Why a Man Who Loves Change
Settled in Malaysia

Confession: I like change

Let me get this out of the way: I like change. You may well ask how a man who ran the same company for 28 years can say that. Fair point. But while I didn't change companies, I have changed countries rather a lot.

Looking back, my footprints cluster around the Chinese-speaking world. I did business in Beijing and Shanghai, went gadget-hunting in Shenzhen, lived in Singapore, and now it's Kuala Lumpur. I simply love the culture and the food. Judging by the news, relations between certain countries are not at their best right now. My own bilateral relationship with xiaolongbao, however, keeps hitting record highs.

I moved to Singapore in 2012, and before I knew it, ten years had passed. Singapore is a wonderfully well-made city: clean, safe, and everything runs on time. It's a city I love, and where many dear friends still live. But a taste for change is a troublesome thing. Spend ten years in one place and your body starts looking for the next view on its own.

Then came the coup de grâce: cost. Every restaurant bill and hotel invoice woke me up faster than the coffee did. After ten years, it felt like time to graduate from Singapore.

The deciding factor: my eldest daughter's first school

In 2022, my eldest daughter was about to start primary school, at five. My wife and I both hold master's degrees from British universities, and we had long agreed that our children should have a British-style education. Around Kuala Lumpur there are plenty of British-curriculum international schools to choose from.

As it happens, we had spent three or four years in Japan during the pandemic, living in a tower block in Minato, Tokyo. I felt I'd done big-city life, so raising the children in Japan never really came up. For a man who likes change, there was no reason to keep riding the same lift.

Live here, work there

Time for the big reveal: my life is split three ways. We live in Malaysia, and the children go to school in Malaysia. I work in Singapore and Tokyo.

Living, learning, working: there's no rule that says all three have to happen in one city. Split them up and you get the best of each place. It's a slightly cheeky way to live.

It does, of course, require being in a position to choose your work. Honestly, that's the hardest part, and there's no magic wand.

The time zones help. Singapore and Malaysia share a clock, and Tokyo is just an hour ahead. Time differences hardly ever get in the way of my business meetings. No dawn alarms, no negotiating in a half-asleep voice. That alone is a blessing.

The children's video calls with their grandparents in Japan work just as easily. Grandma and Grandpa never have to stay up late to see their grandchildren's faces.

My parents in Japan are getting on in years, so being able to get back quickly matters. There are direct flights from Kuala Lumpur to Tokyo: watch two films, eat the inflight meal, doze off for a bit, and you've landed.

Malaysia's unhurried time

The first thing I came to love about Malaysia is the pace. Life moves a notch slower than in Singapore, and in that unhurried time, children grow up remarkably at their own speed. Parents don't need to rush them, because the city doesn't rush them either. That makes a big difference.

Then there's the mix of races and religions. The calendar has Hari Raya, Chinese New Year, Deepavali and Christmas. With every holiday, children learn a little more about how wide the world is. They also learn how many holidays there are.

With its large Chinese community, Malaysia is also a comfortable place for a fan of the Chinese-speaking world. Cantonese fills the streets, and a short drive takes you to Klang, the home of bak kut teh. Alongside my relationship with xiaolongbao, my relationship with bak kut teh is deepening nicely.

And then there's access to the region. The airport is close, so we can pop over to a neighbouring country for the weekend. For someone who likes change, there's no better medicine.

If you ask what surprised me about Malaysia, I struggle a little. After ten years in Singapore, very little surprised me anymore. If anything, I was surprised by how unsurprised I was.

Four years in Cyberjaya

Our first base was Cyberjaya, a town I had been visiting for data-centre work since 2011. We lived there for four years, and I had my full share of watching an IT hub grow up, of the morning birdsong, and of life with the squirrels. Perhaps as proof of the town's maturity, the traffic grew up nicely too. That's roughly when my change-loving body started looking for the next view.

And so, to Gamuda Cove

In 2026, we moved to Gamuda Cove. The reasons are the ones I gave in the trailer in the first column. It's closer to the airport, has an enormous highway interchange, and gets you into central KL faster than Cyberjaya does. Cyberjaya itself is about ten minutes away, directly connected by the Cyber Link, so I can keep using all the infrastructure I know. The Japanese have a phrase for this: close enough that the soup doesn't go cold.

Above all, a growing town has energy. Gamuda Cove had around 8,000 residents in 2025 and is projected to reach around 87,000 by 2030. Living somewhere your number of neighbours is set to grow more than tenfold is quite an experience.

It has its weak spots, of course. The biggest is the shortage of places to eat. You can still count the options for eating out. As a result, the family meeting on "where shall we have lunch today?" never takes long. I don't drink, so I don't agonise over where to go in the evening either. Instead, I drink slightly expensive coffee. On balance, I suspect I'm not saving much. The whole neighbourhood is eagerly waiting for Bay Street, the new retail precinct, and Cove Centrum, a hub anchored by a supermarket. Which is why, in the first column, I had such high hopes for the hotel restaurant.

What I plan to do here

With Gamuda Cove as my base, I plan to invest in businesses in Malaysia. The first things I want to work on are non-cognitive education and introducing Japanese culture.

Non-cognitive education means nurturing the abilities that test scores can't measure: curiosity, grit, the ability to work with others. You could call them the skills that grow outside the classroom. A growing town attracts growing children. I'd like to offer them some of the culture and ways of thinking that Japan has long valued, not as something imposed, but as one more option. More on what that looks like another time.

In a town that keeps changing

This column carries the tagline "Notes from a town in its growth spurt". At first, I meant Gamuda Cove, shooting up before our eyes. But as I write, I realise the town isn't the only thing still growing. My eldest daughter at her British school, and I myself, shuttling between three countries, are probably still in our growth spurts too.

A man who loves change, living in a town that never stops changing. Come to think of it, you couldn't ask for a better match. Every time I look, something new is going up somewhere in Gamuda Cove. Which means I'm having real trouble finding a reason to move again.