STORIES, STORIES

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 .

The publishing industry is famous for being in the business of networking, but I didn't realize how much of it I needed to do in my job. We go to so many events to "show face" as we say here, just shoot the shit and make small talk and recycle anecdotes with a steady stream of strangers. Every so often, we meet interesting people from different places and backgrounds.  That's the stuff movies are made of, but all apples lose their shine.  My colleagues and I were out on a weekday until the wee hours of the morning networking. And singing along to Argentinian music. We were back at work a few hours afterwards. ~END~ This post is part of a series of photos and stories very creatively called 100 Days of Malaysia .

One Friday night after work, like many in my stay here, I ordered in from Pizza Hut. Pizza to me is a symbol of: * Freedom. Especially when paid for with my own hard-earned money. * Being "international," because it's not traditional, home-cooked food. It's not a rice dish. No, I don't think it's a symbol of poverty, because I can get cheaper food. It's not a representation of my bad relationship with food, or my social standing, or my education. Pizza makes me defensive about all of that. ~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...

Having spent the majority of my life in Jeddah meant that my pedestrian skill level is pretty much zero – I was not allowed on the streets, didn't drive, had no access to public transportation nor sidewalks or the outdoors except to and from a private car. There was a 5-year gap in my late teens when I lived in Manila as a university student, but that was a decade ago, and even then, it was a mostly a "sheltered pedestrian" existence when I was led around, often literally by hand, by either my brothers or cousins.  These zebra crossings mean nothing to me. My Malaysian co-worker Azzarul and I were crossing the street in front of our office a few days ago. He was strolling. "Azzarul, come on, walk faster, there's cars!" I yelled. "No, just relax. These lines are for us. They can wait. Watch," he said. And he slowed down even more, exaggerated-like, as cars paused to let us pass. "See? That's the Malaysian way." He was...

Aun Joo, as she is wont to do, sprang on us on Sunday morning and dragged us all out for breakfast, which led to lunch, which led to more people dragged out to go to All Aboard , a gaming community centre, which led to tea, and then dinner.  I managed to force everyone to play BSG ( just like the good old days ) except I totally failed in retrospect. Nobody enjoyed it (except me for the nostalgic rush and my excitement for all things nerd-culture) as I bungled explaining the game since I hadn't played it for about 4 years. All Aboard was exactly the kind of place we needed back in Jeddah - a place where we can throw our money to play games and chit-chat all day without external hassle. Here, you can rent board games (range is US$4 to US$14 per game unlimited time), or bring your own game and rent a table for US$4 the whole day. I could only imagine what this place was like on Tabletop Day.  But that also feels like a lifetime ago. It's been so many years ...

Diversify yoself before you wreck yoself. My weekend read was Bloomberg 's cover story on Saudi Arabia's Deputy Crown Prince and alpha millennial Mohammad Bin Salman. It made me feel like Saudi was a lifetime ago. ~END~ This post is part of a series of photos and stories very creatively called 100 Days of Malaysia .

Open floor plan workplace means I get to look at everyone's screen when I pass by, and in fairness to me, it's part of my job to do so (to make sure all is going according to plan, you guys). Me: What the hell are you looking at, Riz? Riz: It's Friday night, Ness. I want to find this dish for dinner. It's delicious. Do you have this in Saudi? Me: Why you so old, Riz? Riz: Shh. If you're interested, I think they might have it in Heritage Row .  Me: Where's that? Riz: You don't know where it is? It's the happening place in town! Bars, clubs, restaurants. (To everyone) Guys, Heritage Row is still a happening place, right? Everyone: (mumbling) Riz: It was a happening place 10 years ago. ~END~ This post is part of a series of photos and stories very creatively called 100 Days of Malaysia .

For a time, I only went to one restaurant - the one right downstairs the office - for lunch, everyday. My cigarettes in tow, a few copies of magazines and newspapers to catch up, order my iced coffee and Mongolian chicken chop, and have my one hour break from publishing insanity. The owners are a middle-aged Malaysian Chinese couple who also man the restaurant, and who have known me for most of the years I've been here in Malaysia. We always chit-chat about work, a bit about business and politics and current events, and they've always treated me like a regular, which I was. One fine afternoon - and this is a story I've discussed at length with co-workers - of exceptionally stressful deadline-chasing at work, I ran down to Pasta Boy Cafe to chill out. As I sat smoking, a middle-aged guy walks in with his family of four - his wife and two teenaged kids. He sat in the smoking area at the table next to mine, and while his family followed suit, he started coughing wildly and ...

The whole point of living in Southeast Asia is noodles. This is my favorite pan mee  dish (Chinese name which translates to "flat flour noodle"). It's like a wider, thinner fettuccine noodle, no sauce, just mixed with egg, salty dried fish, ground meat and scallions. It's a little bowl of magic. The servers place chopsticks on my table and I wave them away, because please, spoon and fork for this forever ajnabi. I usually enjoy my noodles with a glass of iced milk tea and the latest Bloomberg . ~END~ This post is part of a series of photos and stories very creatively called 100 Days of Malaysia .

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...

I took Monday off from work to recuperate and regroup my mind, body and soul. It largely meant staying in bed and appreciating the fact that I didn't have to get up for any old reason, but it only lasted until 11am. Pretty soon, I was at my desk doing work and side-work, and no, I don't think it's because I'm a workaholic, I just happen to really be interested in a lot of the things we do at the office. Love the things you do and do the things you love. ~END~ This post is part of a series of photos and posts very creatively called 100 Days of Malaysia .

Laundry, a bar/restaurant at The Curve mall which is a 10-minute walk from my apartment here, has played host to a few of my friends from Saudi (holla!) and a lot of my friends here in Malaysia. It's my go-to place for drinks and music and some good conversation. Never too early for whiskey. I met up with a couple of my friends who are at least a decade older than me. While I'm friends with people in their mid- to late-twenties because there's so much lols in that age group (and they make me feel like I'm also in still in my 20s), there are a few things I can't really share with them, only because I've been alive a bit longer than they have. Things like complaining about working for 13 years already, or meeting different kinds of people, or being so over the excitement of a Friday night, or wanting to buy a house – "boring, grown-up" stuff that my younger friends can't relate to. The biggest difference is that when I'm with my older f...

I can't afford a car and all the other expenses that come with it (hello gas, toll and road tax!), but good gotdamn I can afford a driver's licence. I tagged along on a trip to Auto World in Sungai Besi anyway, just in case by some miracle, I ALL TOO SUDDENLY can afford a car. But a cat is fine, too. Welcome to douchebag country. ~END~ This post is part of a series of photos and stories very creatively called 100 days of Malaysia .