One of the most expensive coffee in the world is Kopi Luwak, mainly produced in Indonesia.
From the picture above you can see that they are just coffee beans being stuck together with something gooey like honey or something. At least that's what I first thought when I saw it. But looks can be very deceiving they say, and in this case, that's an understatement.
This is where it gets interesting. Take a look at the picture again. Ready?
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You are actually looking at some shit. Poop. Turd. Whatever you want to call it.
Basically, these people in Indonesia, they feed these particular species of civets coffee beans and apparently the process taking place in the civets' digestive tracts makes the coffee taste better, don't ask me how. So whatever waste leaving the civets' anus, they collect and process to turn them into coffee.
Which arises the obvious curious question, how did they think about the idea of coffee made from a civet's excrement in the first place?
The civets are pretty scary looking in the picture below, not one of those animal that you'd think of eating anything coming out of its ass, come to think of it, I wouldn't want to eat anything coming out of anything's ass, no matter how cute the owner of the ass is!
I found videos on YouTube and these creatures are actually very friendly and playful; perfect candidate for a pet. What's more, their poop can be turned into one of the most expensive coffee in the world. Talk about being frugal.
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Back in primary school, I remember I have this two very close friends (let's call them K and F), whom I still occasionally meet up. At the same time, I was also close to this other girl (let's call her A), who is a member of a clique led by B.
To better understand the dynamics of their friendship, A and B are like Serena and Blair, leader of the pack, and in any pack you can't never have more than one queen. When they fought, they really fought like it's the end of the world, but no sooner than tomorrow, they would be best friends again.
Whenever A and B fought, A would always spend more time with me; we would spend recess together, go for toilet walks together, you know, stuff 11-year-old do. Which would result in me more or less abandoning my other friends K and F, or rather, not having much time left to spend with them. Soon as A made up with B, they would become inseparable again, and I would continue our friendship with K and F as usual. I thought everything was cool, you know.
This cycle repeated itself a few times before I received a letter under my desk. I still remember that it was written on a cute Space Jam's letter set, complete with printed envelope. F wrote that she felt used, that I kept switching between them and A, that they felt as if I didn't appreciate them enough. I didn't remember the exact words but it was something pretty poetic (as poetic as an average 11-year-old could be) about being treated like toys that you can pick up whenever you wanted and discard whenever they are not of use anymore.
Sayangnya beberapa tahun yang lalu, loteng kat rumah kena anai-anai attack, so semua surat-surat dan kad raya terpaksa dibuang. Kalau tak epic gila kot boleh baca balik surat zaman kanak-kanak ni. Lagi best kalau tunjuk kat orang yang hantar surat tu pastu gelak sama-sama.
It was at that point I first had a taste of how complicated relationships can be.
I think friendship is best kept without the complexity of a romantic relationship. It should be effortless. There shouldn't be guilt, shouldn't be jealousy, shouldn't be rivalry. Real gems in friendship are the ones that you can revisit time after time with ease. As if the time and the physical distance that had kept you apart never existed.
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First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by Kelly Jones
I never knew Kelly Jones did a cover of this song. It was *puts hand on shoulder, rolls eyes* nothing less than awesome, of course.
I remember the days when my mom used to play Celine Dion's cassette non-stop in the car's stereo and I would try to sing along to her powerful voice singing this song. Of course, I failed gloriously. No. We failed gloriously. But blasting the car's speaker at full blast, singing a song that is way out of your vocal range, pretending that the singer's voice is actually yours, is pretty therapeutic. We had a lot of fun. My mom wouldn't let me change the cassette anyway so might as well join her.
The lyrics of the song had always fascinated me. Coupled with a heartfelt melody, it is hard not to feel the powerful yet tender emotion that the writer must have felt towards that special someone when he wrote this song. Hearing this song again today, for some reason I don't understand, almost made me tear up.
Well, come to think of it, as of late, anything remotely emotional will make me tear up.
I want this version of the song to be played on ze big day.
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This is what I would like to see happening in Malaysia : People are allowed to have discussions about Islam with those of religious authority which includes questions being asked without any party being defensive and offended about it.
Our culture has trained us not to ask questions when it comes to the core of our religion and that we are expected to just do what we are supposed to do and that's that. Why? Are they afraid that they might not be able to answer the questions?
Just because some questions have no clear answers does not mean that there are no answers. And just because one asks, does not mean that one doubts. That's the point of discussing; to learn, to understand something better.
The way I see it, this culture of no-questions-allowed might have been one of the reason which has driven some people, born and raised as Muslims in our society, to believe that Islam is beneath their intelligence level. Which is not accurate and unfortunate.
For me personally, I don't expect to get concrete answers about some of the lingering questions I might have, but I would definitely appreciate the willingness of ustaz, ustazah, ulama to talk to me about what they do know. To respect my curiosity and not to quickly dismiss me of being an ungrateful servant of God by asking too much. Questions do not always equal to interrogation.
Tetiba terfikir, kalau kat Malaysia, mana nak belajar agama eh? Kalau pergi masjid dengar ceramah, tak boleh bertanya banyak-banyak kat ustaz sebab kaum perempuan duduk belakang.
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