Wednesday, December 10, 2008

There's No Place Like Home.

In case you didn't know (cos I didn't tell you, cos I didn't think it was really gonna happen), we spent Raya Haji at Terengganu. *sigh*. Agak meng-nightmare-kan. Now, I am not a bratty, Paris Hilton type of girl. I can hold my own, tapi, I dunno, maybe deep down, wayyyy deeeeeep down, I am a snob.

We went back to hubby's hometown in Terengganu. I have no idea what's the name of the town, I think it was Batu Hampar or something. The house was old. And I mean old, creaky, wooden, berlubang-lubang type of kampung house. But hey, I survived it. Maybe we get to do it again next year (and only my love for hubby would enable me to survive that one, cos then, I'll know what I'm getting myself into).

I dunno lah. I'd like to think that I don't think I'm above all that. That Allah can easily take away all my comforts that I have in KL (seeing that I only remember Him when it suits me). That I can be worst off than that place. Tapi, entahlah. I can't stand it there. The smell. And it's dirty. I guess they think that it's old and crumbling anyways, bakpo nak kemas-kemas. The only person who did any cleaning up was hubby's Tok, an 90% deaf 80+ year old.

We spent about 3 days 2 nights there. 1 night was spent at Ayah Long, hubby's uncle, in some Felda in Kuantan, Pahang. Another nightmare. Not as bad as Terengganu, the house at least was rumah batu. But still, the floor had all this sand on them. Sands that will stick to your foot when you walk. And it will get everywhere. Why oh why don't these people clean up? Tak de sapu ke? And what's with the scattered utensils, pots and pans, pinggan etc?

They (as in hubby's relatives) think I am rich, that my family is rich. My house in KL has 8 rooms, rumah batu etc. But even if we lived in a small, cramped place, I am bloody sure my Mak will keep it clean. I don't think she'll let all the sand in house that long. She'll keep away her stuff (she might forget where she puts them, but at least they're out of the way). Sarung kusyen, almari etc, will not be as berdebu. Gawd. I am so sad thinking about all this.

MORAL OF THE STORY : I am fragile. I miss my Mak and Ayah all the time. I don't like going to other people's house and staying there, especially if I can avoid it. I think next time, I'll figure out a ruse to persuade hubby to stay at a hotel.

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