Behind A Thorny Shell

It's good to be home!

And what better way to properly celebrate that than the smell of skunk mixed with a thousand spikes, the challenge one must face to reach the nectar of the gods (or the next best thing).

Yes sir, I am, of course, talking about the great king of fruits, the DURIAN.

du·ri·anˈ(do͝orēən,-rēˌän): Malay origin. Literally "of the thorns"

Of course, being a student of the overseas, I understand that many would disagree with me on the nectar part. Especially with the smell mixed in. And I would understand that. Some durian can be quite disappointing.

What I don't understand is their description of that god-awful smell. They say it smells of socks, or sweat, or something smelly. I don't get it. It just smells like.... durian.

Perhaps it is because I grew up with it, being exposed to it, habituated by it. I have not not seen a durian stall until I reached the UK. And durian flesh is delish. Most durian flesh anyway.

Usually here I would put some weird metaphor about how some people are like the durian: thorny and unpleasant first impressions, but fresh and bittersweet in the middle. Of course, with all metaphors, it comes with several unsuitable comparisons, such as that you can find good friends by their size, smelling a special place of them, and shaking them next to your ear.

I for one disapprove on being treated like that by potential friends, people I do't even know.

Anyway, I hope I can really meet up with what my friends back here in Malaysia; see what they have been up to. I really miss a lot of them.

Cya over a cuppa teh tarik? And possibly a durian or two?