STORIES, STORIES

I never caught the travel bug, which I'm sure is a travesty when I’m finally adulting in the free world, and at a time when travelling is an affordable and common pastime for people my age. Nevertheless, I am fortunate enough to have friends who drag me out every once in a while to some non-airconditioned adventure that would yield lots of opportunities to take photos of them taking photos of our trip. Last month, it was to Teluk Intan, Perak, Malaysia, for a day trip that would only last about 8 hours, transportation and milling about included. Teluk Intan (“Diamond Bay”) is a small town in Perak most known for its own version of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Subtly tilted to the left, the Leaning Tower of Teluk Intan was also known as the Clock Tower, as its primary function was to tell the time with its large clock-face on top. It’s now just an official national monument and tourist attraction. I wasn’t as awe-inspired as I thought I’d be, disappointed as I was that I ...

I met with a group of millennials looking to collaborate on an innovative media project. We talked over traditional Malaysian food at a hipster joint in the forever-hipster plaza Publika. Here was my nasi lemak   plate pushing my notebook to the side. Millennials are fascinating in the way that they have one foot in fast-paced tech and the other in old-school culture. They are simultaneously just one step above your regular Facebooking, social-media-nut adult, and one step below the Facebooking, social-media-nut Gen Z cohort. ~END~ This post is part of a series of photos and stories very creatively called 100 Days of Malaysia .

I know how to eat using my hands (in lieu of utensils) as it's common in both Saudi and Maranao cultures, but I don't do it often now that I'm "not home." For some reason, it feels to me like such an intimate thing to do, only in the presence of family and friends around whom one is comfortable, but also, because it's just a bit more convenient and less messy to use utensils. Here in Malaysia, people eat with their hands, normally when having traditional food, no matter their social status or the event. I love the confidence with which this is done, and wish I wasn't so messy at it so I could do the same. There was always that little part of Maranao culture that sneered at people who ate with their hands or didn't know how to eat with utensils. It's never serious, this sneering, but it's there, this underlying accusation that you are uncultured, uneducated, uncivilized because you eat with your hands. It's always "cuter" t...

Everybody loves food truck food. Even better, it’s one of those things that people are so proud to declare their love for OMG. I can’t help but hear the undertone of condescension – deliberate or not – when I’m in the midst of friends trying to outdo one another with their love for food truck food along with all the other novelty, kitsch items that our perpetually hipster generation gushes about. OMG YES, I just LOVE being POOR, it’s so BAD , is really what I hear (and also say, let's all be honest). Whether it’s buying things at flea markets, or living without furniture, or driving a beat-up car, I guess we get so tickled by the idea that we’re just not poor enough to have to really, unironically suffer through them. I feel this the most when I get my food from the food truck parked outside our office here in Petaling Jaya, Malaysia. Unlike the food trucks in popular culture, this one is a stark reflection of not only tradition and culture in Malaysia, but also of how h...

Can you spot the Bey? I currently work at AMG International , a Malaysian publishing house that produces closed distribution (in-house) business magazines and corporate publications. We have a sizable stable of magazines that we produce content for and then send off to print a few times every month (one of them pictured above, a magazine for the country's electricity utility). Right before we do, my Malay co-workers at the Graphics Department hold up the proofs to me in mock seriousness and say, " Du3a2 ? Bismillah?" to which I nod, signaling my approval and acceptance of full responsibility for any costly error that might just bite us all in the ass when thousands of copies are finally in print. In many ways, the things we do here as Southeast Asian Muslims, the Arabic words we say in worship, look and sound like parodies or parroting of the Arab (Saudi?) Islamic culture, but in many other ways, they're not. It's the Asean Muslim brand of Islamic cultur...

It's common for expatriates here in Malaysia to live in condominiums that provide residents access to a swimming pool, and living in one and being able to just hang out by the pool and go for a swim on the weekends always puts me on that constantly-on-holiday vibe. I don't take advantage of this quite as often as I can or should. I remember growing up in Jeddah, how we'd have family pool parties with other expat family friends, or go rent an istira7a  (a private villa enclosed in high walls with a swimming pool), or have cookouts in the pool area of Saudi friends' homes. None of these involve alcohol – at least 90% of the time it didn't! – and they mostly happened during the day within the private confines of someone's residence. Coming from a conservative, religious family meant that when these happened, it was rare to have a mixed group. Often, we'd have two pools – one for men, another for women – or if there was one pool, there'd be separate set...

I recently renewed my contract to work in Malaysia for another 2 years, which means I get a second stab at this, which means yet another clean slate. The universe has always been generous with me when it comes to clean slates, so salud , universe! My second wind was off to a great start, with not one, not two, but three chances to (re)connect with some very important people. Since I moved here to Malaysia in 2013, I've been fortunate enough to have so many Saudi friends drop by, keep me grounded, and remind me that I'm worth something – at least worth a visit from thousands of miles away. It's a lovely feeling, and I am not without gratitude! Hning's Asia Obviously when the fantastic oddball and Saudi cewebrity Alia (and long-time friend of this blog!) showed up at my Malaysian doorstep, I went nuts. I hadn't seen this woman in years , and on my way to the airport to pick her up, I felt the same way I would whenever I get to see my own sister or my brothe...

The Fairytale of Third Cinema by Kathryn Narciso a. Little Brown Americans We are nothing but them. When the ruling giant came to town, we didn’t break loose, and just sucked up the flavors of the new, almost forgetting the old. The nation’s elite was guilty of kissing the mestizos and language was shared tongue-to-tongue, skin-to-skin, until little brown Americans were born to this nation and grew up becoming second-class citizens of their own homeland. It was like allowing a thief inside your home: fed him when he’s hungry, gave him drink when he’s thirsty, warmed him up when he’s cold. Flesh and blood for spit. The cycle repeats itself, again and again: you offer your flesh for flesh, blood for blood, but you only get spit and still say Thank You. b. The Unholy Communion When Hollywood was preached outside its birthplace, the rest of the world took its chalice and drank from it. Not one has come clean after the communion. It’s a religion without confession. The converts were s...

Stories That (Probably) Need Telling by Nessreen I’m not gonna lie. I was reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s The Thing Around Your Neck , a collection of short stories about the experiences and thoughts of Nigerian women from different backgrounds, when I decided to finally, actually in-real-life-and-not-just-imagining-it , write the book I had been putting off for years now. There’s nothing more inspiring than reading a brilliant storyteller, but now I know that inspiration is one thing, and actually putting in the work is another (why do I know this only now ?). Obvi it wasn’t going to be easy, and I knew that off the bat. I have mediocre writing skills (I generally speak better than I write, I promise you), horrible writing habits, a glaring lack of writing accomplishments, and an inflated sense of grandeur, which all meant that tackling this mountain that is writing a book is exactly the kind of thing I would go for. And so here we are. In 2013, I left Saudi Arab...

On Podcasts by Khayra Bundakji I ’ m not sure why or how it happened, but music never was a part of my life like it was for my peers. Whenever anyone would offer to the conversation how moved a song made them, it just wouldn ’ t register. Much like boys, much like makeup, much like fashion, it was yet another socially ostracising quirk of mine to not connect with or remember lyrics of music. Then one day, on my daily 45-minute commute to university, I discovered NPR. Terry Gross from Fresh Air , Ira Flato from Science Friday , and the gang from GeekSpeak added a dimension to my grayscale Saudi life I didn ’ t realise I lacked. This was before I had friends to discuss science or pop culture. Finding radio shows that felt I was amongst friends reunited me with a piece of my heart I didn ’ t know existed.     Once I gluttonously got through international podcasts, I desperately searched for something that would speak to me. Something, say, in Jeddah. Leading me ...