The Malaysian Insider

NOV 15 — We drove to Malacca last Saturday for what was meant to be a whirlwind culinary adventure.

We were prepared for a harrowing time what with weekend day trippers like us clogging the roads, fighting for limited parking spaces and long and snaking lunch time queues at the popular chicken rice ball shop.

Instead we were rewarded with a hassle-free (albeit slow, no thanks to the many traffic lights leading into town) drive straight to the car park, where a kind elderly gentleman directed us to the aforementioned chicken rice shop via a new pleasant-looking riverside walkway lined with cosy cafes.

NOV 8 — Ishan’s been having a fabulous time in Kuala Lumpur over the past month. He goes kai-kai three to four times a day, takes Pickles the dog for his evening walk every day and is allowed to run with abandon at the neighbourhood shopping mall.

I’ve been having a great time too. It is nice when the power-walking ‘aunties’ ask after my mum and son and when the ‘uncles’ walking their dogs around the Bangsar DBKL sports complex wave hello as we cross paths. It is as if I never left.

I still refer to KL as ‘home’ because this is where my family is. It is also the meeting point for far-flung family members and last weekend was the highlight of our trip so far because cousins I grew up with came back for a long-overdue reunion.

NOV 1 — The first question thrown at me after the usual pleasantries is how I like living in Hong Kong. This is swiftly followed by “but the air pollution there is so bad!”

And that is the sad truth. It is. Bad. Hong Kong may be a relatively clean city but the fragrant harbour’s air quality remains very poor.

Earlier this week the air pollution index hit a record high of nine years. Roadside air pollution readings soared to 174 overnight in Central district (the Environmental Protection Department warns those with heart or respiratory illnesses to stay indoors when the index hits 101).

OCT 25 — My son has recently shown an interest in numbers, pointing them out wherever we go, be they the numbered bays in a car park or the keypad in an elevator. The problem is that where we live, the number system is anaemic.

Superstition is to be blamed. It is common practise in Hong Kong’s high-rise buildings to omit the number 4, which denotes death in Cantonese. And so thanks to superstition, our building is missing the numbers 4, 14, 24, 24 and 44.

Then there is the matter of the refuge floor (a temporary safe place for fire evacuees), denoted as 26R after 26 and before 27.

OCT 18 – I’m not sure which is harder – being the toddler who is pushed around, ignored and bullied by older children, or being the parent who has to watch this happen.

In this instance I hope the Malay proverb ‘Berat mata memandang, lebih berat bahu memikul (However difficult it is for one to watch, it is harder for the one who shoulders the burden) does not hold true.

I am nervous even before Ishan and I hit the playground in the evenings. I worry he will feel left out. That he’ll be made to feel unworthy and unwanted.