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My Most Embarrassing Situation

Everyone has been embarrassed at one time or another. It is that moment in time when you wish the earth would open up and
swallow you. The anxiety and discomfort felt during that time which may only last a few seconds feels like time has stood still.

I remember so well when I had my most embarrassing moment. I was in Form 4 and it was during the school recess. The
minute the bell rang for recess, I rushed to the toilet because I had been controlling my urges since class started. I didnt want to miss
class because the lesson taught that morning was to include tips for the forthcoming examination.

Without realising, I had rushed to the girls toilet. The prolonged control and an upset stomach made worse by two glasses of
cold milk in the morning made me grunt and groan in what I thought in what I thought was the privacy of the cubicle. I thought I heard
giggling outside and wondered why the giggles sounded unusually near. A few minutes later I came out the cubicle and discovered my
horror that I had entered the girls toilet. To make matters worse, the few girls standing outside didnt even turn away when I came out.
Instead they looked down at me, and then only they turned quickly away. Horror of horrors, I had forgotten to zip up! No beetroot could
have matched the colour of my face at this point in time!

They news of my predicament spread like wild fire throughout school. I was truly the talk of the town. I felt like I could either
walk around feeling perpetually self-conscious and embarrassed or I could turn the situation round, perhaps even to my advantage. I
remembered my mothers words that if you cant beat them, join them. So I decided to make fun of myself, to laugh at myself too. It
works. Everyone got bored after a while and nobody teased me after that.

It was indeed an eye-opening experience for me. I have learnt that when people laugh at you, you should laugh along. You
must not take yourself seriously. Learn to look at yourself through other peoples eyes and you will realise that most of the time when
they laugh at you, they just want to have some fun. They mean no harm. If you can make people laugh, its like bringing sunshine into
their lives and as someone said, those who bring sunshine to the lives of others cannot keep it from themselves.

Accident

I went to hospital for meeting my friend Ajay, who have met with an accident. He was in ICU in unconscious state. His father is roaming
here and there and was really afraid about his one and only son. In anger that came from fear he is shouting at the hospital staff.

Ramanatham , Ajays father was really a cool guy, I have been meeting him from many years . In my opinion he was really a brave
man, but this time his courage is not seen, his eyes became red due to crying .

I went near him and said Uncle all will be alright , you please dont get disappointed, nothing will happen to Ajay.

Ramnatham uncle knows that my words are not coming from my heart. I too know that my word will not reduce the pain of him. At that
time I understood it will be more painful when our dear ones are hurt . Uncle went near the nurse and inquiring about the arrival of
doctor. Actually doctor should have arrived at this time and operation should be started but still doctor have not arrived.

Uncle is shouting at the nurse and she is simply listening without telling any word. Just then Car came and doctor had arrived but there
was no relief in Ramnathams eyes, he is still scolding the doctor for coming late. Doctor didnt even look at him he went straight into the
operation theatre.

After an hour he came out taking his gloves and he is walking towards the car. Ramnatham followed him and asking about the
condition of his son he simply looked at him and said please I am in hurry you ask nurse. Ramnatham was very angry he went near
nurse and before he asked nurse told that Ajay was alright. I felt happy but Ramnatham was telling the nurse your doctor knows the
pain only when his son got accident. He even not saying any details about the patient what kind of doctor he is.

I watched the tears in the eyes of nurse, she said doctors son died yesterday in a bike accident and he came from burial ground to
save your son.
My father

During a time in my life that should have been filled with children playing with their neighbourhood friends after school, I was taking
care of my ill father. When I was eight years old, my father suffered from a massive brain stroke after coming home from a family party.
At a young age, I emotionally grew up faster than other children; I quickly needed to learn how to be more responsible and helpful to
my family. I was certainly unprepared for this crisis, but I had to cope with the fact that my father would not be able to walk again and
that things would never be the same. Nevertheless, I took my father's illness as God's test to perceive how strong of a person I am.

From the moment I was told that my father might not make it, I became very worried and anxious. Hypertension runs through my
father's side of the family, and my father had already been alert of his health; that night of unhealthy eating sparked his stroke. Initially, I
was unaware of the severity of the stroke; but when I was brought to the hospital to see my dad with all kinds of tubes connected to his
body, and my mom standing, weeping next to him, I realized how bad my father's illness was. Before, it was he who nurtured his
children; now it is the other way around.

When my father began to recover and was transferred to a nursing home, our family relocated to an apartment near this nursing home
so we could see him often. Every day after school, my brother and I walked to the nursing home to visit him. It was hard for me at first
because as a child, all I wanted to do was play with my cousins. However, as time passed, I learned that being with my father was
much more important than running around with other kids. My father became my top priority. Just the presence of me and my family
brought joy to him. We spent hours interacting with him, hoping that it would help him regain his impaired memory and speech. My
family and I had a whole new different lifestyle, but it was for the well-being of my father.

I am very fortunate to have my father with me today. I know there are many people out there who lose their fathers due to what my
father suffered. I have had many experiences during his recovery that others would not have. He may not be able to walk, but I still get
to see him every day. When I begin to give up on things, I think of my father as my motivation. He is my inspiration to endure and
persevere, and my reason to appreciate life. I do not take my father's illness as something that has been taken away from me, but as a
blessing; a blessing that has taught me to see life at a deeper perspective.

An incident I would like to forget

There are many incidents in our lives that make us happy or sad. I was recently the victim of a snatch thief. This is one incident that I
cannot forget. It was an incident that changed my life forever.

It was a Saturday morning, like any other weekend and I was on the way to school for extra classes. I had to take the city bus to
school. As I walked down the street from my house I noticed that the road was very crowded. Buses, cars, taxis, motorcyclists and
pedestrians created a hustle and bustle that would easily unnerve anyone. I kept my cool as I walked down the pedestrian path
towards the bus stop. My thoughts were however far away, as I was preoccupied with the mid-term exam that was just around the
corner. Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, a motorcyclist who was just passing beside me, tugged at my bag, which was dangling
from my shoulder.

I spun around and reeled from the force of the moving vehicle. I felt a harsh pull. Within a split second I was sprawled on the pavement.
I felt numb and everything around me became blur. I heard people shouting, but I was too dazed to talk and too shocked to even get
up. I did not remember anything after that. When I regained consciousness. I was in the hospital and my legs and arms were
bandaged. Yet I felt no sensation or pain. I was just too weak to even move.

'What happened?' I kept asking myself. How could this have happened to me, I thought? My parents, my sister and my brother were
there and their grim faces told me that things were not right. The doctor finally broke the sad news to me. I was now paralyzed and
would not be able to walk again. I was shocked and did not know what to say. There was a lump in my throat. The tears that rolled
down from my eyes slowly wet my pillow.

I am now stronger but must learn to be more confident of myself. I have learnt to pray and hope that I will be able to move around in my
wheelchair. It is one incident that has changed my life and I will never be able to forget.

hustle and bustle noisy activity

around the corner nearby

a bolt from the blue something that is unexpected


Describe an incident when a moment of forgetfulness got you into trouble.

The morning sun shone persistently on my still-shut eyelids. Annoyed, I rolled on to the right side of my mattress. Wondering about the
time, I stretched out my arm to grasp the little, round alarm clock on my bedside table. I forced open my eyes, focused them on the
numbers ... and screeched!

Leaping out of my bed, I swung open the wardrobe door. Throwing my school uniform on the bed, I dashed to the bathroom. Halfway, I
spun around and grabbed my school bag, deciding not to brush my teeth. Soon, I had shoved my feet into my shoes and pounced onto
my bicycle. My parents stood motionless, staring at me as I whizzed past.

As my bicycle raced on, I noticed a group of schoolgirls looking my way with great interest. Well, well! Obviously, I was still attractive
even with uncombed hair. My heart was pounding furiously in my chest as I whirred past a few cars on the road. The drivers seemed to
stare with disbelief that one could pedal so swiftly. In no time, I reached the school gate, which was just about to be closed.

Without bothering to explain myself to the priggish duo on guard duty, I hopped off my bike and dashed off. After locking my precious
iron steed at the shed, I sprinted to the school hall. As I burst into the hall, I braked to change direction and made a beeline for the
back of my class. Screeching to a halt, I took my place behind my classmates.

In the whole gathering of students, I seemed to be the centre of attraction. It did not matter much to me at the moment for I was used to
being looked at. However, to say the least, I was a little surprised when everyone stopped staring blankly at me and started to giggle.
Suddenly, the whole hall was filled with roars and bellows of laughter. Smiling at my audience, I decided to take a bow.

Then, I noticed that the bottom half of my trousers were the wrong colour. My line of vision moved upwards, revealing that the rest of
my pants were also the wrong colour, and so was my shirt. At first, even my powerful brain could not figure it out.

"Daniel! Why on earth are you in pyjamas?" my friend blurted out amidst the hollers of laughter.

The feeling of sheer horror swept through my entire frame. My mouth was stuck open in an "0" shape for a few long seconds. My mind
was filled only with shock as darkness mercifully started to engulf me.

Once again. I awoke with lights playing on my eyelids. At first I had little memory of what had happened, but one look at the group of
people peering down at me brought the whole incident back to mind. The young boys were all clad in white uniforms and grinning quite
lunatic ally at me. In. the high corner of the room, I saw a red crescent. Then the horrible little squirts started to call out for their seniors.
Outside, I heard fresh gales of laughter. The brats were chortling. I was still clad in pyjamas. Not knowing what else to do, I feigned
unconsciousness again ...

in no time in a relatively short time

make a beeline for to straight to

gales of laughter a forceful outburst


Describe your relationship with your father

Every evening, as I am doing my schoolwork in my room, the familiar sound of my father's car reaches my ears. I imagine his Fort
Cortina coming up the driveway, the engine purring to a stop. I know that in a few moments, my father will be pausing outside my door,
looking in quietly, so as not to stir me from my concentration. I know he will feel pleased as he watches me studying.

My father, at 53 years, has thinning hair swept back from his forehead. He has a slim and athletic body. His broad shoulders and rather
serious demeanour give him an air of authority. Yet, behind his steel-rimmed glasses are soft, kind eyes.

My father has always been my source of encouragement. When I was very young, he would take a book from our small home library
and read aloud to me every night. Secure and loved, on his lap, I was introduced to the fascinating realm of books. He would read
stories and parables from the Bible. Thus, he instilled in me a sense of God's presence in this world.

I remember how, as he was reading, my father would point out the spelling of words. Then one day, he instructed me to read the words
for myself. To our shared delight, I found that I was able to do so. From that day onwards, I was the one who would read aloud, with his
gentle correction every now and then. Soon after that, I was picking up the hooks and reading them on my own. I became quite a
bookworm.

As I grew into boyhood, my bookish ways and disinterest in outdoor games made me overweight, clumsy and rather unfit. One day, my
father stood observing me as I was running to a field, just 50 yards away. I arrived there, huffing and puffing. Worriedly, he told me that
he would not like to see his son grow up into an unhealthy man.

From that day onwards, he started to take me on jogs. At first, I was a most reluctant jogger. However, these days, as I stand perched
on the peak of Mount Kina, breathing deeply after a good run, I remember his words, "A healthy body breeds a healthy mind."

My father has a store of wise sayings which may seem common to some but always strike the correct note with me. Once, when I was
really depressed, he put an arm around my shoulders and gently asked me what was troubling me. Lifting my bowed head, I poured
out my heart's discontent. After listening, he consoled me. Then he said, "Smile, and the world around you will smile." Somehow, I was
able to smile in spite of my problems.

At another time, when I was about to give up on a task, he advised me, "If a job deserves to be done, it deserves to be done well."
Somehow, his words gave me the strength to try again, and I was able to succeed. Since then, whenever I feel daunted by a task, his
advice always comes to mind and this spurs me on to persevere.

Looking back, I realize that every step of the way, through my childhood and adolescence, my father has been there for me whenever I
needed him. When I was sick, he would rush me to the doctor. When I was sick at heart, he would know just the right things to say. In
any kind of trouble, I would just have to give him a call. He would surely be there.

I am only a few years away from adulthood and know that many more challenges lie ahead of me. However, I can be sure that my
father will be there, looking out for me all the way. Why? Because he loves me.

demeanour The way in which a person behaves

daunt to make someone feel slightly frightened or worried about their ability to achieve something

spur on to encourage an activity


Describe some of the minor accidents that you have experienced

Accidents are part and parcel of life itself and to say that you have never had a silly accident in your life would be like saying, "I'm a
green-faced alien from Pluto." Well, I have certainly had my share of ridiculous accidents. Not all of them have changed my life, but
they have certainly made me more aware of my limitations. Yet, sometimes, remembering those times, I think, "I can't believe I actually
did that!"

There was this incident about five years back. I was at a piano recital. Actually, it was my debut, and I was shaking with nerves. Finally,
the dreaded moment arrived. I sat at the piano and started playing. Halfway through the first movement, I felt a tickle in my nose. My
fingers were needed on the piano keys so I could not reach tip to rub my nose. I tried holding my breath... to no avail. I exploded in a
huge, sloppy sneeze that blasted my music sheets right off the piano. Absolutely humiliated, I dashed off the stage. Nothing could get
me out there to face the amused audience.

Then, there was this skating incident which occurred only a year ago. My father had bought me my first pair of in-line skates. Actually,
they were my first pair of skates. I had never skated before. Well, I confidently put them on and fastened them, not knowing what was
ahead. Standing up, I shoved off. Then, for the first time in years, I lost all control of my bodily movements. I was waving my arms
around, like a drowning chicken trying to fly out of the water. My legs had no sense of direction, with my left leg heading north and my
right heading south-east. Finally managing to get upright, I found myself staring the gate right in its metal grille. There was a loud
Crash! Boom! and Bang! Fortunately, all that was injured was my self-confidence, thanks to my protective pads.

Another accident occurred right in the safety of my home, in the kitchen, actually. My mother had just bought a microwave oven. On
that fateful day, my mother had left me a plate of fried rice to be reheated for my lunch. On the plate were the usual accompaniments to
the coconut-flavoured rice: vegetables, groundnuts, chillied prawns and a whole hard-boiled egg. I was, of course, still considered a
user with "L" (Learner) plates as far as this oven was concerned. However, warming up food was not complicated ... or so I thought.
Carefully, I placed the plate of food in the microwave oven, turned the dial to "high" and pressed the lever to start the oven. It started
smoothly. Gleefully, I watched my dish of food turn graceful circles in the oven. After a few rounds, I opened the oven to take out my
warmed-up food. At that very second, the egg exploded. Boom! It was "Egg yolk keeps falling on my head". My clothes, my hair, the
whole kitchen was covered with egg-yolk and rice that the force of the explosion threw. There was no lunch for me that day either.

Well, there you have them, some of the grimace-inspiring details of my life. So, am I clumsy or just low in luck? A little of both, I think.

part and parcel to be a necessary feature of a particular experience

to no avail of no use

grimace A sharp contortion of the face expressive of pain, contempt, or disgust


Describe an occasion when you were caught in a rainstorm.

"Argh!" screamed my friend as the water balloon hit her full in the face. She stood in shock for a moment before charging after me,
laughing and yelling out threats.

We were at our annual class party and having the time of our lives. This year, we had decided on the picnic at the beach. After eating,
we had all sorts of games and competitions. I could not remember when I had last enjoyed myself so much.

However, all good things must come to an end, and as it neared evening, we started preparing to leave. I was supposed to walk the
short distance to my aunt's house after the party. About halfway there, I remembered that I had left a T-shirt on the beach. I debated
whether or not to return for it as I could see dark clouds heading my way. However, the shirt was an old favourite of mine and I was so
wet from the water balloons that a little more water would not make a difference.

The beach was now deserted. I looked around for my T-shirt but it was nowhere to be found. Finally, after minutes of fruitless search, I
gave up. The sky was dark, with thick thunderclouds and it had begun to drizzle. I started heading back.

Then, suddenly, with a loud crash of thunder, the heavens burst and torrents of rain came pouring down. Holding my backpack over my
head in an effort to ward off the relentless blows of the rain, I scanned the area for a place of refuge.

Finally spotting a tiny shack at a distance, I dashed for it. I reached it at last and darted in, drenched to the bone and shivering from
head to toe. As I shook out my hair, I mentally kicked myself for getting into this situation.

Wondering when the rain would stop, I stared out at it, dejectedly. As I gazed, however, my feelings of dejection turned into awe. The
black clouds hung low. The sea was turbulent, with powerful waves crashing onto the shore. On the left, where jagged boulders stood
in the sea, the waves threw themselves on them, sending up sprays of sea water high into the air. Gust after gust of howling wind blew
through the trees. Lightning streaked across the sky, time and again, lighting up the whole scene for a split second each time.

I stood transfixed, captivated by the power and violence of the storm. It was beautiful, scary and magnificent at the same time. I felt I
had to be part of it, to be at one with nature.

I ran out and stood in the middle of the storm, reveling in the stinging rain and chilling wind, thrilling to the sounds of the thunder and
the crashing waves, and relishing the magnificence of nature.

drizzle rain in very small light drops

ward off try to prevent

transfix to render motionless, as with a fixed stare or by arousing terror or awe


Describe the sights and sounds at the end of a long day.

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo!..." the cuckoo clock on the wall of my office called five times.

"Yes!" I shouted in my head. "Time to pack up!".

I straightened my stiff back and neck, the result of hours of hunching over documents and surveyed the whole noise-polluted room.
Andrew was yelling at Mac for throwing a paper plane at him; Mandy and Lily were chatting animatedly, undoubtedly about clothes or
make-up; Jay and Rayne were chatting up Sarah, the new clerk, probably trying to get her to go for a drink; and Cynthia was doing the
waltz in her three-inch heels, heading out the door.

With a grunt, I pushed my chair back, heaved myself up, and started stuffing things into my briefcase and my huge handbag. I couldn't
wait to get home.

As I stepped out through the glass doors of the air-conditioned building, a blast of hot, humid air slammed me full in the face, stunning
me for a few seconds. Then I continued towards the bus stop. I groaned
aloud when I saw the hordes of people gathered there and regretted leaving my car at home. Sigh! I had no choice but to join the
crowd.

Buses came and left. Every time it was the same anxious craning to read the bus number above the heads of the crowd. Then, there
was the rushing and jostling as I tried to force my puny frame through the
masses of burly men and women. I was ready to perish amidst the petrol fumes and the stink of stale sweat when I finally managed to
squeeze my right foot onto a bus step. Then, up I went, forced by the
pushing crowd into the packed bus.

Feeling woozy and yet hyped up, I searched for a seat. No way! They were all definitely occupied. I grabbed hold of a strap and tried
to stand firmly Every time the bus lurched forward, we would all sway
backwards. The bus hurtled on, careening madly round corners, only to stop with a sudden jolt. I was crushed on all sides, and had my
toes trod on several times.

Then, we got caught in a massive traffic jam. Cars, buses and motorcycles around us kept up a constant honking. The burning rays of
the sun stoked up the oven which our bus had now become. I became nauseous and thought many times about getting off. Yet, I was
too tired to walk home. Inch by inch we moved and one and a half hours later, I finally arrived at my stop, which, thankfully, was just in
front of
my flat. I shoved my way out, my strict upbringing forcing me to mutter a few insincere "Excuse-me's".

I dragged my body up the flights of stairs to my second-floor flat. I did not even bother to try the elevator as I knew I would be
competing with a crowd of thirty or more residents. Finally, I reached my door
and, after a little fumbling for my keys, I entered my apartment. With a sigh of utmost relief, I dropped my briefcase and handbag on
the floor, turned on the television and collapsed on the couch. "All in
a day's work, my girl!" I told myself, and gazed with unseeing eyes at the television.

perish to die

typed up artificially stimulated or high excited

fumble search blindly and uncertainly


Write a composition entitled: How I know my mother loves me.

When I was very young, I was a sickly child. In fact, I had to spend most of my life away from school and in bed. Not surprisingly, I was
miserable. I fretted a lot and constantly demanded my mother's attention. I was a spoiled brat.

During the day, I would demand that my favourite delicacies be served to me and that my favourite stories be read to me. At odd hours
of the night, I would ask for a hot drink or a cookie, or just some company.

"Mummy, stay with me!" was my constant whine.

Not once was that demand refused. Not once did my mother groan or grumble. She answered every unreasonable demand of mine
with unfailing patience. My mother would put everything aside to comfort me.

My world was very small then. There was just me and Mummy. My world consisted of the feel of her cool palms soothing my brow and
her floral scent as she leaned over me to tuck in my blanket. I remember her low voice, hushing me as I fretted about the pains in my
joints. Most of all, I remember the look in her eyes, of deep concern for her sick child. That was how I knew my mother loved me then.

Miraculously, I have outgrown my childhood ailments. Now that I am on the threshold of adulthood, my world has grown to include
many exciting friends. Set free from the prison of the sickbed, I revel in the fun that the world has to offer.

My relationship with my mother has suffered from my wild pursuit of fun. She criticizes my choice of friends and tries to enforce rules
and regulations to curb my activities.

Two nights ago, I stayed out way, way past my "curfew" hour, which is eleven o'clock. It was almost 1 a.m. when I reached my house.
To make matters worse, I had been unable to call home to inform my mother that I would be delayed. There were no phones where we
were "hanging out". I knew that I was in for it!

My mother flung open the door the minute she heard my friend's car pull in. Her face was red, sweat was pouring down her temples.
My friends made a quick exit as she ranted at me, her arms waving wildly. I didn't say a word, in case one of those hands should find its
mark on my face. I was ordered straight to bed.

As I got into bed, she stood in my room, still ranting at me for my disobedience and "wild behaviour". I was tired. I just wanted to sleep.
I looked up at her face to try to gauge if her scolding would be continuing much longer.

Then I saw something familiar about the look in her eyes. It was the same look of concern that she had always had when I was so sick.
I saw in her eyes all the fears that she had suffered that night as she waited for her daughter to return safely.

This is how I know my mother loves me now.

fret to be anxious or worried

spoiled brat A spoiled brat is a child whose parents or other educators systematically fail to teach socially
acceptable behavior and discipline.

in for it certain to encounter trouble or punishment


A Road Accident
Road accidents are reported in newspaper and on television every day. There are more frequently caused by reckless drivers
rather than faulty vehicles. Last Saturday, while I was travelling from Ipoh, I witnessed a serious accident. The scene of the accidents
was vivid in my mind.

A motorcyclist was following behind was taxi very closely. He was so impatient that he was trying to overtake my taxi even near
a sharp bend. At that critical moment, there was an oncoming car. The taxi driver swerved to the roadside and I got a terrible jolt. It was
too late for the motorcyclist to avoid the car. His motorcycle ran against the bumper of the car and smashed its windscreen. The
motorcyclist somersaulted over the car and was found lying in a pool of blood. It was a scene to chill the flesh! The car driver, who was
cut by the flying glass, was in a state of shock. All that happened in split second and fear overwhelmed us.

The taxi driver stopped his taxi and I quickly ran to the nearest to the nearest telephone booth to inform the police and the
hospital. From a distance I could see some people trying to help the injured motorcyclist and the car driver. They carried them into one
of the onlookers car and sent them to the hospital for treatment. Meanwhile the taxi driver tried to control and directs the traffic. Soon
the police arrived and they promptly took some measurements and evidence. After that they moved the damaged car and the
motorcycle to the roadside to ease the traffic congestion. They also took down the evidence provided by witnesses and onlookers.
Some sweepers were clearing the debris and the blood stains on the road.

When the taxi finally continued the journey, I silently thanked God for my narrow escape. I learned a good lesson that
impatience and recklessness would bring harm and danger. I was happy to see that Malaysians are public-spirited and they render help
to others readily. Since then I remember and follow the saying more haste less speed and prevention is better than cure. I believe
good road manners and roads safety campaigns can help to reduce the number of road accidents which cause injuries, loss and lives
and properties.

(381 words)

Brother's Death

It was Monday, a school day. Waking up by the morning light with the thick coffee aroma filling the room, I yawned but was still lying
down because of my laziness. I could feel the tender, warm sun wrapping around me. I stood up, nearly tumbling from the loss of
balance and dressed for the last day of school. It was a long, hot walk to school.

After school, my friend Linda and I sat at her kitchen table, drinking fresh lemonade, listening to Linda's mom joke about how nervous
Linda was about doing well in her final exams. Afterward, we planed to walk to the mall, and then watch a movie. Shortly, we were
interrupted by a phone call from my cousin Noreen. I assumed she was calling to check up on the latest news about my baby brother.

Noreen proceeded to tell me that the ambulance had come and taken my baby brother. The horror began. I tearfully asked, "Is he ok?"
With hesitancy and a sorrow filled voice she said, "He's dead". I screamed over and over again, "No, no, not my brother! Anyone but
him!" and I broke down, crying.

I felt as if I was paralyzed, I felt like I was suffocating; as if a giant hand was clamped around my heart. I had a blank look on my face.
Afterward, my family and some friends came for the funeral. I was standing in the middle of the family room, as the words "He's dead"
pierced my heart like daggers of ice. I started crying in disbelief and then, ran to my mother's room screaming and yelling. The
realization that I would never see him again painfully struck me.

It was hectic after my brother's death. It took my mom and me 2 years to get through a day without crying. The grief of losing a brother
is something no one understands unless they have experienced it. It is amazing how many things we take for granted. We make plans
for the day, and do not think twice about how those plans can be taken away in the blink of an eye.
A holiday I would never forget
Holidays, a time everyone gets hyped up over, parents planning activities for the family to spend quality time with and
school children ( as well as teachers) jumping for joy. Hello, waking up late, celebrating, goin for tuition and best of all,
vacations! In myy case, a holiday I would never forget is a fruitful one I expereinced five years ago, where my family I
spent six days in the land of K-Pop and ' kimchi '- Korea.

Finally, after ages of waiting, our family arrived in beautiful Korea. Stepping out of the plane, we could feel the chilly
weather to our bones. Never experiencing that kind of weather, my siblings and I were totally excited. Passing through
immigration and baggage claim, we were talking animatedly about our new surroundings. Since we went with tour
group, we knew we were in good hands.

Incident number one. We were supposed to take a bus to check in at the hotel, as instructed. I guessed I was
overeager and without thinking. I ran to a random bus and knocked on the door. The young bus driver opened the door
and looked at me with a puzzled expression. He started asking me something in Korean, which of course I did not
understand. I tried to reply in English, but before I could make the attempt, my father quickly apologized to the driver
and walked me back to the tour group who was watching from afar, shaking with laughter. It turned out that the bus I
was running to was not the bus we were supposed to take. I dismissed my burning cheeks. I was glad I could be the butt
of everyone's jokes on my first day in a foreign country.

It was a bit past lunch time when we were done checking in our hotel. Not doubt, everybody's stomachs were
grumbling. Thank God after checking in, we were going to have our lunch and do a bit of sightseeing. While waiting for
the others outside the hotel, we walked around nearby. There was a row of vending machines that sold various snacks
and beverages, including Haagen Dazs ice-cream , and instant noodles. My mother had a craving for Nescafe, so she
spent her first Korrean money on that.

At the restaurant, a delicious meal was already spread out for us. That was the first time we all tried kimchi, a spicy
and sour vegetable side dish.I did not think it was horrible, buut I preferred the fish kimchi much better. We all ate using
chopsticks, so that was kind or awkward for me and my siblings, as we were not skilled at using them yet. Being
Malaysians, we were used to rice, so it was a good thing that the Korean meal included rice and a few other side dish,
eaten from a Bento box. It was weird though, the rice was stickier compared to the rice we eat at home, mainly to make
it easier to eat using chopsticks. There was also hot and scumptious miso soup together with the meal. Since my sister
and my brother did not like it much, I finshed up theirs. I gulped the warm soup down my throat- a nice connntrast from
the shivering weather outside.

One of the highlights of our activities that we did in Korea was skiling. Everybody from the tour group was looking
forward to that, even the 52-year old couple traveling with us. Since it was'nt fully snownig yet, the hill was coverred
with artificial snow. After grobbing our ski gear, we listen to a briefing by the instructor. He was very help ful, especially
with us kids annd the elderly couple.

Feeling jumpy and hyperactive, me and my sister made our way to the cable car and successfully skied down a
slope. I thought, " We're natural at this," and my sister could not agree more. When we came to see how our parents
and brother were doing, my brother started to throw a snowball towards me and my sister. It hit me, and we started
having a small snowball fight of our own, just like in the movies! I guessed we got a bit out of hand and my sister
accidentally hit a woman's back. when she turned around, she had this angry look on her face and started to walk
towards us.I hurried my siblings to continue skiing with our parents,and we ran away before she cold catch us.
Breathless, we giggled innaivety as we recapped the moment.

In a way, skiing is like swimming. Why do I say so? Well, when swimming ,you do not feel tired , but you would see
the effect when you get ravenous and eat more after a session or when you aintend to tke a nap, but it is extended to
long hours. The same goes to skiing. When we arrived at the hotel after skiing, we were drained out and starving. Instant
noodles saved the day! We all ate curry-flavoured Maggi together, savouring the memontary pleasure. We also dozed off
quite early that night , right after going for a walk to enjoy the amazing night view of th mountains, and breathing the
cool, fresh winter air.

Shopping in Korea was also different compared to Malaysia. Its malls were packed with small shops or stalla on
every floor. Big boutiques were not seen as much as the quaint kiosks. Nevertheless, I found shopping at their markets
more enjoyable, especially because you could haggle the price. Their specialities were crystals, fabrics and outerwear.
Apart form that, I also liked their wet markets , mainly because they were very clean and they did not have that fishy
smell. I remembered a shocking incident when walking through the stalls of the wet market. A large fish jumped out its
aquarium and onto the floor. I stared at it and suddenly, I saw a huge cutting knife slicing through the fish's neck! It was
the owner of the stall's doing. Then, the owner left the fish flapping around lifelessly without a head.

There was also a treasure trove among the stalls of the wet market- a tiny shoop which served grilled seafood. My
family stepped into the shop and ordered some grilled fish and cockles.

After saying our prayers, we devoured our mouth-watering find of the day. Dripped in a type of souce, the seafood
was the best I had ever eaten, as you could taste the freshness. Or maybe I was just hungry after a full day of activities.

If it was up to me, there were so many things to write on my memorabe trip to Korean. Not onli we got to spend
quality time together as a family, but we also learnt countless new things and even discovered hidden talents. My father
always said we should travel with an open mind and an open heart. This is when you get to see your capability to adapt
to changes. Just enjoy the simple things in life and be thankful of what you have. So, do just that. Who knows you might
discover a part of yourself you never know existed?

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