As stated above.
The journey back to Kedah was one heck of a stress-inducer. It took us nine hours before we finally reached. The jam was insanity. My parents were reaching their limit, and I could only bury my head in a pillow at the backseat. No driver's license, which means no help from me. Nope, none at all - and my brother wasn't up to driving my mother's huge car.
But yeah, the point is that we did make it in the end.
The journey back to Kedah was one heck of a stress-inducer. It took us nine hours before we finally reached. The jam was insanity. My parents were reaching their limit, and I could only bury my head in a pillow at the backseat. No driver's license, which means no help from me. Nope, none at all - and my brother wasn't up to driving my mother's huge car.
But yeah, the point is that we did make it in the end.
Since there was a market not too far away from where we lived, we checked that out in the morning before lunch.
These stuff are much cheaper in the Kedah market compared to PJ.
Pictures first, longer narration after that.
Pictures first, longer narration after that.
Two bottles of nail polish - and only RM6. The remover is RM1. Yes, I'm serious.
A new watch since I've used my old one for many, many years.
This girl here is Japanese, and she just married into the family!
Possibly one of the most memorable CNYs I've ever had.
Was it because I knew that I would be leaving soon?
Perhaps.
Things were memorable - in both the good and bad.
For the most part, I felt really bad. I honestly didn't want anything extra from my relatives (I mean, a little extra is fine, but when it goes overboard...you'd wish to jump into a hole, too), and things just got awkward over the money-pushing.
Scene One
An aunt gave me a sheet of paper.
"Here, this is from your uncle. He's too paiseh to give it to you, though."
I accepted the paper, wondering whether it was a note or something - and noticed it was a bank draft.
With my name on it.
With several zeroes to spare.
"But this," I said weakly, "This is in New Zealand dollars!"
Her smile was serene. "Yes, it is."
It had taken her an extra fifteen minutes to convince me to finally take the paper - and that was only because she told me that it would be difficult to return the money back to my uncle's account.
I didn't even want to think of what I could buy with it. All I knew was that I wanted to stow it away in my NZ bank account as soon as possible, and not touching it for a long, long time.
Scene Two
"Here, Li Anne, take this and go shopping."
I stared at another aunt dumbly, accepting the cash she had placed into my hands. "Shopping?"
"Shopping, yes," she said, looking confused. "Buy something you'd like for yourself before going over. Maybe some clothes?"
I hope she won't get upset if she ever finds out that I'll be shopping in LowYat, and not in Pyramid, with her money.
Conversations were mostly revolving around the standard topics, mainly a basic catch-up of what everyone was doing throughout the year. Among the frequent questions that were asked would be about my future, of course. I smiled and answered as politely as I could, noticing that they weren't exactly enthusiastic about my choice.
Scene Three
"So, what will you be doing?"
"Foundation in Arts," I said, realizing that all of them were now looking at me.
And the aunts and uncles raised their eyebrows. The uncle said, "Foundation in Arts?" He slurred it, like some sort of muck under a shiny, expensive Armani shoe. "Well, my daughter here," he patted his daughter's arm, "Would like to do Medicine in the future - New Zealand too."
I pitied the daughter immensely. She looked bored and spiteful.
She needed a dream, a certain direction. I just wish I could have told her that. Dreams made a huge difference.
Said uncle was not done. "So where will you be staying then?"
"Home-staying with a Kiwi family," I answered.
"Oh-ho. So there are people who cook meals for you? You're pretty pampered, aren't you?"
I didn't stand up, yell, or do anything of that sort. No, of course not. I merely smiled at him, and asked him sharply, "What?"
To which he had laughed and said, "Never mind."
I had already known.
For a long time, I knew. That no one took the idea of me becoming a writer seriously. I knew, I knew, I always did. And yet, it didn't matter - in the face of humiliation, it didn't matter whether you expected it or not - the mere act of having people so openly opposing you was irritating, not to mention hurtful.
In reality, of course, what I had wanted to say was, "I'm just a little different. At least I have a dream to fulfill, unlike you bunch of wankers over here."
My parents had told me that it was a waste of a brain to pursue Arts.
Which I, too, knew.
It wasn't as if I was that brilliant or anything. I was never able to match up with the smartest students in school, nor was I the one who bagged the most prizes for competitions. Heck, I was on the verge of failing Add Math. The only thing I felt proud about was being able to juggle the duties of a president and studies together (okay, with the exception of Add Math, I was doing fine with the rest) - while taking up piano, consistently writing in my spare time, and playing adviser to anyone who needed it.
And really, that was about the most that I did. No outstanding achievements, no earth-shattering news.
But if there was one thing I knew, it was that I had the determination and the guts. The determination to commit some screwed-up act, and the guts to acknowledge my own faults when it really, well, screws up.
I don't know.
I don't.
But anyway.
As mentioned, a cousin of mine had also recently married a Japanese girl. She came to Malaysia, and had joined us for one of the CNY visits.
It's not like anyone minded, but they were all ignoring her.The room was filled with excited chatters of both the young and the old, and the atmosphere was...well, just cheery. Or, it was supposed to be. I was one of the few who had gotten a little too irritated for any sort of conversation, so I had slipped into a corner, where I could observe the room quietly without appearing too anti-social (my mum always complained about that, especially when I was younger. At that time, I didn't see the point of building connections, or using them yet). Everyone seemed to be talking to someone, so that was fine...oh, wait.
The Japanese girl wasn't talking to anyone.
Or, more exactly, no one was talking to her.
She was sitting there alone with her hands folded, staring emptily into space, looking bored and awkward as can be. I noted that she was pretty, and quite young. Why wasn't anyone attempting to initiate a conversation with her? Why were they ignoring her? She was now part of the family, after all. What my relatives were doing was plain rude, and I didn't like it at all.
I knew how it felt like to be truly alone in a sea of conversation. I understood the loneliness, the disconcerting feeling. And that was when I made up my mind. Language barrier, age difference or not - it didn't matter. Someone had to make the first move, and I would do it.
And so I introduced myself to her with a little Japanese, feeling thankful that I had a year's worth of Japanese lessons and many hours of anime-watching experiences. And the most surprising thing was that she answered me in English, telling me that my Japanese was good. I raised an eyebrow - so she could speak English. All the more so that the rest of the people should have talked to her!
The rest of the conversation was mainly introductions - where we were from, our families, our circumstances - things like that. It wasn't anything special, but I could see that she genuinely appreciated the fact that I noticed - and spoke to her.
I also found out during this CNY that in reality, I have several Thai descendants. Which would mean that I'm part-Thai. Was I surprised? Very. Sure, it wasn't as if it would affect me in the future, but to me - well, if it was part of the family heritage, then it would have been prudent to tell me earlier on instead of dumping it on me randomly in the car. But really, Thai? Well, to be honest, it shouldn't have been that surprising. After all, Kedah is close to Thailand. I wouldn't have minded being part Portuguese, though. Imagine have Portuguese looks. I don't particularly look Thai. I look like - well, a freaking Chinese. Minus the extreme slit-eyes (which only occurs when I laugh hilariously as if the world's about to end and I have to close to my eyes due to the extreme hilarity of the situation) and minus the Chinese slang due to where I was brought up, of course.
Just...ugh.
Other than that, CNY was pretty much an enjoyable affair. There were fireworks, laughter, gambling (shame that I never mastered the art of chor dai di), and I even clinked wineglasses with my mum on the eve of CNY. There were steamboats, loads of amazing hawker food, oranges, fizzy drinks, junk food, and all sort of CNY paraphernalia that one would expect.
It just might be my last CNY here in Malaysia, and that's why I will never, ever forget it.
Sixteen more days.
"Foundation in Arts," I said, realizing that all of them were now looking at me.
And the aunts and uncles raised their eyebrows. The uncle said, "Foundation in Arts?" He slurred it, like some sort of muck under a shiny, expensive Armani shoe. "Well, my daughter here," he patted his daughter's arm, "Would like to do Medicine in the future - New Zealand too."
I pitied the daughter immensely. She looked bored and spiteful.
She needed a dream, a certain direction. I just wish I could have told her that. Dreams made a huge difference.
Said uncle was not done. "So where will you be staying then?"
"Home-staying with a Kiwi family," I answered.
"Oh-ho. So there are people who cook meals for you? You're pretty pampered, aren't you?"
I didn't stand up, yell, or do anything of that sort. No, of course not. I merely smiled at him, and asked him sharply, "What?"
To which he had laughed and said, "Never mind."
I had already known.
For a long time, I knew. That no one took the idea of me becoming a writer seriously. I knew, I knew, I always did. And yet, it didn't matter - in the face of humiliation, it didn't matter whether you expected it or not - the mere act of having people so openly opposing you was irritating, not to mention hurtful.
In reality, of course, what I had wanted to say was, "I'm just a little different. At least I have a dream to fulfill, unlike you bunch of wankers over here."
My parents had told me that it was a waste of a brain to pursue Arts.
Which I, too, knew.
It wasn't as if I was that brilliant or anything. I was never able to match up with the smartest students in school, nor was I the one who bagged the most prizes for competitions. Heck, I was on the verge of failing Add Math. The only thing I felt proud about was being able to juggle the duties of a president and studies together (okay, with the exception of Add Math, I was doing fine with the rest) - while taking up piano, consistently writing in my spare time, and playing adviser to anyone who needed it.
And really, that was about the most that I did. No outstanding achievements, no earth-shattering news.
But if there was one thing I knew, it was that I had the determination and the guts. The determination to commit some screwed-up act, and the guts to acknowledge my own faults when it really, well, screws up.
I don't know.
I don't.
But anyway.
As mentioned, a cousin of mine had also recently married a Japanese girl. She came to Malaysia, and had joined us for one of the CNY visits.
It's not like anyone minded, but they were all ignoring her.The room was filled with excited chatters of both the young and the old, and the atmosphere was...well, just cheery. Or, it was supposed to be. I was one of the few who had gotten a little too irritated for any sort of conversation, so I had slipped into a corner, where I could observe the room quietly without appearing too anti-social (my mum always complained about that, especially when I was younger. At that time, I didn't see the point of building connections, or using them yet). Everyone seemed to be talking to someone, so that was fine...oh, wait.
The Japanese girl wasn't talking to anyone.
Or, more exactly, no one was talking to her.
She was sitting there alone with her hands folded, staring emptily into space, looking bored and awkward as can be. I noted that she was pretty, and quite young. Why wasn't anyone attempting to initiate a conversation with her? Why were they ignoring her? She was now part of the family, after all. What my relatives were doing was plain rude, and I didn't like it at all.
I knew how it felt like to be truly alone in a sea of conversation. I understood the loneliness, the disconcerting feeling. And that was when I made up my mind. Language barrier, age difference or not - it didn't matter. Someone had to make the first move, and I would do it.
And so I introduced myself to her with a little Japanese, feeling thankful that I had a year's worth of Japanese lessons and many hours of anime-watching experiences. And the most surprising thing was that she answered me in English, telling me that my Japanese was good. I raised an eyebrow - so she could speak English. All the more so that the rest of the people should have talked to her!
The rest of the conversation was mainly introductions - where we were from, our families, our circumstances - things like that. It wasn't anything special, but I could see that she genuinely appreciated the fact that I noticed - and spoke to her.
I also found out during this CNY that in reality, I have several Thai descendants. Which would mean that I'm part-Thai. Was I surprised? Very. Sure, it wasn't as if it would affect me in the future, but to me - well, if it was part of the family heritage, then it would have been prudent to tell me earlier on instead of dumping it on me randomly in the car. But really, Thai? Well, to be honest, it shouldn't have been that surprising. After all, Kedah is close to Thailand. I wouldn't have minded being part Portuguese, though. Imagine have Portuguese looks. I don't particularly look Thai. I look like - well, a freaking Chinese. Minus the extreme slit-eyes (which only occurs when I laugh hilariously as if the world's about to end and I have to close to my eyes due to the extreme hilarity of the situation) and minus the Chinese slang due to where I was brought up, of course.
Just...ugh.
Other than that, CNY was pretty much an enjoyable affair. There were fireworks, laughter, gambling (shame that I never mastered the art of chor dai di), and I even clinked wineglasses with my mum on the eve of CNY. There were steamboats, loads of amazing hawker food, oranges, fizzy drinks, junk food, and all sort of CNY paraphernalia that one would expect.
It just might be my last CNY here in Malaysia, and that's why I will never, ever forget it.
Sixteen more days.
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