The Malaysian Insider

NOV 1 — The first question thrown at me after the usual pleasantries is how I like living in Hong Kong. This is swiftly followed by “but the air pollution there is so bad!”

And that is the sad truth. It is. Bad. Hong Kong may be a relatively clean city but the fragrant harbour’s air quality remains very poor.

Earlier this week the air pollution index hit a record high of nine years. Roadside air pollution readings soared to 174 overnight in Central district (the Environmental Protection Department warns those with heart or respiratory illnesses to stay indoors when the index hits 101).

OCT 25 — My son has recently shown an interest in numbers, pointing them out wherever we go, be they the numbered bays in a car park or the keypad in an elevator. The problem is that where we live, the number system is anaemic.

Superstition is to be blamed. It is common practise in Hong Kong’s high-rise buildings to omit the number 4, which denotes death in Cantonese. And so thanks to superstition, our building is missing the numbers 4, 14, 24, 24 and 44.

Then there is the matter of the refuge floor (a temporary safe place for fire evacuees), denoted as 26R after 26 and before 27.

OCT 18 – I’m not sure which is harder – being the toddler who is pushed around, ignored and bullied by older children, or being the parent who has to watch this happen.

In this instance I hope the Malay proverb ‘Berat mata memandang, lebih berat bahu memikul (However difficult it is for one to watch, it is harder for the one who shoulders the burden) does not hold true.

I am nervous even before Ishan and I hit the playground in the evenings. I worry he will feel left out. That he’ll be made to feel unworthy and unwanted.

OCT 11 – We’ve got a good thing going here in multicultural Malaysia as far as playing dress-up goes. A close friend’s wedding is around the corner and so the question of what to wear has come up.

The girls want to “go Indian”, meaning draping ourselves in six yards of gorgeous silk saree fabric, adorning our ears with colourful and elaborate chandelier earrings and our wrists with colourful bangles.

The Indian among us will be wearing a cheongsam. My Chinese husband will wear a kurta and so will my toddler. The bride and groom will be in traditional Malay wedding attire.

OCT 4 — Our family pet is Pickles, a 12-year-old mongrel my sister adopted from the Paws shelter when he was just weeks old.  He used to have a jet-black shiny coat and a white star on his chest but today his coat is a matted mess of gray and white.

Arthritis has robbed him of his agility; gone are the days when he would drag us like rag dolls around the DBKL playground in Bangsar.

The pain, especially in his hips, makes him whimper pitifully when he tries to scratch an itch. Bath time is a nightmare for the same reason, hence the matted fur as we  avoid sensitive spots. He also smells like belacan as a result of less than regular baths.