Prisoner of My Practice
Wherever we go, it's part of something
What are we running from or we running through it? What do you do when you’re feeling stuck and need to clear your head? I decided to take an unexpected trip to the other side of the world to be with my Malay friends I met on the Wear Many Hats World Tour: Malaysia. Being with them was a special moment in time. I learned what it was like to be with people from my generation from where my family is from.
On what I call a spiritual journey of whether or not we find God, fixing ourselves, and solve the problems we have at work, home, and relationships to how did we get ourselves in this situation in the first place run through my head. It took me a minute to realize that coming landing in Kathmandu to take a bus to Pokhara and our first steps around a mountain is… we’re hiking in the Himalayas.
In Nepal, I was already adapting to their culture but didn’t know how much I missed my daily rituals. I realized how bad my caffeine intake was for instance. I was missing coffee from other parts of the world and ceremonial grade matcha. I didn’t know how much I was a fiend for it. Nepalese coffee and chiya got me so far but this hits different. When dining out every meal, I missed water being brought to the table instead of ordering it every time. Speaking of dining out, I missed cooking. How could this be my first world problems when I am going to the bathroom in a hole? Seeing that I had to do so gave me flash backs of how I visited my mother’s village where she grew up in Malaysia, and I was a kid learning to do so. I was prepared though. I‘ve been working on my squats to overcome any toilet situation. Also pro-tip, toilet is the universal word for bathroom in any country.
What I learned about being with Adam, Andria, and Nicholas is what I will be thinking about for the rest of my life. Staying up with Adam trauma bonding, chatting long hours into the night, hearing the wildest things Andria has to say but realizing that I understand where she’s coming from, and how Nicholas reminds me of my brother. We live in an alternative universal but it’s another way of saying is same same but different.
Being Malay or what I consider a Malay thing is equivalent to beating yourself up. In certain countries, I learned that people are working to die. I had a conversation with a personal Malay chauffeur for rich businessmen that he has 5 kids and does his job because he has joy supporting his family. He was kind enough to drive me into town because of a downpour at the PETRONAS gas station and we did a crash course on our lives in 10 minutes. I met a Grab driver who hated Gen Z & Millennials because he says we don’t respect tradition. I had to instill in his mind that that’s not true. We just have more resources to do what we like to do. People who immigrate to another country such as to the west can’t seem to balance both worlds or understand it without being a hater. Dreams don’t exist with the older generation in Asian cultures.
My favorite thing to learn about Malaysia is that since my pork ramblings is that Pork is not a religious or sacred animal, it’s just dirty. That’s why they’re frowned upon in Islam. Do you know how many friends of mine who eat pork, pop drugs and still believe in religion? The pork industry is the second largest livestock industry in Malaysia. Side note: I still don’t eat pork, do drugs, and am agnostic.
Going back to Thailand, I met some new friends who traveled to Thailand for the first time from Spain and Germany. These two made me realize of what Wear Many Hats would become. Think Kindred, Fora Travel… I learned about what travel incentive agencies were and this made my brain light up.
My friends at Wonderroom.Bkk brought up my notebook zine I made through Dahsar and remembered how I used to make things. I then crashed out and missed my flight. I partied so hard sober. How does one do that? It was a blessing in disguise though. I ran into old friends who shot photos and ran a coffeeshop that gave me intel on a Pandan drink shop called Panland. My mission was complete with Matsar on finding Pandan and determining whether I wanted to do business in Thailand. I found a new matcha farm in Chiang Rai and went to a matcha festival at centralwOrld.
Where do you go when you crash out? Back to the source. Malaysia.
In Malaysia, I met up with my friends that went to Nepal because I couldn’t get enough. In the evening, I drank Americanos at a bus stop from Better Days where it is my dream to have a living work place storefront. I want to own property in Bangsar, Kuala Lumpur. I then partied till the sun comes up listening to a techno version of Losing My Religion, woke up late, went to yoga at The Flow Studio and hada coffee at VCR where it all began. Met with Auntie and she showed me old photos of my Uncle wearing Dahsar gear while my cousin is telling me that he shoots film now. At the same time my old friend Jessie, a co-worker from a menswear shop I was the buyer for in Philly, sent me photos of a jersey I used to make. The writing is on the wall. I need to go back to my roots of making things. Starting with postcards.
Being at the opening of the Dib Museum in Bangkok, at the lecture with artists Sho Shibuya and Marco Fusinato, the two brought up about being a prisoner of their own practice. I can relate because the adventures I go on, the trips I take, and the answer to everyones question of are you on holiday or business is yes.
Yes I am.
