A Coffee Shop And Chicken Blood

Sometimes, when I am in southeast Asia, I feel like I'm a million miles from home in a strange and unfamiliar place.

And other times, I would swear that I'm in my own backyard. 

Case in point. One evening, during my week-long stay with Baby Boy, he left his food stall in the capable hands of his wife, Ira, and took me out for a few hours of drinks and pleasant conversation.

Well, that was quite a change from the usual hustle-bustle of his busy evenings of food service, and I was happy to let him entertain me however he saw fit.

We kicked off our outing with a few work-related errands - dropping employees off here, making a bank deposit there. And then, after mulling over a number of possible restaurants, Baby Boy drove us through countless crowded streets and back alleys till we came to a quiet and out-of-the-way open-air coffee shop.

My head was still spinning with the complexities of our travels, so as we walked in and sat down, my senses could not absorb much information about my surroundings. But as we ordered our drinks and settled into our seats, my eyes landed on a nearby shrub covered with strikingly gorgeous blossoms. 

I crossed the patio and snapped several shots of the flowers. As I turned to head back towards my table, my eyes swept across the room and fully took in the all the details of the space. 

I was totally and utterly charmed. 

I didn't take many photos. The light was fading and anyway, I try not to play into the crazy American tourist stereotypes. 

But everywhere I looked, I saw clever design, gorgeous texture and color, inventive materials and a super cool urban aesthetic.

This place could be dropped right down in the trendiest hipster neighborhood of my trendy hipster hometown of Seattle and no one would bat an eyelash. The vibe was postmodern, chic and unarguably awesome. 

 

^ Our food and drinks arrived - smoothies in a look-alike Mason jar, meatballs smothered in a silky smooth sauce in a rustic metal platter - and lived up to the same happening standard.

^ And best of all, I realized that the table where we sat was the exact same table that sits on my American patio. I felt, literally, as if I were at home. And that was a happy, comforting, small-world-after-all way to feel.

^ Then we went to the wholesale market and bought a whole bunch of chicken for Baby Boy's stall. As usual, the plastic bags leaked and a trail of fresh blood followed us out of the store and into the steamy night air. 

And I knew I was in Asia after all. 

* * * * *

For more delicious stories about Baby Boy, try these:

A Story About Baby Boy

Back With Baby Boy

Lunch At Baby Boy's House

Malaysian Origami

A Coffee Shop And Chicken Blood

Grateful For Graffiti (And A Good Friend)

Malaysian Origami

Look. 

Big folded thingies made out of thick brown paper. Kind of like origami from old school grocery bags. I made these at the Shah Alam food stall of my friend, Baby Boy.

If you are Malaysian, you are probably smiling right now, and nodding your head up and down because you completely understand my delicious purpose.

But if you are a citizen of any other fine country, you might be wondering what the heck this is all about. So let me explain.

These creations begin as a large rectangular sheet of heavy paper - about 12 x 18 inches - that is coated with plastic on one side. With a few deft folds and creases, each one is transformed into a food container. Held as an inverted cone, the device is heaped with a meal called nasi lemak - chicken, spicy sambal, hard-boiled egg, cucumbers - then carefully folded shut. Once opened, the paper also serves as a disposable plate, thereby completing a perfect circle of economy and convenience.

Side note: Despite the fact that I ate nasi lemak regularly during my four weeks in Malaysia and also took a few billion photos every day, I don't have any of my own pictures of this device in action. There's a reason for that. Whenever I'm in proximity to a folded meal of this goodness, my mind is focused on eating. Ain't nobody got time for taking photos when there's warm nasi at hand.

As you may have guessed, good old Baby Boy serves plenty of nasi lemak at his food shop on the campus of UiTM, and while I was visiting him there, I helped out by folding several hundred of these bad boys every day. So happy that I could make this important contribution to the hungry tummies of Malaysian college students, and improve my origami skills at the same time.

* * * * *

For a super cute story about nasi lemak containers and my little friend, Aleesya, read this:

Rice Is Nice

* * * * *

For more delicious stories about Baby Boy, try these:

A Story About Baby Boy
Back With Baby Boy
Lunch At Baby Boy's House
A Coffee Shop And Chicken Blood
Grateful For Graffiti (And A Good Friend)

Lunch At Baby Boy's House

Last time I was in Malaysia, my friend, Baby Boy, cooked for me at his food shop. And yes, he prepared some fabulous meals there for me again this time as well.

But this time, Baby Boy also served me some delicious treats in his very own home

^ Like this fantastic feast of steamed crab with vegetables and ramen noodles. Every bite was savory and smooth, and I should know because I took about a billion bites. I do some serious overeating when Baby Boy cooks for me.

^ Not to be outdone by her husband's skills at the stove, Baby Boy's wife, Ira made me this banana split for dessert. I enjoyed every sweet and soothing morsel.

Thanks, Baby Boy and Ira, for feeding me like a princess. I'll come back for lunch again soon!

* * * * *

For more delicious stories about Baby Boy, try these:

A Story About Baby Boy

Back With Baby Boy

Malaysian Origami

A Coffee Shop And Chicken Blood

Grateful For Graffiti (And A Good Friend)

Beacons In The Blur

On my first Saturday in Malaysia, in a hotel room about the streets of Kota Baru, I was struck down by a miserable cold. 

On my first Sunday in Malaysia, I was feverish and coughing. By nightfall, I had lost my voice. Most of the day was an indistinct blur.

But a pleasant and interesting blur at that. From noon until midnight, I traveled by car from Kota Bharu, Kelantan, back to the big city of Kuala Lumpur. I'm sure I saw many novel sights from my seat, though I can't for the life of me remember what they might have been. 

Still, there were two images - both related to the day's meals - that sent me scrambling through my bag to dig out my phone for a photograph and they serve as beacons of light in my virus-induced fog.

^ Before setting out on our travels, we ate breakfast in Kota Bharu. Spicy and rice-y, my meal was delicious but what really captured my attention was the fruit hanging from this nearby tree. 

No, it is not durian. Given the soft bumps, large oblong shape, and proximity to the trunk of the tree, this is definitely jackfruit, an urelated but equally funky-looking local delicacy. Heaven help the poor soul who is standing underneath one of these babies when they decide to fall.

^ As evening fell, we drew near to KL and the massive traffic jams that surrounded our destination. Time to stop for dinner. As I stumbled from the car, my eyes fell along this sight line of color and shape. I couldn't help but be charmed by this modest decor, and the resourceful designer who made it happen.

A Tale Of Two Beaches

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

The east coast of Malaysia spreads out against the southern shore of the South China Sea. She is studded with gorgeous tropical beaches and for many of my Malaysian friends, a deep source of hometown pride and joy.

As I stood with my pale white toes in the warm eastern waves, I completely understood their passion.

It's hard to capture the all-encompassing beauty of the seaside in a series of photos, but I tried. Here, first, is Kelantan's Tumpat Beach, near the northern border of Malaysia which bumps up against the southern end of Thailand. It's a popular destination for the locals, and the warm, clear waves and golden sands are typically full of happy families enjoying their natural treasure.

I stood for a long time at the shoreline of this beach, enjoying the texture of the soft coral sand under my feet and watching the clear waves race over my toes. Soggy pant legs were a small price to pay for this heavenly pleasure.

A few days later and an hour to the south, I paid a visit to another lovely spot in Terengganu. More soft sand, warm waves and tropical bliss, but almost no people. The undercurrents are too strong for swimming so this beach is much less popular than busy Tumpat.

Sadly, I must confess that these photos hide an ugly truth.

The second beach, at Terengganu, is every bit as beautiful as these photos suggest.

But the first beach is living a lie.

I am sorry to say it, but Tumpat Beach has a big problem. 

A litter problem. 

Every square meter of that glorious oceanside playground in covered in litter. 

Plastic carry-out bags.

Empty water bottles.

Foam clam shells.

Plastic drink cups.

I could not bring myself to photograph the mess in a truthful light; most of my photos were carefully framed to avoid the trash. But if you squint at this shot of the kite-filled skies over the upper beach, you'll see the teltale white speckles across the Tumpat landscape.

It's a tragedy, isn't it.

As I wandered across these two beaches - one filthy and the other utterly pristine - my heart ached with sadness for sweet Malaysia,and my thoughts kept circling back to this:

People caused this litter problem. And people need to fix it.

And somehow, I think that I want to be part of the solution.

There is prodigious strength in sorrow and despair.

― Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

A Good Time

Welcome to Kota Bharu! Yes, on my very first weekend back In Malaysia, I was presented with an unexpected opportunity to travel through space and time to this Kelantanese never-never land, tucked up in the far reaches of the Malaysian countryside. 

And what a weekend it was.  Unplanned in every sense of the world, I found myself in a fascinating array of places and situations. 

After flying in to the local airport through a pounding thunderstorm, my first hours on the ground were spent cruising through neighborhoods with my host's eldest sister, Linda, and her family, as we picked up assorted relatives here and delivered them there. Many of the passing faces were familiar and it was great fun to watch their ordinary expressions shift in surprise as they gradually made out my pale face in the back of the dark car. Most people did not know that the American would be in town. 

I spent a pleasant night at Linda's house where I shared a bedroom and some sweet if simple conversation with her darling eleven-year-old daughter. The next morning, after watching mother help daughter into her prettiest dress and headscarf, we headed to off to a housewarming party. 

The party was held at the brand new home of my host's second-eldest sister, Yantie, and her family. I volunteered for kitchen duty and soon found myself sitting on the floor in my fancy baju kurung, preparing limes for the drinks, slicing desserts into servings, and chit-chatting with the other women. I love it when I fit in. 

By mid-afternoon, I was ready to move. Off I went, all by myself, to my hotel room in central Kota Bharu where I got myself settled, put out some texts to nearby friends, and sat down to wait. I had no idea what might happen next. 

The answer came soon enough. My friend, Juwe, resolved a handful of transportation problems and soon showed up on my doorstep to take me out and around the city. We walked for several hours, taking breaks to eat, enjoy the scenery, take photos, and eat some more. 

While I love the vibrant colors and gritty vibe of the streets of KB, I especially enjoyed my up-close-and-personal visit with the muddy Kelantan River. 

The next day, I spent time with my other friend named Juwe, who lives in KL and happened to be back in his hometown for a wedding. Interestingly, the two Juwes are best friends from childhood and it was an unexpected treat for me to spend time with the two of them together. 

As afternoon drifted into evening, the second Juwe and I rejoined his wife and children, who I've met before, as well as his mother, two brothers, one sister-in-law, three nephews and one darling niece. I enjoyed a long conversation with one brother about local tourist sites, and looked at a billion of his photos. During dinner, I totally hit it off with the sister-in-law who is a math teacher, just like me, and a beautiful speaker of English. The food, as usual, was to die for. 

By Sunday morning, all that was left to do was meet up with my host's big family for a nice nasi breakfast, and then begin the long journey back to the real world in faraway KL. 

Thanks for the memories, KB. I never know what to expect from you but you always show me a good time. 

Friends Forever

The first time I stood beneath these behemoths, the twin Petronas Towers of Kuala Lumpur, I was a newcomer to this side of the planet. Awestruck and culture-shocked, I was entirely dependent on my Malaysian host and entourage to keep me safe. 

Such a noob. 

Over the course of that first visit, I found myself in the shadow of the towers countless times. I got familiar with the nearby mall and park: I learned to navigate public transportation so I could come and go independently, I became quite comfortable bouncing here and there around the city by myself, using the Petronas icons as my Ground Zero and North Star. 

So on the third day is my second visit to Malaysia, when I found myself reunited with the skyscrapers, the circumstances and emotions were interestingly reversed. 

I came by myself, comfortable to spend an afternoon here while my host was occupied. 

I experienced a rush of fond memories and happy hours spent here in the past. 

I was confident and certain that I could handle myself here in the heart of bustling KL. 

I felt very much at home. 

So, Petronas Towers, you are no longer intimidating symbols of a foreign land to me. You are securely woven into the fabric my life's story, and i know we will be friends forever.