Can you come back in half an hour, it's a full house...?

First stop or else dinner can't happen... (Apple iPhone 3GS)

On 9th September our younger son celebrated his 7th birtday and so we took the Plantation House household to the Fullhouse Lifestyle Store and Cafe at Sunway Giza. Sunway Giza is a type of community mall of recent age but we especially like it for its distance, which is only a few minutes walk from home, not including the several more minutes of waiting to cross Persiaran Surian, the main thoroughfare... safely.

This visit would be our fourth and we didn't mind returning because it served good and wholesome food. Before the restaurant, we made a quick dash to The Times bookstore for the birthday boy to choose his gift­—a book. He is not too engrossed on toy cars or guns or anything that boys his age would normally be. I'm glad that he is into reading. His only vice though is watching VCD. And one more, playing games, either on the computer or his iPod. I have a major problem with the last two because he can't stop once started.

Fullhouse takes after the facade of a two-storey house, the effect made more realistic by the double ceiling height of the retail lots facing the mall concourse area.

There is a pink Mini as a prop somewhere on the front... (Apple iPhone 3GS)

Hello? Anybody home? (Apple iPhone 3GS)

One thing I'm sure that will strike everyone is how the menu looks very much like a magazine. Very fun and colourful cover. In fact, it also feels like one. The paper type and the way its contents are organised, from the content page right up to the ads at the back really makes you want to have a look at the cover again to make sure that it's not Food & Wine you are reading. It even has its own comic strip! But with the booklet's odd size, you know it's a bit off to be a periodical.

The number of pages rivals that of a real magazine... (Apple iPhone 3GS)

All six of us ordered different food, which was good so that I could expand my sampling. I've always noticed that the restaurant has an extensive beverage and dessert menu but my eyes just could not escape Ice Korean Jujube Tea that I knew I had to try it. However, I doubted myself with the correct pronunciation of the word jujube for a while when the waitstaff corrected my saying by making it a three-syllable word.

While the birthday boy decided to indulge in a rather standard fare (chicken nuggets), I decided to hazard my stomach with the grilled chicken thigh served with black pepper raisin jus. OK, grilled chicken is quite a common item on a restaurant's menu but one topped with raisin juice, hmmm, maybe not so. To be honest, it was the juice that made my finger pointed to it. The mashed potatoes on the side were simply heaven. Smooth, flavourful and with character, that's how I'd describe it if I was a food critic. I will not say much about the vegetables because they were boiled brocolli and cauliflowers. How good can you make them? Exactly...

Were they really nuggets or wings? (Apple iPhone 3GS)

Back to the chicken, the meat was tender, the raisin sauce was refreshing and provided the balance to my taste bud. I was happy with my decision.

My other half would typically order a pasta dish, if a place serves pasta. And her favourite is the spaghetti alla vongole or in plain English spaghetti and clams so naturally, she ordered exactly this. When the noodle arrived, it smelled and looked fantastic. Dry or not so runny and clam meat in abundance is how she likes this particular dish. It seemed to check all the right boxes. Then after few spoonfuls, she enthusiastically pushed her plate to me, seemingly very excited at it too. I did not do anything except welcome such submission by tucking straight into it. Then after few spoonfuls, I too felt like pushing the plate to the person next to me but he was too young to take the assault, of the hot and fiery kind, on the tongue. The chef definitely got carried away with the dried chilies. My other observation about the dish was that while the pasta was perfect al dente, the sauce leaned more towards being creamy in taste rather than exuding the flavour of the mollusc. I blamed it on the kitchen help who could have drained out the juice from the can completely (you can tell they were canned clams by the uniformed sizes and shapes. Besides, they were all shelled) until I noticed on the menu that Fullhouse's take of the Neapolitan dish was butter-based. Some diners might like it but as long you are calling it alla vongole, I think one should stick to using clams as the base.

My elder son had the smooties-fruities fish, which was basically pan-fried butter fish smothered with passion berries fruit sauce. I liked the fish but thought the sauce to be way too sweet. For the eleven-year old boy though, he did not find it too sweet. The sun-dried tomatoes I suspect were the bottled version as they were soggy, not worthy to be called as that. If you can put up with the sauce, I'd recommend you give the fish a shot.

In between our conversation and masticating, I spotted this receipt-like paper on the table which was used to track the movement of the food: on whether or not they have reached the table. It's ticked manually but very helpful if you had come by a busload. On the final delivery, the waitstaff took the sheet away and check it back with the system to ensure that we received and billed correctly for the food that we ordered.

This would be good if you have 15 people in your party... (Apple iPhone 3GS)

The grilled New Zealand lamb chop also made it to our table but I could only managed a tiny morsel of the meat from my sister-in-law. It tasted delicious, the meat perfectly cooked and chewy in the way lamb should be and to top it all, drenched with a secret herb jus. She enjoyed her food quietly and peacefully, as I was seated miles away from her.

Fullhouse also do set lunches and the sets were known as Tiffany's or Tracy's or someone other's favourite meal. I asked the friendly waitstaff on who these people were. Apparently, they were the characters in the comic which can be found in the later segment of the menu. If they were real people, or better still, the chefs who created the meals, the suggestions would have been more credible don't you think?

Fullhouse comic (Apple iPhone 3GS)

Lastly, the oven roasted chicken tenderloin, which to me was no different than what I'd ordered except for the type of sauce covering the bird. Brown-coloured shitake mushroom sauce was used to conceal the quartered meat. Along with the two sides, the beautifully garnished food was okay but not great. I couldn't see that it was more special than say, Kenny Roger's Roasters but it was nice to see the nephew cleaning his plate. As long as he's contented, I got no complaints.

I didn't think the kailan went down well with the chicken... (Apple iPhone 3GS)

Families and courting couples looking for a decent casual dining experience should consider Fullhouse. For the couple, he can then walk up the stairs to the upper floor, with the fairer sex on tow of course, to check out the dresses and accessories. Don't expect a range like Isetan but you can sure expect high novelty value. For those who prefer rainbow-coloured drinks and desserts, Fullhouse will not disappoint. There are actually some real gems to look out for in the menu. Save for all the comments I've made in this posting, the restaurant does serve up quality and thoughtful edibles. Price range too is a fair and reasonable deal. The ambiance is bright and cheery and not pretentious.

For me, leaving the restaurant knowing that I was right about the contentious word was a big relief.

The raya that was...

My mother-in-law and her 13 grandchildren. My boys in pink... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

The abridged version

Tin sardin. 3 hours 45 minutes. Tidur lambak. Arab Street. Siren buka puasa. Masukkan duit dalam peket. Party loot. Selamat Hari Raya pennant. Announcement raya. Baju sedondon. Mohon maaf. Photo-taking session. Budak assalamualaikum. Lauk jiran. Funeral. Tahlil. Laksa Johor. Susah nak parking. Ikan bakar Tip Top. Air bay. Nerf war. Dodgeball. King Cat sparklers. 8th birthday. Mercun bateri. Suji. Singaporean accent. Mahmoodiah. MRT. Mustang GT. Okid Ria. Tin sardin. 3 hours 15 minutes.

The full version

A couple of days before we set off for Johor Bahru, I took my family to my mother's house as a kind of pre-raya visit as this year she had decided to celebrate raya in KL. My father who'd always be in JB had also chosen KL as the place he wants to be on the first day of raya. This sudden turn of events upsetted my brother and sister's plan such that they announced they would stay back as well. The absence of my side of the family in JB would definitely spin the festive mood a little differently. Meanwhile, she served us tea and something light to eat. We chatted about the usual stuff and even caught some TV. Before calling it a day, everyone greeted her and asked for forgiveness.

At my mother's place... (Apple iPhone 3GS)

The Plantation House household never fails to travel heavy. And when the much-coveted event of the year arrives, we packed our poor car to the brim, leaving a rear view only slightly bigger than a peephole. Heck, even I had to sit on a toolbox all the way. From flip-flops to trainer toilet seat to smelly pillows (bantal busuk), we are not leaving anything to chance. As if spending more than a week's time away in the kampung justified our packing frenzy. We've had trips that are shorter than a week before and we still bring stuff and clothes that could last for months. I just can't understand.

As we left town much earlier than most people, we were blessed with a smooth journey. There was traffic but there were no unruly behaviours on the road because each driver had his or her own comfortable space on the highway. Leaving on off-peak days has always been my strategy to avoid the massive congestion and the ensuing headache that it causes. Whenever people 'brag' about getting stuck in traffic and how long it took them to get from point A to point B, I really don't have anything to contribute and would usually withdraw myself quietly from the 'I had it worse' conversation. This year, I did not belabour the car and pretty much kept to a very reasonable speed. Flooring the pedal at stretches I did try whenever safe but the car just wouldn't move. The extra cargo really slowed the vehicle down.

My mother-in-law's three-bedroom converted bungalow in Larkin is more than spacious for her and her daughter's family but come festive seasons when all her other children are back, it's a different scenario altogether. Picture this: 13 kids (some of them are teenagers) and 10 adults moving about in the house. Not bad you say? Now picture this: 23 people turning in for the night. There are hardly tiles for you to step on! When we get up in the wee hours to pee, we better switch on the lights lest someone's face is going to get stomped on. Although the kids grow bigger and bigger in size (and the house remaining the same), we get by with systematic mattress formation and as far as I know, no one has ever sustained any injury. And for me personally, for the occasional time that I have to get up late at night, I always manage to navigate in the dark without hurting anyone. That's a mean feat in itself.

Being in Johor Bahru is also an excuse to cross over to that tiny island in the south. For us, going into the fine city for a spot of shopping is needless to say compulsory, as we've been doing it since young. As usual, my other half would always have her last minute shopping to do and this time around, it's the boys' baju raya. But one thing about us though, we never go there to window shop. We know what to get and where so trips are always swift and almost mechanical. They are made more efficient with the help of my brother-in-law who knows the highways and byways in Singapore like the back of his hand. I can take on the wheel anytime but my knowledge of the roads is limited to and fro Orchard Road and maybe with a lot of luck to Rochor Road. One wrong turn could end us all up in Tuas. By then, I will already be a very agitated driver so it's best that I stay on the passenger seat. Besides, I don't get to be driven that often. After Takashimaya, he drove us to Arab Street but much to my other half's chagrin, the store she wanted to go to was already closed so we said we would return another time in the week.

We managed three days of fasting with the folks in JB. Where we are in Larkin, the tradition of sounding the siren to signal break fast time is still upheld. The siren emits a distinct wailing cry but quite distant so one has to stop talking in order to catch it. The azan will follow suit some seconds after. I noted that the food served had been simple affairs and they were all from the bazaar ramadans. I don't know if they had been doing it this way throughout this year's ramadan or was it because of the raya preparation around the corner but either way, I enjoyed the company and the no-frills offerings.

He had been cleaning the whole house... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

Kuih-muih at home is rarely bought, believe it or not. On top of the fact that our womenfolk is choosy over which kuih (and by this, I mean taste) can make it to the table, the Larkin household is also blessed with raya hampers from kind relatives and loved ones. Along with my sister-in-law's world famous (not yet) home-baked suji and bangkit kelapa cakes, there is enough quantity to last us until next year's raya!

One of the traditions that we kept was the 'malam tujuh likur' where pelita (a tiny metal pot filled with oil, complete with wick) would be lit. In the whole residential area (I'm quite reluctant to call it kampung because there are no paddy fields to traverse and scenic mountain in the background) where we live, I think only few houses still light the pelita. My brother-in-law normally carried out the task of filling up the pots and lighting the wicks but whenever he's not home, some of our nephews would have to stand in for him. So, how many men does it take to refill them pots? As many as it takes. One would pour the kerosene in the pots, another would work the lighter and the third guy just standing there, supervising the act I guess. It's always a challenge to get someone to do the work. No one's up for it. And my brother-in-law usually go about it alone!

Have you entertained the 'assalamualaikum' kids knocking at the door? Every year we would greet these visitors who are not at all expecting a sip of water or ketupat but would really like it if you can quickly part with some money so they can get a move-on to the next house. Sometimes, as soon as sembahyang raya is over they will already be at the doorstep. As the collection per house is I suspect will not be more than RM1, it makes much business sense to cover as many houses as possible in a day. My other half, the ever thoughtful person that she is would lovingly and carefully prepare party loots containing a token sum and a random selection of sweets, candies, lollies and sometimes air kotak. This year, the air kotak was subsituted with colourful conoid jellies. Her great care and attention to detail were evident in the giveaways that they fit to be on a supermarket aisle. Sadly though, I notice the number of kids dwindling year after year. I just hope this innocent tradition will stand the test of time.

The party loots (Apple iPhone 3GS)

Having a little chat about the weather... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

What else do we normally do leading up to hari raya? Inserting notes inside the green packet is one. Pasang langsir (curtains) is another. Basuh parit, kemas rumah, in other words general cleaning is a must. What about decoratives? Do you hang paper ketupats or green packets over the windowsill? In our case, my other half risked an exquisite but sweet looking Selamat Hari Raya pennant, which to our pleasant surprise drew some enquiries from our guests. I did not know that she's produced it with her nephew until the time they asked to help put it up. Well done guys for that special touch!

The pennant being hung... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

And the result... (Apple iPhone 3GS)

Well, he helped with the pennant didn't he? (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

So much to do, so little time. Why do we always push the chores to the eve of hari raya? Maybe it's just a way to psyche ourselves up. And when the Pemegang Mohor Diraja makes his declaration of hari raya, we can all pat ourselves on the back that we've completed all of the major tasks. But is it over? Far from it, based on experience. There's still vacuuming to do, rearrangement of furnitures, gosok baju melayu, taking out the tray tree (for kuih raya), et cetera. Did I forget to mention basuh bilik air?

The mosque is literally a stone's throw away from home and in the morning our bathrooms will surely be overworked. Everyone wants to be in the praying hall by 8.30 am so you can imagine the chaos. This is the time when kancing baju or its lengkang will be misplaced. The songkok that you've brushed the night before and placed nicely on top of the dresser will also go astray. The scenario is no different in Larkin. Putting on the kain sanpin is an art that I've not mastered even after all these years. I always think I've got it until my other half utters the much dreaded 'kain you beranak' phrase, which can be loosely explained as the joining edges in the centre are askew. "Look in the mirror, one is lower than the other!" In the last few years, I have noticed a change in the way I wear my sanpin. Nowadays, I am keener on 'dagang luar', meaning the baju melayu is worn over the sanpin. Why? That's for me to know and for you to find out. Write me with your guesses.

It's straight to the mosque when we were ready to do so. No breakfast. But for the smokers in the house I knew they had stolen some drags. We ate upon our return. True to tradition, we don't cook anything on the first day. I begin to understand this stance only few rayas after marrying my other half. The reason is because we receive so much food from the neighbours. I particularly love this type of sambal goreng Jawa, courtesy of No 1 Jalan Merbah, which is best had with ketupat, sprinkle with some kuah kacang and a bit of rendang kering. Sounds heavy yet light. Simply out of this world! We'd reciprocate on the second day. Our household trademark menu is laksa Johor, soto or lontong, replete with kuah kacang daging but it's just a dish every raya (never more than) but made to quantity: enough for the neighbours around, guests calling and takeouts for the lucky ones. Just imagine the hubbub in the kitchen on the night of first syawal!

Some TLC required while stirring... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

Some time in the mid morning, or soon after everyone had a bit to eat, we proceeded to the photograph session. Each family put on matching baju melayu and baju kurung. We wore pink this year. Last year it was turqoise. In between the poses and coordination, everyone would greet each other, salam-bersalaman dan bermaaf-maafan. (offering hands, seeking forgiveness) Occasionally, I heard kosong-kosong being uttered. For me, my wife would first come get me and then only we would go to her mother. But before I could hug my boys, someone would stop me in my path and extend his hand. Given the number of people in the room, you can imagine hands criss-crossing. This significant act of seeking forgiveness was not done to elaborate ceremony in Larkin but it's emotional all the same. When I was a school-going kid, the first few days of raya would be spent in Seremban, on my father's side of the family. Very early in the morning, before leaving for the mosque, no, actually, when it's still dark, those who were home would line up (there was a real queue) to meet my grandmother, get down on our knees, extend our hands and ask for absolution. And then more people would show at the door and get in the line. Some would shed tears and few cried incessantly. I thought that's usual practice so I remember trying very hard to belong but I could not even muster a drop!

Apart from the intermittent salaams at the door from the kids, our first day had been relatively quiet, in comparison to the years before. We did not see real crowd until the next day.

A pause for the camera... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

Just moments after Isya on 1st Syawal, I received news that my uncle who was married to my mother's sister had passed on some time before Maghrib. I rang KL and learned that my mother, brother, sister and their families planned to drive down south after Subuh the next day to make it to the funeral. Secretly, I relished at the thought of the chanced reunion. Since we had some guests at the time we received the sad news, we decided to pay our respects in the morning. When we got to my cousin's house the next day, a few men were setting up the makeshift corner where immediate male family members would wash the body. Shortly after, my mother and siblings arrived. My uncle was interred at Mahmoodiah, not very far from the royal mauseleum. During the talqin, I remember the sky glistened but somehow downcast, the whole mood on the ground sombre. As it was only the second day of raya, the generally desolate place was hived with activities. Stalls peddling fresh cut flowers mushroomed out of nowhere, drivers squeezing into very tiny spaces and people of all ages gathering around the graveyard of their lost ones, reciting surah Yasin were common sights but they on the whole just minded their own business. The cleansing of the body (mandi jenazah), shrouding, sembahyang right through to the burial for my beloved uncle went smoothly. I found out that all his children and grandchildren were with him when he drew his last breath. He lived to be 91.

Upon our return from the cemetery, a steady stream of visitors at home inundated us. At its peak, four or five cousins along with their families had shown up at the same time (it's like that every year with this particular group). I recall likening it to cinemagoers suddenly bursting out of the fire exit door as they emerge from the theatre.

"Macam clubhouse, susah nak parking," muttered a wisecracking cousin. It's true.

Am not sure if this was his third serving... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

You see, my mother-in-law can be considered one of the matriachs on both sides of her and his late husband's family so you can understand why a lot of relatives call on our home. And you must know that it was not an open house where your guests would come at designated hours. We don't do that. In Larkin, we accept visitors at all hours. An auntie on my other half's side came by with her family at precisely 10.42 pm when I was just starting to unwind.

Ikan Bakar Tip Top is a corner food stall that is a part of a row of stalls situated not far from English College. Since most of my siblings were in town, my cousin's daughter suggested catching up on time at the aforementioned stall. My order would have been ikan pari bakar (grilled stingray), char kuey (a sort of eclair but minus the sweetness and the dough a little tough) topped with peanut sauce and air batu kacang (dessert made of shaved ice and many delectable condiments, one of them melted cocoa) but it was not meant to be as there were still guests at home. There was no shadow of a doubt that they were quite crossed I pulled out at the last minute.

My besan (he married my sister-in-law) has been experimenting with air bay, a tea-coloured sort of herbal drink that is peculiar to Johor. The concentrated syrup is a concoction of several herbs, leaves and roots that go by funny and archaic names. Apparently you can't find most of them in your backyard anymore: he has to literally go into the woods and look for them. Real work there. Not only that, following the search mission are hours of boiling to extract the syrup. Understandably, the production will occur only on special ocassions given the difficult process involved. But hey, we are all lucky because the hard-to-get ingredients grow like wild plants in their backyard or at least not far from where they live so we get the supply quite frequently. A big thanks to him though for the hard work and dedication.

Too tired from making the air bay... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

What do we do in the afternoons? Well, we played dodgeball and Nerf war! There were enough quorums in the house to assemble four teams for both of these! The garden on the right side of the house provided the ground for our daily outdoor recreational need. I always enjoy playing with the kids because we get to bond with each other, across all age groups. Besides, I have to burn those calories off.

Two rivals at the dodgeball meet... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

Nerf war officials discussing the rules... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

At night, there would be friendly fireworks competition with the neighbours. Don't ask me how and where we got the colourful firecrackers in quantity but the kids only knew how to play and not cleaning up afterwards. An ear-piercing nag will typically supersede this activity. For the young ones, there were King Cat sparklers (blue-coloured label with a black cat looking right at you) and pop-pop; for the teenagers, the mercun das and cool roket; and for the family, there was the mercun bateri. My little son enjoyed his sparklers, burning holes on the leaves which thankfully I quickly managed to intervene.

My brother's son had his 8th birthday (he's a merdeka boy) celebrated at my mother-in-law's since there was much more people. Initially, he asked if it was okay to bring over a cake for a simple, unfussed do. We of course said yes and cooked up a much better plan. So what we did was we coordinated with some of the more mature (those who understand enough the danger of fireworks and the need to keep to timing) nephews for the mercun bateri to go off right after the final verse of the birthday song was sang. It was about tennish in the evening and our guests (why, no surprise that some were still around) were pleasantly surprised by the showmanship. And so did my 8-year old nephew and his parents.

Being Johoreans, you are bound to have relatives in Singapore. And my other half's cousin who now lives in Johor but still works in Singapore would come over with his family of four on one of the days. Every time, without fail and I really delight in this moment, I would reciprocate with my poor version of the Singaporean accent. Singaporean Malays speak with a pronounced 'r' (but not quite in the same rigour as the Javanese though) and their querkly vocabs and expressions are fascinating. I wish I can demonstrate them to you but trust me it's very distinct. And I think I'm rather good at it.

Merely a short break... (Canon 550D, shot by nephew)

Our stay in Johor would normally last between seven to 10 days and we would do the necessary like paying respect at my father-in-law's grave (in Mahmoodiah) and visiting the next-door neighbours, even if it was for a 5-minute visit. As promised, we returned to Arab Street in Singapore to go back to the shop that was closed the other day. It was opened this time all right and that meant I had to endure a few hours of waiting but not before a plateful of beriyani at Victory Restaurant, adjacent to Masjid Sultan. There are two restaurants with identical signages, the other being Zam Zam but both of them are an institution in their own right. Try this for size; Zam Zam was opened in 1908 with Victory just few years after. Malaysians who go into Singapore must make that obligatory call on either, whether it's for their rice or murtabak. I have no preference between the two because they don't really make mean beriyani or murtabak anymore but the allure of dining in a spartan, pre-war shophouse, amidst the tourists, old timers and tattooed Malay young men is hard to resist. We, my other half and her nephew actually stepped into Zam Zam first but moved next door when the waiters couldn't properly get us to sit down.

A view from Masjid Sultan... (Apple iPhone 3GS)

After Arab Street, it's the MRT to Orchard Road. The last time I rode on the train was six or maybe seven years ago. Boy, how much the network has changed. I noticed that there were more stations on the map. We bought our one-way fares and redeemed the ticket to get our money back. When you buy the tickets whether at the machine or counter, you'll get a card that looks just like our LRT tickets. But the difference is that you can top-up the value in the card so that you can use it over and over again. It's a little bit like the Oyster card in London and Touch 'N' Go on our own shores but you cannot redeem these cards to get your money back. Or maybe you can but I'd suspect the procedure would be arduous. That's the difference that the SMRT card has: the machine will give you your money back. No forms to fill and no waiting time. I was completely blown away by that simple customer-centric service. We went to Takashimaya again, bought few things, among others were a limited edition Nerf Longstrike CS-6 for the son but this is another posting. From Takashimaya, we crossed Orchard road and got into Centrepoint. Had a quick bite at McDonalds in the basement, this another must-do for us. My brother-in-law fetched us at the mall and ferried us back into Johor through the second link. Very smooth traffic.

On the way back, somewhere along Jalan Sungai Chat we were forced to pull over to make way for a white-plated Ford Mustang (I think it's the 2010 model) to pass. It was the TMJ. There was no loud siren, just the beacon in operation, from the police escort car, a baby Lexus I think it was.

By the fifth day of Syawal, my father was already back in town so we paid him and my stepmother a visit. As they were in the midst of moving, their house was in a state of mess so there were only kuihs on the table. This was perfectly okay by us but my stepmother felt bad and invited us for dinner at a restaurant called Restoran Steamboat Okid Ria. We had an array of fresh seafood and marinated meats to simmer and grill, depending on our taste buds. Think Seoul Garden in One Utama, quite similar. The crowd at the eatery was not that big, I guess a lot of people were still visiting houses. We ate to our hearts' content as it was a refreshing change from the excess of lemang and rendang.

The day that we all dreaded to think about had finally come. It was time to go back to KL. The PH household was the last to leave town and that was on the following Monday, the sixth day of Syawal. Going back to KL saw us carrying as much stuff as we had coming down, if not more. Amazing right? It was another tin sardin. I was baffled myself. Employing the same strategy of travelling on a day when the revellers would have returned to work, thankfully, the journey back was smooth and without trouble, clocking only 3 hours 15 minutes to reach Kota Damansara. And no, I drove like a responsible father.

That was raya in 2011.

P/S: That sitting on a toolbox is just to illustrate the point. I was never made to sit on anything since it would have not been safe for me as the driver but everyone else had to sit cross-legged because curious objects of various shapes and sizes had taken over the vehicle floor and some valuable space in the back seat.

Nice picture isn't it (Canon 550D, shot by nephew, photoshopped by the same)