Gallimaufry#128

Just a gallimaufry of AI-generated photos, real photos and ramblings 📸

HOT POT SEASON

It's the monsoon season over here in my corner of the world, and it's the perfect time to indulge in hot pot. Nothing beats the warmth, comfort, and camaraderie found in gathering around a bubbling hot pot.

Hot pot restaurants are ubiquitous in Malaysia, with one often just a few doors away from another—you're bound to stumble upon a tempting hot pot spot at every turn.

From Malaysian to Taiwanese, Chinese to Thai, Japanese to Korean, the hot pot options are as diverse as they are delicious.

Haha! And even Italian, as you can see from the following signboard!

In Malaysia, Italian is synonymous with tomato. So, save for an authentic Italian restaurant, anything that says Italian is probably something that tastes very tomatoey!🍅.

I ordered the Italian Tomato Pot. Mamma mia! The broth literally came in a tomato pot!

It didn't taste Italian but it was delizioso! 😋

 AI-generated images of mice enjoying a traditional Chinese hot pot, also known as steamboat.

Due to hygiene reasons, hot pot these days often comes in individual pots instead of a communal pot. This way, you can choose your own broth and cook ingredients of your choice. My son doesn't take seafood and won't touch anything that comes in contact with seafood, so this individual pot style is perfect for us.

FROM THE ARCHIVES

Turtle-release 2018

Each grain of sand holds a story of hope, as the sea whispers secrets of the ones we set free.

Six years ago, a remarkable journey began. A tiny turtle named Penyu, whom I had the privilege of adopting, was released back into the wild in a heartwarming turtle-release excursion. The story of our time together, along with photos capturing those precious moments, can be found here. 

Even now, my thoughts often drift to Penyu. As I gaze out at the vast expanse of the sea, I can’t help but wonder about its journey. I would like to believe it's female. Did she navigate the currents successfully? Did  she find her place in the grand tapestry of marine life? The sea may hold these answers, but its whispers are too faint for me to hear. Yet, in my heart, I like to believe that Penyu is out there, living her best turtle life.

I like to imagine that Penyu, my little marine buddy, has returned to the very beach where her journey began. There, under the moonlit sky, she would have found a safe spot to nest, continuing the circle of life. In my heart, this is the story I hold onto. 🐢

In college, I embarked on an expedition to witness turtle egg-laying on a secluded beach. It was a moonless night. Dim torchlights guided our way through pitch-black darkness, as cellphones weren't ubiquitous back then. Led by our  guide, we trudged along the sandy shore, eager for the sight of nesting turtles.

Suddenly, the guide's voice pierced the darkness, shouting, "Over there, over there!" Excitedly, we rushed towards where his torchlight pointed. In the distance, we could make out a dark shape resembling a turtle. But as we converged our torches on it, to our amusement, it turned out to be a motorcycle lying on its side in the sand! Laughter echoed along the beach as we continued our search.

The night was heavy with humidity, and mosquitoes swarmed around us, leaving itchy reminders of their presence. Then, in another comical twist, the guide sprinted ahead, urgently calling out "Sini, sini!" - "over here" in Malay. We aimed our torches at the looming shadows ahead, expecting to find our elusive turtles. To our surprise, the 'turtle' turned out to be a couple lost in a romantic moment on the beach! The expressions on their faces when they found themselves in the spotlight of our converging torchlights were absolutely priceless!

By then, the mosquitoes were relentless, and our enthusiasm was waning. We decided to call it a night, bidding farewell to our adventurous, albeit unconventional, turtle watching expedition.

While I haven't had the chance to witness turtle-watching again, my mom, before dementia claimed her memories, often fondly recalled her own adventures with it. Her story was poignant, filled with the enchantment of moonlit beaches and the heartrending sight of the turtle crying while laying her eggs.

AI generated

In the depths of her heart, my mother held a belief that was as beautiful as it was heartbreaking. She saw the tears of the turtle as a poignant testament to a mother’s love and sacrifice, a manifestation of physical pain and profound sorrow, born from the understanding that she would never gaze upon her offspring again. This belief painted a picture of a world where even the creatures of the sea were capable of such deep emotions. However, the harsh light of reality paints a different picture. Turtles, contrary to my mother’s belief, do not shed tears borne of emotional distress. The tears that glisten on their faces as they lay their eggs in the sandy, salty environments are not symbols of sorrow, but rather, they serve a crucial biological function. These tears are nature’s way of helping them flush out the excess salt from their bodies, a testament to the relentless survival instinct that drives all life on this planet.

ZONGZI

It was one of those days when a craving for something nostalgic hit me hard. I couldn't shake off the yearning for zongzi, those sticky rice parcels wrapped in bamboo leaves that I used to enjoy only once a year during the Dragon Boat Festival in my childhood.

 I headed straight to the hawker center in my neck of the woods, knowing that these days, the rice dumplings are readily available any time of the year.  I unwrapped my dumpling and anticipated the surprise it held for me. You never know what 'treasures' are buried in each parcel as the fillings vary from cook to cook. Taking that first bite, I realized that the store-bought ones might satisfy the craving, but they lack the magic ingredient - the labour of love of Grandma and my aunts. 

Cherished memories

Each bite was a journey through time, a portal to my Grandma’s humble wooden kitchen, the heart of our family gatherings.

I could almost hear the lively chatter, smell the aroma of boiling bamboo leaves, and feel the warmth of shared laughter as we wrapped the dumplings together.

While searching for a zongzi-making video, I came across this captivating inter-racial couple. Rose, originally from Uganda, not only speaks impeccable Mandarin but also prepares flawless traditional Chinese cuisine. Her husband, who is Chinese, shares their life together in China. 

Rose’s culinary and Mandarin prowess put me to shame—I can’t speak Mandarin, and making zongzi from scratch feels like an impossible feat! Hats off to this remarkable couple!” 🌟🥟🌍

      

FROM THE TRAVEL ARCHIVES

Phuket 1991

ECHOES OF CHILDHOOD: THE UNFORGETTABLE STONE TURTLE

In the recesses of my mind, there's a vivid memory from my childhood—me sitting on a big stone turtle in a park. But I can't remember where that park was. A black-and-white photo once bore witness to that moment, but it, along with other old photos, fell victim to a termite infestation in our childhood home, erasing many such treasured fragments of our family history. My mother, now in the grips of dementia, can no longer serve as the custodian of our shared past. My siblings, too, draw a blank when asked about the park. Yet, the memory of that stone turtle and the child who sat upon it lives on, undiminished by time or circumstance

 My sister remarked that the resemblance between me and the child on the turtle was uncanny.