19/09/2011

Perl and Pearl

Writing would be more interesting with a cup of coffee. I went to the kitchen to turn off the stove, a kettle was whistling loudly on top of it - and thought that indeed, a cup, or a mug of coffee, would be a good idea.

There were three bags of instant coffee packets on the wooden rack, strategically placed along the wall between the two bathroom doors, opposite the table (which serves more as a storage space since we dine on the floor), leaving a narrow alleyway of sorts before getting to the main workspace in the kitchen.

I decided to pick a packet of Perl coffee, from Power Root. There were claims of collagen and other whatnots infused in it - I don't care much, if I could choose, all I want is honest-t0-goodness pure coffee with nothing whatsoever added in it. Never tried the brand before, and I mistook it for the kacip fatimah (or was it another 'feminine' herb?) Pearl coffee. Mixed the powder with hot water, and - not bad, it's not too sweet, quite bitter, and actually tasted like coffee instead of melted Kopiko candy.

The packet reminds me of an incident about three years ago.

A close friend - then a new acquaintance - invited me to join her and her husband in a car trip to Newcastle on a weekend. At that time, I have met her only twice or thrice. The first meeting was when - if I'm not mistaken - she held a weekend day-course to teach some Malaysian children in Manchester basic fardhu'ain (Islamic practices every Muslim individual should be able to do).

Another friend and I helped to design and play games with the children to occupy them during the afternoon break. Not much success - there was too much screaming, the boys were unable to focus, and let's face it, I don't think I was much good with children then. Nevertheless, it was the beginning of a very beautiful friendship - though that wasn't the point of this story.

The night prior to the trip, I pulled an all-nighter - not uncommon for me at that time, being a procrastinating third-year medical student who likes to put her finger in anything she could put her finger in. My friend and her husband will pick me up from my residence in Whitworth Park at about halfpast seven, and about an hour before that, I downed a cup of Pearl instant coffee (begged from my next-door neighbour), with the hope that it will keep me awake and chirpy.

It was a mistake.

My tummy went rolling and rumbling without mercy. I could hardly keep up chit-chatting with my friend in the back seat (her husband and another friend of theirs were occupying the front seats). The rumble in my tummy is threatening to go upstairs. There is something churning inside and it wants out. It wants out. It wants out NOW...

All of a sudden, I requested a plastic bag. Thank goodness, alhamdulillah, there's one.

The second it was in my hands, I poured my tummy's contents into it (what if the bag reached me a bit late? what if there wasn't any bag? I don't want to ponder on the possibilities...) then tied the bag and deposited it under the driver's seat. Then I forgot about it (much to my friend's husband's disgust) until the end of the trip, two days later, when they dropped me back where I reside. Very unladylike.

I don't suffer from sea-sickness or car-sickness (bus-sickness, sometimes), but one thing I was sure - coupled with a few other instances, though none with consequences as dramatic as that one - coffee on an empty stomach after a sleepless night is a bad idea. Coffee on an empty stomach after a sleepless night before a car or a bus journey, is worse.

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