f you’ve recently moved to Malaysia and think your biggest driving challenge will be switching to the other side of the road — oh sweet summer expat, you're in for a ride. Here in Malaysia, driving isn't just a means of transport. It’s a sport. A negotiation. Sometimes a spiritual journey. And always, always a gamble.

There’s nothing like an international move to slap the clutter out of you. When we left Australia for Malaysia, I was determined to keep my “essentials.” My fancy citrus zester. My emergency drawer of hotel soaps. My slow cooker. Because obviously I’d be whipping up casseroles in the tropics.

No one really talks about the brain fog that comes with moving abroad. Sure, people ask, “How’s Malaysia? You must love it!”And yes, I do love the food, the jungle, the people, and the fact that I can get a solid iced latte for RM8. But what I don’t always say is: I’m tired. Not from parenting. Not from work. But from thinking all the damn time.

Let’s be honest: making friends in your 30s is hard enough. Add in a foreign country, a timezone mismatch with your old mates, and a child hanging off your leg like a koala on Red Bull — and suddenly, “making friends” feels about as realistic as finishing your coffee while it’s hot.