Bench Notes

When I moved to Utrecht in the summer of 2022, I knew almost nothing about the place. Strange, really, for someone who researches every destination and plans out daily itineraries in excruciating detail. But this was different. I had just three months to pack up my entire life and move to a new country, far away from everything I knew. And considering I’m a bit of a hoarder, you can imagine the chaos.

There was plenty of excitement too, of course, but I only had time to properly digest the whole life-changing experience once I got here and settled down a little.

Back in Malaysia, I thought I had “made it”. And it wasn’t by sheer luck. I’d put a tremendous amount of time and energy into building my writing career, and despite the challenges and stress, it was the most fulfilling period of my working life.

The magazine days were fun! Back then, it wasn’t about hopping on trends, but setting them. My team and I would brainstorm ideas for photoshoots, monthly themes, useful guides and long-form features that needed plenty of research, time and effort. We genuinely enjoyed the process, and seeing readers respond to the work made it all the more worthwhile.

Then came the digital age, and after going through the five stages of grief over the inevitable “death of print”, we had to adapt. It was stressful and demanding, but once we’d adjusted, my team and I realised there was a whole new avenue to explore — the exciting and new world of videos. We started turning our ideas into video segments, short-form content and even documentaries.

After three years of running a website I’d launched, the stress began taking a toll on my health, and I eventually decided to part ways with my “baby”. Leaving the media industry for the unfamiliar territory of digital marketing taught me plenty about content, data and reaching the right audiences. But somewhere along the way, work became just that… work. Writing, on the other hand, was something I couldn’t imagine giving up. And moving to Utrecht wasn’t going to change that.

So when an opportunity came up to move somewhere new and start fresh, I was more than up for the challenge. Perhaps it had something to do with my rather nomadic childhood. I’d moved from one state to another, attended more than eight schools and even spent two years living in Seychelles. Moving around had never felt particularly strange to me and thanks to my past, I knew I was well equipped to adapt and build from scratch.

Little did I know that this particular move would catch me off guard and change me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. The destination, of course, was the Netherlands. Funnily enough, I’d been a fan of the Dutch national football team since watching my first UEFA Euro tournament in 2000, when I was 13. You can thank Patrick Kluivert for that.

My first year here was thankfully smooth as I had locked down a job in Rotterdam at an e-learning company where I was once again in the realms of content and editorial work. After a year though, the company realised that their aspirations for content, consisting of podcasts, videos and even a quarterly physical magazine were rather costly. They had to focus on their core business, so my contract wasn’t renewed. It was an ‘experimental role’, as they called it.

This hit me rather hard but I just focused on moving forward. Countless job applications were sent out but nothing came through. While unemployed, I still itched to get back to writing.

By early 2024, things had taken a rough turn. In fact, I was at what I can only describe as the lowest point in my life. It’s often said that when it rains, it pours, and that was certainly the case for me. My job and 10-year relationship both went south around the same time, and I found myself trying to make sense of it all in a foreign country, without friends or family nearby. Even getting out of bed felt like a chore. I struggled to find the motivation to face each day, and eventually, even having enough money for food became a challenge.

I’m someone who tends to keep things to himself, so reaching out to a close cousin of mine took a fair bit of courage. He’s always felt like the elder brother I never had. He listened, showed me compassion and gave me just the right dose of encouragement. More than anything, he helped me remember that I was still me. I wasn’t just the broke, lonely person I’d started seeing myself as, or the imposter I was beginning to believe I was.

I let myself grieve, mustering whatever strength I had as more challenges came my way. But I kept going.

With help from the wonderful people at Vrijwilligerscentrale Utrecht (VCU), and others I met along the way, I began finding organisations and communities I believed in and wanted to contribute to, especially through my writing. I volunteered with EnjoyCleaningUp, an NGO organising clean-ups around the Netherlands, and the Cafe Theatre Festival, where I’ve now volunteered three years in a row. I also joined Birdcage Radio, a lovely community of DJs and creatives, to help with their content. Somewhere along the way, I even got to publish a little walking guide to Utrecht on a local news website.

A touch of Utrecht.

I reminded myself I was in a beautiful city, with so many new experiences and encounters that awaited. Through journaling, reflection, time spent in nature, reading and listening to podcasts, I slowly began to see life, people and myself rather differently.

Gradually, I began to accept things as they were. I wasn’t going to give up on Utrecht, not yet. “I’m here now, and I’m going to make the best of it” became my mantra. I tried to approach each day with a little more enthusiasm, as much as I could manage. And as my heart and mind opened, so did this city to me.

I printed out a whole bunch of CVs and took to the streets of Amsterdam with the impression that a city filled with tourists and expats like that would make it easier for me to land a job. I walked all around, going into bookstores, bars, cafes, restaurants, bakeries and the likes to hand in my resume. The timing was such that no one was hiring. So I did the same in Utrecht and on one fateful day as I walked past a sneaker store, I saw a vacancy ad posted on their window. I walked straight in to express my interest. Fortunately, the manager arranged an interview and I got the job!

I was absolutely overjoyed and also relieved that I got such good vibes from the team. There, I worked for a year and made some amazing friends. We’d hang out after work, speak about everything from life to passions and till today, we still keep in touch and meet up. Admittedly, my first two weeks were rough and my ego would throw thoughts like “Is this what you do now?”, adding to that whole Imposter Syndrome experience. But I was able to step back from that and realise just how much of a sense of fulfilment I was getting from working there.

I started making daily entries on my phone because there was just so much to appreciate. There was the uncle and nephew buying matching shoes, the excited bride-to-be looking for a pair of pink shoes for her bachelorette do, the older lady who needed a little help figuring out which walking shoes would suit her best, and the kids whose faces lit up when their parents bought them new shoes.

I had returning customers who’d come into the store and ask my shift leader for me because they enjoyed the service I’d given them. Others would walk in looking disgruntled and end up telling me about their day, enthusiastically asking for my advice and thanking me for my help. These interactions might have been brief, and I might never have seen some of these people again, but they left a lasting impression on me.

I’d lie in bed at night thinking about these encounters and find myself smiling, with that warm, fuzzy feeling in my chest. It dawned on me that I genuinely enjoyed being of service to others. I also began appreciating retail workers in a way I hadn’t before. Think about it — they work through public holidays and festive periods, often missing out on time with their own friends and families so that the rest of us can shop, get things done and enjoy ours.

I did well enough at the job to be offered a shift leader role, but I was trying to juggle it with my voluntary writing work and had to turn it down. As new team leaders came and went, so did the contracts of my colleagues, many of whom were knowledgeable, hardworking and genuinely good at what they did. I wasn’t spared either. October 2025 marked my last day at the store.

At the time, I couldn’t have known what would come next. Looking back, though, leaving the store was what eventually led me to start Bench Notes.

I took the leap and decided to get myself registered with the KVK. This was the first time ever in my life that I took on the role of a sole entrepreneur and boy, was it daunting. But there was also this sense of accomplishment and pride that I did it. One day as I was once again wandering around Utrecht looking for work, I spotted a QR code on the window of a new bar that was about to open. I reached out and ended up being hired on a project basis to help shape its brand story, come up with themed nights and events, contact artists and performers, and write press releases for the media.

Looking back, it definitely was a lot for one person. But I learnt a great deal from the experience and it gave me another opportunity to find my way back to the kind of work I enjoyed.

Several months later, I landed a job at an expat grocery store in Utrecht after sending in an open application. Once again, I found myself enjoying the simple act of interacting with customers and being of service. The team were a lovely, hardworking bunch, and because we worked in pairs during our shifts, I got to learn a lot from them too. There was plenty to do, from opening and closing the store to managing stock and helping with deliveries, but I enjoyed every part of it.

Even here, there was no shortage of interesting customers. Because we stocked things people couldn’t easily find elsewhere, we had plenty of regulars. There was the elderly gentleman who came in every week for his two packets of liquorice, the cheerful young lad who bought a can of Celsius energy drink, and the father who’d often come in with his daughter, dressed in glittery, princess-like outfits, to pick up some chocolates.

Then there was the conspiracy theorist who would (perhaps a little too generously) share his thoughts on everything from the people in power to the secrets of coin values. Plenty of others were curious about where I was from and what had brought me to the Netherlands, not to mention the bacon and sausage enthusiasts and so, so many more interesting folks. As someone who enjoys cooking, I could offer advice of my own while receiving recommendations for crisps, cookies and condiments that some of the regulars swore by. Sometimes, these friendly, chatty customers kept me at the store half an hour past closing time. Once again, I was reminded of how satisfying it could be to work somewhere I could be of service to others.

By then, I was into my fourth year in the Netherlands, and financial constraints meant I hadn’t been back to Malaysia to see my family since moving in 2022. But there was more to it than that. Something inside me was telling me it was time to go home. Both my grandmothers had passed away while I was in the Netherlands, and I think their absence had something to do with that inner voice growing louder. I still feel their presence, though. I know they’re smiling and watching over me.

Coming back wasn’t as easy as I’d imagined. The first month and a half was a struggle, and I didn’t feel like I belonged. I missed the parks and forests, my daily walks, my friends and the little community I’d built for myself in Utrecht. I wasn’t feeling creatively inspired either, and with the haze hanging over everything, I felt stuck. It felt as though my physical and mental health were taking a hit too.

But I still had my trusty journal and books to turn to. I reminded myself to trust the process and accept that not everything needed to make sense right away. So, I tried to let go a little. There was still so much to appreciate, from my mum’s beautiful garden to the birds that visited daily. Even on days when I felt stuck, there were little moments of kindness around me that I might otherwise have overlooked. Nature had been a huge part of what kept me grounded in the Netherlands, and I found myself turning to it here too. I also made the most of my little room, practising meditation and mindfulness daily. My “spiritual homies” on my altar have also graciously provided me with the strength, courage and guidance I very much need.

More than anything, I began to realise that I don’t know when I’ll get to see my family again. My parents are getting older, and with that come health complications and the realities of time passing. I wanted to make the most of being here, to spend time with them and have the conversations we’d never quite got around to having before. There was so much I wanted to tell them about my life in Utrecht and everything I’d learnt along the way. Just as importantly, I wanted to hear about their lives and what they’ve been up to too.

My cousins and brothers did their best to help me feel at ease and remind me that I wasn’t alone. At first, I couldn’t explain why something in me felt I had to come back while in the Netherlands. And slowly, it started to make sense. Family. That’s why I came back.

Being here has also given me the time and space to grieve, sit with whatever I’m feeling, and hopefully grow a little stronger and wiser along the way. I’ve had more time to work on my Dutch too, and finally get around to building this website, an idea that’s been sitting in the back of my mind for far too long.

Understandably, some people questioned my decision when I told them I wanted to return to the Netherlands. “But why?! Over here, you’ll be able to get a proper job and salary.” To them, that was the sensible choice, the kind of life anyone would want. And I totally get that. But I’ve come to realise that a good life isn’t just about having a proper job and a decent salary.

I feel that my time in Utrecht has changed me in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. I’ve learnt a lot about myself, met some wonderful people, even found a glimpse of what true love felt like and found a sense of belonging in places I never expected to. When I shared these experiences with my family, and told them how much I’d grown, they began to understand why returning to Utrecht mattered to me.

So, in a few months, I’ll be heading back to Utrecht. What does life have in store for me? Honestly, I have absolutely no friggin’ idea. There are still plenty of question marks and for the first few months of being back in Malaysia, they gnawed at me, bringing with them a fair bit of fear and anxiety.

But I know for certain I want to go back. I’ve learnt to pay a little more attention to that inner voice and trust my gut, even when I can’t quite explain where it’s leading me.

So, I’ll see you soon, Utrecht. Here’s to more whacky adventures, kind and warm people, and whatever else life has up its sleeve. And boy, do I miss my daily nature walks and weekend trips to random parks and forests all around the country.