Is this Salvation?

While many were attending Sunburst, I was busy adjusting to my new home and a new culture.

On my second day here, I learned that mee goreng basah is actually mee ladna and mee goreng mamak is actually mee goreng basah.

Apparently owning four cars is normal here. They have huge houses with huge driveways that could fit at least eight cars. On the way to my house for the first time, I thought we were driving into a road when it hit me: we were driving into our driveway.

My first impression as I stepped into the house was, ‘This house sure has a lot of flowers in it.’

Exhibit A- The sight that greeted me at the door:

Exhibit B- On the other side pula:

Exhibit C- Situated in the living room:

Exhibit D- beside the dining room:

My thoughts as I was eating in the dining room were, ‘This dining room is as big as my whole apartment dulu. And to think that was a kitchenette, toilet, shower and a bedroom in that apartment.’

I still feel like a guest in this house. Maybe in time it’ll start to feel like home. My room has pink walls. Curtains with flowers. Blue, pink and magenta sheets with huge, bold prints. It’s hard to be sad when you wake up in that kind of environment.

I would have been extremely bored if it had not been for this kitten and his siblings.

This house feels as if it is was ran by a Stepford wife. Everyone here smiles a lot. There is something different in the air here. In the three days I’ve been here I haven’t felt angry, sad or depressed even once. I don’t understand what the people here are saying when they are talking to me but it doesn’t really bother me. It doesn’t seem to bother them.

I’m having a hard time adjusting to the fact I don’t have to cook at all. It used to be cook or buy something or you’ll starve. On my first day, the lack of chores to do made me restless. I asked my Mom for meat to dice and prawns so that I could remove the shells.

That night I greedily hentam udang sambal tumis with jantung pisang that I didn’t cook myself. I could get used to this, I thought happily.

That same night I told a friend, “I think I’m permanently damaged. I just ate meal that my Mom cooked and I felt guilty. In fact this whole place makes me feel guilty. It makes me all sorts of happy. I don’t deserve this. I’m like the pauper who suddenly found himself in the castle.”

And like all good friends do, she told me I wasn’t damaged.