Description
Between the desperate quest for steak and fries and the irrational fear of a 'set-up' in a local bar, join me for the rest of my adventures with my parents in Malaysia.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
Between the desperate quest for steak and fries and the irrational fear of a setup in a local bar, join me for the rest of my adventure with my parents in Malaysia.
Chapter 3.
As if nothing had happened. The trip lasted 10 days. That's short for a country as vast as Malaysia, but it's enough to catch a glimpse of its people, its custom, the food, and the landscapes. It was a compromise. My parents were willing to discover something new, but only under certain conditions, comfort, safety and a structure plan. Still, some moments felt completely surreal, especially from my perspective. We visited an orangutan sanctuary, which my mother loved, yet she couldn't stop herself from looking away the moment she saw the stray cat wandering nearby.
Oh, what a lovely little cat. He looks unhappy. He looks hungry.
She cried out. He looks perfectly fine to me, I replied. Come, look at the monkey over there.
Yes, it really breaks my heart to see that little cat starving like that.
Mom, he's in great shape. He's not even thin.
No one takes care of him. He doesn't have an owner. Of course he's unhappy.
In my head, it made no sense to obsess over a stray cat when you have the rare chance to see orangutans. But my mother has this incredible need to identify with domestic animals. Mostly, I think it's because they represent a piece of Belgium to her. She understands cats and dogs. Monkeys, on the other hand, aside from me. She only ever sees at the zoo. Even abroad, my parents were constantly searching for a familiar. When they couldn't find local food they trust, they rushed towards steak, fries and pasta the moment the opportunity arose. Naturally, the food was... terrible. Any attempt at western cooking was a disaster. Local food, however, was varied and excellent. While visiting a Buddhist temple, I spot a little hole in the wall joint. The aromas wafting from it made my mouth water. Mmm, that smells amazing, I thought. My father, seeing me staring at the street food stall, let out a loud laugh.
If you think you're getting me to eat there, you're dreaming, my friend. Absolutely not
You see that restaurant across the street? Our guide called out from a few meters away.
That's where we were heading for lunch after the tour. Wonderful No problem at all
My father replied, quickly trying to save face. The food was excellent. They're cheap and my father even went back for seconds. The magic of Malaysia was working. My parents were delighted with the tour and enjoyed learning about the old ways of life. However, whenever I asked them what they thought, the answers were always the same.
It's too far. It's so warm. It's too noisy. We're mostly doing this for you.
Despite my efforts to share my passion to travel, certain mental barriers remain insurmountable. Unrealistic fears like constant danger or extreme poverty bubble to the surface alongside very real culture shocks. They had an invisible brake that they slam on at every street corner.
Watch out, hold your bags.
They're speaking so loudly. Are they insulting us?
The same suspicion they carried in their daily lives in Belgium followed them here. Even though the trip was going smoothly, there was always a complaint. I realized then that no matter what we did, nothing would be strong enough to make them forget the motherland and their old habits. Total immersion was impossible, despite the beautiful scenery and the moments we shared. One evening, we decided to grab a drink at the hotel bar, only to find it already closed. As we turned to leave, we ran into a Chinese couple who asked us in English if it was still possible to get a drink. Um, it's closed, I told them.
Ah, no matter, we know a nice bar not far from here. Would you like to join us?
I turned to my parents and relayed the invitation. To my surprise, they accepted. A few minutes later, we were crossing the street together, but the moment we stepped inside, I saw their expressions change. It was a karaoke bar, The music was defeating. and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Visibly uncomfortable, my father ordered two beers and coffee for my mother, but leaned in to tell me that we were leaving immediately after.
I hate this kind of place.
He grumbled. The couple we had walked in with had already sat down with some friends, leaving us on our own. I turned out to my parents, constant complaining, and looked around. Young and old Chinese patrons were shouting over the karaoke singers. It was chaotic, but for some reason I loved it. Sociologically, it was a goldmine. The atmosphere reminded me of those great improvised nights in Vietnam. While we were still finishing our drinks, a waitress arrived and set down a bucket full of beers. My father's eyes went wide and he waved her away frantically. The waitress explained that they had already been paid for. She pointed to the couple we had met earlier. They raised their glasses to us. I grabbed a beer and tossed it back. My parents, looking embarrassed and worried, gave them a stiff little wave and forced smile.
What do we do?
I fight a whisper.
It's a trap No, we're going to have to buy them a round of drinks too.
No, I reassure him, it's just a way of welcoming you.
Finish it, and we're leaving now.
Well, too late, I'm already open. Open one, I reply with a grin. You guys do what you want, but I'm staying, I smile.
That is right. It's too dangerous to stay here.
Where's the danger? I ask. I've been invited by strangers plenty of time and it's always fine. They aren't threatening and they aren't expecting anything. If they wanted something, don't worry, they'd be hovering over us asking for money. Somewhat reassured but still unconvinced, my parents decided to head back, making me swear I wouldn't stay out too late.
Knock on the door when you get home, so we know you're safe.
No mom, you'll be fast asleep by then. The goodbye was as dramatic as a movie scene, but it was much ado above nothing. As soon as they left, I pulled up a chair at the couple's table with the rest of the beer. Do you mind if I join you?
Get over here.
The man laughed before introducing me to all his friends. I ended up staying until 3am, sharing stories, playing drinking games, singing, and having deep discussion. It's a night I will never forget. The trip eventually came to an end. My parents gave me their final verdict.
It was the first time and the last time. It's way too far for us.
And yet, back in Belgium, they were the first ones to sing Malaysia's praise to our relatives. They told the story of their journey and show off all our 850 photos they had taken, without bothering to sort through them first. It was a long presentation, my cousin told me later. Asia was a great discovery for them, but it was strictly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I was just happy I got them there and that they played along. I knew however that it wasn't going to lead to any massive life changes for them. As for me, I already had my sights set on a working holiday visa for New Zealand. To make it happen, I had to get a chest x-ray to prove I hadn't picked up tuberculosis in Asia. I headed back to Belgium for three weeks just to get the medical exam done. Once the visa was approved, I was in the air again, off to new adventures.
Description
Between the desperate quest for steak and fries and the irrational fear of a 'set-up' in a local bar, join me for the rest of my adventures with my parents in Malaysia.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
Between the desperate quest for steak and fries and the irrational fear of a setup in a local bar, join me for the rest of my adventure with my parents in Malaysia.
Chapter 3.
As if nothing had happened. The trip lasted 10 days. That's short for a country as vast as Malaysia, but it's enough to catch a glimpse of its people, its custom, the food, and the landscapes. It was a compromise. My parents were willing to discover something new, but only under certain conditions, comfort, safety and a structure plan. Still, some moments felt completely surreal, especially from my perspective. We visited an orangutan sanctuary, which my mother loved, yet she couldn't stop herself from looking away the moment she saw the stray cat wandering nearby.
Oh, what a lovely little cat. He looks unhappy. He looks hungry.
She cried out. He looks perfectly fine to me, I replied. Come, look at the monkey over there.
Yes, it really breaks my heart to see that little cat starving like that.
Mom, he's in great shape. He's not even thin.
No one takes care of him. He doesn't have an owner. Of course he's unhappy.
In my head, it made no sense to obsess over a stray cat when you have the rare chance to see orangutans. But my mother has this incredible need to identify with domestic animals. Mostly, I think it's because they represent a piece of Belgium to her. She understands cats and dogs. Monkeys, on the other hand, aside from me. She only ever sees at the zoo. Even abroad, my parents were constantly searching for a familiar. When they couldn't find local food they trust, they rushed towards steak, fries and pasta the moment the opportunity arose. Naturally, the food was... terrible. Any attempt at western cooking was a disaster. Local food, however, was varied and excellent. While visiting a Buddhist temple, I spot a little hole in the wall joint. The aromas wafting from it made my mouth water. Mmm, that smells amazing, I thought. My father, seeing me staring at the street food stall, let out a loud laugh.
If you think you're getting me to eat there, you're dreaming, my friend. Absolutely not
You see that restaurant across the street? Our guide called out from a few meters away.
That's where we were heading for lunch after the tour. Wonderful No problem at all
My father replied, quickly trying to save face. The food was excellent. They're cheap and my father even went back for seconds. The magic of Malaysia was working. My parents were delighted with the tour and enjoyed learning about the old ways of life. However, whenever I asked them what they thought, the answers were always the same.
It's too far. It's so warm. It's too noisy. We're mostly doing this for you.
Despite my efforts to share my passion to travel, certain mental barriers remain insurmountable. Unrealistic fears like constant danger or extreme poverty bubble to the surface alongside very real culture shocks. They had an invisible brake that they slam on at every street corner.
Watch out, hold your bags.
They're speaking so loudly. Are they insulting us?
The same suspicion they carried in their daily lives in Belgium followed them here. Even though the trip was going smoothly, there was always a complaint. I realized then that no matter what we did, nothing would be strong enough to make them forget the motherland and their old habits. Total immersion was impossible, despite the beautiful scenery and the moments we shared. One evening, we decided to grab a drink at the hotel bar, only to find it already closed. As we turned to leave, we ran into a Chinese couple who asked us in English if it was still possible to get a drink. Um, it's closed, I told them.
Ah, no matter, we know a nice bar not far from here. Would you like to join us?
I turned to my parents and relayed the invitation. To my surprise, they accepted. A few minutes later, we were crossing the street together, but the moment we stepped inside, I saw their expressions change. It was a karaoke bar, The music was defeating. and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Visibly uncomfortable, my father ordered two beers and coffee for my mother, but leaned in to tell me that we were leaving immediately after.
I hate this kind of place.
He grumbled. The couple we had walked in with had already sat down with some friends, leaving us on our own. I turned out to my parents, constant complaining, and looked around. Young and old Chinese patrons were shouting over the karaoke singers. It was chaotic, but for some reason I loved it. Sociologically, it was a goldmine. The atmosphere reminded me of those great improvised nights in Vietnam. While we were still finishing our drinks, a waitress arrived and set down a bucket full of beers. My father's eyes went wide and he waved her away frantically. The waitress explained that they had already been paid for. She pointed to the couple we had met earlier. They raised their glasses to us. I grabbed a beer and tossed it back. My parents, looking embarrassed and worried, gave them a stiff little wave and forced smile.
What do we do?
I fight a whisper.
It's a trap No, we're going to have to buy them a round of drinks too.
No, I reassure him, it's just a way of welcoming you.
Finish it, and we're leaving now.
Well, too late, I'm already open. Open one, I reply with a grin. You guys do what you want, but I'm staying, I smile.
That is right. It's too dangerous to stay here.
Where's the danger? I ask. I've been invited by strangers plenty of time and it's always fine. They aren't threatening and they aren't expecting anything. If they wanted something, don't worry, they'd be hovering over us asking for money. Somewhat reassured but still unconvinced, my parents decided to head back, making me swear I wouldn't stay out too late.
Knock on the door when you get home, so we know you're safe.
No mom, you'll be fast asleep by then. The goodbye was as dramatic as a movie scene, but it was much ado above nothing. As soon as they left, I pulled up a chair at the couple's table with the rest of the beer. Do you mind if I join you?
Get over here.
The man laughed before introducing me to all his friends. I ended up staying until 3am, sharing stories, playing drinking games, singing, and having deep discussion. It's a night I will never forget. The trip eventually came to an end. My parents gave me their final verdict.
It was the first time and the last time. It's way too far for us.
And yet, back in Belgium, they were the first ones to sing Malaysia's praise to our relatives. They told the story of their journey and show off all our 850 photos they had taken, without bothering to sort through them first. It was a long presentation, my cousin told me later. Asia was a great discovery for them, but it was strictly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I was just happy I got them there and that they played along. I knew however that it wasn't going to lead to any massive life changes for them. As for me, I already had my sights set on a working holiday visa for New Zealand. To make it happen, I had to get a chest x-ray to prove I hadn't picked up tuberculosis in Asia. I headed back to Belgium for three weeks just to get the medical exam done. Once the visa was approved, I was in the air again, off to new adventures.
Share
Embed
You may also like
Description
Between the desperate quest for steak and fries and the irrational fear of a 'set-up' in a local bar, join me for the rest of my adventures with my parents in Malaysia.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
Between the desperate quest for steak and fries and the irrational fear of a setup in a local bar, join me for the rest of my adventure with my parents in Malaysia.
Chapter 3.
As if nothing had happened. The trip lasted 10 days. That's short for a country as vast as Malaysia, but it's enough to catch a glimpse of its people, its custom, the food, and the landscapes. It was a compromise. My parents were willing to discover something new, but only under certain conditions, comfort, safety and a structure plan. Still, some moments felt completely surreal, especially from my perspective. We visited an orangutan sanctuary, which my mother loved, yet she couldn't stop herself from looking away the moment she saw the stray cat wandering nearby.
Oh, what a lovely little cat. He looks unhappy. He looks hungry.
She cried out. He looks perfectly fine to me, I replied. Come, look at the monkey over there.
Yes, it really breaks my heart to see that little cat starving like that.
Mom, he's in great shape. He's not even thin.
No one takes care of him. He doesn't have an owner. Of course he's unhappy.
In my head, it made no sense to obsess over a stray cat when you have the rare chance to see orangutans. But my mother has this incredible need to identify with domestic animals. Mostly, I think it's because they represent a piece of Belgium to her. She understands cats and dogs. Monkeys, on the other hand, aside from me. She only ever sees at the zoo. Even abroad, my parents were constantly searching for a familiar. When they couldn't find local food they trust, they rushed towards steak, fries and pasta the moment the opportunity arose. Naturally, the food was... terrible. Any attempt at western cooking was a disaster. Local food, however, was varied and excellent. While visiting a Buddhist temple, I spot a little hole in the wall joint. The aromas wafting from it made my mouth water. Mmm, that smells amazing, I thought. My father, seeing me staring at the street food stall, let out a loud laugh.
If you think you're getting me to eat there, you're dreaming, my friend. Absolutely not
You see that restaurant across the street? Our guide called out from a few meters away.
That's where we were heading for lunch after the tour. Wonderful No problem at all
My father replied, quickly trying to save face. The food was excellent. They're cheap and my father even went back for seconds. The magic of Malaysia was working. My parents were delighted with the tour and enjoyed learning about the old ways of life. However, whenever I asked them what they thought, the answers were always the same.
It's too far. It's so warm. It's too noisy. We're mostly doing this for you.
Despite my efforts to share my passion to travel, certain mental barriers remain insurmountable. Unrealistic fears like constant danger or extreme poverty bubble to the surface alongside very real culture shocks. They had an invisible brake that they slam on at every street corner.
Watch out, hold your bags.
They're speaking so loudly. Are they insulting us?
The same suspicion they carried in their daily lives in Belgium followed them here. Even though the trip was going smoothly, there was always a complaint. I realized then that no matter what we did, nothing would be strong enough to make them forget the motherland and their old habits. Total immersion was impossible, despite the beautiful scenery and the moments we shared. One evening, we decided to grab a drink at the hotel bar, only to find it already closed. As we turned to leave, we ran into a Chinese couple who asked us in English if it was still possible to get a drink. Um, it's closed, I told them.
Ah, no matter, we know a nice bar not far from here. Would you like to join us?
I turned to my parents and relayed the invitation. To my surprise, they accepted. A few minutes later, we were crossing the street together, but the moment we stepped inside, I saw their expressions change. It was a karaoke bar, The music was defeating. and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Visibly uncomfortable, my father ordered two beers and coffee for my mother, but leaned in to tell me that we were leaving immediately after.
I hate this kind of place.
He grumbled. The couple we had walked in with had already sat down with some friends, leaving us on our own. I turned out to my parents, constant complaining, and looked around. Young and old Chinese patrons were shouting over the karaoke singers. It was chaotic, but for some reason I loved it. Sociologically, it was a goldmine. The atmosphere reminded me of those great improvised nights in Vietnam. While we were still finishing our drinks, a waitress arrived and set down a bucket full of beers. My father's eyes went wide and he waved her away frantically. The waitress explained that they had already been paid for. She pointed to the couple we had met earlier. They raised their glasses to us. I grabbed a beer and tossed it back. My parents, looking embarrassed and worried, gave them a stiff little wave and forced smile.
What do we do?
I fight a whisper.
It's a trap No, we're going to have to buy them a round of drinks too.
No, I reassure him, it's just a way of welcoming you.
Finish it, and we're leaving now.
Well, too late, I'm already open. Open one, I reply with a grin. You guys do what you want, but I'm staying, I smile.
That is right. It's too dangerous to stay here.
Where's the danger? I ask. I've been invited by strangers plenty of time and it's always fine. They aren't threatening and they aren't expecting anything. If they wanted something, don't worry, they'd be hovering over us asking for money. Somewhat reassured but still unconvinced, my parents decided to head back, making me swear I wouldn't stay out too late.
Knock on the door when you get home, so we know you're safe.
No mom, you'll be fast asleep by then. The goodbye was as dramatic as a movie scene, but it was much ado above nothing. As soon as they left, I pulled up a chair at the couple's table with the rest of the beer. Do you mind if I join you?
Get over here.
The man laughed before introducing me to all his friends. I ended up staying until 3am, sharing stories, playing drinking games, singing, and having deep discussion. It's a night I will never forget. The trip eventually came to an end. My parents gave me their final verdict.
It was the first time and the last time. It's way too far for us.
And yet, back in Belgium, they were the first ones to sing Malaysia's praise to our relatives. They told the story of their journey and show off all our 850 photos they had taken, without bothering to sort through them first. It was a long presentation, my cousin told me later. Asia was a great discovery for them, but it was strictly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I was just happy I got them there and that they played along. I knew however that it wasn't going to lead to any massive life changes for them. As for me, I already had my sights set on a working holiday visa for New Zealand. To make it happen, I had to get a chest x-ray to prove I hadn't picked up tuberculosis in Asia. I headed back to Belgium for three weeks just to get the medical exam done. Once the visa was approved, I was in the air again, off to new adventures.
Description
Between the desperate quest for steak and fries and the irrational fear of a 'set-up' in a local bar, join me for the rest of my adventures with my parents in Malaysia.
Hébergé par Ausha. Visitez ausha.co/politique-de-confidentialite pour plus d'informations.
Transcription
Between the desperate quest for steak and fries and the irrational fear of a setup in a local bar, join me for the rest of my adventure with my parents in Malaysia.
Chapter 3.
As if nothing had happened. The trip lasted 10 days. That's short for a country as vast as Malaysia, but it's enough to catch a glimpse of its people, its custom, the food, and the landscapes. It was a compromise. My parents were willing to discover something new, but only under certain conditions, comfort, safety and a structure plan. Still, some moments felt completely surreal, especially from my perspective. We visited an orangutan sanctuary, which my mother loved, yet she couldn't stop herself from looking away the moment she saw the stray cat wandering nearby.
Oh, what a lovely little cat. He looks unhappy. He looks hungry.
She cried out. He looks perfectly fine to me, I replied. Come, look at the monkey over there.
Yes, it really breaks my heart to see that little cat starving like that.
Mom, he's in great shape. He's not even thin.
No one takes care of him. He doesn't have an owner. Of course he's unhappy.
In my head, it made no sense to obsess over a stray cat when you have the rare chance to see orangutans. But my mother has this incredible need to identify with domestic animals. Mostly, I think it's because they represent a piece of Belgium to her. She understands cats and dogs. Monkeys, on the other hand, aside from me. She only ever sees at the zoo. Even abroad, my parents were constantly searching for a familiar. When they couldn't find local food they trust, they rushed towards steak, fries and pasta the moment the opportunity arose. Naturally, the food was... terrible. Any attempt at western cooking was a disaster. Local food, however, was varied and excellent. While visiting a Buddhist temple, I spot a little hole in the wall joint. The aromas wafting from it made my mouth water. Mmm, that smells amazing, I thought. My father, seeing me staring at the street food stall, let out a loud laugh.
If you think you're getting me to eat there, you're dreaming, my friend. Absolutely not
You see that restaurant across the street? Our guide called out from a few meters away.
That's where we were heading for lunch after the tour. Wonderful No problem at all
My father replied, quickly trying to save face. The food was excellent. They're cheap and my father even went back for seconds. The magic of Malaysia was working. My parents were delighted with the tour and enjoyed learning about the old ways of life. However, whenever I asked them what they thought, the answers were always the same.
It's too far. It's so warm. It's too noisy. We're mostly doing this for you.
Despite my efforts to share my passion to travel, certain mental barriers remain insurmountable. Unrealistic fears like constant danger or extreme poverty bubble to the surface alongside very real culture shocks. They had an invisible brake that they slam on at every street corner.
Watch out, hold your bags.
They're speaking so loudly. Are they insulting us?
The same suspicion they carried in their daily lives in Belgium followed them here. Even though the trip was going smoothly, there was always a complaint. I realized then that no matter what we did, nothing would be strong enough to make them forget the motherland and their old habits. Total immersion was impossible, despite the beautiful scenery and the moments we shared. One evening, we decided to grab a drink at the hotel bar, only to find it already closed. As we turned to leave, we ran into a Chinese couple who asked us in English if it was still possible to get a drink. Um, it's closed, I told them.
Ah, no matter, we know a nice bar not far from here. Would you like to join us?
I turned to my parents and relayed the invitation. To my surprise, they accepted. A few minutes later, we were crossing the street together, but the moment we stepped inside, I saw their expressions change. It was a karaoke bar, The music was defeating. and a thick cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Visibly uncomfortable, my father ordered two beers and coffee for my mother, but leaned in to tell me that we were leaving immediately after.
I hate this kind of place.
He grumbled. The couple we had walked in with had already sat down with some friends, leaving us on our own. I turned out to my parents, constant complaining, and looked around. Young and old Chinese patrons were shouting over the karaoke singers. It was chaotic, but for some reason I loved it. Sociologically, it was a goldmine. The atmosphere reminded me of those great improvised nights in Vietnam. While we were still finishing our drinks, a waitress arrived and set down a bucket full of beers. My father's eyes went wide and he waved her away frantically. The waitress explained that they had already been paid for. She pointed to the couple we had met earlier. They raised their glasses to us. I grabbed a beer and tossed it back. My parents, looking embarrassed and worried, gave them a stiff little wave and forced smile.
What do we do?
I fight a whisper.
It's a trap No, we're going to have to buy them a round of drinks too.
No, I reassure him, it's just a way of welcoming you.
Finish it, and we're leaving now.
Well, too late, I'm already open. Open one, I reply with a grin. You guys do what you want, but I'm staying, I smile.
That is right. It's too dangerous to stay here.
Where's the danger? I ask. I've been invited by strangers plenty of time and it's always fine. They aren't threatening and they aren't expecting anything. If they wanted something, don't worry, they'd be hovering over us asking for money. Somewhat reassured but still unconvinced, my parents decided to head back, making me swear I wouldn't stay out too late.
Knock on the door when you get home, so we know you're safe.
No mom, you'll be fast asleep by then. The goodbye was as dramatic as a movie scene, but it was much ado above nothing. As soon as they left, I pulled up a chair at the couple's table with the rest of the beer. Do you mind if I join you?
Get over here.
The man laughed before introducing me to all his friends. I ended up staying until 3am, sharing stories, playing drinking games, singing, and having deep discussion. It's a night I will never forget. The trip eventually came to an end. My parents gave me their final verdict.
It was the first time and the last time. It's way too far for us.
And yet, back in Belgium, they were the first ones to sing Malaysia's praise to our relatives. They told the story of their journey and show off all our 850 photos they had taken, without bothering to sort through them first. It was a long presentation, my cousin told me later. Asia was a great discovery for them, but it was strictly a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I was just happy I got them there and that they played along. I knew however that it wasn't going to lead to any massive life changes for them. As for me, I already had my sights set on a working holiday visa for New Zealand. To make it happen, I had to get a chest x-ray to prove I hadn't picked up tuberculosis in Asia. I headed back to Belgium for three weeks just to get the medical exam done. Once the visa was approved, I was in the air again, off to new adventures.
Share
Embed
You may also like
