The Magic of Reunion

I was looking for a familiar face as I entered the porch of the house.

“Where’s Mushu?”  My mind and voice spoke in unison.

I greeted my grandparents, my aunt, my uncle and my cousins and headed straight to the backyard.

Ah, here you are buddy!  My my, how you’ve grown! Granny must be feeding you well.

“Nah, we feed him this everyday, Ah Yau brings this back from work.” My grandma was holding something that looked pretty much like a doggy bag.

Wah… Nando’s chicken bones.

My cousin has been in Penang for awhile now, working part time at Nando’s as he awaits his SPM results and his turn for National Service.  This is the family from my father’s side.  Being the only granddaughter, I was not very close to my cousin brothers back then.  After one of them passed away, we grew up a little bit more and started to make an effort to get to know one another.  Now, we talk and joke like old friends, mainly poking fun at the older generation.

I was glad Mushu could still recognize me, as he still responds to my voice.  After the usual eat-and-talk reunion dinner, I asked my youngest cousin if we wanted to take the dog for a walk.  Mind you, my youngest cousin is taller than me.

“He wouldn’t go out.  I tried taking him out for a walk but he just wouldn’t get past the gate.”

I laughed.  For his size and type, Mushu has abnormally been an indoor dog, since he grew up in our little apartment.  At granny’s he would only run about the compound and inside the house.  The outside world was much too scary for him.

“Let’s try again.” I smiled.

We walked him towards the gate, and he started to show a little hesitance.  I snapped my fingers a few times and said what I used to say, “Here, Mushu, come here.”  He followed.  My cousin was pretty much amazed and excited at the same time that he was actually going to take Mushu for a walk!  It wasn’t a completely smooth journey.  Mushu would sniff every nook and corner, and I would have to call him a few times to get him moving.  He would walk a little and then sit for 5 seconds before he starts walking again.  He repeated that routine a few times until we were halfway past the neighborhood.  And then he ran out of steam.

My buddy was homesick already.

We went towards the opposite direction and boy, was he eager to run home!  No sitting breaks this time, just a nice straight route home.  Of course, at first he wanted to enter the house next to ours, which was a nice double-storey corner house.  This boy knew his stuff.  My cousin and I were proud of his brave attempt to finish half the journey, and we think he would go further next time.  For now, he’s a good boy.

As we caught up with one another while watching TV, I felt an urge to take a walk outside.  Where my granny lives, it’s quite a peaceful neighborhood and the stars were just shining brightly tonight.

I walked towards the end of the road where I saw a familiar house.  A house I spent most my childhood years in.  A house that was once my second home.  My former babysitter.  I stood outside the house for awhile, and then I saw another cute four-legged pal greeting me at the door.

Long time no see.

I rang the doorbell, and Uncle came to the door.  He stared at me for awhile, possibly found it hard to recognize me from afar under the dim streetlights.

“Uncle!  Happy New Year!!”

“Aaaaahhh!  It’s you, Munn!  Come in, come in!”

Then I saw everyone.  My babysitter, and her two children who were like brothers and sisters to me.  We had our share of laughters, blood (no, really) and tears together.  And we’re all in our 20′s now.  My babysitter and her husband suddenly looked much older to me.

They were playing mahjong, a tradition at every New Year’s Eve, and I was sitting next to my babysitter, just talking and catching up.  Her garden looks fabulous like before, she still has dogs, wears the same kind of pajamas and still possesses her sense of humor.

“Wah, your Mandarin has improved a lot!” My babysitter noticed.

“Yeah, change of environment can do that to a person.  Adapt or suffer.”  Yes, change has been such a constant I hardly feel it anymore.  We continued to update one another about our lives and spoke about the old times, such as the incident where her son and I were playing a game of checkers, and I cheated, he got mad, banged the glass table with his fist and it (the table) shattered, and how we both went into hiding when we heard her come home.  It was embarrassing then, but it’s just so funny now.

“Eh? Why suddenly you’re the one winning all the money?”  Her daughter asked as my babysitter collected her “wins” from the other players.

“Because I’m sitting right next to her mah!”  I kiddingly replied.

“Yes! You’re my lucky star! You’re not going home tonight, sleep here like you used to!”  The house was filled with roars of laughter, just like before.  I guess some things are best left unchanged.

My phone rang, and at the end of the line was my brother, asking me where I was.  They were on their way to pick me up.

To be honest, I’m not an avid fan of Chinese New Year.  It’s a season where it’s too hot, too red and too noisy (and nosy, for some).  But I like the Eve.  There’s something in the air during the Eve that brings everyone together.  A prompt to say hello again.  Exclusively for family only.

And tonight, I reunited with not one, but two families that hold a very dear place in my heart.

Ah, I hear the fireworks now.  Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to wish my parents a Happy Chinese New Year.

Same goes for you too. =)

A Crabby Weekend

I was on a mission last weekend.  Was actually a tad lazy to post this but I am in the midst of clearing up my to-do list before Chinese New Year.  Anyway, I promised Krista I’d do a short review on this since she was the one who sent me on this mission in the first place.

Went to Ipoh for three reasons:

  1. To deliver The Kooky Jar cookies
  2. To see my dearly-missed friends
  3. To find and taste the famous Bercham claypot crabs

Mission 1 & 2 were easy.  Mission 3, though, I had to cajole three other friends to navigate, drive and accompany me to this widely talked-about place.  All four of us in a Myvi, partially lost and partially hungry.

The restaurant’s name is called “Rasa Lain”, and it’s located quite deep within the housing areas of Bercham.  But my guess is that even if you don’t know the place, just get yourself to Bercham first, wind down your window and ask anyone from that area – they ought to know.

It’s a typical Chinese kopitiam-style restaurant with red tablecloths and green plastic chairs.  My friends, being more proficient in Cantonese took the liberty to order and these are what we had:

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Clockwise from top left: Claypot Crabs with (a lot of) Glass Noodles, Fried Brinjal, Steamed Lala with Ginger & Chili, (Huge) Fish Balls

The claypot crab was quite good.  I’m a huge seafood fan, so I don’t find this very fascinating but at least they were juicy and fresh.  The soup base is a tad peppery, and I always find it annoying when I accidentally chew on pepper balls.  The portion was HUGE.  We ordered the size for 3, and even though there were four of us, we couldn’t finish it.  I’m sure others with different taste buds would find this dish pretty amazing, it’s worth giving it a try if you haven’t already.

As for the fried brinjal… I’m not a fan of purple food so I’m not going to comment much on this.  But the other three were trying to convince me that it was really really good.  I still ate some.  I still don’t like purple food.  Hehe.

I am a fanatic when it comes to steamed lala with ginger and chili.  Was I glad when I saw this served that night.  The way it’s served is pretty unique on its own, as each lala comes with only one side of its shell.  Taste-wise?  If this was my first time having this dish, I would’ve claimed it champion.  But then, I’ve had this dish at Boston’s (Klang), Ilyana’s (Penang) and at my very own home and I must say that it didn’t live up to my expectations.  Perhaps it’s due to the fact that they didn’t add wine into this one, or if they did, I could hardly taste it.

And the fish balls?  Huge.  Like any fish ball.

I’m not a picky person when it comes to food.  I still down anything edible as long as it doesn’t kill me.  And it’s always the company that matters anyway.  I am absolutely grateful for those three who were willing to layan and bring me there.

Overall, I’d say that this place is worth a try.  I’m sure brinjal-lovers will love that particular dish, and the lala and crabs deserve some praises too for being well-prepared and fresh.  The entire meal cost about Rm85, about Rm21 per person.  Cheap or expensive, that depends on your spending power.  For me, I’m glad I gave this a shot, but I don’t think I’d specifically go all the way there again to satisfy my craving for seafood.

Oh, by the way, don’t rely too much on Google maps to take you there.   Or, don’t rely too much on Google maps to take you anywhere in small towns like Georgetown and Ipoh.

There.  Mission accomplished.

I Say a Goodbye, and then a Hi…again and again.

Back in our schooling days in uniforms and pinafores, we were told that our friends will last forever. From friendship rings, matching clothes, secret handshakes and languages – we never really thought much about tomorrows; tomorrows without one another. Even at home, our conversations with our parents were filled with “what he did”, “what she said” and “where we went”.

No one warned us about the Crossroads. Some of us knew, but chose to not think about it. After all, why worry about the future when the present was so insanely fun?

But alas, like the many inevitable stages in life, we all found ourselves standing at the roundabout wondering which turn to take. And suddenly, friendship rings, matching clothes, secret handshakes and languages don’t matter anymore because it seemed like everyone else had them too. All we had left, were Promises. Promises so fragile, so easily broken by Change. As each of us embark on our own Paths, we can only Hope to return to the same junction one day and see each other again. This usually happens by the time we all turn Seventeen. I think that is an even more crucial age than Twenty-One.

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There isn’t one true definition about what true friends are. No, there are many. We define true friends based on what we need in a friend according to the different times in our lives. When we’re at the lowest points in our lives, we define true friends as those who would be our crying shoulders. When we have things to say, yet unsure of how to say them, our true friends are those who can comprehend our thoughts just by looking at us.

To the idealists, true friends are those who would lay down their lives for you. But I say, as much truth as that sentence contains, that could only happen once. There is one act that is more painful and it happens more often than we think.

Because most of the time, true friends are just those who would put their ego and pride on the line for you.

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Sings out loud in public with you, take a spin with you on the dance floor even when no one else is dancing, makes fun of you and allows to be made fun at, and yet sits and listens to you when you need to be heard. Someone who doesn’t mind that her favourite color is not yours. That differences are crucial, and similarities are just plain awesome.

We Meet and Leave at the crossroads over and over again. No one warned us about that routine.

“I could sit here with you guys all night.”

“It’d be crazy to sit here in the afternoon though.”

“Yeah. And the grass is kinda pokey too.”

“The grass is poking my buuuutttt!”

“Nah, sit on my sandals.”

“Ahhh.. that’s why you’re the engineer…”

“Oh shut up. But yeah. I could sit here with you guys all night.”

We were told that our friends will last forever. Here’s to some of us who still Believe in that.

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