Earlier this week, someone asked me this question: If you were going to die in a week and could travel anywhere in the world (all expenses paid), where would you go?
“I would stay at home,” I said. Having to spend a quarter of the last week of my life on a plane makes me feel nauseous.
“What if you had a month instead?” she asked.
I thought about it and about all the places in the world I want to visit before I die. And then I said, “I would stay at home.”
As I get older, I’ve been starting to think that at the end of the day, whatever adventures we have are made more valuable if they are shared with the people we love.
And as flawed as this country is, it has its own quirks, its own delightfulness as well. Which country doesn’t?
I’m always surprised when Malaysians who have moved abroad start extolling all the goodness of the new country that they’re living in, while demeaning their own country.
It makes me wonder about what sort of experiences they must have had. Was life in this country so difficult? So horrible?
Perhaps I’ve been fortunate. And it’s not that I’m just accepting the status quo. But whatever flaws there are, I believe that we have the power to fix them.