The joy of meeting friends from cyberspace

Some time back, in the early days of this 3-year old blog, I wrote the following :

I created this blog primarily as an avenue to sharpen my writing and story-telling skills. It's a very modest journal on personal experiences mostly. It also gives me the chance to meet other writers in blogosphere. Along the way, I get to be friends with readers, commenters and other fellow bloggers... and this is a good thing. Thanks to all of you for dropping by and having something to say about what I write. Most appreciated. I truly hope that we'll be able to meet in real life, one day.

During my young days in primary school, I loved writing. English composition was my favourite subject. Those days I wrote to a number of pen pals (wonder if such a hobby still exists today). I never got to meet any of my letter-writing friends. The interest in writing stopped for a while when I went for further studies. Thanks to this phenomenon of blogging, I re-discovered this old pastime.

In blogosphere, I came across other like-minded souls. I am glad to note that I have succeeded in meeting some of my blogger friends and regular commenters... and with that, I hope our friendship will continue to last.

The very first blogger-friend I met in person is Versedanggerik who lives in Kuantan. That was back in 2008. I met her again early this year when I was again in Kuantan and she graciously invited me for tea so that she could introduce me to her other half. As it turns out, Mr Ahan and I do have something in common.

One weekend in early May, I managed to meet up with Kak Teh and her hubby Awang Goneng for the latter's book promotion at MPH Mid-valley. The following week, I met Emila Yusof at Silverfish books in Bangsar. I met Emila again early this week when she handed over a watercolour painting of hers that I decided to buy.

An original Emila Yusof creation called Rose II

On the 4th of June, I attended the wedding of Zendra's son, where I got to meet Kak Zen and her husband Red Alfa. Finally, two days ago I met up with Pak Zawi at his daughter's house in Puchong, to hand over the autographed copy of Awang Goneng's `A Map of Trengganu'.

Pak Zawi with his adorable grandchildren

Putting them all as a list will look like this :-

1. Versedanggerik - Ahan in the afternoon
2. Kak Teh - Choc-a-bloc blog
3. Emila Yusof - Emila Yusof's Illustrations
4. Zendra Maria - Zendra's fascinations
5. Pak Zawi - Life as I see it

Really lovely people, all of them. I am glad to have met their acquaintance. There are many more of the wonderful friends on my blogroll whom I wish to meet. God willing, the time will come when our paths cross in real life.

Telling the truth now, will hurt... but not telling will hurt even more

There are certain times in our lives when we face a situation that puts us in dilemma. More often than not, such a situation is a result of a decision or choice we made quite a long time ago. At the point in time when the decision was made, we believed that it was the correct one, or at least it was the most appropriate one under the circumstances. In actual fact, we are merely pushing the problem to a later date, hoping that somehow a favourable solution would present itself sometime in the future. Sooner or later, we come to the inevitable point of dealing with the matter, whether we like it or not.

A few days ago, my cousin met me to discuss about a problem she is facing. She is making preparations for the wedding of her only daughter in a few month's time. She wants my help to arrange for my mother (being the closest elder family member) to be present when she breaks an important piece of news to the young lady who's getting married. And what is this important bit of news that needs to be told?

The young lady is adopted. My niece is not my cousin's biological daughter. When my cousin got married many years ago, she found out that she couldn't bear any children of her own. An opportunity came by her way when someone gave up a baby girl for adoption. My cousin took up the offer and proceeded to raise the girl as her own. I can still remember the first time I set eyes on my cousin's new daughter. She was so cute and chubby, and everyone adored her.

The baby girl has now grown up to be a pretty young lady. She started work as a graphic designer a few years ago and her hand is now sought in marriage by a handsome young man.

The time has therefore arrived for the mother to reveal to the daughter who she actually is. It is something that cannot be avoided, especially in Muslim marriages. My cousin is now in the unenviable position of finding a way of breaking the news to the young lady. I can picture the heartache and grief that both mother and daughter will face when the news is broken. Expect tears to flow, all around.

Why is my cousin asking me for advice? Because I have first-hand experience of such a situation. My own youngest sister is adopted. The day when my parents told her the real story was one of the saddest days of my life.

I recall the day very well. My mother had called me one day, asking me to come home urgently. Something to do with my sister, she said. I went to my parent's home with my wife. On reaching there, I saw that all my three younger brothers have already arrived. When we were all seated, my father started to speak. The old man is a seasoned speaker and he delivered the story in a most gentle and calm manner as he could. Even so, how are we to know what my sister felt at that time? When my father finished speaking, it was the turn of my mother... and the emotions started to flow as soon as she spoke. When she finished, the time came for the brothers to speak. Being the eldest, I spoke first. I wasn't sure what I said had helped relieve my sister's feeling of grief and possibly disappointment at that time.

I love my sister very much. Before she came into our life, we were four mischievous siblings, all boys. My mother brought her home when I was 13-years old. I helped my mother take care of her until the day I had to enroll into boarding school. Never once did it cross my mind that she and I do not carry the same blood.

I told my cousin our story. How she would approach her own situation now would very much depend on how she expect the reaction would be from her daughter. It would be preferable, I thought, if my cousin was to speak to her daughter on a one-to-one basis. The fewer people around, the better... because it always hurt you more to know that other people know about your background than your own self. But if my cousin feels that she needs our moral support, then we will be there. Whatever it is, I hope she doesn't wait too long. Waiting does not help lighten the sorrow...

Teluk Iskandar Inn

I am sitting at a lovely veranda as I type this entry... enjoying a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast with black coffee, while at the same time taking in a splendid view of the calm South China Sea. The day is bright and not yet warm and a gentle breeze blows. No doubt in a short while it would be hot and humid once the sun reaches its peak. Even so, I don't think that would spoil the peaceful and tranquil setting of this place.

The breakfast veranda

I am presently lodged at Teluk Iskandar Inn in Mersing on the east coast of Johor. We checked in late evening yesterday and plan to attend the wedding reception of our niece later this afternoon.

Teluk Iskandar Inn is a quaint, privately-run establishment owned by an elderly Malay couple, Puan Kamariah and Encik Ibrahim. It is located on a piece of land with sea frontage, not too far away from Mersing town. I have noticed this place many years ago but never had the chance to set foot in it. Mersing is my wife's hometown and it doesn't make sense to `balik kampung' and yet go stay at a hotel. This time around, we are back only for a wedding. The family kampung house has not been occupied for a few months and would need some effort to get cleaned.

I got to know of this inn from online reviews and have been keen to give it a try for quite some time. It doesn't have that many rooms and early booking is recommended. The rooms are set out in a elevated terraced layout that extends from the house proper (where the owners stay). The upper level is where the rooms are located while the area below (what Malays call kolong) have been simply but tastefully decorated as a lepak area. The bedrooms are basic but adequate... no fancy flatscreen satellite TV or the like, which would actually look out of place in such a rustic setting. But online addicts (yours truly included) need not fret... the wi-fi signal here is strong and reliable.

View from the beach side towards the house

Nice place to relax

Foreigners have been coming to Mersing and staying at this inn for many years. Their recommendations have made it even to Lonely Planet. At the rest lounge below the rooms, there is this framed hand-written list prepared by a Matsalleh couple. It lists out all the birds they have seen while staying here. There are 24 species. I'm no bird-watcher, so most of the names escape me... but one did capture my attention, the brahminy kite. This is a type of bird-of-prey that feeds on fish and other marine animals. I kept an eye out for the bird during my early morning walk on the beach to catch the sunrise, but did not spot any.

Lovely place, this Teluk Iskandar Inn... how I wish I can own such a place as this when I retire.

Sunrise on the east-coast

Sesekali ku rasa teringin...

I first started my career as an engineer with a state-government agency in Johor back in 1984. I shared a house with a few other bachelor friends from the same workplace. Our office was situated in the tower block of Kompleks Tun Abdul Razak, smack in the middle of Johor Bahru town.

Those days, the town's central wet market was situated next to Komtar. At the end of each working day when the market closes for business, the lanes surrounding it are taken over by push-cart hawkers and night vendors selling a variety of cooked food items and other knick-knacks. Among those selling the foodstuff is this one stall that sells nasi beringin. My housemates and I used to frequent this stall after work because the food is very tasty.

The central market was later torn down and shifted to another site in Larkin. In its place they built a shopping mall and office block now known as City Square. With the demolition of the market, the temporary night traders had to make way too. I didn't know where the nasi beringin seller moved to... and so ceased eating this dish for some time. There wasn't any other makan place in JB that sells the same stuff.

Many years later, a friend from Muar told me that there is a shop in the Tanjung Agas area selling nasi beringin. Whenever I have the chance to visit him, he would take me dinner at that place. The rice wasn't as tasty as the one I remember from the stall at JB wet market, but it wasn't too bad either.

During my first working stint in Kuala Lumpur a few years ago, an acquaintance from TNB Hq mentioned that there is a foodstall in Bangsar which sells delicious nasi beringin. I asked him for the exact location and then went to search for the place. The stall is located within a foodcourt inside an office block behind the NST Balai Berita... not really that difficult to find but getting a parking space is near torture. That is why I have been to the stall only once.

Earlier today, I was in the Bangsar area and remembered about the nasi beringin stall again. Since it was not yet quite mid-day, I decided to drop by the place ahead of the lunchtime crowd. But all would depend if I could find a space to park. As luck would have it, I manage to find an empty lot on my second driving lap around Jalan Riong and Jalan Liku. And so my lunch today was nasi beringin with beef rendang and boiled egg curry.

Today's lunch of nasi beringin and ice-lemon tea

Nasi beringin is rice flavoured with coconut milk and other spices, not unlike nasi lemak but with a more pungent aroma. It is normally eaten with chicken or beef, cooked in any style... fried, curry or rendang. The name has nothing to do with the pokok beringin (banyan tree), more famously known because of relation to ghost stories.

As far as I know, there is only this one place in KL that sells nasi beringin. Personally, there is nothing really that spectacular about the taste but if you wish to try a slightly different flavour from the normal rice, then it is worth it. This stall is very popular. The guy in front of me placed an order for thirty packs to `tapau'. As I enjoyed my meal, the clock approached lunch hour and the crowd started to form. Very good business.

Always give your best... no half-measures please

The following is a story I heard from the imam at the mosque after the zohor (mid-day) prayers earlier today. It touches on a theme which I have often heard but when presented with a fresh angle based on a supposedly true story, it makes it all the more interesting.

A medical student in a middle-eastern country and his professor were sitting down having tea one afternoon at a cafe. The  professor takes out a one-dinar (or whatever the unit of currency of that particular country) note and with a pen, starts to draw caricatures on the face of the country's leader shown on that note. The defaced portrait clearly indicated the lecturer's dislike for the leader.


He gives the note to the student and tells him that he can go buy anything with it.


`But this note is now worthless,' says the student. `It has been damaged. I can't buy anything with it.'


`Well... let's just try and see how ingenious you are,' the professor responds.


`Is there something to be learned from this?' the student asks.


`If you manage to part with this money by buying something, call me when the note makes its way back to you,' the professor replies.


They both leave the cafe and the student starts thinking on how he can use the defaced note to buy something. He decides to try at a fruit vendor. He buys six-dinar worth of fruits and hands over six one-dinar notes to the seller. Within the folded notes is the one with the defaced portrait. If the seller spots the worthless note, the student plans to pretend ignorance and replace it with another one.


The seller flicks through the folded notes and nods his okay. Phew, the student thought... my strategy works.


A month later, the student takes a taxi from the university back to his hostel. The fare is seven dinars. He hands over a 10-dinar note and slips the 3 dinar change the driver gives him straight into his shirt pocket.


Later that day, he prepares to wash his clothes and out comes three pieces of 1-dinar note from the shirt pocket. One of the three is the defaced note he had first given the fruit vendor. It has somehow made its way back to its starting point. The student remembers his professor's words and gave the senior man a call.


The lesson to be learnt here, says the professor, is that, whatever you do in life... one day you will get back the same in return. If you do slipshod work or put in half-hearted effort for others, the same will be done to you in the future. So, in anything that you do, please always do your best and with full sincerity.

Now... that indeed is a timely reminder to oneself.