Feeling like I'm at Home Again

Every now and again I meet up with Malaysians in this part of the world. The first reaction is that of surprise as there are not many of us around here and the next is noticing the unmistakable trademark –  the Malaysian identity that surpasses everything. We are no longer defined by psychological barriers like race, religion or class status. Instead we are all countrymen united by some form of camaraderie in a different land.

I first talked to Sham (Shamzuri) Hanifa in 2010 over the phone after watching an interesting documentary aired over national television about his success in the culinary field.

It is always lovely to hear a success story. Even more so when he is a Malaysian.

I was pleasantly surprised to see him in the flesh when I went for the National Crafts and Design Fair in Dublin in December 2014. There was a section called the Food Emporium where over 100 artisan food producers showcased the best of the season’s bounty.

Sham opened the award winning The Cottage Restaurant in Jamestown in County Leitrim in 2008. The menu at this restaurant draws on a rich culinary heritage that shines through chef-crafted selections of contemporary Irish cuisine with an Asian twist.

Not resting on his laurels, Sham recently created quite a stir with his new range of handmade cooking sauces, inspired by his grandmother’s cooking. The best part is that they are 100% natural with no artificial ingredients, no artificial preservatives, no flavourings or artificial colourings, no additives and no stabilizers.

When I visited Sham’s stand at the Food Emporium, it was well stocked with bottles of homemade sauces. As there were many customers at his stand, Sham reminded me to call again at his stand before I left the fair. I did and to my surprise he packed six complimentary bottles of his flavoursome sauces for me. I was thrilled to bits because that was totally unexpected. Immediately it reminded me of Malaysian kinship and generosity. I must certainly call at his restaurant when I go up to Jamestown.

Another interesting café and bakery that is near where I live is  I tea in Limerick. Run by young Malaysians, I tea serves an assortment of Irish and Malaysian cakes and buns as well as the traditional Irish breakfast.

Situated in a corner of the Limerick Milk Market which becomes very much alive on Saturdays, it caught my attention when I was doing my weekly shopping for fresh produce. Sitting down to a hot cup of latte and a meat floss or curry bun is quite an unbelievable experience in a place where buns are usually sweet and creamy.

There was a Saturday where my beloved and I sat down and ordered hot drinks and a pandan swiss roll at I tea.

Knowing that we would not be able to finish the whole swiss roll, I asked whether we could pay for the whole swiss roll but just eat two slices of it at the café and take home the remaining portion. They told us it wasn’t a problem at all and we happily had our fill.

To our surprise when we were about to go home, the owners gave us a brand new swiss roll instead of the original half!

Again it reminded me of Malaysian kinship and generosity. So I told my Irish friends about the shop and every time I’m in Limerick, I will surely pop by the shop. I guess it is the Malaysian in me who wants to see another Malaysian succeed, just like my Japanese friends who will only buy Japanese products wherever they are.

It is amazing how a country is defined by its culture and its people. It is the little things that we hold dear like the politeness, friendliness and generosity that continue to live in us wherever we are. We may take such things for granted. But when we are in a foreign place, and we meet other people from the country that we originate from, and they treat you so well, a feeling of pride and unity wells up within.

These little touches make all the difference.

I am left feeling that I am home again.

Weblink: http://digital.nstp.com.my/nst/books/150510nstnews/index.html#/22/

A HOME AWAY FROM HOME

If anyone asks me to name a place for tourists where people are helpful, and friendly and live side by side in a multicultural pot filled with delightful flavours, I would definitely say Malaysia without blinking an eyelid. That is why I was so surprised to discover another place on the other side of the globe that has practically all the characteristics that I mentioned above: Boston.

We went there recently on a vacation and when we were trying to make sense of the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority (MBTA), the person manning the information booth literally jumped out of the booth to give us very clear instructions. A big burly man towering over us explained: ‘You can take the B, C or D train to Kenmore but never the E’. This he repeated himself slowly, patiently and definitely -the way felt puppet television characters would tell lost denizens. I was impressed. Most times, we would have to speak through a perforated screen to the very important information officer sitting secure in a booth or worse face the words ‘No Information’ boldly printed on the glass pane as observed in some booths in Rome.

The MBTA was very convenient and efficient and every time I looked around, I felt very much at home. I would see Hispanics, Chinese Americans, Koreans, Japanese, Mainland Chinese and a good blend of other ethnic groups. The best part was everyone spoke English according to his own accent, and everybody understood each other which goes to prove that people from a more culturally and ethnically diverse city are more in-tune with different accents and are thus able to make meaning of what they hear. Unlike in some countries where I had to repeat myself or speak slower, I had no problem whatsoever communicating with Boston folks.

When we walked along the street with a map we had strangers come up to us to readily point out to us where we wanted to go, be it on the historical trail or to go downtown to shop. To quote an example, we wanted to go for the Boston Ballet Nutcracker and were heading towards the box office. Suddenly a sweet elderly lady sprung up at the traffic lights and informed us that we could get half price tickets if we were to purchase from the Bostik Booth instead, just because we were pouring over a map as the lights turned red.

Then there was the food factor.

Feeling hungry, I picked up the scent of a mobile Asian Bistro (parked on the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s campus grounds) that was busy selling packed lunches to hungry students and visitors. Making a bee-line to the van, I smiled when I saw the menu that offered Teriyaki fish, Pad Thai noodles, Vietnamese spring rolls, Penang Curry Laksa and Beef Ramen with free hot tea thrown in. That reminded me of the ‘economy rice with free hot tea’ meals that I used to eat when I was an undergraduate, living in a rented room in Section 17, Petaling Jaya.

In shopping malls, the food corners boast of a great variety of food: deep-fried, steamed, stir-fried, poached, barbequed, curried, roasted, blanched and battered. The city’s Chinatown which is the third largest after New York and San Francisco displayed mouth watering roasted ducks, teochew ducks or steamed chicken with their skins gleaming under the spotlights in the glass show cases. I could even smell the goodness through the glass. For a moment, I thought I was not very far from Petaling Street.

Boston is also home to educating the mind.

24 hour television programmes served my jet lag hours and my personal favourite was Sesame Street which was aired without fail in the wee hours of the morning. Most of the characters have remained the same except that Ernie and Bert now take the form of computer-generated imagery and sport dread locks instead of the familiar tufts of hair. A visit to the Harvard University left me even more convinced that there could never be an end to learning.

What is beautiful about Boston and the life it exudes is that it is a wonderful combination of the old and the new, of the puritan and the liberal, of painful memories and eventual independence, of singularity in mindset but plurality in outlook, of tradition and of change.

I thought it was just like home.

Source: The New Straits Times http://www.nst.com.my/opinion/columnist/a-home-away-from-home-1.38662imes,

CUP OF IPOH COFFEE MADE MY DAY

Life was very much simpler when I could order either black or white coffee usually served in a cup and saucer and sometimes in a glass. If I wanted a takeaway, the coffee would be packed in a plastic bag with a straw tied to it.

Now coffee brands pride themselves on the different varieties of the coffee drink they can offer with prices that match the cost of their ingenuity, so to speak. So we look up at the signboard filled with fancy names for the humble coffee drink and struggle in our minds deciding whether we should order an Americano, a shot in the dark, a café au lait, a café breva, a café macchiato, an expresso or a café latte.

As if the list is not daunting enough, there is the frappe, the hammerhead, the madras filter coffee, the kopi Tubruk, the Melya, the Mocca, the Oliang and the Lungo. And if I wanted a takeaway, the coffee would come in a fancy paper or plastic cup with a lid. Sometimes there is a special holder too, so that the heat will not burn my hand.

I have not tasted most of these exotic drinks, preferring to stick to the familiar and regular cup and therefore will not attempt to expound on the exquisite aroma or how one is defined by the coffee she drinks. Instead, it is the enigmatic circumstances that surround me when I drink my favourite cuppa that leave the best memories.

If Shane West and Mandy Moore have A Walk To Remember, I certainly have A Cup to Remember, two great cups even.

The first great cup of coffee was drunk alfresco in a café around the corner of Thomas Street in Limerick. I was in between shopping for school books for my daughter and shopping for myself as a reward for shopping for school books for my daughter. So, I decided on a coffee and a cream bun as I listened to the maestro belting out classics like "'O sole mio" (the sun) which is a globally known Neapolitan song written in 1898. Although I did not understand a single word of the lyrics penned by Giovanni Capurro, the melody composed by Eduardo di Capua was breathtaking. I was not the only one soaking in the ambience. I could see the appreciative audience sipping their coffee very slowly to make it last as many songs as possible.

As we imagined ourselves somewhere in sunny Italy, we were thrust back into Ireland when the rain came. Like a magician the maestro dished out an umbrella and began his next song, Nessun Dorma (None Shall Sleep), so naturally, as if the weather did not affect him at all. That to me was professionalism. I could have sat there the whole day, but then again I could not drink that many cups of coffee.

The next great cup of coffee was drunk in a Chinese restaurant in Newbridge, County Kildare. We were on the way to Dublin airport to pick my daughter upon her return from Germany and we decided to make a turn off to Newbridge for some steamy hot rice and asian cuisine. There were a good number of restaurants to choose from but somehow we gravitated towards Kings Park Chinese and Thai Restaurant on the Main Street.

Every time we enter an Asian restaurant, we would try to guess where the proprietors come from by looking at their faces and listening to their accents. So far, we have correctly identified Mainland Chinese, Taiwanese, Thais, and the list goes on. At Kings Park, I suspected that we were among Malaysians so I asked the young man who waited at our table where he was from.

‘Malaysia, Ipoh to be precise’ he said.

Every time someone mentions Malaysia, the effect would be electric. There was great camaraderie between us as we exchange light conversation about Malaysia and Ireland and I could see how his face lit up when he told me he was going back to Malaysia for a month’s holiday. We had a 3-course meal and coffee was to be served last. So I said, ‘Do you have Ipoh coffee?’ He smiled and said he would concoct something for me.

The next thing I knew was he brought me a tall glass of coffee with milk. I thought he was a true Malaysian at heart, very hospitable and he went out of the way to do something for a fellow Malaysian, both far away from home.

To me that was paradise. It was certainly a taste of Malaysia in Ireland. As we continued our journey to Dublin airport the taste of Ipoh coffee lingered on my lips.


SOURCE: THE NEW STRAITS TIMES 25 SEPT 2011 http://trove.nla.gov.au/work/157461228

LIFE OVERSEAS - GUIDING LIGHT

Pei Yi visited us recently and we had loads of fun. Audrey decided to write an article for New Straits Times Malaysia and it was carried on 28 August 2011........
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AN emigrant often hears cries of “I will come to visit you soon!” from friends.

But typically, words remain words and rarely become actions.

However, my friend Emily Tian Pei Yi from the University of Bristol, England did visit my turf, Ireland.
And because I was no longer a stranger to the country, I became her tour guide.

Our first stop was King John’s Castle, Limerick as we explored the grounds and narrow spiralling staircases made of stone.

It is intriguing to imagine how the maidens of old walked in gowns and high heels.

There is a section in the fort where visitors can experience how it felt to be a prisoner in medieval times, restrained with wooden stocks.

As Ireland is famous for its green pastures and picturesque towns, taking a stroll by a lake and witnessing the battle of seagulls versus ducks for breadcrumbs is a must.

Our next destination had something to do with FarmVille, the well-known game on Facebook.

But instead of staring at an LCD screen and clicking away with the mouse, we experienced it first-hand.

We were given the golden chance to ride behind the wheels of a tractor.

That was just the start of the tour.

Later, the farm owner handed us a bag of scrumptious biscuits and we were left in a field of starving animals.

The sheep were most peculiar as the average sheep would make a break for it at the sound of a human. But these ones came running at us with mouths open wide with only one thing on their minds — get the biscuits.

Fun and laughter aside, a farmer’s job is a challenging one.

After all the petting, the owner’s eyebrows began to furrow as she said: “There is one sheep short.”

After recounting several times, she let out a relieved sigh. “All 26 sheep are accounted for.”

What astounded me was that she knew all of them by name.

As for us, we got to enjoy ourselves for the day — we petted the sheep and fed the donkeys — but the hard work is the upkeep of the animals.
Our next stop? Limerick Milk Market.

Giggles and snorts were in the air as we compared it with the pasar malam.
In Limerick Milk Market, stalls sell multicoloured cheeses, hand-knitted teapot cosies and steaming cups of hot cocoa, for example.

In Malaysia, we get crispy fried chicken, refreshing lemonade jelly drink and delectable apam balik.

Both markets are special in their own way with their unique aroma and charm.

But sadly, the holiday had to come to an end as Tian had to return to Bristol.

She wrote a card expressing her gratitude for my hospitality and appreciation for the tours.

Reading her note made me feel like I should be the one to thank her.

This is because as I walked through the streets, visited the towns and different parts of Ireland, I too learnt that there is always something new to look forward to.

When Tian arrived in Ireland, I thought that I would show her what I was familiar with.

Never did I know that I would one day stroke sheep without them running away or that there are multicoloured cheeses just a stone’s throw away

GOOD GUESTS REFLECT GOOD UPBRINGING

TWO notable figures visited Ireland in May -- Queen Elizabeth and United States President Barack Obama.
The queen's visit was mainly perceived as symbol of reconciliation, as the queen paid tribute in the Garden of Remembrance to the Irish who died resisting British rule.

There was also the singing of the British national anthem in Croke Park, the heartland of Irish nationalism and scene of a bloody massacre.

On the other hand, Obama fever swept through Moneygall, a village on the main road to Limerick, with US Secret Service agents moving in as locals painted their houses, builders plastering frantically and repairing the footpaths. Records show Obama's great-great-great-great-grandfather was a shoemaker in Moneygall and his son, Falmouth Kearney, left for New York in 1850.

Two different guests with two different agendas were warmly received by the host country. This reminds me of the pleasure (or displeasure) of having guests in our homes.

Malaysians, by and large, observe this beautiful tradition of welcoming guests to our homes. We would also make it a point to bring a present for our hosts.

It is not uncommon for guests to call in unannounced in my parents' generation especially in the outskirts of town. However, now that many of us work long hours at the office, the trend of guests informing the hosts before arrival is catching on, especially in the cities.

There is usually a lot of preparation before the guest finally arrives. The house is spruced up and food is prepared. Usually the host takes the trouble to plan an itinerary if the guest comes to stay a few days.

Even as we welcome guests into our homes, we must be mindful of being considerate guests ourselves. More often than not, we should be aware of unwritten rules or different cultural practices.

Being a good guest often reflects the way we have been brought up. Parents glow with pride when someone tells them that their child has been a great guest and the hosts would love to have her back in their house again anytime.

I live in a very scenic town and I have had the pleasure of having quite a few guests at many different times of the year.

Indeed, guests come in different packages.

So, what makes a good guest?

A good guest is one who makes arrangements for transportation and do not rely on the host to provide taxi service.

He could also offer to wash up after a meal, cook a meal or take the host out for a meal.

He should also read up about the country he is visiting before he comes and bring enough local currency with him and not depend on his host to pay for almost everything.

Besides that, the guest should also be sensitive to how things are done around the host's house.

The members of the family may watch certain television shows and eat certain foods and the guest should not be imposing or demanding or making comments that things are not done the way he is used to.

I had to put up a no-smoking sign after I discovered that a guest had happily polluted the air and left cigarette butts in the fireplace in the sitting room.

There was another guest who made it quite clear that nothing in my neighbourhood would ever measure up to where she had been.

While there were guests who made me appreciate the normal life I had before they arrived, there were some whom I would miss terribly when they had gone home.

These were the ones who appreciated the fact that we had gone out of the way to make them feel welcome, set aside time for them and tried to make their stay as comfortable as possible.