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There are so many ways in which my early travels with my parents have shaped me as a person.

I vividly remember my first trip 'abroad'. I was 6 years old. We went to Kuching, Sarawak, because that was all my middle class parents could afford on their salaries. I was a little jealous my classmates could go to Hong Kong or Japan or Australia, but ultimately these side quests on what they could afford were vastly more important to me.

We took the public bus from Kuching to Damai. My tooth fell out (because i was 6 years old). My dad took out a napkin and put it in his pocket. My mom (who was a nurse) gave me a painkiller then said we would be shortly alighting for durian and noodles and wondered if I could still eat, with a toothache.

Every evening of the trip, my dad would write his budget and keep a record of how much we spent (he made, I think $400 a month at that point). He would encourage me to write about everything I saw and experienced and ate and felt. He would then read it and discuss it with me. It was his dream to be able to write as eloquently in English as I did, he later said.