A Trip That Meant More Than It Looked: Notes from Macau

A Quiet Milestone

This was our first overseas family trip with my in-laws. Not because they have never travelled. In fact, they have travelled far more than my husband and I ever have.

But this time, it was different. This time, hubby and I were the ones bringing them along. There was this quiet, unspoken acknowledgement that we have reached a new stage in life, like a small rite of passage.

A Trip That Became a Mini Pilgrimage

One lovely memory from this trip was how it quietly turned into a mini pilgrimage.

We found ourselves stepping into church after church: Our Lady of Carmel Church in Taipa, St. Dominic's Church, St. Lazarus' Church, Cathedral of the Nativity of Our Lady (Macau Cathedral), and The Chapel of St. Michael.

We celebrated Palm Sunday at St. Lazarus' Church on a Sunday morning. It was beautiful. There's something about being away from home, yet participating in something so familiar: the same rhythm, the same sense of reverence. It reminded me God remains constant, no matter where we are.

At one point, on our way to the Ruins of St. Paul, we wandered into St. Paul's Bookstore, run by The Daughters of St. Paul. We ended up spending more time there than expected, browsing and choosing little Catholic items like pins, crosses, rosaries, etc., each of us drawn to something in our own quiet way.

As I was writing this blog post, I stumbled upon this piece of news: Macau nuns use travel stamps to evangelise tourists.

The Portuguese Egg Tart Moment

Somewhere in between, there was a Portuguese egg tart. Just one from a shop near the Ruins of St. Paul's, eaten while being surrounded by people, noise, and movement.

And so, I just have to take this photo to immortalise the moment. Haha.

And Then… Pink Lights!

And then, there was a completely different kind of joy!

Standing there, watching The Parisian Macao light up in pink, synced to BLACKPINK's GO... I didn't expect to feel that excited!

It was loud and vibrant, completely opposite of the quiet churches we had been visiting.

Almost Sakura

And then, of course, there was my "almost sakura" moment.

According to the QR code beside the tree, it was Zhongguohong (Cerasus campanulata), also known as China Red, a type of cherry blossom found in Southern China that blooms between January and March.

Sometimes, close enough is enough.

The Small Things I Keep Collecting

Somewhere along the way, I found myself doing something familiar: collecting souvenir stamps.

Not the official kind you frame, but the simple landmark stamps, the kind you press onto paper just to say "I was here!"

It reminded me of Taipei, where I first started this little habit. There's something quietly satisfying about it. A small, tangible way of holding onto moments that would otherwise pass too quickly.

The Stairs...

Also, a small note for anyone romanticising heritage walks, but Macau comes with… a lot of stairs. The kind that immediately brought back memories of my trip to South Korea.

The kind that quietly humbles you while you're trying to look like you have your life together. Hahaha.

What Stayed With Me

Maybe that's what this trip was, without expectations, but still exactly what I needed.

A collection of small moments I chose to notice.

A quiet milestone.

A Palm Sunday far from home, yet deeply familiar.

Not sakura,

but close enough to be beautiful in its own way.

A Dental Visit He Was Actually Looking Forward To (And Yes, That's Normal in This House)

I know this might sound unusual, but my son actually enjoys hospital visits (like mother, like son... 😏)

Doctor's appointments? He's curious.

Dental check-ups? He's excited.

Teeth cleaning and scaling? He looks forward to it.

So no, this wasn't one of those "bracing for impact" parenting moments.

But even then, our recent visit to the dental clinic at Pantai Hospital Kuala Lumpur still stood out in a very meaningful way.

And that's thanks to Dr Priyanka Mahendru.

When a Good Experience Becomes an Exceptional One

When your child is already comfortable with dental visits, the benchmark becomes higher.

It's no longer just about "not being scared". It's about the quality of interaction, attention to detail, and whether the experience feels genuinely thoughtful.

Dr Priyanka impressed me from the start.

She has this ability to quickly find common ground, not just with the child, but also with the parent. There's a natural flow in how she communicates, making the whole session feel collaborative rather than clinical.

What did I appreciate most?

She listens.

As a parent, you're not sidelined. Your input isn't dismissed. Instead, it becomes part of the conversation, which makes a big difference in how confident you feel about your child's care.

A Proud Mum Moment (Because This Is Apparently Rare)

Somewhere in the middle of the session came a moment I didn't expect to feel this proud about.

Dr Priyanka shared that my son has no cavities or caries at all. And then she added something that stayed with me: "This is actually quite rare for boys between 8 to 10 years old."

Let's just say… I had a quiet internal celebration. 😄🎉

Because behind that simple statement is a mix of daily habits, small reminders, and consistent care over time. And hearing it validated by a professional just hits differently.

More Than Just Teeth Cleaning

The session itself was smooth (as expected with him).

But what stood out was how attentive Dr Priyanka was beyond just the cleaning.

She pointed out observations related to his oral health that linked to other areas, including his nasal cavity issues. That kind of holistic attention always reassures me that we're not just addressing symptoms in isolation.

It's thoughtful. It's thorough. And it reflects genuine care.

The Cherry on Top: A Blind Box Plushie

Of course, no story is complete without a little fun.

We signed up for the kids' dental care package, and he got a blind box plushie at the end of the visit.

Was he happy? Absolutely.

Did it make the whole experience even more memorable? Also yes.

Even for a child who already enjoys these visits, that little surprise adds a layer of joy that stays with them.

Why This Experience Matters

This wasn't about overcoming fear.

It was about:

- reinforcing a positive relationship with healthcare

- being heard as a parent

- and seeing a healthcare provider go beyond the basics

And honestly, those are the experiences that build long-term trust.

Would I Recommend This? Without Hesitation

If you're looking for a dentist who:

- communicates well with both child and parent

- pays attention to the bigger picture

- and creates a genuinely positive experience

I would absolutely recommend Dr Priyanka for your child's oral care.

And if you're lucky, you might walk away with more than just clean teeth…

maybe even a proud moment or two!

I Only Feel Like Writing When I'm Falling Apart. Here's What That Taught Me.

Note: Some of these thoughts began as late-night rants, which I later unpacked with the help of my AI assistant. What you are reading is still deeply personal, just more clearly expressed.

The Versions of Me

There is a version of me that only shows up when I am not okay.

She appears, usually a few days to one week before my period.

She could be dramatic, and in a kind of heavy, inward pull I have soon come to recognise.

I call it my "valley of darkness".

During this phase, everything feels... louder.

Not externally, but internally. My thoughts are sharper, my emotions closer to the surface, and my tolerance for things that I deem as nonsense becomes very low.

And interestingly, this is also when I have the most to say.

Ideas come rapidly.

Connections form effortlessly.

Thoughts that I normally brush aside suddenly feel urgent, important, and worth unpacking.

This is when I rant.

And more often than not, those rants turn into blog posts.

Then, just as suddenly, it all disappears.

When the Shift Happens

The moment my period comes, something shifts.

The emotional intensity softens.

The urgency fades.

The thoughts that once felt so compelling now seem… distant.

And with that, the ideas vanish.

Not reduced. Not dulled.

Vanished.

For the past one and a half weeks, especially after returning from my Macau family trip (which I am struggling to blog about), I have been sitting in this strange calm quietness.

No strong opinions.

No pressing thoughts.

No stories demanding to be written.

Just… stillness.

At first, I thought this meant I was blocked.

But what if it is not a block?

What if it is simply a shift in state?

Comparing the Two States

I am beginning to realise that my writing does not come from discipline alone.

It comes from emotional signals.

The Messier Side

When I am in that darker phase, my mind is actively processing:

frustrations

observations

unresolved questions

quiet tensions I do not usually confront

It is messy, but it is also honest.

And honesty, especially the uncomfortable kind, is incredibly fertile ground for writing.

The Calmer Side

But once my hormones stabilise, my system does something else.

It regulates. It calms. It restores balance.

And in doing so, it removes the very tension that fuels my writing.

Redefining My Own Expectations

Perhaps the problem was never creativity.

The problem was expectation.

I expected myself to:

generate ideas when I feel stable

create from a place that is naturally quieter

produce “insight” without emotional friction

But that is not how I seem to be wired.

I am not a constant-output writer.

I am a signal-driven one.

I write when something feels off.

I write when something needs to be understood.

I write when there is a question I cannot ignore.

And when those signals are not present, my mind rests.

Maybe This is Not A Weakness

For a while, I wondered if this pattern meant something was wrong with me.

Why can I only write when I feel low?

Why can I not produce consistently like others do?

But now I see it differently.

There are two versions of me at play:

One that feels deeply and generates meaning

One that organises, refines, and moves forward

Neither is better.

They simply serve different purposes.

The issue was that I kept asking the second version to do the first version's job.

What I Am Learning to Do Differently

Instead of fighting this rhythm, I am starting to work with it.

When I am in the "valley":

I capture everything

I do not filter

I let the thoughts be messy and incomplete

When I come out of it:

I revisit what was written

I shape it

I give it structure and clarity

In other words, I am learning that I do not need to create and refine at the same time.

A Quiet Realisation

Right now, I may not have new ideas.

But that does not mean I have nothing to say.

It may simply mean that the part of me that feels the need to say it is resting.

And perhaps that is just as important.

Maybe the goal is not to force consistency but to understand the rhythm and trust that when the noise returns, so will the words.

If you have ever noticed your thoughts becoming clearer in your most emotional moments, you are not alone. Perhaps there is something there worth listening to.

I Tried to Stay Healthy. Here’s Why It Still Feels Financially Punishing.

Staying Healthy Is Expensive. So Why Does the System Still Reward Illness?

Let me start by saying this is not a perspective from an insurance agent, financial planner, or healthcare provider. This is purely a reflection from someone living within the system, paying for it and trying to make sense of it.

Because in my opinion, the reality looks like this, even if you don't fully agree with me:

Health screening? Expensive.

Healthy food? Expensive.

Gym memberships / personal training? Expensive.

Health supplements? Expensive.

Insurance premiums? Increasing year on year.

And yet, when it comes to actually using insurance, many of the things that help us stay healthy aren't claimable at all.

When Prevention Becomes Personal

This realisation became even more apparent as I started paying closer attention to my own health, particularly in this phase of life.

Perimenopause is not a disease, but it is a transition that affects energy, sleep, mood, metabolism, and overall wellbeing.

Managing it often involves regular monitoring, follow-up consultations with specialist doctors, hormonal support, and lifestyle adjustments. None of which are typically considered "claimable".

So here lies the disconnect: you are not sick, but you are also not entirely "fine". And the system, as it stands, does not quite know what to do with that in-between space.

The System Isn't Designed for Prevention

Most insurance systems are built around a very specific idea: you can only claim after something has gone wrong, which means you can claim when you are diagnosed with a disease, when treatment becomes necessary, and when treatment costs become significant.

Which also means you cannot claim when you are trying to detect problems early, manage long-term health proactively, or reduce future risks.

In other words, the system is designed for intervention, not prevention, and this creates a strange paradox.

The Prevention Paradox

From a logical standpoint, prevention makes sense. Like this: early detection → simpler treatment → lower cost → fewer large claims

So in theory, encouraging preventive care should benefit both individuals and insurers. But in practice, preventive care sits outside the system.

Why? Because preventive care requires upfront spending, doesn't guarantee immediate outcomes, and is harder to standardise across populations. Whereas treatment is clearly defined, measurable, and easier to price and insure.

So instead of a system that rewards staying well, we end up with one that primarily responds to illness.

The Real Cost of "Staying Healthy"

What many of us are experiencing today is a shift. Health is no longer just about treating disease.

It's about maintaining metabolic health, hormonal balance, mental wellbeing, and long-term quality of life.

But maintaining all of this often comes with out-of-pocket costs. And over time, it starts to feel like, "I'm paying to stay healthy… and I'm still paying in case I get sick."

That double layer of cost is where the frustration comes from.

So What Can We Do Within the Limits of the System?

Well, the system won't change overnight, but I guess how we respond to it can. Instead of viewing this as an either-or situation, i.e., "insurance or prevention", it's more helpful to see them as two separate roles.

Insurance as Protection, Not Everyday Use

Insurance should be best understood as protection against catastrophic events, i.e., the unexpected, high-cost situations that we cannot plan for. It's not designed to cover routine health maintenance.

Prevention as Personal Investment

Preventive care, which includes health screenings, supplements, and gym sessions, becomes a form of long-term investment in quality of life, especially in life stages like perimenopause, where the goal is not just to treat illness but to maintain stability and function.

Be Selective, Not Exhaustive

Not every supplement, test, or trend is necessary. Focusing on evidence-based screenings, essential lifestyle habits, and medically guided interventions can help reduce unnecessary spending.

Create a "Health Fund" Mindset

Instead of reacting to costs, I read that some people allocate a specific budget for health maintenance, treating it as a planned expense rather than a recurring frustration.

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A System That Hasn't Caught Up (Yet)

Healthcare systems around the world are slowly shifting toward prevention. But change takes time.

In the meantime, some of us are navigating this in-between space. We are more aware of our health than ever before but still operating within systems designed for a different era.

The reality is, taking care of our health today requires both protection for the unexpected

and intentional investment in the everyday.

This is not a conclusion from the industry. It is a perspective from someone living within it.

It may not feel fair. But it is, for now, the reality we work within. And perhaps the real shift is this: not waiting for the system to reward prevention, but choosing it anyway.