People frequently ask me here if I miss the food at home, and of course I do, but I think it goes deeper than that. Even if we find an authentic restaurant here that serves great laksa, there's still something missing. There's something about going to the corner Malaysian coffeeshop dressed in my faded t-shirt, comfy but crummy shorts and RM3 flip-flops, especially after a whole day of fieldwork, when I have just showered and my hair is slightly damp, and ordering a bowl of piping hot noodles, then sitting down on the plastic chair by the vinyl covered table, taking in the bustling noises of the various hawkers in the coffee shop, the attendant smells, and sounds of life passing by outside. I really miss that...


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