Oh Malaysian peninsula As you jut out into the sea Your culture, your food, well, I must conclude They are causin' a change in me. My words, they sound a bit different My temper has become quite tame I wear shorts year round, I bound at the sound Of a street hawker's quaint "Same-same". Oh, the multitude of skin tones, Varying tongues and vibrant dress; Each day that I grow, I reap and I sow Opportunities so largess. I study your streets and rivers Your children, your wise and your old. The sounds and the smells, the fried prawns with tails The richness of cultures so bold. I am but a wayward Gringo, But yet I find open your arms. The me you see, you allow me to be And that portrays much of your charms. Back home they sit and they wonder "What must it be like in this land?" Depends on the day, to Starbucks we stray Or is a jungle trek at hand? As great as the adventures seem, I turn to a point of address: The smell of the grass, my TOK class I miss them so, I must confess. But life is full of twists and turns, And this is the one I now find. My boys how they grow, with so much to show And this we all must keep in mind. So blessed are we to live today On a planet filled to the brim. So travel shall we, with so much to see Still humble and and gracious to Him.
Hello, Blog fans. Today I bring you essential information if you are ever to travel along the Malay Peninsula. These tips primarily are designed for people riding on buses, but if you are planning to ride on a scooter (or by unicycle), I suppose they will work for you, too. Buses tend to be the better option though if you are taking 22 teenagers along for the ride.
I am currently a coach on the MKIS girls' softball team. Spring seasons (which are known as snow season back in North Carolina these days) basically consist of about five weeks where you play three weekend tournaments and practice in the gym with whiffle balls while torrential rain storms pound the roof. So, in other words, it's not that different from high school baseball in North Carolina.
We went to our first big tournament this past weekend in Singapore, and both the boys' and girls' teams from our school were in tow. When you sign up to be an international school varsity coach, you have to make many sacrifices. For instance, I had to skip an event known only as "Pork-a-palooza" amongst fellow Gringos. As both girls' coaches were invited, I was insured it would be okay because once we got to Singapore, we would be inundated with multiple pork opportunities -- the Chinese culture is more prevalent than the Malay Muslim one we have here in KL. Translation -- morning bacon ... from a pig. It's not a pulled pork sandwich, but I was getting very excited.
So we loaded up at 7 a.m. and headed off with no problems. Well, actually, we had lots of problems.
TIP No. 1 -- when working with high school students, make sure you take NOTHING for granted.
We were actually proud of the fact that most of the kids showed up on time for the bus ride. It then dawned on us that maybe some of the kids didn't have their passports, especially since we were taking some middle school kids on the trip with us. For several, this was their first sports trip out of the country. Just as we suspected, one boy and one girl had forgotten their passports. Middle Schoolers? Of course not ... it was the older high school kids who had traveled out of the country several times. Luckily, the female player lived next door, but we had to wait about 15 minutes for the boys' mom to bring it from their condo downtown. After a 3 minute "this is how you ride a bus" lecture from our guide, we were off.
Don't leave home without it!
TIP No. 2 -- Malaysian travel centers are all the same-same.
About every two hours or so (assuming a bus travel speed of roughly 95 KM/h), you have a Malaysian travel center. You may recognize one of these about every 10 miles or so along the I-40/I-85 corridor if you are currently living in an area missing school for snow. But, instead of a Burger King attached to a gas station and a Truck Stop, these typically are a hybrid of a rest stop with toilets and hawker stalls. Hawker stalls are basically local food like rice and noodle dishes, occasionally with a fried chicken stall ... and at least one "Western" option. If you ever choose the "Western" option, you are not actually "Western" -- you are an Asian who thinks what you are eating can be found in restaurants all throughout Canada and the US. You would be SADLY mistaken, my Asian friends. In actuality, we do not have "meat" burgers topped with 16 oz. of mayonnaise, a cucumber, onion slice and ketchup. We also do not slather our chicken hot dogs with 12 oz. of mayonnaise (smaller buns, smaller portion) and ketchup. In other words, our food does not primarily consist of mystery meats and a pre-mix portion of Thousand Island dressing. Except for the Big Moe ... it actually kinda does fit that at O'Dells, but I digress, Mayberryians.
The 22 teenagers did what all teenagers do, bought bags of junk food and sugar based soft drinks. They do this to sustain the unrelenting noise levels generated on a chartered bus. The coaches elected to go with the Roti stand. "Roti", in case you are not familiar with Malaysia, is basically the word used for any type of bread. But, Roti Canai, the dish, is an awesome dough that is spread paper thin and pan fried with your favorite fillings. I like mine plain and dip it in curry or dhal, but one of the coaches wanted Roti Pisang, which is basically banana Roti. When she ordered, she was told, "Finished" -- oh that horrible word that all Gringos hate! It translates to, "we only carry a limited supply of food at all times, and once it is gone, you need to get over your hedonistic ideals of getting what you want when you want it -- if you don't like it, feel free to get the hell out of our country, Gringo." But, for simplicity's sake, they just say, "Finished."
If we had a Malaysian Costco, "finished" would be finished!
Never underestimate the wants of North Americans though. Like an episode of Captain Planet, the combined forces of the Southerner, the Northwesterner, the Rocky Mountain Man and the Canuck came together to devise a plan to defeat the evil "Finished" fiend! Across the way (just like with EVERY Malaysian rest area), we knew there would be a fruit stand ... with Pisang. And, there was. And, we bought it. And we brought it to the stand. And, we said, "No more Finished!" Suddenly the tyrannical "Finished" collapsed to its knees!
We knew that this would be our last Malaysian meal for two days and pork paradise was just 2 hours south of the border, so we feasted and got ready to board the bus. But first, there would be the necessary last bathroom break of the trip. This brings us to ...
Tip No. 3 -- Using the restroom in Malaysia
Don't you feel the waste basket is a nice touch, American-Asians?
Bathrooms in Asia are a lot of fun. You never really know what you are going to get because bathroom habits are cultural. Some use toilet paper, some do not (don't ask). Some use squat toilets, others use regular toilets. What's that you say? What is a squat toilet? Well, I'm glad you asked. We'll start with a basic illustration (look to the right of your screen). Now, there are all types of scientific research that says there is less pressure on your rectum to squat instead of sit, and I suppose this is the reason why Asians prefer the "squatty" as we call it 'round here.
Has this ever happened to you, ladies?
Luckily, I'm a guy, so rarely does the squatty issue apply to us. However, while standing to do your business, you are still reminded of all the issues that can occur in an Asian rest stop wash room. They are posted on every wall. For, you see, we Gringos are here, and we are loud and we are proud and we like to sit when we poo even if it means our rectum has too much pressure on it! With the blended cultures, you have squattys AND toilets at almost every roadside stop (incidentally, you usually only have squattys in authentic Chinese restaurants, so be prepared). The combo approach leads to washroom logistic symbols, such as this one...
Luckily on this trip, I just needed to stand to complete my mission, but this brings me to another point that is fascinating. If I'm being honest, I'm not really high on putting my bum on some of the seats I've seen in ANY public restroom regardless of continent. But, I don't understand this commonality in Malaysian public restrooms ... the urinals are always numbered! I do not have photographed evidence of this. Guys typically get a little uncomfortable when you are standing at a urinal and whip out your camera. Just take my word for it ... it's true.
I wonder sometimes if there's like a lottery or something. Should I choose Urinal 3? It looks like a winner. Will bells and whistles sound from a speaker system? Will confetti collapse out of the ceiling? Can it be used as toilet paper if it does? Malaysian toilet paper is so bad it makes the stuff in Port-a-Potty units seem like triple-ply Charmin.
Maybe on a busy day, the numbered urinals are just part of a policy that makes it easier for crowd control. "Urinal 5 is now available with no one in line." Part of me wonders if it is to help investigators track down toilet crimes. "The perpetrator was last seen emptying his bladder at Urinal Two along the Travel Station outside of Johor ... you know, the one with the noodle stands and really good Beef Rendang. No, the other one ... no, not that one ... no, the other one ... the one with the banana stand ... no, the other banana stand ... no the one with the Roti place that is always "Finished" with its Roti Pesang." Either way, I usually go with Urinal 3 when I travel. I guess it's just a comfort thing. Plus, it gives you something to look at while finishing your business.
After filling up on banana dough and analyzing bathroom etiquette, it was time to go. We ran about 10 minutes over our expected leave time, but we had a huge window of time to get ready to play softball in 95 degree heat on Astroturf!
Tip No. 4 -- Do not assume your driver knows where he is going.
So, yeah, we get to ride in a chartered bus wherever we go for sporting events or field trips. In my defense, we had to ride in a small 12-person van when I was coaching U15 basketball, but it's hard to argue with the travel amenities during volleyball and softball seasons (did I mention I coach four sports at MKIS?) We thought we were in good shape once we got into Singapore, but then I suddenly felt like I was a character in the movie, "National Lampoon's Singaporean Vacation." You know the scene from "European Vacation" right? Clark Griswold (yes, this is his second mention in a MtoM blog) has decided he can manage to drive around London and gets caught in a round-a-bout from which he cannot escape. They keep pointing out Big Ben and Parliament over and over again while trying to get left. In case you are overtly uncool, I provide evidence:
Now, the other girls' coach pretty much lives in Singapore in her free time. She had stayed in the hotel in which we were registered about five times before. She kept telling the driver he was going the wrong way, and he kept nodding. And then we saw the Raffles center ... again ... and the convocation center ... again ... and the Ferris Wheel ... again. So you kind of see the Griswold analogy. After circling the world's only independent city-state about six times, we finally rolled into the hotel. We had 12 minutes before the host school bus would pick us up. I would have no time to get a BLT from Subway, but that was okay ... I'd have that scrumptious bacon the next morning.
Tip No. 5 -- Never assume a Singapore hotel will have bacon on its breakfast buffet
This one, sadly, is self-explanatory. What we did have was a tad short of expectation all together. It was bad enough I had to shower the night before in a stall so small I turned the water off four times with my elbow while washing my body (this is NOT a hyperbole). It was bad enough that the TV didn't work. It was bad enough that the wi-fi code could only be used for one device only, and you had to pay for extra device usage ($10). But, to top it all off, no bacon AND a crappy alternative buffet. There was no meat. Just your typical powdered eggs, baked beans (it's a British thing, Americans), and hash brown sticks. Actually, the hash brown sticks were pretty good. So, I ate my weight in hash brown sticks, with a bowl of Cocoa Krispies and some nasty instant coffee that I had to cut with three heaping spoonfuls of brown sugar. Luckily, things could not get worse.
Tip No. 6 -- Never assume things cannot get worse
Alright, we didn't win any games (though the boys won a big one), but our young team got better and scored 19 runs in four games. Our focus was to get better offensively, and we did that. For once, fortune actually seemed to be on our side when we got done about an hour early. The bus, you know the one that got lost in downtown, was supposed to be there by 5, but we thought maybe we could get a head start. We tried to call the driver. And then we tried again, and again, and again. And then it was 5 ... and then 5:15 ... and then 5:30 and then 6:00 and then 6:30. So, we have a bunch of restless, exhausted teenagers who haven't eaten since 11 a.m. sitting out in the Singaporean sun waiting for our driver. Word came that a Malaysian charter bus was located at the "other" campus, the sister school of the one we were at. But, we were told that bus was for the other Malaysian school in town (ISKL), so we kept trying to track down ours. We finally got in touch with the tour guide. Not only had they gone to the wrong campus, but they also told the people at that campus that they were there to pick up ... yep, you guessed it ... ISKL. Things were not pretty when they showed up two hours late. I spare the details but they can pretty much be summed up in this meme:
Yep, hammer meets nail on this one.
The driver showed me it was all a misunderstanding because they had been given the wrong address. The address he showed me was the address we were at. Despite multiple attempts, we could not convince them to write the directions down the previous day. Batman has illustrated our feeling about that decision above. When you get on the road two hours late, you're starving and you're really limited in where you can stop to eat. It doesn't make it any better when one of the students forgets, uh-huh, you can't make this stuff up ... his passport on the bus at the immigration center. So, we decided to stop at the first travel center we encountered after crossing the Malaysian border. Our choices ... noodles and rice and some fried chicken. Oh, and a Baskin-Robbins. Real Western food finally. So, our starved teenagers decided to all get ice cream as their main meal, and I wanted to cry. I ended up getting toast with peanut butter, two servings, and some ice cream. The girls fully sugared and the boys all complaining about heat rashes in the nether-regions, we headed off for home. I finally rolled in bed around 1:30 in the morning and slept through the morning. This blog was pretty much all I worked on until dinner. Which I fixed.
Fried Pork Chops with mashed potatoes and rosemary green beans and carrots. Comfort gringo food. What a great weekend.
