Cinnamon Rolls To Die For

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As you know, I got hooked on Pinterest recently. It’s been such a visual heaven that it’s hard resisting. And the fact that I can pin stuff using the iPad just makes it….errr…a lot easier to get lost in other people’s boards. It’s a bit like voyeurism. You get to sneak a peek (actually many peeks) at other people’s boards and get excited, pinning things into your own boards.
I try to limit myself to some surfing at night at Pinterest, just so, you know, I could check out what’s new out there.
Of course, like curation, unless someone takes the effort to curate new stuff, old stuff gets pinned and curated far too often and end up on everyone’s boards.
OK, enough griping.
Now what I DO like about Pinterest is that I get to check out some really new recipes.
I have two things I am quite partial to (but have very little time for) but I am hoping to change that this year. This year, I have decided that I shall spend more time doing things that feed and indulge my little Tiger soul.
I don’t know about you but I like doing things with my hands. I like making crafty stuff (here’s something I told Ai Lee just the other week – I learnt how to crochet when I was 11 because I was too penniless to buy my Sailor Barbie nicer, prettier Oscar de la Renta dresses!) and I like cooking.
Recently I’m into bread-making too thanks to my Lebensstill (god, how  do you spell that anyway?) bread machine which I didn’t even had to buy. The initial plan was to get a smallish bread machine so that I could feel like a domesticate – adding baking to my repertoire of skills. I wanted to get a Tesco branded one but Nic has this thing against Tesco products, calling them cheap and awful. So THAT idea got scrapped. Finally I decided to look at my CIMB Redemption Booklet and what do you know, a Lebensstill bread machine smiled back at me!
I had enough (actually more than enough) points to redeem for the bread machine. So that’s how I’ve been making bread.

The Lebensstill bread machine
The Lebensstill bread machine

So Pinterest with a plethora of recipes and you know how recipes just beckon when they’re so damn visually exciting right? I got this cinnamon roll recipe off someone’s board and have been wanting to try it out because I am mad about cinnamon rolls. The combination of cinnamon and sugar and butter is too heady to contemplate.
I managed to make them just last night – my first time making them anyway but what a success! I could do a little jig here because I am sure anyone who has tried a new recipe for the first time has heart palpitations. What if the recipe turned out awful? Would I have to eat the stuff still? Or throw it out? And knowing that you spent a good amount of time and money on it, you’d be like me – disappointed!
I made this using the bread machine – it is really useful because it has a Dough setting that helps you slowly but surely combine all the sticky and wet ingredients into a proper lump of dough. (I even use the Dough setting to mix up my pumpkin man-tou – saves me a lot of time and prevents me from getting sticky dough on my hands).
The downside is, the Dough setting takes 1.5 hours to complete. The good thing is, you just put all the ingredients in and let the machine beat away for 1.5 hours. You can go read, watch TV, take a nap.
Cinnamon Rolls Recipe (makes 10 rolls)
Into your bread machine bowl, add ingredients in this order:
70 ml water + 100 ml UHT milk
280gm bread flour
15 gm (1 tbsp) milk powder
60 gm castor sugar
1 tsp instant yeast
1/2 tsp salt
Program your machine to DOUGH setting.  About 5 minutes of vigorous mixing, add in 50 gm of butter.
After the dough’s nicely combined (and the machine beeps to a stop), take it out, put it into a tupperware (with a lid) and let it rest in the fridge, overnight. So you can do this around 8pm and by 10pm, your dough should be happily snug in the fridge. Remember to grease the tupperware to make the dough easier to tilt out tomorrow.
Cinnamon rolls in the making
Pardon the mess, I work like a fiend with flour!

This morning, I took it out and let it rest while I went and showered. Then I tilted out the dough, a very pillow-y soft dough, and divided it into 2 portions (easier to handle). I sprinkled more bread flour onto my rolling pin and started rolling it out like a longish sheet.
Then I dabbed pats of butter on to the flattened dough, sprinkled a good amount of brown sugar and ground cinnamon powder and of course, raisins. Then roll up the entire thing, cut them into little rolls and place them into a greased tray. At this stage, you need to let them rest and double up in size which takes about 45 minutes. (Do the same with the rest of the dough.)
Cinnamon rolls waiting to expand
Cinnamon rolls waiting to expand

About 20 minutes into this, you must start heating up your oven. I use 180C most of the time. Once the rolls have doubled, glaze them with beaten egg and pop them into the oven for 20 to 25 minutes.

Cinnamon rolls nicely risen after 45 minutes
Cinnamon rolls nicely risen after 45 minutes

If baking bread makes me swoon, then baking cinnamon rolls makes me swoon even more. The smells are delicious when they’re baking – so this is just another yummy reason to start making them now.
I’m a complete baking novice and my cinnamon rolls turned out excellent.

Nothing like your own cinnamon rolls!
Nothing like your own cinnamon rolls!

Cool them for an hour and then dig in! The rolls are soft and fluffy (and nary a bread tenderizer or bread improver in sight!).
Fresh from the oven, cinnamon rolls!
Fresh from the oven, cinnamon rolls!

Try this recipe and let me know how YOURS turned out!

The Kechara Salad

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I came across this recipe in my Flavours magazine sometime ago.

easy Asian style salad from Kechara
easy Asian style salad from Kechara

It sounded like a really great way to use purple (or is it called red) cabbage – I love purple coloured fruits and vegetables but I’ve never ever entertained the idea of stirfrying purple cabbage. It would certainly look quite weird!
So this Kechara salad was superbly simple and needed just a few ingredients – most of these you can find in your kitchen.
It’s not the heavy sort of Western salad (with creamy dressing). In fact this dressing will pique your taste buds. I figured it could be served as an appetizer or even with your heavier meat and sausage dishes as it cuts down the “jelak” factor due to its tangy-ness.
First, you need a cup of all these three vegetables:

  • shredded purple cabbage
  • shredded carrot
  • shredded lettuce or romaine

Put all of these into a large stainless steel mixing bowl.
Into another bowl, mix 2 tablespoons of Lee Kum Kee Plum Sauce, 1 teaspoon salt, 2 tablespoons lemon juice and 1 tablespoon of caster sugar. Combine well.  Pour this dressing over your gorgeous tri-coloured vegetables.
Just before serving, toss in a handful of roasted peanuts.
Top with roasted seaweed (the kind you find as a snack in supermarkets) – use scissors to cut into smaller pieces.
Serve immediately.
It’s the perfect salad for days when you’re sick and tired of those mayo-thousand-island salads but want something refreshing to tickle and uplift your palate. The plum sauce and lemon juice just give the salad this amazing Asian taste which goes very well with heavier stuff like pork sausages or roast chicken.
If you are wondering why it’s called the Kechara salad, this recipe originated from the kind folks over at Kechara, a Buddhist organization in KL, which is run superbly like a good business. They own a vegetarian restaurant called Kechara Oasis too. They do a host of interesting things from publishing to dining.

What Women Really Want

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You just can’t escape it.
Whether you’re doing it or not, you will be bombarded with Valentine’s Day messages, greetings and “what you are doing to celebrate this occasion with your dearly beloved?”
And yes, it is happening tomorrow. And yes, despite protests from PAS about why celebrating this is bad for the people of the Muslim faith and etc., young people will still celebrate it so stop being so naggy will you? If they haven’t realized it yet, the more older people try to “advise” (seen as “nagging”), the more young people WILL NOT follow. After all, weren’t we all young and rebellious once? (The funniest piece I heard was if you must go on a romantic date, have a chaperon! Oh dear god. If a date has a chaperon, it’s not a date. It’s a Jom Heboh Carnival event complete with free balloons!)
Anyway, it’s one thing to look forward to when I was a young thing but it’s totally different thing when I’ve been married for 10 years.
A number of my gal pals who are married don’t think much about celebrating St Valentine’s – I mean, with the kids and all, it’ll be a logistical nightmare just trying to get the kids to the mom-in-law’s and getting a reservation at a romantic restaurant. Plus in Penang, parking can be just as frustrating!
As with most festivities in Malaysia, we love celebrating with food. Be it a CNY reunion dinner or Valentine’s or Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, it’s really a fleece party when you decide to join the masses.
It isn’t really romantic when you’re jostling for romance in a restaurant that consists of 30 other couples right?
And men (read husbands, fiance, boyfriends, soon-to-be boyfriends) often get worried that if they don’t do something special for their women, they will not hear the end of it.
So pity them fellas. If they have understanding partners, it’s fine but yes, there are some women who clearly love to be feted and romanced on 14 February. Perhaps they have a reason for this.
But here’s what I think women really want – we want Attention from our mates/spouses/boyfriends more than the bling-bling, the roses, the gifts, the perfume, the gadgets.
We want men to listen to us when we speak. Not the puppy-eyes sort of listening but deep listening.
We want men to know when a woman needs help or a hug and offer what’s appropriate.
We want men to give a hand when the household chores are overwhelming and we just don’t want to spend our Saturdays and Sundays just cleaning or mopping or ironing.
We want men to still hold our hands when we go for a quiet walk or hold our hands when we’re watching a movie in the cinema.
We want men to tell us if our cooking’s good because that represents gratitude and attention and that will make any cook happy.
We want men to surprise us with a kind and gentle word when we’re discouraged and need it most.
Of course it won’t be fair to expect these of our men if we women do not do the same for our men. Most good husbands and boyfriends are humans too – they are sensitive just like us. They deserve praise when they do a good job and they need a hug or even a little time out when they are down. (I found that knowing your spouse’s love language does a great job of fulfilling their needs. If you want to know more, take the love language assessment. While you’re there, you can also assess yourself and what your love language is. I found it quite helpful knowing myself at a deeper level. Actually you can read more about your own love language – there are five – and find out which ones are the ones you identify strongly with.)
Unlike us with our sisterhood (women are mostly relational and we often have a great support system of good gal pals to talk to), men may find it hard to open up to another man. Men may bottle emotions up inside and even have a hard time describing what it is they feel.
So guys, stop thinking in terms of material gifts if you’re really out of ideas. (I said out of ideas, I don’t mean cheap or stingy.)
The best gift you can give to the woman in your life is the gift of Attention because every woman, whether she is 19 or 90, would love feeling special and loved.
Dress up the Attention and shower her with this every day of the year.
That would really make a great Valentine’s.

Why My Mom Has A Hard Time Getting What I Do

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Just the other day when I was happily driving my mom and sisters and nephew and niece about (I think it was a stupendously sultry afternoon), my mom asked me a question.
“Do you have work tomorrow?”
I believed the next day was a holiday or something like that.
You see, my mom is in her early 60s.
She speaks English, used to be our stay-at-home mom (in the days when most moms were stay at home moms and when a woman didn’t flinch to be called a Housewife but nooooo, these days it’s so impolite, we must use Homemaker!) and cooked and cleaned and washed for us. Basically she stayed at home while Dad, the English teacher, went out to work.
My mom worked briefly as a clerk before she married my dad and even then, my mom married very early – she was 22 when she got married and 24 when I was born.
The working world, to her, seemed rather alien.
She knows people go to work at prescribed periods in a day. Like Dad used to have lunch then zip off to teach from 1pm to 6.30pm, Mondays to Fridays. From time to time, he had to do things like invigilation. Most of the time, he had weekends to rest.
That is why explaining to her what I do (or rather what Nic and I do with our people in the office) seems difficult.
“Mom, I work regardless of where I am. I could be in the office but even when I’m not in the office, I’m still working. As long as I have my Wifi connection and my Fujitsu laptop, I am working.”
I think she couldn’t imagine what I was saying to her.
It helped that my sister, the One Is Who Constantly Hooked To The Net (Facebook most likely and blasts out statuses to the world like cryptic clues), reiterated that yes, these days, it doesn’t matter where we are, we work most of the time.
Turning to my mom, she said, “She doesn’t need to be in her office to work.”
True.
And still, it didn’t help Mom understand what we really do.
(Sometimes Mom calls me up to chat and asks, “Are you in the office?” I could tell her that I’m not and that I’m at home (working) but it wouldn’t make sense to her. Office to her means work. If I’m at home, it means I am not working.)
For I started thinking.
Our world must be so strange to our parents who are in their 60s and 70s (my Dad’s approaching 70 this June). He only goes online when he wants my sister to show him the Da Ma Cai results. Mom almost never does because again, my sister’s netbook, tablet and other devices are just too confusing and scary to touch.
I remembered once many years ago when I tried to show her how to use my sister’s old PC. I wanted her to know that the online world could be quite exciting (and that she could access her favourite feng shui predictions online).
I told her to hold the mouse and use it and she turned to me and said, “One click or two clicks?”
I was floored. I never even stopped to think about how many clicks. That was such an eye-opener to me. I realized we take so many things for granted. In a newbie’s hands, even clicks (or using the scroll function) was a new experience and she was unsure how to go about it.
Even until today, Nic’s parents have a hard time digesting the idea that we could be back in quiet Kuching and still be engaged in work! All we needed was our devices (which these days seem to grow!) and a Wifi connection.
The kinds of work our parents and parents-in-law understood were the types where you had fixed hours (like 8 to 5). You worked five days, or even in some cases five and half days. On Saturdays and Sundays, you rested. In those days, you couldn’t do work even if you wanted to (from home) as all your resources were in the office!
The seamlessness of our lives and work these days can be frightening to our parents. They see us staring intently at our computers, wonder what’s up and see us punching the keyboard and sometimes we do this all day long.
“Are they really working?”
Even when my sister is on leave, she’s still reading and settling company stuff via emails.
Even when my other sister is on CNY break, she’s still online, checking up on her blogshop and reviewing customer orders.
Even when my friend is down with the flu, she’s still conferencing with her bosses halfway round the world from home.
Even when we’re all away from our desks, we’re still working.
If I could only tell them that not only are we working and doing transactions, we’re also connecting with friends all around the world.
We’re also working more hours than before (which explains why I take a complete weekend sabbath from my beloved Fujitsu and why you won’t see me online on weekends if I can help it).
We’re also talking to people all over the world with just a click of a button and chat with old buddies and see their faces too.
Technology has freed us to work from anywhere we choose but it has also chained us to working anywhere we choose. That’s the paradox of our times.
Now that’s a hard one to explain to Mom.

What A Dead Goose Taught Me

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It’s the last day of the year.
And like most people, I tend to get a little reflective as the year ends. It’s a good time to take stock of what I’ve been up to, for the past 12 months.
It’s also time to look forward and be excited about what’s arriving in the next 12 months.
Do you get a little misty-eyed like me too?
Call it my Piscean tendencies but I do love looking back and hugging the memories of the year that had just whittled by.
I always believe that if you’re alive and kicking, you should always contemplate a little and be aware of your actions of the past year. I love doing this because by nicely wrapping up the year, I can be proud of my little achievements and milestones before I head on out to create even bigger, better ones in 2012.
I would feel incomplete and naked if I entered 2012 without doing so. Because as someone said, a life well lived is a life worth journalling about. As you can see, I’m all for shutting chapters properly. (You should see my stack of journals over the years. They’re full of my ups and downs in life. Sometimes I get worried. What if these get into the wrong hands and people make up perceptions of me based on my emotional outpouring?)
As I near my 40s (I still can’t believe I have 2 years before the BIG Four O), I get even more pensive and reflective. Perhaps mortality is getting its foot into my thoughts. Perhaps I need to really get going on the bucket list.
What a dead goose taught me
My “siew ngor peih” (roast goose drumstick) story comes to mind.
Many years ago, Nic and I were in Petaling Street where we decided to buy some “siew ngor” or roast goose. The famous Petaling Street stall doesn’t sell a quarter goose or quarter duck so we had to buy half a goose.
We took this prized half back to our hotel room to savour.
The best in this case was the drumstick portion of the roast goose (after all it was half a goose so it came with its drumstick intact). I grew up with this idea that you always save the best for last.
I told Nic that I must have the best for last so we ate the rest of the roast goose.
Unfortunately it was half a goose – actually it was a LOT of GOOSE so by the time we finished 80% of the fowl, we were both completely full. We couldn’t even bear to look at the fat, juicy drumstick.
Maybe we leave it for tomorrow? I ventured. I was already too full to move, what more eat more goose.
We both decided that was the best plan.
Which turned out to be such a crappy plan because the next morning, I woke up with a slight fever and a sore throat. Which meant, I couldn’t eat the best bit of the goose – its drumstick!
Nic who is strong as a horse didn’t have any sickly symptoms from gorging on goose the day before. He then ate the roast drumstick as his breakfast!
It was pure agony for me (also, being sick made it worse!).
So what exactly did a dead goose teach me?
It taught me that if I really enjoyed/appreciated something, I might as well enjoy and appreciate it at the beginning instead of waiting till the end. The good stuff may be worth waiting for but there’s no cardinal rule saying you HAVE to antagonize yourself with the wait (which can be endless sometimes).
I know most people won’t philosphise over some dead poultry and concoct some rule for living.
But I take life lessons pretty damn seriously so that roast goose drumstick taught me that if I want to live life or do things I wanna do, there’s no better time than right here, right now.
Don’t ever wait for tomorrow for who knows, it may never arrive. (Mortality is no laughing matter these days. I’ve heard of 30-somethings get aneurysm, for god’s sakes.)
I’m not asking you to live with abandon but to live with enthusiasm and take each day as a starting point for the dreams of your life.
Resolutions, promises, commitments – whatever you choose to call it, in the end it is the story of your life. How do you want your life story to be recounted?
Happy New Year to all of you who read this blog. Thank you for reading!

Voltaire quote
Wonderfully sound advice from Voltaire. Taken at MUJI Hong Kong during our trip there in March this year

No Brand But Just As Good

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I’m not a big fan of tau sar pneah although Nic is. He loves them to bits and can eat a few at one go, especially if they’re going with brewed coffee.
Soh Peng’s little adventure with finding tau sar pneah the last time she visited was enlightening, especially for me. I was a little intrigued about the best tau sar pneah in town, or at least the best type you could cart home to friends and family.
Anyway, Nic actually liked Chuan Hoe brand of tau sar pneah. This brand was recommended by the lady at a stall in Chowrasta market. He said it was moist and redolent of fried onions. Sometimes the no-brand stuff can be rather lovely.
But he also liked Ah Leong’s freshly baked tau sar pneah too. Ah Leong is a little nickname we gave to this nondescript, hidden gem of a biscuit maker located behind De Tai Tong dim sum restaurant on Cintra Street. Ah Leong is actually Leong Chee Kei – the name of this tiny biscuit shop on the ground floor of the very Hong Kong-style, 1970s People’s Flats.
Leong Chee Kei (not sure if that’s his name or the name of the shop but hey, it does not matter) sells freshly baked traditional style cakes and biscuits. It opens every day from 10am to 6pm (except Sunday because the baker does need a rest).
I was introduced to this pastry shop by Jo, a Singaporean no less, one day after we’d had a filling lunch at De Tai Tong. She said she wanted to show me a superb little shop behind this dim sum place.
Leong Chee Kei is famous for their freshly baked coconut tarts which tend to sell out fast.

Coconut tarts Penang style
Chinese style coconut tarts...best eaten lightly reheated

Their pepper biscuits are also crunchy and famous (come to think of it, which biscuit is not famous in this shop?) and so are their traditional style egg cakes – you know, the soft and spongy cake in the 80s before we all got caught up in crepe de mille or cheesecake or macarons. (You can read more and salivate over this quirky Chinese bakery goodies over at CK Lam’s blog.)
They sell all sorts of traditional biscuits so the best time to come is in the morning, 10-ish or so when the baked goods are just cooling off under their furious fans, ready to be packed and bought by tourists. Yes, tourists have also discovered that the best stuff is just plain un-branded and needs a bit of a curious nose to find. Oh and they do quite a good walnut cookie (“hup tow soh”) too – the size of a large American cookie but tastes very crumbly and rich.
Despite being famous, this shop has retained local prices (at least they seem quite local to me).
This shop sells pretty good tau sar pneah and possibly good enough to rival the big boys. In fact if you ask me, theirs could be lots better ‘coz it’s handmade, made the day or even the day before (it’s not sitting in some shop for yonks) and you’re supporting one of the few local bakeries – possibly the last of its kind because I doubt the owner’s kids will be doing this manual biscuit baking any time soon.
Which reminded me of another food-nostalgia-reflection story of a Ban Chang Kuih seller we spoke to at one of the street corners near Cintra Street. It’s the story of how there is no wrong or right, but of how circumstances change.
And that is another story for another day. Do remind me. 😉

My Kerala Trip: Kuruva Isle

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This was a post I wrote after I came back from our India trip in 2010 with the Paul Penders team. I didn’t get around to posting it up so here it is.
One of the places we visited was Kuruva Island which was 20 minutes away from VanaMoolika. This was our jaunt in the forest as we were going to an island to partake in nature.

Where's the island?
Where's the island?

The four Innova’s were again packed with all of us. I felt excited as we were told we were going to an island. Coming from an island like Penang, I had my ideas about islands. I also heard we had to pay an entry fee to get to the island.
Entry fee list for Kuruva Island
Entry fee list for Kuruva Island

When we got out of the MPVs, I was looking for a visible island. None that I could see! I could see paddy fields and a bit of a jungle path.
The thing in India is, one never really knows what’s happening. The drivers speak Malayalam so that’s alien to our ears. Finally we were told that the island could be seen after a few minutes walking. We all hung about waiting for things to get settled. While waiting, I saw an interesting tea shack near the fee collection booth. Made with all natural materials, it was a roughly put together shack – an Internet cafe! And this British motorcycle too! It’s truly antique stuff.
Seen outside the "Internet cafe" - a very old British motorbike
It was almost noon and getting fairly warm. After what seemed like eternity, we were herded down the path through the paddy fields. At that time of the year, the fields were emerald carpets! Not a soul to be seen though. It was just the bunch of us – a motley and noisy bunch!
Crossing the river in a bamboo raft to get to Kuruva Island
Crossing the river in a bamboo raft to get to Kuruva Island

After a few minutes of traipsing, we came out to a clearing which ended at a muddy river, the colour of ‘teh tarik’. Bamboo rafts were tied to the bank. These rafts were our transport over to the island which was about 100 meters away.
The raft journey barely took 10 minutes. Our raft man didn’t need to do much work except pull his way across the river – a thick rope was strung across the river and he just guided the raft across this way. I didn’t see any birds or fish during this river crossing. I thought we were looking for biodiversity! It was exceedingly quiet for an island teeming with nature.
Loaded up on the raft
Loaded up on the raft

After we got off the raft, we crossed a bamboo bridge and finally, we were on Kuruva Island!
After getting off the raft, we walked on a bamboo bridge
After getting off the raft, we walked on a bamboo bridge

Coming from Malaysia where our jungles are thick and humid, the walk on Kuruva Island wasn’t really a jungle experience. It was more of a thick forest than a jungle proper. What made it pleasant was the weather. It was not as humid as Malaysia so the leisurely walk didn’t drench us in sweat. We didn’t see any animals except a lone macaque and some butterflies. Notably missing too were bird calls and the incessant humming of the jungle (which is so prevalent in Malaysia).
Truth be told, we didn’t walk the entire length of the island so what we saw was possibly 20% of Kuruva. It was an interesting walk though despite not seeing any animals. Maybe I was expecting to see tiger tracks or wild boar tracks (we saw some wild boar poop though….). Maybe I watch too many National Geographic TV programmes!

A Passport Adventure…Or Why We're Always Behind Singapore

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Lots of people find difficulty in creating blog posts.
I can tell you that if you observe your daily life long enough or meet enough people, you will have plenty to blog about.
Case in point – today we were at the Penang Immigration Department on Beach Street.
Most people, especially Malaysians, hate dealing with Government departments.
The waiting time is long as hell and you get crappy service most of the time. I say this because sometimes, like a glimmer of light from beyond, one or two officers will come forth and shine and make your dealing with them a lot better. But these people, once we come across them, are like gems. Few and far in between.
The rest have this “attitude” which you really dislike.
Like intensely.
Nic for one hates bureaucracy. As the rebellious person that he is (and he is famous for this even when he was in USM – he was well-known for his rebel nature), he finds such experiences tiring. I do too but I take these experiences better than he does.
Anyway, based on our last experience at renewing our passports, we figured it would be a breeze. At least you now do not need to wake up at the ungodly hour of 6 am and wait in line for a number. With improved services, we now have a passport renewal kiosk – a machine which shortens the time considerably.
The last time we renewed our passports, it was easy. Just get there, get your number, and do the needed at the kiosk. The kiosk scans your passport, scans your MyKad and scans your right thumbprint. Plus it also accepts your cash. And it spits out your receipt. Your new passport will be ready in an hour, give or take a few minutes. So in that one hour, you can go and do other things, run some errands, have your breakfast and later come back for your new travel document.
This time, we thought, it would be relatively quick.
I think I give our Malaysian departments too much trust.
How To Renew Your Malaysian Passport
Here’s how the procedure works and I experienced it first-hand today.
So consider this post a how-to, so you can save time, prevent yourself from tearing your hair out and cut out the stress. At least if you can learn from this post, please do. Go all prepared. Then you have less issue and less frustration.
I don’t know why this time we had to get the passport renewal forms to fill up. But we did.
If you see a line of people, skip the queue. These people are lining up for their numbers.
If you haven’t gotten your form yet, go right up to the counter (which lies smack in the middle as you enter) and ask for the form. You DON’T need to line up for forms.
Next, you need a photostat copy of your MyKad as well as 2 recent passport-sized photographs. I brought along mine which was taken not very long ago (I had a hair cut since then) but they told me that I had to take my photo again! Of course I grumbled. Surprisingly Nic was calm.
You don’t have to go very far to get your instant passport photos taken.
The Immigration Department has a little annexe (more like a hastily put up shack) behind the main building. You go around the building (walk to your left as you exit the main entrance) and you will see a line of people waiting in the sun for their turn to get their photos snapped or to photostat their MyKad. No shade whatsoever. The smart aleck who is doing a roaring good business behind the main building charges RM0.60 for photostat and RM10 for 4 pieces of photos.
So we had to wait in the bloody hot sun, in a line, to get our photos snapped.
Once you get that, you check your form – fill it up properly – and attach your 2 photos, your MyKad photostat copy and your old passport. Of course, none of this is written down on their Immigration Department board or website.
I check websites religiously – I even told Nic we could do the renewal online but Nic does not have faith at all in the online system. If it failed, we’d have to do the regular way. So might as well save ourselves the agony and do it the regular way. That is how mediocre our Government departments are. That is how much trust we have in them.
With your form and necessary stuff in hand, you now get back into that stupid line again (yes) to get your number. Tell them you want to use the kiosk. It is much shorter (unless the kiosk throws a fit and refuses to scan your passport, in which case you need to do the Manual Renewal method…which I will clue you in, too, since I am in such a good mood…NOT).
With that number in hand, you go to the kiosk which is a little room and get this, with one of their officers inside! (We can’t trust machines too much, can we?)
Basically, the kiosk scans your old passport, scans your MyKad and scans your thumbprint. Then you “feed” it with money (RM300 for 48-page Malaysian International Passport of 5 years’ validity – update: as of 2015, it is cheaper to renew your passport) and you get a receipt.
In usual cases, you are asked to come back in one hour. Today being a Friday, I was told to collect my new passport at 3pm. Done deal, right? Not so. When you come at 3pm, you line up AGAIN to get a number.
When Being Punctual or Early Can Be Bad
The officer won’t give you a number if you’re early by a few minutes. Oh no, it must be on the dot.
I was early by 5 minutes and he told me that but I told him I wasn’t going to line up again.
I am quite nice most times but I can be nasty when I want to.
I told him, “Look. There’s a line behind me. I am NOT lining up again.”
Maybe it was my Tiger face because he finally decided he didn’t want to argue with me and gave me my number. Earlier I had made a fuss when his colleague told me I had to take my photo again – and that colleague (when I went back to him again to get a number) told me not to be so mad. I was quite furious and when I get mad, it shows on my face. You don’t want to mess with me then.
With this number and my receipt, I went to Kaunter 8 and dropped the receipt in this pathetic, cheap red plastic tray. The guy behind the counter will call your number. You just need to present your MyKad, sign the new passport and sign the form (the one you initially had) and scan your thumbprint. That is it.
I was lucky. My passport was deemed accepted by the machine.
Nic wasn’t so lucky. The machine refused to scan his passport and finally he was asked to do the Manual Way. This is something we dread because it is long, tedious, bureaucratic with stupid systems!
When You Renew Your Passport Over The Counter
Here’s the manual way, explained step by step:
1. You get a number. (If you don’t have a number, you won’t get anywhere. Get in line. Get a number.)
2. You wait your turn. Remember to check if you have: your old passport, your xerox copy of MyKad and 2 photos and the stupid form (which you got earlier and filled up).
3. The wait can be horrible. You see, the Penang Immigration Department is one of the most run-down and dismal places to be in. The wall where the cheap Kilometrico pens are (tied with string no less, just in case you decide to steal some Kilometrico pens! Oh for god’s sakes)
are littered with such interesting profanity and art that it shows how bored mindless the waiting can be. The desk here is dirtied with ink of leaky pens.
4. The wait is annoying because there aren’t enough seating or if you do find one, it’s a dirty seat with stains and what-not. When I am here, I feel like I am in some dingy Third World country – oh wait a minute, I am in a dingy Third World country. Like the LCCT in Sepang, this waiting area makes me ashamed to be called a Malaysian. Is this Malaysia? Not only are the seats dirty and cramped, most people hang around and wait, making it utterly claustrophobic.
5. When your number is called, you go up to the counter. The officer takes your form, processes it and asks to scan your thumbprint. You get to ink your thumb and put your thumbprint on the form too.
6. Do you pay your RM300? Oh noooo….. you take a seat again because your money will be paid at another counter.
7. So you return to your seat and resign yourself to another 30 to 50 minutes of incredibly mindless waiting. The officer who takes your form doesn’t take your money?! This is a system problem. Why must you be re-routed to another officer so he can collect your money and give you a receipt?
No wonder our civil service is so bloated. It takes 2-3 people to do one person’s job!
8. So you endure the wait until the officer calls your name.
9. When he calls your name, you pay and get your receipt. When you get your receipt, you are asked to collect your new passport in 1 hour. (Now’s the time to go around the corner and have a cup of coffee while you wait out the hour.)
Some Useful Tips
Make sure you renew your passport for as long as you can. You never want to endure this ordeal too many times in your life. It kills you.
A woman complained that she had been there since 8.30am. A woman we met said she was scolded by the officer when she stood too near the counter (she had seen her form on the next pile and knew he was about to call her name). He actually slammed her form on the counter, showing his displeasure.
If I were her I’d say, “Go ahead and get mad. Then give me your name because I am going to write a letter of complaint to your big boss and report you as rude and uncivilised.”
What sort of civil service is this if you treat fellow Malaysians like they didn’t matter?
Here are people of all walks of life with most being nervous when dealing with Government Departments because they lacked proficiency in Bahasa Malaysia and don’t know how to fill forms. I saw many people like this. They worried not knowing what to write in their forms.
They hung around, unsure of what came next. Uncertainty is a horrible feeling when you are illiterate and the worse thing is when some officers throw a tantrum in front of the people they are supposed to serve with a smile?
Some are friendly – no doubt – the lady who served me when I was at the kiosk was a cheerful spirit.
But I was lucky. How many others got horrible officers?
The moment we got our new passports, I told myself that I won’t need to step into this place for another 5 years and that’s in 2017.
I met a friend too who was lining up for a second time to get her number – she was apparently too early the first time around and the officer refused to issue her a number. She said,”Oh but it’s like that. We’re not like Singapore you know.”
But why aren’t we like Singapore?
Why do we accept mediocre service and think it’s OK to be bullied by rude officers? Why do we take such crap without even a squeak?
That is why Malaysia will never progress beyond what we have now if we don’t speak up and get services improved. Many Malaysians are too accepting of rubbishy service particularly from the Government departments.
Just like the other day when a bank officer at the RHB Sungai Dua branch (a woman no less!) was rude to Nic.
I told him never let that get away. We have been loyal customers of this bank for more than 10 years. Is this any way to treat your customers?
Then and there, Nic went up to the bank manager and told him that he was unhappy that not only did she not offer a solution to his ATM card problem, she laughed like a hyena while walking away. I hope she gets a good earful from her bank manager.
So don’t stew if you get bad service – write about it, blog about it, write to your newspaper, write to the company. Let them know that you are unhappy. At least then something can be improved.
Of course don’t just complain for nothing. Complain so that they improve their services. That’s the goal.
In Singapore, businesses take complaints seriously. Customer service is a serious culture over there.
Over here, we take crap from people who should be serving us with a smile. Why?

My Kerala Trip: Discovering Sankar

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Another India post – a much delayed one!
On our final day in Sopanam, we had a plan. It was a plan borne out of the desire to see Kochi city, at least before we flew back to KL. Towns and such are located a distance from each other so we left Sopanam with our luggage all packed on top of our Innova. We would go to the airport directly after entering Kochi.

Sopanam to Kochi was about 1 hour's drive
Sopanam to Kochi was about 1 hour's drive

We didn’t have a plan for Kochi – Uma deftly instructed our driver to drop us off at M.G Road. In the end, we didn’t get to M.G. Road for traffic reasons.
It was a Saturday but traffic entering Kochi was as bad as on a week day. Even the trip from Sopanam to Kochi took us more than an hour.
We were angsty from all that sitting in the car and with the way our driver drove, we were dicing with death at every sharp turn! In the end, we vent our frustrations by conversing with each other in Bahasa Malaysia.
See? Our national language is very useful overseas because you can bitch in that language and no one will know.
Finally he dropped us off at a busy part of town where a few shopping complexes were. Everyone had a stare fest at us because we were different. Some thought we were Japanese and tried to tempt us with “konnichi wa?” There we were, Yvonne who was Dutch, Uma was Malaysian Indian and me, Nic, Faye and Gwen were Malaysian Chinese.
Mobile phones are very big in Kochi too!
Mobile phones are very big in Kochi too!

We were hungry too and the first shopping mall we entered had a Marrybrown outlet! I have only eaten once in Marrybrown when it was in Penang and despite it being a Malaysian franchise, I had no desire to eat Marrybrown in Kochi. Uma then went off to buy her Enthiraan CD while we hung around, waiting for her.
A quick prata lunch in Kochi
A quick prata lunch in Kochi

Once she was done, we decided we really had to have lunch. Off we went in search of food. We landed at a typical Indian restaurant selling dosa (thosai to you and me) and roti prata (roti canai). We wanted to shop and look around more so having prata was the fastest way to gulp down our food. Though it was the last day, we still didn’t take any chances and decided to have hot drinks like milk tea instead of the plain water served to us in typical stainless steel cups.
Again it was funny to be stared at. In the restaurant, everyone looked up at us as we entered. It was a 2-storey restaurant with upstairs seating. However, the rule was, if you wanted to eat banana leaf rice, you sat upstairs. If you wanted to eat other stuff, you sat downstairs. After taking the stairs up and learning of this quirky rule, we all came downstairs again. Indian restaurants seem to run low on electricity – they’re badly lit and very dim.
Spent some rupees in this Himalaya Herbal shop inside the airport
Spent some rupees in this Himalaya Herbal shop inside the airport

Finally with our meal done in super fast timing, we trooped out. Already it was past noon and we had 30 more minutes before we had to get back to the Innova. Our driver seemed intent on hurrying us and worried that we’d not make it to the airport on time. (We had plenty of time except that the AirAsia staff in Kochi took a heck of a long time in checking the 5 of us and our luggage in.)
In the end, we didn’t buy anything at all due to the time constraints though Gwen tried some ice cream and vadai.
We still each had lots of Indian rupees and thought perhaps we could have some McDonalds at the airport. After all, how much of prata and dhal curry can one eat right? I was excited at reaching Kochi Airport and the thought of biting into a luscious beef burger made me cheer up.
This unassuming building is the Kochi airport!
This unassuming building is the Kochi airport!

The Kochi Airport is fairly large but we had to show our passports in order to enter! Unless one was legitimately travelling (taking a plane that day), one could not simply waltz into the airport.
Waiting for the driver to unload all our luggage
Waiting for the driver to unload all our luggage

I didn’t know if the security was high as it was nearing the New Delhi Commonwealth Games (which would be held in a couple of days and no one wanted to jeopardize the security of the host nation). Once inside, I spotted a shop where I knew I could spend my rupees. (It was the Himalaya Herbals shop where they sold their products comparatively cheap.)
A familiar brand greets us!
A familiar brand greets us!

But first, where was McDonalds?
There was none. Not a fastfood outlet in sight! The airport had food kiosks which sold masala tea and snacks like vadai at reasonable prices (and were mighty tasty too unlike the crappy sandwiches we get at the Penang airport food kiosks).
An Indian touch at the Kochi Airport - at least it is not crowded like LCCT Sepang
An Indian touch at the Kochi Airport - at least it is not crowded like LCCT Sepang

As we reached the airport earlier than the others, we had plenty of time to spare. I spotted Sankar’s, an unassuming bookstore near the departure lounge. It was small but its size did belie the selections! The books were incredibly varied, from business to Ayurveda (this is Kerala we’re talking about) and even some eclectic books which I think I will never find in Borders. As the books are printed in India, the prices were comparatively cheaper. Novels were going for RM20 to RM28. Thick autobiographies selling for RM35. It was a gleeful time as I went from shelf to shelf picking out books. Then I realized I had already checked in the luggage and how many books could I carry into the plane?
What a conundrum isn’t it? To come face to face with the loveliest little bookstore in Kochi Airport and have to DECIDE which books NOT to buy because we had some constraints in carrying these books! (Sankar’s is found in most major airports in India so if you are going to India, stop by their bookstores. They’re very worth your while.)
I heard that there were more well-stocked bookstores in the city but Sankar’s would do for me. The Indian salesman was polite and smiled happily as we complimented his good selection. It seemed I wanted every book. Kerala, a friend told me, has the highest literacy rate in the whole of India.
I had to tear myself away from the bookstore as I had finally spent all my available rupees!