Will the Real Tita Please Stand up?

A fortnight ago, I was trying to find 'hits' on Google for "Tita (pronounce "Tee-tuh") and Blog".

For my own self-immersion and vanity, if you like.

And I found another Tita with her own blog and she's Indonesian! More or less from the same region.

I was thrilled! It's so difficult to find another person with the same namesake (at least in nickname).

I have yet to find a girl with the same namesake in Malaysia.

A close friend of mine, Amy, did tell me that Tita means 'Uncle' in Tagalog. I don't know how true that is.

And I'm sure there are countless Tita in the Spanish-speaking world. At least, from my own research deduction over the Internet.

Tita appears in many Spanish-related words, it seems.

Maybe it does mean Uncle in Spanish AND Tagalog (since Filipino or Philippines was once a Spain colony).

Back to my great discovery, I was curious to find out about another Tita and wrote her a message via her blog.

And she replied. And what was more surreal is that she is studying in the same town that my husband will be going to. Delft!

She is also married with two kids - a boy and a girl.

Wow, that got me floored! A Tita in Delft? That was funny AND exciting.

Through our correspondences, I got to know a local's perspective about living in Holland (since she has been there for quite some time) and more importantly, about inoculation and other medical benefits for my soon-to-arrive bundle of joy.

It did aid in allaying my concerns over the medical coverage.

A few missives later, we have both agreed to meet up. I do hope we get the chance to.

It would be strange meeting a total stranger with whom I didn't get a first-person introduction.

But a Tita will always make sure the other person feels that she is at home with her company.

Isn't that right, Tita?

Lay your hands on me

7:30 pm. Thursday night. Malaysian time.

I was lying on my back in bed watching "Friends" re-run on tv with my husband.

My right hand was laid on top of my bulging stomach.

Suddenly, a strong wave-like motion from inside my womb 'touched' my hand.

I screamed! My husband sprang out of bed in the process.

That was surreal!

I had innumerable episodes of kicking but that one hits the spot, so to speak.

I know it was probably her rolling inside her cavity, but it felt limb-like to me.

I was overjoyed with her making contact with me.

It is undoubtedly an experience I will treasure for the rest of my lives.

Birth of the Incorrigible Twins

Two days ago was my birthday.

Mine and that of my twin sister. We have already passed the 30th year mark.

My sister and I used to be quite close. Then, we both got married. Well, she got hitched first, followed by me two years later. And by the same token, she got pregnant and had a tyke first.

We didn't become close until we both went overseas to study. The old adage, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder" plays a role here.

I could recall the closeness and intimacy we had even to this day. Sometimes, it is so clear like the bluest of skies. On other (bad) days, it is hazy like a cloudy day. Sadly, rites of passage have drifted us apart. That, on top of other misunderstandings and petty squabbles.

Prior to our overseas studies, we went to the same residential school for our Form Four and Form Five classes (equivalent to 11th and 12th grade in the States).

Apart from being in the same class, we even shared the same dormitory room during Form Five. With all that close proximity, one would assume we were close. We were. But not as much as from the point when we parted ways. I don't know how she felt but in my case, I took her for granted whenever she was around. People tend to do that when their loved ones are within reach. They would pick fights with them and disregard their existence whenever the opportunities arise.

When I went to the States to further my studies, I came to a realisation that I do miss her. Throughout our stay overseas (she was in United Kingdom), we learned to be more forthcoming about our feelings toward one another. We managed to say that we miss one another. Previously, no such exchange of emotions was possible.

Such affection should in fact be instinctual - after all, we did share the same womb together!

But such display of affection is not so 'big' with my family members. We only show physical affection during religious festivities, and other rare events like bon voyage, homecoming or weddings.

I think Asians in general are disinclined and not accustomed to show their affections in an outward, physical fashion. We were not brought up in such culture.

Back to my sibling tale, rites of passage like boyfriends-turn-husbands, marriage, getting pregnant and giving birth change our priorities in life.

I felt a tad bit left out when she tied the knot and was struggling with my own separation issue. Things like going out together were few and far between in the beginning.

In the midst of this adjustment, a blissful 'reunion' with my (now) husband took place. Like any other couples in love, I was engrossed in my own amorous affair to impose myself on her married life.

But her husband's erratic work schedule (back when they first got married) and her first pregnancy played a hand in rendering my usefulness and active involvement in her life again.

However, unlike before, there would always be the husband factor coming into the equation whenever a decision needed to be made.

It's only natural and something I've come to accept now that I myself am married.

However, there are more than meet the eyes. From my wedding date onwards, other intermingling events in our lives have also not been in our favour. Misunderstandings ensued. More often than not, they were over trivial matters that, in my opinion, encapsulate a different level of unresolved issues.

Perhaps, it is misplaced anger, a resentment over a past issue or an unconscious neglect over the nuances of the other party's feelings.

Over time, they accumulate. For my part, being a hypersensitive soul (and more so during pregnancy), I often reacted prematurely or turned belligerent to those perceived unkind remarks and inconsiderate actions.

Sometimes, I wonder if the passage of time has made us more susceptible to people's words and actions especially those that come from our loved ones.

Do we need to come to the point where we are inured by the ones we love? Isn't that a sad juxtaposition? Love and inure?

It should not and could not be that way. We must always be fond and cheerful of the ones we care about. Ideally, that is. But then again, people, more so family, are not perfect.

Alas, like the saying goes, "Blood is thicker than water."

I always believe, despite the encumbrances of treading over my family's idiosyncracies, they will always be there to support and help me in my times of need.

And when the day turns foggy, I will cast my melancholy away and look forward for the rainbow to come out on a clear blue, sunny day.

Baby blues

From the day I was tested positive for pregnancy way back in July, the journey into motherhood has been wrought with both physical and emotional challenges.

I have been in and out of clinic for fever and abdominal pains and was once in the emergency ward of a hospital for 'light bleeding' or in correct medical term 'spotting.' Everything was all well again, thankfully, after a shot of progesterone in the region of my 'derriere.'

But nothing prepared me for what to come next. After undergoing a triple-blood test in the middle of September, which is routine for mothers-to-be to check for abnormality or other kind of genetic incompabilities, my gynae hit me with the most unexpected news.

When the results of the blood test came back, he informed us that I have a relatively high marker for down syndrome. I was shocked and sad. That is, compared to the world's population with cases of down syndrome, I was nestled somewhere in the high percentile. He advised an amniocentesis procedure to ascertain for sure the presence of a down syndrome baby. Or in correct medical term, a fetus with chrosomal disorder(s).

I was crushed. I was not prepared for such news. We both were not.

We were weighing our options. Should we opt for an amniocentesis or just wade it out and pray for the best? And another dilemma unfolds - if the amniocentesis was not in our favour, should we just continue with the pregnancy or Heaven forbids, terminate it? I would always be brimming with tears whenever I think of the consequences of our next action.

We were in a lose-lose situation, it seems. And an amniocentesis doesn't come cheap. At least not in Malaysia. It is NOT something that it's covered under my husband's employment benefits. My benefits would be zilch when compared to his company's.

And I think it's preposterous that they draw the line for eligibility to undergo this procedure. But an insurance company must draw the line SOMEWHERE to make profits. The current criteria are for women of 35 years old and above and with a family case of down syndrome. Since I didn't fall under the former criterion, I was not covered under the company's insurance plan.

We then decided to opt for the procedure, despite having to fork out our own money. It was expensive but at least, we would have a peace of mind thereafter.

Amniocentesis involves taking a sample of a pregnant woman's amniotic fluid by inserting a special finehair-like needle into the woman's stomach. The sample is then being sent to the lab for further processing. It will be cultured and tested to detect and produce definitive results on different kinds of abnormalities such as down syndrome and neural tube defects. Since the fluid contains cells from our baby, chemicals, and micro-organisms, it can answer many questions about our baby's health as well as inform us of the baby's gender.

Amniocentesis is also not without its side effects and risks. According to www.babycentre.co.uk Website, about one in 200 women develops an infection or some other complication as a result of their amniocentesis that results in miscarriage. So imagine what a nervous wreck I was!

The procedure, thankfully, went along smoothly - thanks to this soothingly professional gynae (recommended by my own gynae) who is an expert in fetal-related surgery. I would go so far to say that he is even better than my gynae. Sorry doc!

However, the results would only be known in a week's time. We were relieved that the amnio was over with but the anticipation of the results was making us glum and downhearted. It was like, in my husband's own words, walking on shards of glass.

Could you imagine we didn't laugh ever since we found out about the blood test's results? And another week of waiting would mean two weeks of gloomy faces.

Then, on a fine Saturday afternoon, I received a phone call. It was from that fetal expert's clinic. The nurse informed us that the baby is normal. I didn't expect the call since the procedure had just taken place on Wednesday. It wasn't even a week! Wow, I was SO glad that they called earlier rather than making us wait for a week!

I was reeling from the news, busy telling my husband, that I forgot to ask about the baby's gender. I had to call back. Earlier on, we had both agreed that we wanted to know.

It is a girl.

Sigh. A girl!

My husband was hoping for a girl. But after that heartwrenching, emotional turmoil, we had both concurred that any gender would be heavensent as long as the baby is healthy and normal.

Now, at the beginning of my third trimester, my babygirl is quite active, kicking and making somersaults. Just hold tight girl, February will beckon us sooner or later!

River by the moonlit

"Moon River" music by Henry Mancini, lyrics by Johnny Mercer

Moon River, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style some day.
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker, wherever you're going I'm going your way.
Two drifters off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end-- waiting 'round the bend, my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.

Moon River is one of my favourite songs in the world! Nevertheless a short song, it has both emotional heft and depth and carries with it some of my memorable romantic anecdotes.

Originated as a soundtrack for the movie "Breakfast of Tiffany's, the song encapsulates a pivotal moment in the lives of two lovers living under the same roof of an apartment-like complex.

Audrey Hepburn, in her tour-de-force performance, fits like a glove in this impressionable role. Her gamine look and puckish smile convey a very likeable persona, both on and off the screen. She is indeed a great actress, at least in my book, nonpareil with today's choice of transitory actresses.

And to my huckleberry friend, wherever you are today (or is it tonight where you are?), you're always in my prayers and thoughts.

Infantile thoughts

I'm now into my seventh months and protruding generously in the stomach region, to say the least.

In actuality, I can't wait for the labor to come - to get over with it. However, God has His own plans and I respect Him for it. Like everything which has its own season, I must have my patience.

Until the actual birth date, I just have to bear with the 'growing pains' and other aches that accompany my pregnancy. And not knowing how certain sensations translate to different physical conditions also contribute to my 'anxiousness' - as my male gynae aptly put it.

Stop being anxious, he said. Well, you stop being so callous! Haha.

It's not that I'm not grateful for the upcoming birth of my first child - it's just that I'm just tired - a sentiment I am sure shared by other expectant mothers.

And anticipating the first-person introduction to my new baby has me in knots and caused anxiety over my capability to take care and fend for this little bundle of joy.

It's only natural since it's the first baby and I've seen my sisters going from being pregnant to being a mother and they did fine!

Save for my eldest sister, the transition was not running that smoothly but they managed and learnt to cope with the challenges of caring and nursing a baby.

It's ironic how things turned out. I've wanted to have a baby ever since I was engaged. Let's face it - ever since I went out with my husband.

I wanted to care for a child. Of my own and my hubby.

And since we got hitched, I looked forward to the day when my menstrual cycle will be 'delayed'.

With frayed nerves and sheer anguish, I'd imagined the day when it'd be announced - you're pregnant! - but was disappointed when they were nothing more than false alarms. I had thought the negative results would be far outweighed by my eagerness to be pregnant. But alas, they affected me - I became depressed and down in the dumps.

The funny thing was when that miraculous day finally did arrive, it landed on us, me and my husband, with an anti-climatic note.

It was late June and I was 'late' for two weeks so I went to the local clinic near my workplace, naturally to seek further advice. This was following a failed home pregnancy test which left me unsatisfied.

It was still negative.

In two weeks time, I fell ill and had a high temperature and attended a different clinic near my office. The male doctor diagnosed me with stomach flu (or stomach infection) and prescribed me some antibiotics and other medication. Since it coincided with the flu season, I didnt think much about it.

Again, in another 2 weeks or so, my menses has yet to show up. I was worried. But I attributed it to the antibiotics that I had swallowed. In the back of my mind, I was hoping it was due to a successful conception.

I went to another clinic near my house and the urine test still came back negative. Looking at me with sympathetic eyes, the doctor said sometimes the keen feelings of wanting a baby could result in psychosomatic symptoms that a woman usually undergo when she is pregnant. In other words, I wanted a baby so much that my cycle was rendered late as a mental perception to being pregnant. I was crushed. She advised that I take something like pineapple to aid in bringing about my menses.

I did drink a whole can of pineapple juice in the following two days. My period didn't come still but I did notice a staining that came and went.

A week later, I was feverish, headachey and achey all over that I decided to see a doctor. I was sick of falling sick all the time. I was just NOT me. And the taste of coffee makes me nauseous. And I am supposed to LOVE coffee! Something was really amiss.

It was after a meeting in KL that I went to meet up with my husband at a KLCC-based clinic. The doctor asked me to take urine sample again.

After the harrowing weeks of negative results, I wasn't even expecting anything to the contrary.

Then, as we were sitting quietly at the waiting room minding our own business, the doctor suddenly appeared out of nowhere and said nonchalantly "It's positive - come (to my room)!"

We were stupefied. He just said it like that - without any preamble such as "Congratulations!". We sat there like lead, trying to digest the word - POSITIVE.

When the doctor subsequently queried me with the usual barrage of questions (my last menstrual date, choice of gynae, etc), I was still reeling with the abrupt turn of event. I'm sure my husband was going through the same motion.

I am with a child! I was so elated and grateful to God AlMighty.

I vividly remember that fated day - it fell on the 19th of July! Well, that's not wholly the truth. It was either 18th or 19th but I remember it was near my friend, Izana's birthday.

My pregnancy has its ups and downs - one which I will expatiate further in my next posting.

Overall, I'm looking forward to the day she will look upon my face and instinctively accept me as her mother. As one of her fortifiers, her protectors, her first line of defence in this world.

My condo in Ampang KL

This is my condo in Ampang... which was decorated by my husband ... he has a knack for color...allegedly. The condo overlooks the KL Skyline... which is nice especially during the Merdeka celebrations/new year celeb.. we can see the fireworks all across KL... from the KL tower.

Tea-totaller

One of the rulings in Islam is the forbiddance of alcohol consumption. Or as it is said in Arabic 'Haram'. However, a proviso applies in such a case of medicinal import or medical emergency. This set of emergencies includes a case of hypothermia and any health-related scenario which compels the imbibing of alcohol-laden beverages. Also, if you are in a state of national emergency like famine, drought or war and alcoholic drinks are the last thing available to quench your thirst and aid in your survival, then you are allowed to consume these spirits.

Contrary to some skeptics and opponents, Islam is not so unreasonable in its principles and beliefs. God knows best the extent of human beings' capability and endurance.

I had weighed the pros and cons of this particular musing. First, it might carry undertones of a self-righteous prig. Second, it might hurt the sensibilities of some readers. Third, this entry is solely to represent my opinion and to share my experience.

In the end, I decided, without much mental anguish and dilemma, to follow through with this discourse and gratify my desire to monologuing.

An idealist by nature, I was initially shocked by the exposure to Muslim drinking revellers.

It was during my collegiate time. I didn't know Bring Your Own Food/Own Drink party constituted slugging down Budweiser longnecks, vodka and other ungodly concoctions.

I should have known - considering the background of some of these students. But I had thought they'd practice some restraints when being amongst other Muslims (their younger brethrens) as a show of respect to the others that strongly followed this belief.

From then onwards, I had become numbed and insouciant with these kinds of stories.

That was until a 'relatively' close friend of mine (who has now been rendered an ex-friend) divulged her own 'wantings' of an alcoholic variety.

During a getaway trip and while driving, she almost salivated when uttering "Oh, how a vodka would do me good right now".

I was petrified by such confession which was borderline on the alcoholic. I know she was a 'tad bit' liberal but that was a definitive moment where we part company.

When she wanted to indulge in a holiday drunkardness, I finally made my stand - if you want to do so, you can do without me. And she didnt - I think for the most part due to a lack of quorum to have a 'jolly good time'.

When we had a falling out some time later which I attribute to her temporary lapse into insanity, I now speculate if it was the lack of alcohol in her system that had caused it. Hmmmm..........

As for other third parties' account that I have come across, the impression that drinking is synonymous with the yuppie culture (educated overseas or otherwise) was turned upside down during my first person encounter with someone who is not from the yuppie set and who had been drinking since she was 16.

Whether it was out of confession or showing off, I was too appalled to question her motives when she told me this next - that she quitted (which was quite recently - about 2-3 years ago and she is now almost in her mid-30s) because she couldn't get drunk anymore. In other words, the tolerance level was so high that she couldn't make herself get drunk.

However, I do give her credit for not straying from her resolve not to drink anymore. At least, that's what she told me and given her current circumstances, I'm giving her the benefit of my doubt.

I admit I am naive to let this judgement call hampering my pursuit of congenial and interesting acquaintances. But I am only human. As long as they don't ask me to partake in such acitvity , don't label me unfairly as uncool for not doing the same or don't relish in their drunkard hour stories, I am cool about being chummy with these yuppie or non-yuppie crowds.

On the flip side, if they don't think I'm cool enough for their lifestyle, well, tough! Aufwedershein!

Pet Peeves Part 2

Recovering from my post-anniversary euphoria, I am more than ready to plunge head-on into the second instalment of my pet peeves.

It is without much ado relates to societal living.

Social graces. Social etiquette. Social deportment. What-have-you.

Not one whom others might consider graceful, I plan to attack this matter from a different angle. Mainly from the point of view of conversation, salutation and public conduct. In other words, socio-behavioural.

I am taking the lead from Ms Fran Lebowitz, American's great social satirist and humourist whose socio-cultural observations are quite deliciously sardonic and funny in turn.

As one grows older, one realises those public decorum lectures sounded off by one's elders have now become logical and practical for dissemination. In a way, one is grateful for the indelible mark (or scar) being imprinted on one's brain. Social conduct is indeed a significant matter to fuss over in this material world.

First of, I am quite peeved when someone whom I know is suffering or lacking certain station in his or her lives having to bear a group conversation of that very taboo subject. This happens despite the nitwit loquacious person (in the said conversation) having the knowledge of that hapless person's current predicament. Confused yet?

Let's say this guy whom you know is having problem of the reproductive kind but your wife who knows quite well about this matter didn't care to practice her discretion by talking about babies and how someone she knows is expecting triplets, etc, etc.

And for instance, your girlfriend who is not yet married but probably has plans to, cringing while listening about this and that friend making wedding plans or mulling over the name of a new baby.

One exception to this rule is when that person herself or himself asks you about the particular taboo matter. Then, it is considered appropriate to yap about the subject, however a point of caution applies - always talk in a LESS excitable manner or be as nonchalant as you can.

Another irritating habit that I have observed of people revolves on the attendance of functions. Imagine this - a couple is attending a formal function like a sit-down hotel wedding and a friend or colleague or acquaintance of the husband only makes an effort to talk to the husband and not to the wife!

This is even more chronic and not to mention confounded, when the friend is a woman, the same species with the wife! Of course this applies to the husband as well when the table has turned with the wife's male friend striking a conversation only with her. But the former scenario is more apparent, at least judging from my consensus.

The situation turns more grating when the so-called friend keeps asking for the husband - what seems like every 5 minutes - to ask a question or make a comment. When the wife asked the husband what it is all about, within earshot of that friend, this awkward behaviour already constitutes a strong hint to include her (the wife) in the conversation to which that inane friend should have taken heed. But no, she kept on going like a clueless blonde and avoiding any eye contact with the wife. What a twerp (though I have other adjectives in mind)! Something is definitely amiss there. At least, in that nonexistent brain of hers.

The same thing applies when, bumping into each other, a friend/acquaintance of one half of a couple only greets hello to one half of the couple without acknowledging the other half's existence. As if the other half is not present or suddenly rendered invisible. The least a person could do is to smile at the other half, even if the person doesn't know the other half.....yet.

Another point of aggravation on the public front is when a person is in the midst of withdrawing money from the ATM machine and the person behind will stand too close for comfort and try his best to take a peek at the person's transaction or if lucky, his account balance. This heinous act is not intended in any way to represent a plot to hatch a public mugging but just the curious nature of a socially inept person who makes it his/her business to know everything about ANYbody. It is as if the triumphant sight of someone else's fiscal composition gives him a thrill. Get a life!

And there is a matter of queuing to pay at a check-out counter. A person will feign seeing a long line and cut queue by going to the front of the cashier. He or she will proceed with this act as long as the others do not make any noise. But the worst of this kind are those who become deaf even when the other shop patrons behind him/her clamor for justice. This is a frequent occurence when only one or two persons are behind him/her in line.

I notice a common thread in all these social provocations. It lies in ignoring a person's presence OR a person's misfortunes in order to gain something for oneself.

This reminds me of an 'office worker' who purposely left me out of the prospect of attending a meeting and discuss about this meeting in another language so as to ruffle my feathers, so to speak.

For this lack of social deportment, I have this to say to myself, it is probably her/his 'station in life' or 'innate malevolent psyche' that compels her/him to behave in such a vicious, inconceivable manner.

And when all else fails in rectifying or controlling the damage of these social misconducts, I will carry on in a manner not dissimilar to theirs. Ignore the person in public or in some instances, in a private realm such as work.

Anniversary on the horizon

I've decided to chuck my irreverent list of pet peeves for this entry and indulged instead on a more forthcoming subject.

My first wedding anniversary.

This Sunday marks our first wedding anniversary and heralds another chapter of exciting and impetuous times ahead.

The year has its share of ups and downs, laughters and cries, silences and uproars.

I would be remiss if I did not admit that living with my partner has taught me some things about life. It has also aspired me to be a better person, for my sake and his sake.

Like any normal conjugal bonds, there was a period of adjustments to the other person's way of thinking, living condition and other surprising habits. And of course, with any formidable partnerships come the compromises and sacrifices.

My love story was one of friendship turning into love.

Pre-marriage, I often wonder if I had missed anything not experiencing the so-called wooing stage like those people going on awkward first few dates or those followers and proponents of the 'love-at-first-sight movement'.

Then, I got hitched and understood the kindness and caring that dovetail with love. It was like experiencing a wooing period for the first time.

My husband was quite reserved and 'practical' with his display of affection before we were married. It was a nice 360 degrees surprise after we tied the knot.

For this, I find myself grateful for the attention and fondness he bestowed on me.

However, it wasn't that smooth a sailing during the adaptive first-year period.

There were things that I didn't agree with that had caused heartaches and headaches to us both.

My husband's relenting and assenting to my views prompted me to realign and adjust my rather intractable stance.

It was however an adjustment on quite a scanty scale. I know I'm quite a slow learner. Or as my husband said it best, 'My learning curve is on the inverse."

His patience to my uncompromising and at times childish nature was at first unnerving and thereafter soothing.

I was grateful to this person whom I had called a friend first.

Our long and bittersweet history together has made us who we are today. We have come to understand what makes us tick, weep and tick off.

Despite the distance and time that had separated us in the interim to the wedding date, we have grown to love one another even more. Absence does make the heart grow fonder!

A firm believer in soul mates, I had this keen intution that I found mine the moment I met my husband in 1992. You could say that was my own 'brand' of love-at-first-sight.

Though it took some time to come to where we stand today, it was a worthwhile journey (albeit the emotional barbwires and boobytraps along the way).

What doesn't break us, makes us even stronger.

On this beautiful day we'd become husband and wife, thanks my love for the cherished and idyllic times that we've spent.

Whimsical views

As I am quite a neophyte in this realm one calls Blog, I am obliged to partake in a short introduction of my persona.

Half of a twin, I am married to someone of the twin sign - Gemini and currently pregnant with my first child.

The anticipated arrival of my first child is an event in itself. As the bump on my stomach protrudes further, my impending motherhood role looms larger.

I am finding myself increasingly ambivalent of my abilities to rear a child, let alone bring a child into this world.

However, my supportive husband has been a great anchor in helping me wade through my highs and lows.

And of course, religion plays a significant part in bringing me back to my senses and keeping me grounded.

And I should give myself some credit too. I've realised that I'm now old enough to be able to handle a host of responsibilities.

First of firsts, as I grow older and as of the middle of this year, officially sprout some white hair, I come to a more keen and well-defined realisation of things, events, people and circumstances that tick me off.

Call it my list of pet peeves and this blog is dedicated to my first pet peeve.

Malaysian drivers.

Yes, many have attempted to discuss and pontificate on this subject matter and I can vouch most of them have come out feeling much better after their fair share of ranting on ghastly Malaysian motorists.

As a concerned (and victimised) citizen, it behooves me to delineate the gruesome nature of some (or you can call it 'the majority') of these drivers.

Malaysian drivers are notorious for these obvious reasons (which markedly surprise me that those in authorities have failed to take more stringent actions):
a) They change lane at the VERY last minute without switching on their signal or indicator light
b) They assume that the other motorists are mind readers and will be able to anticipate their next inane move
c) They drive on the rightmost lane at a snailpace and refuse to budge to the middle lane due to their over-inflated egos despite incessant flashing and honking by the driver behind and in spite of a long queue that has formed due to his or her slowpaced driving. (This rings more true if the slow driver is a man and the rear driver is a woman)
d) When a driver signals to switch to the next lane (right or left), the driver behind will not give way and will instead drive faster to NOT let the person in.
e) This mentality in turn leads to the non-signalling culture as explained in a).
f) Drivers tend to take their own sweet time going out of a parking space even though a long line has formed due to one driver waiting for him/her to get out of the parking space.
I had my share of these and the most memorable one happened when one ladydriver was engaged in a sort of pre-driving insane ritual which involves checking and re-touching her makeup, combing her hair, and drinking water before decided to give me, this hapless driver, her parking spot.
g) Drivers who always think they are right despite being in the contrary state. One recent incident took place when I was signalling right to park my car and this driver out of nowhere was speeding behind me and almost hit my car. And then he had the gall to come out of his car and blamed me for almost causing an accident. Hello! I signalled to park. He looked a tad dazed, almost stoned. Probably he was. That nitwit. And just because I was a girl, he decided he could harass me. He was going on that he was driving at a safe speed and said I was wrong to suddenly go into park mode when I decided to wind up the window and let him talk to himself.
h) Drivers that proceeded to drive even after the light has turned red on the foolish notion that the drivers from the opposite traffic light will take a short breather to let him or her pass. This has caused an alarming number of unnecessary and avoidable accidents at city and suburb junctions.
i) While driving on country or state roads, drivers who are under the influence of their ego or alcohol or having a temporary lapse of judgment or plainly speaking - temporarily insane, will attempt to overtake huge and bulky vehicles (lorries, trucks) in front of them, at the expense of drivers from the opposite direction having to inch away to any space available - like dirt road or the guardrail - in order to avoid a head-on collision.

There you are - my list of peevish traits of Malaysian drivers.
Due to this impertinent state of affairs, I regretfully confess that I have also become an aggressive driver myself. That is the sad part but that's life - when you can't beat them you join them. Just make sure your driving license is still valid!

A Year Amongst Tulips

Excerpt:
"Birthplace of Vermeer...Immerse yourself in cosy and historical Delft, one of the best-preserved towns in the Netherlands and birthplace of 17th-century Dutch painter Jan Vermeer. A gem of a town known as the city of the princes, Delft is set within an intricate tapestry of canals, cobbled streets and charming pedestrian bridges. Famous for its blue pottery, the town is a truly enchanting place where you can spend a relaxing and rewarding time away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life.

Start off your exploration of this engaging town by strolling along the canals and narrow winding alleyways, stopping off to sample the fare of local street traders or browsing in some excellent antique shops and emporiums. Listen to the unique sound of the barrel organ, bringing a smile to the faces of old and young alike with its infectious melodies filling the streets in the early evening. Pay a visit to the atmospheric New Church, which features within its lofty space the mausoleum of William of Orange and whose impressive 100-metre-high spire affords a spectacular view of the town below, or make the trip to the Porcelyne Fles factory, a factory specialising in the production of traditional Delft hand-painted pottery. After making your selection at the factory, why not pay a visit to the Museum Lambert van Meerten, a museum presenting Delft’s finest collection of Delftware. Amble down the flower-lined Wijnhaven, one of the prettiest streets in Delft and make your way to the Oude Kerk, the finest building in the town that boasts a quirky leaning tower and some breathtaking modern stained glass dating from the Second World War. Take a horse-drawn tram around the old city centre and admire the gabled red-roofed houses and medieval buildings above you. Sample the unique atmosphere of a floating café on the canal or enjoy a drink at one of the many cosy and welcoming old-fashioned pubs.

Enjoy a picnic on the banks of the canals, stop and watch the barges cruise past from your vantage point on a bridge or spoil yourself with a coffee in a sleepy outdoor café or one Delft’s renowned grand cafes. Sample the tranquil atmosphere during an evening stroll before dining in a smart restaurant by the canal bank or tucked away down a quaint cobbled street. Listen to some live jazz or blues in a suave nightspot or simply take in the sights and sounds of Delft, a laid-back town with a warm welcome."

The prospect of spending a year in a foreign country with my newborn baby in tow (God willing) has not fully dawned on me yet. As for my husband, I do not know if he shares my sentiment but he is the type who likes to take one day at time. In other words, he will only want to tackle the problem when the time is imminent to do so. Maybe I should not underestimate the innerworkings of my husband's mind - he would probably have some inkling as to where and how we are going to live in Holland. At least, he holds a 'blueprint' of what is to be expected. Someone has to.

May be it is not yet a time to ruminate on the prospect of spending a year in Delft.

After all, the impending arrival of our new baby is more pressing and more profound than having to think of the logistics of our lives in the near future.

Or do we have to think of both CONCURRENTLY? That sounds like a daunting feat to me.

The Internet covers innumerate details on the living conditions, activities and places of interest to visit in Delft.And while they all sound interesting to say the least, I could not help but to tread on the matter rather meekly. The sky in the pictures looks grey, dreary and cloudy to me. There goes all my negative adjectives.

However, that's what you expect when you stay in a place where the sun rarely shines brightly. Europe (and England) is more often than not, overcast. And so I found myself automatically comparing Holland to the ever cherrful and sunny place of Malaysia upon viewing those photos.

Delft is located in between The Hague and Rotterdam. Is The Hague the HQ of NATO? Or is it the place where the tribunals of war criminals are held? I am not so well versed in the geography of Holland but I think Rotterdam is the capital. Or will anyone beg to differ on that?

Delft is also near the seaside, according to its location in the Atlas. And this was reinforced by one Website commentary which states that Delft is one tram ride away to a foreign-name beach. Hurray! At least a beach respite a tram ride away. That would be a nice change of scenery from the canal-ridden and heavily bicycle-populated town of Delft. Or perhaps, the beach will also be a bicycle fest to be reckoned with!

I was also informed by my friend, Rizal that Delft is the town where Dutch famous painter, Vermeer used to resides and becomes the inspiration to one of my favourite novels, A Girl with A Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier.

I've almost forgot about that. In actuality, I didn't have any recollection of that at all. It is either that my grey cells have been decimated by age and the hitherto 'pregnancy effect' or the book wasn't something to shout about in the first place. Or both.

Some books have touted forgetfulness during pregnancy as the norm. I think I am most susceptible to this consensus, judging from my series of mishaps and incidences. These include parking my automatic car on 'N' or Neutral overnight which resulted in a panic-stricken episode where I wrongly deduced as my car running out of battery. I once forgot to switch off my dashboard light for many days (while on holiday) which rendered the car battery kaput.

Back to my future overseas venture with my husband (and baby), I attribute this feeling of apprehension to my slow adapting nature. I have that problem whenever I move to a new place or if you like, embark on a new station in life, for instance going to the States for studies, moving house and getting married.

I think moving to my family's new house in Kota Damansara from Shah Alam was the least troublesome task to undertake.

The others took a while to adjust.I will be grouchy (or some would say 'baitchee' but I would say 'hormonal'), tearful or moody or the combination of the three. However, due to my wilful nature, unavoidable circumstances or my loved ones' passive or active intervention, I will gradually come to my senses and buck up. My sense of adventure and willingness to try new things override the initial feelings of trepidation.

To make matters more difficult (to my mind at least), I am wary of stories of nationalistic-driven Dutch (is there such a word Dutches?) persecuting Muslim settlers and dwellers in Holland by burning their houses. The killing part? I am not so sure. I dare not check. This 'Dutch United front' was precipitated by the killing of Van Gogh's kin by a Muslim fanatic.

On other matters, my concern over the dearth of halal meat was gladly laid to rest by another friend, Khalina, who reassured me of its sizeable availability in Clogs Land. I did manage to find a host of Indonesian and Thai restaurants listed in one of the Delft-centric Websites I visited. Oh well, I can always order seafood there.

This process of laying the pros and cons (and making excuses) of living in a foreign land finally gave way to one or two conclusions. I am just an inveterate worrywart. On a more serious note, however, I'm wondering my own ability to care and fend after my first baby in her early months away from the tutelage of my relatives and 'other support system.' My husband's supportive presence is godsend to my new motherhood stage, that I have no doubt.

I have just to take care of my baby one day a time and learn from trials and errors. This time will be a great opportunity for me to bond with my child and be, as hackneyed as it sounds, more independent. Of course, help is just a (albeit expensive) phone call away. Perhaps I should now really look into learning to use those cheap Internet-based phone services.