Midnight Adventures in New York: Hostel Life & Impromptu Times Square Trip

Hello everyone! Today I nak share sikit about my recent trip to New York City, and wah, this one memang different from my previous visits. I arrived late midnight, thanks to a flight delay caused by severe weather—memang penat, but overall, okay lah. This time, instead of my usual spot at travelers hostel, I tried Hostel International New York at Amsterdam Ave. Let me tell you, this place memang best gila!

The hostel itself very clean and comfortable, with amenities that really make you feel at home. Best part, they encourage us to socialize, so you don’t feel lonely even if you travel solo. After I checked in, unpacked my barang, took a shower, and performed my Isya’ prayers, I tried to relax and read a bit before Subuh. Since it’s summer, Subuh masuk very early, so I planned to sleep right after.

But, I respect other people in the dorm—tak nak kacau mereka tidur—so I went down to the common area. Wah, the place was super clean and quiet, perfect for some me-time. While waiting for Subuh, I met another traveler who also baru sampai and couldn’t sleep. We started chatting, ice breaking lah konon. Then, another girl joined us, and suddenly she suggested, “Hey, let’s go to Times Square now!” I was like, “Serious ah?” I was still in my baju tidur, but why not, kan? YOLO!

So, after Subuh, three of us, complete strangers, took the subway and headed to Times Square. It was my first time experiencing New York like this—sunyi sikit, not so ramai people, but still got that lively city vibe. True lah, New York memang city that never sleeps. We lepak, grabbed some coffee, and just enjoyed the moment before heading back to the hostel. Memang crazy, but that’s the fun of traveling—unexpected adventures with new friends.

If you ever come to New York, I really recommend staying at Hostel International New York. Who knows, maybe you’ll also end up having a spontaneous adventure at 5 AM in Times Square! Till next time, happy travels, guys!

The Colour of My Love: A Tribute to My Late Mom

There is a song that always brings tears to my eyes—The Colour of My Love by Céline Dion. The lyrics, so gentle and poetic, remind me of the woman who painted my world with warmth, laughter, and endless love—my beloved late mom.

Growing up, my mom was the artist of my life. She coloured my days with joy, painted my nights with comfort, and always made sure there was a sun shining in my sky, even on the darkest days. When I listen to this song, I feel every brushstroke of her love—how she made my world vibrant, alive, and meaningful.

“I’ll paint a sun to warm your heart, Swearing that we’ll never part…”

These words echo the way she loved me—unconditionally, endlessly, without expecting anything in return. She was the one who would listen to all my stories, no matter how small or silly. Her laughter was the music of my childhood, and her advice is still the compass of my life.

Now that she’s gone, I find myself missing her more with each passing day. Even though I travel a lot now—something I’ve grown to love—I always wish she was there, waiting to hear my stories, eager to know about my adventures. No matter where I go, or how far I wander, there is always an empty space in my heart that only she could fill.

Sometimes, I sit quietly and let the memories wash over me. I remember her gentle touch, her wise words, and the way she would smile at me with so much pride. The world feels a little less colourful without her, but I know the shades she painted in my life will never fade.

As a child of her, I hold dearly to my faith. With every memory, I whisper a prayer: Ya Allah, grant my mother Jannah and rest her soul among the righteous. I pray that she is surrounded by light and love, just as she surrounded me when she was here.

To anyone who has lost a mother, I hope you find comfort in the colours she left behind. Our moms are the artists of our hearts, and their love is the masterpiece we carry forever. Even when they are gone, their colours remain—soft, bright, and everlasting.

I miss you, Ummi. Thank you for painting the sun in my life.

Her Voice, My Compass: Love, Loss, and the Search for What’s Next

In every love story I’ve ever lived, she was always my first listener.

The moment my heart fluttered for someone new, before even my closest friends knew—I'd tell Ummi. Her eyes would light up, a playful smile teasing her lips, ready for the drama, joy, or heartbreak that followed. She was my love consultant, my storyteller-in-chief. With her, there was no shame in vulnerability. Just the warm, patient presence only a mother can offer.

When I was in love, she giggled with me. When I was heartbroken, she'd hugged me and say, _“Jodoh itu rahsia Allah”—soulmates are God's secret.

And I believed her.

But then she left, and everything changed.

Since she passed, my love life feels like navigating through a storm without a lighthouse. I try—I talk to women, open up sometimes—but it doesn’t feel right. It’s not the same without her giggles in the kitchen, her quiet advice during city walks, her prayers whispered while I slept. There's an emptiness that no one sees but that shadows everything.

I travel now. The world has become my therapy. I’ve watched the sun set over Key West, wandered the quiet alleys of Toronto, sipped tea on Oxford mornings—seeking joy, chasing peace. On the outside, it looks like I’m living a dream. And maybe I am. But the truth is, behind every photo I post, there’s a part of me still searching. Not just for the right one, but for something—or someone—that can help fill that sacred space she once held.

Sometimes, I still talk to her. Not out loud, but in moments when I'm staring out a plane window or standing at a crowded street corner. I imagine what she'd say. She’d probably smile and say, “Aiman kena kuat. One day, you’ll find her.”

I miss her most when I'm happy.

I know she’d want me to move forward—to open my heart again, to let someone in. And I’m trying, Ummi. I really am. But until then, I carry your wisdom, your spirit, and your unwavering faith in love with me.

Wish me luck. The journey is long, but I still believe that jodoh is written. Somewhere.

Al-Fatihah, Ummi. You are missed every day.

In the Quiet Hours, I Miss You Most

Last night, I saw her in my dream.

Her smile, gentle like the embun pagi—the morning dew clinging to hibiscus petals—greeted me with such warmth that I could almost feel the softness of her hands cupping my face the way she always did when I was little. She didn’t speak much. She never had to. Her presence alone was enough to calm the storm within me.

I woke up with tears streaming down my face, the ache in my chest familiar yet fresh. It has been years, but the void she left has never stopped echoing. My late mom—ummi tersayang—was not just my mother. She was my first friend, my best friend, and my forever companion. She was the one who truly saw me, who knew my fears before I voiced them and believed in my dreams even when I doubted myself.

She prayed for me more than I ever prayed for myself.

In the moments of triumph, when others applauded, I used to search for her face in the crowd. Now, I lift my gaze to the sky and whisper my gratitude, hoping the wind carries it to Jannah, where she now rests. Ummi, if only you knew how your prayers still shield me, how your faith still lights my way.

But I remember—Allah Maha Mengetahui. He knew that I had to walk this path without you so I could learn the strength you planted in me all those years. Through each dugaan, each test, I hear your voice urging me to be strong, to carry on with resilience and grace. Just like you always did.

Malay culture teaches us about the beauty of patience, of redha, of accepting life’s impermanence with a bowed head and a trusting heart. And so I try to move forward, step by step, knowing this world is but a passage. Nothing here truly belongs to us—not even the people we love most.

Yet some nights, like last night, my heart travels back home. I sit by the window, remembering how you used to cook briyani kambing while the birds chirping outside the balcony. I long for your advice, your laugh, the way your eyes twinkled when I came home after a long day.

But I know… this longing is love. And love, when it is real, never truly dies.

To those who still have their mothers—hug them a little tighter today. Call them. Listen when they talk about the weather or the price of fish at the market. Those moments are not small; they are everything.

And to you, Ummi—may Allah shower your soul with rahmah and place you among the righteous. I carry you with me always, in every step, every breath, every doa whispered under the stars.

Last Night’s Hum

Been two years letting this blog idle and dusty. Here, I want to tell you one story about love. This happened when I was studying in my undergraduate years. That time was my sophomore year.

       There was a guy who’s working in the same bureau under a hostel commission board who’s charismatic and knowledgeable. He’s an ambitious person and loves to push his limits to achieve success.

       In our bureau, there’s an introverted girl who loves to listen, follow and learn. In her mind was full with ideas and she’s very creative. She loves to draw her artwork, creating cute stuffs based on her imagination.

       Both of them work together to make a mega project which creating huge impact to the society. Although they come from different background of study (that guy was in arts stream while the girl in science stream), they always share insights and general knowledge after meeting.

       Sometimes, they hangout together, eating and having discussions until late at night. Young blooded people that time, huh. A great thing about my friend, he loves to inspire others by sharing his thoughts about current issues regardless of economics, politics and so on.

       This reminds that girl about her dad because most of this guy’s attributes are similar to her dad’s. From that, she loved that guy and adored him. They remain good friends even after accomplish the mega project.

       One day, one of her classmates found out that the guy that she loved has someone special. It broke and crushed her heart, though. She cried, she called me and speak about this.

       I’m truly sorry to know about this but, I asked her, did she confess her love to that guy or not. Yes, she did tell that guy that she likes him very much. Unfortunately, my friend gave her hope. That’s really devastating.