is value attached to this more than a century old bowl, so it's not going anywhere.
One thing for sure, I no longer collect vases (I was once a sucker for ethnic vases), and if you hear what I have to say about some of them, you may reach the same decision as mine.
This story was related to me by the wife of a high-ranking government servant (now retired and is prominent in the private sector), who once owned some of the most beautiful vases I had ever seen.
She travelled the world to find them and paid good money for them. They were not those dainty little receptacles you plonked flowers in and placed on your coffee table.
These were huge vases, some of which you could easily fit a body in. She lined them along the walls of her spacious living area for guests to admire their intricate workmanship.
She said, one night she awoke to the muted sounds of voices in the living room. She described it as 'quarrelsome voices'. Fearing a break-in, she woke up her husband who informed the security guards outside.
While they found no one in the house, the guards realised the voices emanated from some of the vases. Terrified, they called the couple.
The entire collection was discarded the very next day upon the advice of an ustaz who told them they had brought in all kinds of unknown, potentially harmful spirits dwelling in the vases into their home.
Apparently, some of those beautifully carved vases, especially the ones from South America and Indonesia, were once burial jars. How they got to be in the tourist market, only God knows.
My sister Zaridah used to have one of those Swiss-made cuckoo clocks with two swinging chains in her home, the kind where the cuckoo bird pokes its head out and say cuckooo! as the hour strikes.
One day she fell ill and started hallucinating. Somehow, she is one of those susceptible to 'seeing' the unseen. She saw a group of beings in white dancing around a campfire in her bedroom!
An ustaz called in to assist in prayers told her to take a look at the cuckoo clock on the wall. Apparently, there was a whole community of "them" there too, merrily clambering onto the bird and swinging on the chains.
The ustaz said 'they' had been living there for quite a while, probably taken by the carousel effect of the chains. Suffice to say, the clock met an early demise.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Friday, July 11, 2008
On The Road To Recovery (Hopefully)
After more than a month of constant sneezing, wheezing and coughing up truly off-putting mucus and pleghm, coping with excruciating facial pain and losing my sense of smell along the way, I finally found out the reason why.
The ENT specialist at Damansara Specialist Centre whom I saw yesterday morning said I have one of most severe sinus infections he has ever seen, made worse by the nasal defect that I already have.
And to think that it all started with a simple cold. I only have myself to blame for not seeking treatment earlier.
Under normal circumstances, such cold would have cleared up within a week; that was the reason why I didn't pay much attention to it.
What I conveniently forgot was that with an existing nasal anomaly, a simple flu or any sneezing could lead to something a lot worse. Well, that's a painful lesson learnt.
Anyway, I am now on medication; God willing, this will clear up in no time. The good doctor said there should be improvements in a week, at least insofar as excessive mucus is concerned.
Last night, my sister Zaridah and her husband Radzi dropped by for a visit. Idah had just returned from Sarawak after sending her pregnant daughter-in-law back, to be with her family in Kuching for the delivery.
We are planning to travel to Kuching en masse just before Ramadan to welcome Idah's first grandchild into this big bad world.
The clan did it the last time when Zack got married and had to book a quarter of a hotel and rent a tour bus to fit everyone in....
The ENT specialist at Damansara Specialist Centre whom I saw yesterday morning said I have one of most severe sinus infections he has ever seen, made worse by the nasal defect that I already have.
And to think that it all started with a simple cold. I only have myself to blame for not seeking treatment earlier.
Under normal circumstances, such cold would have cleared up within a week; that was the reason why I didn't pay much attention to it.
What I conveniently forgot was that with an existing nasal anomaly, a simple flu or any sneezing could lead to something a lot worse. Well, that's a painful lesson learnt.
Anyway, I am now on medication; God willing, this will clear up in no time. The good doctor said there should be improvements in a week, at least insofar as excessive mucus is concerned.
Last night, my sister Zaridah and her husband Radzi dropped by for a visit. Idah had just returned from Sarawak after sending her pregnant daughter-in-law back, to be with her family in Kuching for the delivery.
We are planning to travel to Kuching en masse just before Ramadan to welcome Idah's first grandchild into this big bad world.
The clan did it the last time when Zack got married and had to book a quarter of a hotel and rent a tour bus to fit everyone in....
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
The Shifting Sands
Oh boy, seems like it's back to the city for everyone after Mak's demise. For sure, my sister Zaridah who lives in Kuala Terengganu will be shifting to Kuala Lumpur mid-July.
The move makes sense actually, because 90 per cent of her business is in KL, and she had been travelling up and down almost on a weekly basis for a few years now.
Her only son, Zack, is going to be a father soon and she wants to be closer to her first grandchild. Also, Zack is a pilot and is away a lot, so having Idah around would be helpful to his pretty young wife, Zetty, who is going to be a mother in August.
On my part, I like to see the excitement on Idah's face at her impending grandmotherhood. She is a good six years younger than me and she is already going to be a grandma!
In a way I feel somewhat sympathetic towards Idah. Her only daughter Amy whom she is very close to, is married to a foreigner and lives in the US. I think Amy's departure took its toll on her. She seems lost in thoughts most times.
Idah is the most hardworking among us; she built her unit trust business almost singlehandedly 15 years ago and is now successfully managing a few big portfolios.
I heard from Idah that my immediate sister Zahana (Ani) is also contemplating moving to KL now that Mak is no longer with us.
What more, Ani's two elder married daughters are working and living in Klang Valley while her son is finishing his flying course very soon and would start work, presumably based in KL.
Ani is one of those home and hearth kind totally dedicated to her family. She is well grounded and solidly dependable, the kind you can trust your deepest secret with.
Ani and family relocated to Dungun many years ago when her ex-army pilot husband Mohd Som (Atan), began flying for Malaysian Helicopter Services.
His job was ferrying petroleum crew to and from offshore platforms off Kerteh. He left MHS for a brief stint in Rwanda but has since returned and is now flying for MHS in East Malaysia.
Ani has been talking about moving to KL for years. I hope it will become a reality soon because it means the family will be closer to Atan's ailing mother in Tanjung Malim.
Already deeply entrenched in Klang Valley are my sisters Hanizah (Izah) in Subang Jaya and Zanariah (Ana) in Bukit Jelutong, while brother Yusoff lives in Taman Melawati and another brother, Fauzi, resides in Shah Alam.
Mother-of-two Izah is a trained drug rehabilitation counsellor who is currently enjoying her stint as a lady of leisure. I hope she returns to work soon - too much of a good life isn't good for you, sis!
Ana is the bookish, academic type who lectures business and entrepreneurship in a local university. Married with four children and with an absolute gem for a husband, Ana looks settled with life.
Our two brothers, Yusoff and Fauzi, run their own small enterprises and seem to be doing okay. Both are now grandfathers, with Yusoff leading the pack with 7 cucus (grandchildren).
The only one far away is our youngest sister Liza who lives and works in Minnesota. I have not seen her in years (she last returned for a visit 5 years ago).
As her eldest kakak (sister), I want her to come home and find work here in Malaysia. I know she holds a very senior position and earns big bucks in the US, and that she's uncertain of her career prospects here. But you will never know if you don't even try.
For the rest of us siblings, it makes a lot of sense to regroup. We are not getting any younger, our parents are gone and our children are maturing and leaving home one by one.
Like siblings everywhere, we have had our differences and have bickered about everything under the sun over the years. But at the end of the day, we are brothers and sisters sharing blood ties and that's a good enough reason to stay close together.
The move makes sense actually, because 90 per cent of her business is in KL, and she had been travelling up and down almost on a weekly basis for a few years now.
Her only son, Zack, is going to be a father soon and she wants to be closer to her first grandchild. Also, Zack is a pilot and is away a lot, so having Idah around would be helpful to his pretty young wife, Zetty, who is going to be a mother in August.
On my part, I like to see the excitement on Idah's face at her impending grandmotherhood. She is a good six years younger than me and she is already going to be a grandma!
In a way I feel somewhat sympathetic towards Idah. Her only daughter Amy whom she is very close to, is married to a foreigner and lives in the US. I think Amy's departure took its toll on her. She seems lost in thoughts most times.
Idah is the most hardworking among us; she built her unit trust business almost singlehandedly 15 years ago and is now successfully managing a few big portfolios.
I heard from Idah that my immediate sister Zahana (Ani) is also contemplating moving to KL now that Mak is no longer with us.
What more, Ani's two elder married daughters are working and living in Klang Valley while her son is finishing his flying course very soon and would start work, presumably based in KL.
Ani is one of those home and hearth kind totally dedicated to her family. She is well grounded and solidly dependable, the kind you can trust your deepest secret with.
Ani and family relocated to Dungun many years ago when her ex-army pilot husband Mohd Som (Atan), began flying for Malaysian Helicopter Services.
His job was ferrying petroleum crew to and from offshore platforms off Kerteh. He left MHS for a brief stint in Rwanda but has since returned and is now flying for MHS in East Malaysia.
Ani has been talking about moving to KL for years. I hope it will become a reality soon because it means the family will be closer to Atan's ailing mother in Tanjung Malim.
Already deeply entrenched in Klang Valley are my sisters Hanizah (Izah) in Subang Jaya and Zanariah (Ana) in Bukit Jelutong, while brother Yusoff lives in Taman Melawati and another brother, Fauzi, resides in Shah Alam.
Mother-of-two Izah is a trained drug rehabilitation counsellor who is currently enjoying her stint as a lady of leisure. I hope she returns to work soon - too much of a good life isn't good for you, sis!
Ana is the bookish, academic type who lectures business and entrepreneurship in a local university. Married with four children and with an absolute gem for a husband, Ana looks settled with life.
Our two brothers, Yusoff and Fauzi, run their own small enterprises and seem to be doing okay. Both are now grandfathers, with Yusoff leading the pack with 7 cucus (grandchildren).
The only one far away is our youngest sister Liza who lives and works in Minnesota. I have not seen her in years (she last returned for a visit 5 years ago).
As her eldest kakak (sister), I want her to come home and find work here in Malaysia. I know she holds a very senior position and earns big bucks in the US, and that she's uncertain of her career prospects here. But you will never know if you don't even try.
For the rest of us siblings, it makes a lot of sense to regroup. We are not getting any younger, our parents are gone and our children are maturing and leaving home one by one.
Like siblings everywhere, we have had our differences and have bickered about everything under the sun over the years. But at the end of the day, we are brothers and sisters sharing blood ties and that's a good enough reason to stay close together.
That Nasal Pain Again
This morning Pak Abu and I went to Damansara Specialist Centre because I was unable to reach my regular ENT specialist by phone.
I had to see him at whatever cost; something feels so wrong with my health. I have been sneezing, wheezing and coughing unabated, despite medication, for over a month now.
Unfortunately he was in surgery, but we managed to make an appointment for tomorrow. So I will be there again tomorrow morning and I hope to put to rest whatever it is that's plaguing me.
It started as a simple cold and cough soon after my mum's death at the end of May, but by June's end they were still there.
And lately the coughing is worse than ever, bringing up horrible-looking pleghm speckled with blood. What's making it more worrying is that my face is in constant pain, especially the nasal area.
I don't know what to make of this. My sense of smell has been gone for over a month. I smell nothing, not even durian and the strongest of perfumes. Thankfully, I can still taste my food.
Anyway, on the bright side, the cafeteria at Damansara Specialist Centre serves good food at some of the cheapest prices we have ever come cross in a very long time.
We had mixed rice with no less than 4 types of lauk apiece, with a bowl of ikan patin masak asam, and nescafe tarik each, all for RM11. I may not be able to smell a thing, but I know a good bargain when I see one!
I had to see him at whatever cost; something feels so wrong with my health. I have been sneezing, wheezing and coughing unabated, despite medication, for over a month now.
Unfortunately he was in surgery, but we managed to make an appointment for tomorrow. So I will be there again tomorrow morning and I hope to put to rest whatever it is that's plaguing me.
It started as a simple cold and cough soon after my mum's death at the end of May, but by June's end they were still there.
And lately the coughing is worse than ever, bringing up horrible-looking pleghm speckled with blood. What's making it more worrying is that my face is in constant pain, especially the nasal area.
I don't know what to make of this. My sense of smell has been gone for over a month. I smell nothing, not even durian and the strongest of perfumes. Thankfully, I can still taste my food.
Anyway, on the bright side, the cafeteria at Damansara Specialist Centre serves good food at some of the cheapest prices we have ever come cross in a very long time.
We had mixed rice with no less than 4 types of lauk apiece, with a bowl of ikan patin masak asam, and nescafe tarik each, all for RM11. I may not be able to smell a thing, but I know a good bargain when I see one!
Kitchen Confidential
If there is anybody I envy the most in this world, it must be those who can cook and do it for the sheer love of cooking.
They need no prompting to approach the stove. They can whip up a mean spread seemingly without much effort, and still come out with a spotless apron and a big smile on their faces.
Me? All I needed to do was spend one hour in the kitchen and I would emerge drenched in sweat, hair dishevelled, my apron soaking wet and the kitchen looking like a disaster zone.
I always wonder, how could this be? Why am I such a hopeless git in the kitchen? To make matters worse, I would always forget one ingredient or the other.
Watching cooking programmes on TV, especially AFC (Asian Food Channel) on Astro, is a favourite pastime, apart from buying recipe books.
As for trying out those recipes, let's just say I have tried a few with no spectacular success, and plenty of failures fed to the bin. One or two did come out alright.
I admit, I have a love-hate relationship with the kitchen. I can cook the basic stuffs; rice and simple lauk pauk (accompaniments to rice).
I know how to make the various sambals; I can even hazard a kuih (desserts, sweetmeats) or two, my specialty being bubur kacang, but that's about it.
People who knew my family shook their heads pityingly. They were all aware of my late Opah's (grandmother) well-established culinary skills and expertise.
Cik Bah, as she was affectionately known (her name being Puteri Habibah Megat Ibrahim), could cook for 600 people at any one time with relative ease.
She was forever cooking for kenduris (feasts) and her various types of nasi (rice) and lauk pauk especially her rendang tok (beef rendang Perak-style), were to die for. [Note: Pix above courtesy of Kak Liza from Photopages]
On top of that, she also took in orders for cookies, cakes and traditional sweetmeats by the thousands come festival periods.
During my childhood, fasting months were always busy times for me for my job was to pack those cookies into containers (mostly empty Milo or Ovaltine tins) for delivery.
In addition to all those Opah also sewed, both traditional and modern apparel - kurung, kebaya, baju melayu, shirts & blouses, skirts & pants - all kinds of curtains, and kapok matresses and pillows.
The thing is, she didn't need to do it; grandpa earned enough to support us. She did it for the love of doing it. She was one of those people who couldn't keep still, and the money was a welcome bonus.
My late aunt Sabariah (we called her Wan Su, being our youngest aunt) inherited Opah's talent for baking.
Wan Su specialised in those heavily decorated, multi-tiered wedding cakes and cakes for special occasions like birthdays, engagements and hantaran (wedding gift).
While my mum's culinary skills left much to be desired, she still cooked better than some housewives I know. It's me who's the absolute no-hoper between the four of us.
It is heartening to note that my youngest daughter Nawwar has taken to the kitchen. She takes the trouble to learn family favourites from her paternal grandmother and tries them at home.
My former mother-in-law, Puan Sri Halimah, who lives in Petaling Jaya, has a soft spot for Awwa because of this. She would turun padang (get going) just to show Awwa how a dish is prepared.
She even taught Awwa her best-kept secret, ayam kuzi, which is now a must in our family on the mornings of Aidil Fitri and Aidil Adha (Muslim religious festivals).
This chicken dish with thick gravy made of evaporated milk and tomato puree is Arabic in origin and is best eaten with ghee rice.
Puan Sri is an accomplished cook. Her Kedah-style fish curry has no equal. She used to make me sit and watch step-by-step as she prepared the curry, but I was too thick to absorb anything (or perhaps my interest just wasn't there, hehe).
At past 80, I was told she still ventures into the kitchen sometimes, especially when the entire jingbang gather during weekends and such.
In this new place, we have just bought a cooker. I am thinking of cooking for the family this weekend. Don't know yet what the menu's going to be.
All I know is that I miss the kids crowding me in the kitchen, getting into my hair, messing up the sofa, trying to be civil while fighting over that last piece of chicken leg and making noise at the dining table.
I know, I know. I am suffering from that empty nest syndrome...
They need no prompting to approach the stove. They can whip up a mean spread seemingly without much effort, and still come out with a spotless apron and a big smile on their faces.
Me? All I needed to do was spend one hour in the kitchen and I would emerge drenched in sweat, hair dishevelled, my apron soaking wet and the kitchen looking like a disaster zone.
I always wonder, how could this be? Why am I such a hopeless git in the kitchen? To make matters worse, I would always forget one ingredient or the other.
Watching cooking programmes on TV, especially AFC (Asian Food Channel) on Astro, is a favourite pastime, apart from buying recipe books.
As for trying out those recipes, let's just say I have tried a few with no spectacular success, and plenty of failures fed to the bin. One or two did come out alright.
I admit, I have a love-hate relationship with the kitchen. I can cook the basic stuffs; rice and simple lauk pauk (accompaniments to rice).
I know how to make the various sambals; I can even hazard a kuih (desserts, sweetmeats) or two, my specialty being bubur kacang, but that's about it.
People who knew my family shook their heads pityingly. They were all aware of my late Opah's (grandmother) well-established culinary skills and expertise.
Cik Bah, as she was affectionately known (her name being Puteri Habibah Megat Ibrahim), could cook for 600 people at any one time with relative ease.
She was forever cooking for kenduris (feasts) and her various types of nasi (rice) and lauk pauk especially her rendang tok (beef rendang Perak-style), were to die for. [Note: Pix above courtesy of Kak Liza from Photopages]
On top of that, she also took in orders for cookies, cakes and traditional sweetmeats by the thousands come festival periods.
During my childhood, fasting months were always busy times for me for my job was to pack those cookies into containers (mostly empty Milo or Ovaltine tins) for delivery.
In addition to all those Opah also sewed, both traditional and modern apparel - kurung, kebaya, baju melayu, shirts & blouses, skirts & pants - all kinds of curtains, and kapok matresses and pillows.
The thing is, she didn't need to do it; grandpa earned enough to support us. She did it for the love of doing it. She was one of those people who couldn't keep still, and the money was a welcome bonus.
My late aunt Sabariah (we called her Wan Su, being our youngest aunt) inherited Opah's talent for baking.
Wan Su specialised in those heavily decorated, multi-tiered wedding cakes and cakes for special occasions like birthdays, engagements and hantaran (wedding gift).
While my mum's culinary skills left much to be desired, she still cooked better than some housewives I know. It's me who's the absolute no-hoper between the four of us.
It is heartening to note that my youngest daughter Nawwar has taken to the kitchen. She takes the trouble to learn family favourites from her paternal grandmother and tries them at home.
My former mother-in-law, Puan Sri Halimah, who lives in Petaling Jaya, has a soft spot for Awwa because of this. She would turun padang (get going) just to show Awwa how a dish is prepared.
She even taught Awwa her best-kept secret, ayam kuzi, which is now a must in our family on the mornings of Aidil Fitri and Aidil Adha (Muslim religious festivals).
This chicken dish with thick gravy made of evaporated milk and tomato puree is Arabic in origin and is best eaten with ghee rice.
Puan Sri is an accomplished cook. Her Kedah-style fish curry has no equal. She used to make me sit and watch step-by-step as she prepared the curry, but I was too thick to absorb anything (or perhaps my interest just wasn't there, hehe).
At past 80, I was told she still ventures into the kitchen sometimes, especially when the entire jingbang gather during weekends and such.
In this new place, we have just bought a cooker. I am thinking of cooking for the family this weekend. Don't know yet what the menu's going to be.
All I know is that I miss the kids crowding me in the kitchen, getting into my hair, messing up the sofa, trying to be civil while fighting over that last piece of chicken leg and making noise at the dining table.
I know, I know. I am suffering from that empty nest syndrome...
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
The Screaming Banshee
Sometimes people simply go out of their way to scare the crap out of you, and I don't mean the hoo-haa about displaying graphic images of diseased lungs on cigarette packs.
As you know, my condo unit is in full view of a cemetery, which, truth be told, is no big deal. Then comes my nephew-in-law with his spooky tale.
Shawn, husband to my niece Karina, runs a house-and-office cleaning business. I had invited them over so he could estimate the cost of cleaning this unit.
As he looked out the balcony, he saw the other condo development across the big drain flowing by our place.
Excitedly pointing to a penthouse at the highrise, he said: "You see that penthouse? They have a pontianak (banshee) lurking somewhere near there. So many people have heard the occasional mengilai (shrieking) sounds in the wee hours of the morning."
Jeez, I felt like wringing the fellow's neck. I am a known chicken-heart and tales like these don't sit well with me. "You gotta be kidding," I squeaked, my nape prickling.
"Alah, I don' know how far it's true la Mak Ngah (middle aunt), but my company cleans that place regularly and we were told about it by the workers there," he soothed.
As you would have noticed by now, I prefer to write past midnight. Somehow I always think best in the quiet of the night.
But since that 'revelation', I find myself listening keenly to the sounds around me. Frankly, I don't want to hear any screaming banshee and I think the story is sheer humbug, yet you never know....
As you know, my condo unit is in full view of a cemetery, which, truth be told, is no big deal. Then comes my nephew-in-law with his spooky tale.
Shawn, husband to my niece Karina, runs a house-and-office cleaning business. I had invited them over so he could estimate the cost of cleaning this unit.
As he looked out the balcony, he saw the other condo development across the big drain flowing by our place.
Excitedly pointing to a penthouse at the highrise, he said: "You see that penthouse? They have a pontianak (banshee) lurking somewhere near there. So many people have heard the occasional mengilai (shrieking) sounds in the wee hours of the morning."
Jeez, I felt like wringing the fellow's neck. I am a known chicken-heart and tales like these don't sit well with me. "You gotta be kidding," I squeaked, my nape prickling.
"Alah, I don' know how far it's true la Mak Ngah (middle aunt), but my company cleans that place regularly and we were told about it by the workers there," he soothed.
As you would have noticed by now, I prefer to write past midnight. Somehow I always think best in the quiet of the night.
But since that 'revelation', I find myself listening keenly to the sounds around me. Frankly, I don't want to hear any screaming banshee and I think the story is sheer humbug, yet you never know....
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Serabai, Love at First Bite
I desperately need a holiday; no, not one of those crazy European jaunts costing a small fortune and covering 10 countries in 15 days. That's sheer madness.
All I need is just a short break. I really need a breather after the house moving and before the next big task, an exhibition-cum-conference at the end of this month.
[To digress; son Joe left for Redang Island off Terengganu over the weekend for a spot of diving with some friends. Lucky fellows..]
A weekend in Penang would do. There's always Nasi Kandar Line Clear, Gurney Drive 'glutton square' and the absolutely marvelous street market at Batu Feringhi to look forward to.
Pak Abu is simply crazy about that Line Clear nasi kandar; he thinks it's the best ever. As for me, I am so-so with mamak food. Being half-Kelantanese, my taste veers towards Thai cooking.
Two years ago in Penang our lecturer friend Maria invited us over for breakfast at her place where she served this apom-like dish called serabai, eaten with sweet gravy.
Serabai is a puffed-up small pancake off-white in colour and steamed before serving. It is best eaten with sweet gravy (perhaps with durian flesh thrown in) but spicy curry does the job just as well.
I knew of serabai but had never seen nor eaten it until that day in Maria's place. It was love at first bite for me; I couldn't get enough of it. But where can you get serabai in Kuala Lumpur?
All I need is just a short break. I really need a breather after the house moving and before the next big task, an exhibition-cum-conference at the end of this month.
[To digress; son Joe left for Redang Island off Terengganu over the weekend for a spot of diving with some friends. Lucky fellows..]
A weekend in Penang would do. There's always Nasi Kandar Line Clear, Gurney Drive 'glutton square' and the absolutely marvelous street market at Batu Feringhi to look forward to.
Pak Abu is simply crazy about that Line Clear nasi kandar; he thinks it's the best ever. As for me, I am so-so with mamak food. Being half-Kelantanese, my taste veers towards Thai cooking.
Two years ago in Penang our lecturer friend Maria invited us over for breakfast at her place where she served this apom-like dish called serabai, eaten with sweet gravy.
Serabai is a puffed-up small pancake off-white in colour and steamed before serving. It is best eaten with sweet gravy (perhaps with durian flesh thrown in) but spicy curry does the job just as well.
I knew of serabai but had never seen nor eaten it until that day in Maria's place. It was love at first bite for me; I couldn't get enough of it. But where can you get serabai in Kuala Lumpur?
[pix of Serabai courtesy of Raqin Rafiqyn of Photopages)
Saturday, July 5, 2008
The Road Not Taken
Left: The TrioEver wonder what life would have been like had you taken a completely different path in your younger days?
I know it is an exercise in futility; in fact it can even bring back searingly painful memories. But I do indulge in it occasionally and the pain does ease over time.
Pak Abu said he rued the day he decided not to go for his doctorate, despite advice from his professor, all because he wanted so badly to come home after spending many years in a foreign land.
For me, the lowest ebb of my life was when I had to turn down offers from a couple of universities in the US because my maternal instinct was stronger than my academic aspiration.
I had just graduated from a local college and was given an opportunity under the TESL (Teaching English as a Second Language) programme to pursue an English course that would officially qualify me to teach college-level English.
Instead, the ex and I got involved in a tussle of wills. I had wanted the children with me but he was adamant they weren't going anywhere without him.
A stalemate ensued; someone had to back down and that someone had to be me. Deep down I knew I could not concentrate on my studies with the thought of those three kids on my mind.
With the benefit of hindsight, would I have acted any differently? Not very likely. I just don't have it in me to be ruthlessly selfish in pursuit of a dream.
Perhaps I'm just weak-willed, but when it involves the children, I know they will always come first, at whatever cost.
The Road Not Taken (Robert Frost, 1915)
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood
and I--I took the one less traveled by
And that has made all the difference.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Stranded on Expressway at 3am
It was one of those dreaded phone calls parents pray they wouldn't get. Maybe I am overreacting, but I am the mother of two daughters in their 20s, so I dread this kind of SOS calls.
It was 3 o'clock this morning when daughter Ann called, saying her car broke down at Mile 13.5 of NKVE (New Klang Valley Expressway), just past Subang toll plaza on the road to Klang.
She had just finished work and was giving two colleagues a lift; one to Klang and the other to Sri Hartamas, before going home herself to Bandar Utama.
I was beside myself with worry. That stretch of the highway is pretty lonely even in daytime, but there are a lot of heavy vehicles at night heading towards Port Klang and the South.
Fortunately she was with two others; still safety wasn't guaranteed. Pak Abu and I, together with Naj in another car, immediately headed out to the place.
We got there within 20 minutes. While Naj sent the two journalists home we waited with Ann in a light drizzle for a towtruck that never came.
Unfortunately, none of us had phone numbers of independent towing companies handy. Looking around, I felt a chill up my spine, especially since there were many trees and bushes by the side of the expressway.
I told everyone to get into our car and lock the door, for safety's sake. In the mean time, Ann tried calling AAM, but her membership has expired, so they were not very helpful.
They said they would try to get a towtruck and would call her back. They never did.
We waited for 45 minutes for a call that never came. Next she called Proton Assist, but since her car is from Perodua, they declined to help but asked her to call Plus Ronda instead, which she did.
They arrived within 20 minutes, checked her car and decided to tow it to the nearest toll plaza - the Shah Alam Bukit Jelutong Plaza - for safety.
They were efficient, helpful and kindly, at 4.30 am. Kudos to Plus for having such courteous staff. To the two guys manning towtruck WPP 6004, we can't thank you enough.
We finally got home past 5am, tired and hungry, but went to bed instead.
Pak Abu said Ann was foolhardy to attempt to drive all the way to Klang at that hour, but she argued there were three of them.
On my part, I was in no mood to give my five-sen worth. I was just glad it ended well.
It was 3 o'clock this morning when daughter Ann called, saying her car broke down at Mile 13.5 of NKVE (New Klang Valley Expressway), just past Subang toll plaza on the road to Klang.
She had just finished work and was giving two colleagues a lift; one to Klang and the other to Sri Hartamas, before going home herself to Bandar Utama.
I was beside myself with worry. That stretch of the highway is pretty lonely even in daytime, but there are a lot of heavy vehicles at night heading towards Port Klang and the South.
Fortunately she was with two others; still safety wasn't guaranteed. Pak Abu and I, together with Naj in another car, immediately headed out to the place.
We got there within 20 minutes. While Naj sent the two journalists home we waited with Ann in a light drizzle for a towtruck that never came.
Unfortunately, none of us had phone numbers of independent towing companies handy. Looking around, I felt a chill up my spine, especially since there were many trees and bushes by the side of the expressway.
I told everyone to get into our car and lock the door, for safety's sake. In the mean time, Ann tried calling AAM, but her membership has expired, so they were not very helpful.
They said they would try to get a towtruck and would call her back. They never did.
We waited for 45 minutes for a call that never came. Next she called Proton Assist, but since her car is from Perodua, they declined to help but asked her to call Plus Ronda instead, which she did.
They arrived within 20 minutes, checked her car and decided to tow it to the nearest toll plaza - the Shah Alam Bukit Jelutong Plaza - for safety.
They were efficient, helpful and kindly, at 4.30 am. Kudos to Plus for having such courteous staff. To the two guys manning towtruck WPP 6004, we can't thank you enough.
We finally got home past 5am, tired and hungry, but went to bed instead.
Pak Abu said Ann was foolhardy to attempt to drive all the way to Klang at that hour, but she argued there were three of them.
On my part, I was in no mood to give my five-sen worth. I was just glad it ended well.
Pillow Talk, Sort Of...
When I was a little girl, my grandmother taught me how to wake up on time without the benefit of an alarm clock.
"Just pat your pillow a couple of times and gently ask it to wake you up. It will, take my word for it," grandma said. And that is what I have been practising without fail ever since.
I would like to have it known that, after more than half a century, my pillows (and there must have been over a hundred since) have not failed me yet.
Pak Abu laughed when I first told him of this. Yet, those pillows have been instrumental in making sure Pak Abu does not miss his morning golf.
Don't get me wrong, though. It's not like I believe in the powers of pillows or anything (apart from the fact that pillows can make you feel woozy) - far from it. Let's just say I don't understand it but am not losing sleep over it.
Some things are just beyond explanation. Take my subuh (dawn) prayers, for example. I am a habitual early riser, up and about by 6 am, which gives me no reason whatsoever to miss my morning prayers.
Yet, there had been times when I tried to glue my eyes shut upon hearing the azan (call to prayers), mostly out of reluctance to leave the warm bed.
And guess what? The moment I drifted off to sleep again, rest assured one of these three things would happen - either the blanket was slowly pulled off me, or someone/something would tickle the sole of my foot, or a voice would say "HAH!" into my ears.
I am not afraid. I prefer to think of it as a gentle reminder from someone who cares.
As my grandparents used to say: "We are surrounded by God's creatures, seen and unseen, good and evil. Some are kind and helpful, some are bad and destructive."
"We are never alone. Learn to accept and live alongside them just as we do with our fellow humans." I think that's the wisest advice yet.
"Just pat your pillow a couple of times and gently ask it to wake you up. It will, take my word for it," grandma said. And that is what I have been practising without fail ever since.
I would like to have it known that, after more than half a century, my pillows (and there must have been over a hundred since) have not failed me yet.
Pak Abu laughed when I first told him of this. Yet, those pillows have been instrumental in making sure Pak Abu does not miss his morning golf.
Don't get me wrong, though. It's not like I believe in the powers of pillows or anything (apart from the fact that pillows can make you feel woozy) - far from it. Let's just say I don't understand it but am not losing sleep over it.
Some things are just beyond explanation. Take my subuh (dawn) prayers, for example. I am a habitual early riser, up and about by 6 am, which gives me no reason whatsoever to miss my morning prayers.
Yet, there had been times when I tried to glue my eyes shut upon hearing the azan (call to prayers), mostly out of reluctance to leave the warm bed.
And guess what? The moment I drifted off to sleep again, rest assured one of these three things would happen - either the blanket was slowly pulled off me, or someone/something would tickle the sole of my foot, or a voice would say "HAH!" into my ears.
I am not afraid. I prefer to think of it as a gentle reminder from someone who cares.
As my grandparents used to say: "We are surrounded by God's creatures, seen and unseen, good and evil. Some are kind and helpful, some are bad and destructive."
"We are never alone. Learn to accept and live alongside them just as we do with our fellow humans." I think that's the wisest advice yet.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Good Vibes Thus Far
The view from the balcony of our new abode is both refreshing and sobering, to say the least.
Looking up you can see an expanse of green, for our unit faces the Kiara Forest Reserve. Nestling at the foothills in the near distance are some bungalows.
It's also quite airy up here on the 10th floor and feeling the rush of the cool morning air as I open the balcony sliding doors is the best thing yet.
Looking down, however, brings you firmly back to earth and beyond in every sense of the word.
This is because in full view is the Kg Sungai Pencala Muslim Cemetery, with its white tombstones and shady trees.
Some people probably get the chills just thinking of living within sight of a cemetery. We prefer to think of it as a constant reminder of how transient our lives on earth are.
There are two mosques nearby, one in Pinggiran TTDI and the other one way down the main road at the Kg Sungai Pencala intersection.
The azan (call to prayers) is crystal clear, especially during subuh (dawn), although I am not quite sure which mosque it issues from.
We have been here all of two days; I am still adjusting. It's funny how befuddled one can be when one is not familiar with one's surroundings.
We couldn't find the garbage dump so we faithfully carted our refuse back to the old place, until the cleaners told us where the central disposal unit is located on our floor.
I have good vibes so far and I hope it stays. God willing, we'll get the thanksgiving ceremony done next week.
Looking up you can see an expanse of green, for our unit faces the Kiara Forest Reserve. Nestling at the foothills in the near distance are some bungalows.
It's also quite airy up here on the 10th floor and feeling the rush of the cool morning air as I open the balcony sliding doors is the best thing yet.
Looking down, however, brings you firmly back to earth and beyond in every sense of the word.
This is because in full view is the Kg Sungai Pencala Muslim Cemetery, with its white tombstones and shady trees.
Some people probably get the chills just thinking of living within sight of a cemetery. We prefer to think of it as a constant reminder of how transient our lives on earth are.
There are two mosques nearby, one in Pinggiran TTDI and the other one way down the main road at the Kg Sungai Pencala intersection.
The azan (call to prayers) is crystal clear, especially during subuh (dawn), although I am not quite sure which mosque it issues from.
We have been here all of two days; I am still adjusting. It's funny how befuddled one can be when one is not familiar with one's surroundings.
We couldn't find the garbage dump so we faithfully carted our refuse back to the old place, until the cleaners told us where the central disposal unit is located on our floor.
I have good vibes so far and I hope it stays. God willing, we'll get the thanksgiving ceremony done next week.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
We Have Moved!
We have finally moved. The lorry and four workers arrived 9.00 am Monday and by noon delivery was completed. Not surprising, considering the new place is only three streets away in the same neighbourhood.
Despite discarding all the furniture (save for an almost brand-new sofa bed) and more than half of our accumulated junk, we still ended up with about 40 boxes and an assortment of suitcases and bags.
More than half of those boxes however, contained books and magazines, so I am not complaining. The next task would be to dust them and put them up on the shelves. I'll take my time on this.
Pak Abu, however, is not in the best of moods. he couldn't get the Astro service connected to watch Wimbledon, and the technician is only available tomorrow (Tuesday). Suffice to say he's been cranky all day.
Poor Pak Abu. He was like a little boy in a toy shop the day we went to buy the new TV and home theatre system. He had been testing the sound system all afternoon, in anticipation of watching all the sports channels.
He is now reduced to playing Solitaire on his laptop. As for me, I just don't have the time to worry about Astro. The sight of those stack upon stack of boxes is already driving me nuts.
I spent the entire afternoon 'fixing' the kitchen. I am glad to say it's done although the most important item, the cooker, has yet to be purchased. Maybe tomorrow, if time permits.
It has been a very tiring day. Gute nacht!
Despite discarding all the furniture (save for an almost brand-new sofa bed) and more than half of our accumulated junk, we still ended up with about 40 boxes and an assortment of suitcases and bags.
More than half of those boxes however, contained books and magazines, so I am not complaining. The next task would be to dust them and put them up on the shelves. I'll take my time on this.
Pak Abu, however, is not in the best of moods. he couldn't get the Astro service connected to watch Wimbledon, and the technician is only available tomorrow (Tuesday). Suffice to say he's been cranky all day.
Poor Pak Abu. He was like a little boy in a toy shop the day we went to buy the new TV and home theatre system. He had been testing the sound system all afternoon, in anticipation of watching all the sports channels.
He is now reduced to playing Solitaire on his laptop. As for me, I just don't have the time to worry about Astro. The sight of those stack upon stack of boxes is already driving me nuts.
I spent the entire afternoon 'fixing' the kitchen. I am glad to say it's done although the most important item, the cooker, has yet to be purchased. Maybe tomorrow, if time permits.
It has been a very tiring day. Gute nacht!
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