Temon and Masai, first flights in June

June 2025: Combined two flying sessions; one at Kampung Orang Asli Seletar Sungai Temon and Kuala Masai.

I stayed in KL for about three, maybe four weeks. And honestly, it was stressful. The city has this intensity about it—always on, always loud. Even staying in the apartment felt heavy. The pressure didn't come from doing too much—but maybe from doing too little. I wasn't able to go out and fly the drone or drive around much. The traffic was a nightmare, and parking was another problem altogether.

We had rented a parking space from the management, but it was just too tight. If the lots in front and beside mine were occupied, there was simply no way to get the Ranger in.

I could've taken public transport, and I did a couple of times, but the heat—KL's heat—was just overwhelming.

My being in that apartment also started to take a toll on Raziq. He had nowhere to escape. There were only two bedrooms, and one was filled with our stuff.

When Zaiton wasn't staying at Walis' place, the three of us all slept in one room.

At home in JB, Raziq could always retreat to his own space, shut the door, put on his headphones, and tune the world out. But in the apartment, even with headphones on, he could still hear everything—us talking, the sound of the cats, the faint hum of the TV.

I always kept the volume low when I watched Netflix—mostly Korean or Chinese dramas. I didn't need the audio; I just needed the subtitles. But Ton needed both the subtitles and the sound. That extra layer of noise really got to Raziq. The whole environment must have been draining for him.

After a few weeks, I decided it was time to go back—to give him space and, honestly, to provide myself with some as well.

It's been two weeks now since I returned to JB. And it's quiet. Lonely, even. No Raziq. No Zaiton. Just me—and the two cats, Elsa and MekCoone. I bug them all the time now. Poor Elsa hates being cuddled, but I do it anyway. Maybe I'm stressing her out too.

But back in JB, I can go out. Drive a short distance and find myself by the water. Sungai Temon. Or anywhere, really. It's freeing.

Just yesterday, Jeff and I went to Kuala Masai, to the Orang Asli village. He wanted to take some photos for his collection. I tagged along. My photography skills are still terrible—same with my videos—but it doesn't matter. It was a good day. Had a good time.

The village has changed, though. Some new structures have been built near the playground, situated directly beside the road next to the surau. They're not much—more like shacks than houses. Honestly, they make the place look a bit messy, and they block the view of the Straits, the Kupang rafts, and even Singapore. You can barely see the coastline anymore. Still, it's nice to watch the ferries going back and forth between JB and Batam or Bintan.

There's a jetty there, too, but it's falling apart. The bannisters are mostly gone, and the steps leading down to the boats have vanished. It's sad to see it in that state.

And there are more dogs around now. One of them—a Husky—stood out. A Husky. In that heat. It doesn't belong there. Poor thing. Someone must've given it to the villagers, but it's entirely unsuited for the environment. It's a pedigree dog meant for colder climates and a different kind of care. The local dogs can handle the place—they're hardy. But that Husky… it looked out of place. Sad. I wish I could take it home, but of course, I can't.

There were a couple of dogs that took exception to our presence, growling and barking menacingly. I carried the camera by the strap, ready to swing it if the dogs were to come at me. Jef told me to be careful of the camera, but I said that I'd rather destroy the camera than have my legs bitten by the dogs!