Happy Holidays!

LANGKAWI (24 Oct, 2014)  -- Yeah, that's right. That's a dateline you see to  the left. That means we left the greater KL area for this latest version of the blog. After much anticipating and planning, we headed out to Langkawi for the week to enjoy our first real vacation of the year. Yeah, we know that all of you back in the Bull City, Bottom, Little Utah and surrounding areas think this is just one big vacation for us, but we do work, you know. And, for the first time in our educational careers, we got to enjoy an October break. So, we headed off to tax-jail paradise and had a blast.

"Langkawi was a small fishing village until 1987," our cabbie explained to us on our way to the sky lift, "and that's when they started to come." He was, of course, pointing at a resort alongside the narrow strip of asphalt that somehow passes as an international airport. Despite some rather lavish resorts, Langkawi still has a small fishing village feel to it from this Gringo's standpoint. Sure, that's when you are out on the countryside where wild cattle graze alongside roadside laksa stands and rice paddies. When you head to downtown Cenang Beach, which is where we stayed, you get an idea of what he means. It’s a throwback mix of culture and consumerism, much like what I expect Myrtle Beach was like in the 50s. Well, assuming there were lots of Chinese and Indian restaurants in Myrtle Beach in the 50s. It was a peaceful scene, a mix of cultures, t-shirt stands and tourists from all over the Eastern Hemisphere. I mean, where else can you get Mexican food, served up by a Lebanese family in Malaysia, while sitting alongside Russian, Arab, Chinese and Korean patrons?

El Corral's Middle Eastern Cousin. Please note the star shaped rice. That's legit!

Our hotel, the Aseania, is a throwback testimony to 80s opulence designed for the 1992 crowd. Everything in Malaysia makes you think you are in a time warp, actually. Lots of flashing blends of blue and red lights adorn the poolside deck and swim-up bar that had no shortage of Lionel Richie and Steve Winwood ballads playing all day. 

Dancing on the Ceiling Palace

You see, Langkawi is the only place in the country where you can get duty-free alcohol. Malaysia, an Islamic nation officially, has one of the highest excise taxes on alcohol in the world. But, to their credit, they know how to bring people into the island oasis -- cheap mixed drinks, duty-free Reese's Cups, glowing hues of primary colors and "Higher Love" playing in the background serve up an intoxicating mix of retroactive romance you can find nowhere else. Ah, there was certainly love in the air ... well that and lots of screaming kids piling down the waterslides!

Our pool had a cool double slide built into the side of a hill. It’s quite a lovely, picturesque setting. What’s missing? Those pesky handrails leading up the top, that’s what. That would so take away from the naturalistic setting of fiberglass rocks, especially since they are covered in water and a bit of a slime coating for that extra-naturalistic feel. Now, safety is important though. Once you get to the top, someone has spray painted “No Diving” on the fiberglass rocks. Being that the pool is only 6 feet deep, that’s a good thing. See, you don’t need government regulators to tell you when a little common sense is necessary. 

Read the spray painted directions, boy! No diving (jumping, however, was never mentioned)

One of the reasons we went with the Aseania (besides the fact they have a boss hillside sign reminiscent of the Hollywood Hills version) was the fact we could actually get four people in a room.

Makes your 90s Paradise easier to find after drinking multiple duty-free Mai Tais. 

There's a rumor going around that a lot of the commercial aspects of Malaysia were driven by Chinese businessmen looking to invest their money outside the homeland in the early 90s. Maybe they were part of that disgruntled bunch of students who were "told to leave" Tiananmen Square and find something better to do than overthrow Communism? As you may also know, overcrowded China had a restriction on the number of births you could have (read: one) for quite some time, so I guess Chinese businessmen had a good reason to develop hotels with no more than one bed and a small couch for their only-borns for holiday. It was next to impossible to find a two-bed room which led us to our lil' sign-designated home-away-from-home-away-from-home. Maybe the Aseania was developed by an Indian investor with a bunch of kids? Of course, with Lionel Richie asking, "Is it me you're looking for?" and those aphrodisiac lights glowing on the tranquil waters of the pool, perhaps I should have sprung for the extra room for the boys (cyber-rib-nudge).

WTS? (Please, please, please somebody get this!)

As it was, I rather enjoyed sleeping with Jared twice in five nights. You'd think the way he kicks in bed while asleep he could kick a football further than 23 yards. It would be nice -- as a UNC fan -- to think someone could kick the ball farther than 23 yards! Heck, I can kick the ball farther than 23 yards! Did I mention I watched the UNC-UVa game live last night from 12:30 to 4 a.m.?  

Anyway, there were so many highlights. Where to begin? Parasailing seemed to be the family consensus in terms of favorites. Back home, you’d probably have to sell your soul to make sure you have all the insurance, liability and safety precautions in place before you could even advertise for a parasailing service. Not the case in Langkawi. In Langkawi, you need three things – a parachute, a rope and a boat to pull both. That’s probably why we were all four able to parasail on Wednesday for 240RM, or roughly $20 each. You go out and let the laws of supply and demand take over. There are about four different companies bidding for your business on one beach. They all advertise for 120RM per person. You walk around and haggle until you get the price you want. Then, throw a life jacket and harness on your 9 year old. A 16 year old will go up with him, sit in a hanging swing seat with no safety harnesses and sing random songs in his ear as he floats 100 meters above the island. Repeat three more times, and you’ve got yourself a good day.

Jared hanging out over the ocean -- and for only RM60!!! Yay to beachside capitalism!

Probably second on the list would be the skycab lift -- 2000 meters straight up on a cable that at it's steepest point is on a 42 degree angle pitch. You get that whole “close to God” feeling when you are staring down at waterfalls and across from you is the rock facing of a mountain created millions of years ago. Behind you, the Straits of Malacca and the surrounding building shrink with each meter you climb until you finally disappear into a cloud. Your mind clears and you realize where you are in the scope of such perfect unison between natural and man-made engineering. It almost makes you forget the mind jarring 6-D experience you added to your ticket for only 19RM more – you know, the one that advertises, “sensory irritation” as one of its biggest draws. I love literal translations. They made the whole adventure so much more satisfying.

Fact: At this altitude (the big leagues), fish don't fry in the kitchen, NOR do beans burn on the grill.

One of my favorite activities was simply walking up and down the street. It could be an adventure in and of itself. In some countries it is believed that electricity can kill you. These countries are correct. In Langkawi, well, I guess you just need to be on your toes a bit more than in other places. For instance, there’s one electric junction on the main strip of road that I almost ran into about six times this week. It’s head high (that’s Gringo head high … maybe that’s the issue), and all the wires are exposed and tied together with wiring nuts. I mean, they at least use wiring nuts, right? There’s quite a lot of rain here … typically I just walked on the other side of the street from the exposed junction box when it was sprinkling. Just to be safe.

Of course, on the other side of the street there may or may not be a plastic sewer grate covering the six foot drop along the sidewalk as you meander your way to duty free chocolate shops or to the “Green Berret” shop to buy some camouflage swimming trunks. There were a few people who went out of their way to warn you – random plastic gas tanks for instance, 2x6 boards jutting up from the hole, a random piece of particle board covering it. Put it this way, you don’t want to walk down main street Cenang Beach texting and not looking up. That is, unless you want to fall into an island full of sewage or take a face full of electricity.

Don't stare at misspellings too long -- you may end up going all Electro in a sewage drain.

But, if you do take the chance to walk the street, you get to meet wonderful people like Gelato guy and Lio Izhar. Gelato guy looked like he probably spent his whole life on Waikiki Beach before moving to Langkawi to provide some of the best homemade gelato I’ve ever sampled. We ended up there twice in four nights (not to be outdone by two nights of Lebanese Mexican Enchiladas). On the second night, he looked stunned at Ethan as he put in an order for banana and strawberry. The strawberry he understood, but Gelato guy just couldn’t figure out the second flavor, so Ethan said again, “Banana” as plainly as he thought he could. “Oh … Ba –nah-nah! You said, ‘Buh-NA-nuh’,” he said in the greatest Gomer Pyle accent ever. You know how Jim Nabors would talk like Gomer and then sing like Pavarotti? Yeah, that’s how out of place his southern accent sounded, but he had it dead on. We all laughed pretty good at that one. Come to find out, he was fluent in English, Bahasa Malay, Spanish and German. So, there you have it – after eating Mexican food cooked by Lebanese people, we had Italian Gelato served up by a Spanish speaking Malaysian guy who is married to a German woman. I’m really starting to dig this international scene.

And, finally, there is Lio. Oh, how I do love Lio. She manages one of the 100 or so beach adventure/package companies that line the streets of Cenang Beach. They are all pretty much “same-same” but Lio’s personality is what set her apart in our initial meeting. I was wearing my “Bombers” shirt, the summer shirt for the Cedar Ridge baseball team. I didn’t think that much about it (until Jill pointed out in the airport that it might not be my best choice). Lio noticed immediately, too. “Please tell me you wore that shirt on the airplane!” she announced as I walked her way. As I confirmed her wishes, she said, “Oh, and  you’re American, too? Oh, that’s too funny! This world is too much P.C. now. You can’t even sing ‘Baa Baa Black Sheep’ anymore and here you are wearing a shirt that says Bomber on an airplane! You are awesome!” And, with that, a friendship was sparked. I spoke with Lio four more times before leaving and even emailed her once. She told me in the email not to waste my money on island hopping snorkeling because the water was no-good. She never once – not once – did she pressure me for business. We just talked, related and shared a belief that maybe someday people will just be people in the eyes of all. I wish there were someway I could repay her. Oh, I don’t know how that could ever be …

http://www.bestlangkawitours.com/

Just let her know that “American Bomber” sent you. And, tell her I’ll stop by next time I’m hanging out in Cenang Beach.

That's about it. I've spent the last two hours trying to post this as I'm watching the most spectacular electrical storm I've ever seen. Hard to believe that one of Bob Ross' happy little clouds can hold 1.21 gigiwatts of electricity. (PS: Oct. 26th was the date of the first Back to the Future movie -- 2015 is the year Doc goes to when he leaves at the end. Where did I put my hoverboard???)

Random Musings from Malaysia

Hello, Blog fans. I am typing again, and I'm mentally and emotionally stable. So, I'm ready to get back to the good stuff -- where I write random things and you guys laugh and Dena Newman Wood offers me a book contract. There are a lot of crazy things that have been happening lately, so this will be a collection of what I can remember over the last two weeks. Also, this is where I have to mention Julia Goff's name (my sister-in-law) so she will continue reading.

You know how it's funny (it's okay ... it is funny, you can laugh at what I'm about to say) how we joke and say "All (ETHNIC GROUP) people look alike to me?" I use it proactively, so it takes away the sting of my former Black colleagues and students randomly calling me Mr. Yow over the years. You know, all White people look alike. For a long time, I just thought that was a funny little saying. Well that was until this weekend ...

Random Funny Taxi Driver Guy

We went for a pretty good meal Friday night and got a cab home from the mega retail complex PUBLIKA. At first the cabbie was hesitant to take us back home. You see, every cabbie interaction in Kuala Lumpur consists of you: 1. Finding a cab; 2. Begging the cabbie to take you where you want to go; 3. Feeling guilty because you have asked this man to do his job. You get used to it after about three weeks. So, as I sat in a pile of my own guilt-ridden, back-seat goo, Random Funny Taxi Driver Guy says, "You Tom Selleck?"

That's right ... I look just like Magnum P.I. All White Guys do!

So, after saying that, he just dies laughing. He continues ... "You Tom Selleck, no? You know Tom Selleck?" Of course I know Tom Selleck! Slick cars, sweet looking women, burly, manly chest hair that can scrub tiles off the side of a Space Shuttle ... friends with a Black guy (who looks a lot like other Black guys I know) who flies Magnum's personal helicopter, and lest we forget Higgins!! Yeah, I've got Selleck square in my memory banks at that point.

"He Double-O-Seven, right?" At this point, I begin to actually try to rationalize with this Random Funny Taxi Driver Guy. "Do you mean Pierce Bronson?" I ask. "No, Tom Selleck! Double -O-Seven!" So, at this point, I'm thinking, "Hell, maybe they did make a Malaysian version of Bond with Selleck. He kind of dropped off the Earth after being Monica's daddy-issue boyfriend on Friends." But, I press on ... being that I'm bald and have a beard, I try again.

"Are you thinking of Sean Connery, maybe?" I inquire.

"Ahhhhhh ... Sean Connery. That's him! Yeah! You look like Sean Connery."

Now, I admit I do not look like Connery either, though I would kill to do so at any age of Connery awesomeness ... right down to him saying "The Rock" over and over again to Nick Cage or being parodied on SNL by Darrell Hammond.

On his way to pick up Alex Trebek's Mother for an evening interlude. Bhwaaaaa-haa-haaa-haa!

You have to wonder how did Random Funny Taxi Guy get these two men confused, and most importantly, how did he think I looked like either one of them? Well, I stumbled across the following when putting in a Google Image query for Tom Selleck:

Charlton Heston called. He wants his Moses bear back, Tom. 

I do not know why a Random Funny Taxi Guy in Malaysia would be doing web queries of Tom Selleck in his off time, but if he did and came across this, I could see where it would be a mesh of all my best qualities -- prominent brow, chiseled cheekbones, bald head, Moses beard. I mean, I guess at some level I should be flattered. Upside down Double-O-Selleck image is a heck of a lot better than the usual celebrity look alike I get ...

Herrrrrreeeee's JLowe!

Asian Food Court Samples Explained

We've all experienced it, regardless of where you are back in the States. You've just picked up some nice fashion slacks from JC Penney (I know, I'm flaunting my wealth), and you want to grab a bite of some yummy exotic dish from overseas at the local food court. As you meander down the culinary bazaar, you have a myriad of fried meat, perilously hanging from a toothpick shoved in your face. "Sample? Sample? Try a sample?" You get it at the Chinese place, the Japanese place, and even the Cajun place that is oddly being run by Chinese people. Well, I have come to realize that this is just an extension of a cultural delight known as Hawker Stalls here in Southeast Asia. 

Saturday Night at Jalan Alor

 

There are several thousand Hawker stalls throughout all of Kuala Lumpur, and I don't think that would be an exaggeration. The laws of supply and demand, first explained to me in a mobile trailer unit at North Surry by the awesome Richard Crawford, say that when a product is in high supply, the retailer must offer marketing strategies to convince consumers to purchase his goods or service instead of the competition. In downtown KL, this marketing scheme consists of men and women crawling up beside you with their menus open explaining why their stall is the best stall. Or, you can take the approach one gent took when I told him I was going to walk on down the street.

"Same-same ... all of it same-same. Just eat here!" Honesty is a virtue, but we had Thai on our minds, and Thai it was. It was delicious, and much to the delight of the hawker, we actually did stop and eat at his place. It's probably like the telemarketer who hears, "Why, yes. I would love to take 20 minutes to hear about your incredible offer." Also, "same-same" is essential Malaysian English. It means, "same" but it means so much more if you repeat it. Not to be outdone is the cousin of "same-same" which is, "can-can." Oh, you want to hear "can-can" in this town. It means that the person you are negotiating with will do what you want. You rarely hear this from a cabbie, but when you do, it helps to alleviate the guilt usually brought on by the typical sigh, grimace and pointing to the back seat.

Paying money to see fireflies ... the undercard

I know, I know, I know ... I was thinking the same-same when I first heard the idea of paying someone to take you on a river boat to see fireflies, also known as lightning bugs in areas of Bottom, Little Utah and Durham. Not only were we going to pay to see the little critters that light up the North Carolina nights every summer, but we had to pay a cabbie to take us there (and endure the guilt) -- a spot a little over an hour and a half outside of city limits. But, you know, you can't put a price tag on awesome cultural adventures, right? 

We actually have a personal cabbie who we use whenever we have to go long distances or have large groups. I would tell you his name, but that would involve a lot of typing of an Indian name I would have to look at for 20 minutes to ensure I spelled it correctly. For the sake of time, let's call him "Manmohanishek" ... or just Del for short. So, Del had told us all about this excursion and spelled out exactly how it would work. He would pick us up, take us to see monkeys (which is pretty much the cornerstone of all Malaysian trips, it seems), take us to a great seafood restaurant, and then the firefly cruise would cap the night. 

A quick pic recap before the random funny firefly story:

Monkey who likes bananas? Check.

Old British lighthouse to spot Malacca Strait Pirate ships? Check.

Jared and friends sitting on cannon to shoot at Malacca Strait Pirate ships? Check.

In case you were wondering, Malacca Strait Pirates no longer roam the seaside of this old town. They all signed lucrative contracts as extras in Jerry Bruckheimer/Disney projects. But, we did manage to make it down to the seafood restaurant on the riverside. It was huge -- there were probably 300 people or more there. And, like any good Asian seafood restaurant, you get to see what's for dinner that night as you walk in. 

Yum-yum! (Third cousin of Can-Can and Same-Same) Horseshoe crab eggs anyone?

Though the thought of horseshoe crab eggs did sound yummy (which means "disgusting" in this context), we decided to go with more traditional fare such as prawns (humongous shrimp with big ol' eyeballs looking right at you while you pinch them off), a delicious sea bass (with a side of "Vote for Pedro"), some grilled grouper ... did I mention all these critters come with their head still attached? Oh, anyway, for you visual learner types:

Homestyle and Head on ... Just like Granny used to make! 

Now, on to the story of the fireflies ... I had to entertain you with an opening act. 

Paying money to see Fireflies ... the Main Event

Jill planned this little excursion for us ... a group of about 10 of us went in total (I'm pausing so that my mom and sister can quit giggling at the phrase, "Jill planned this little excursion for us") and we finished up with the meal just before the last boat shipped out at 9:30. We were a little worried we would miss the boat, so to speak, but we got there just in time to find out shenanigans were at hand. As part of her meticulous planning skills, Jill had found out that the boat ride was RM15, or just a little short of $5 each. This seems to be a reasonable price, but when you consider we had to split a cab three ways for RM350 to get there, the whole trip gets a little pricey. 

"Holiday ... 40 Ringitt!" I heard these chilling words coming out of the mouth of the tour manager. Those words have a way of kind of getting to you when you are expecting her to say, "Oh, thank you for coming Gringos! Only 15 Ringitt!!"

So yeah, unlike those friendly Chinese folks who were hawking noodles and shark fin soup, this savvy business lady was well aware she was the only show in town. We began to haggle ... she would have no part of it. Our friend Ann who is Asian-American, spent some time in Hong Kong as a teacher and knows some level of Chinese began to bargain in her native language. Still she wouldn't budge. 

"This is ridiculous! We pay 3-5-0 just to get here! Website said 1-5 Ringitt!!" I fumed this broken form of the Queen's English while feeling my anger rise. As a recovering culture shock survivor, I have to watch these moments. You don't want to backslide. You might also note that pointless words such as "the" and silly things like verb tense simply don't exist in tense moments like this. And, you have to spell out multi-digit numbers to make sure everyone is on the same page -- money is the great linguistic equalizer.

"3-0 Ringitt or we walk! You lose 3-6-0 Ringitt!" Oh yeah, her story started to change right there. Yes, I realize that I was willing to pay double for what I was expecting, but I also realized I had just driven over an hour, paid RM1-5-0 for my part of the cab, had endured the guilt of having to ride in said cab, and I wasn't leaving with just a belly full of googley-eyed shrimp and a bad Napoleon Dynamite joke!! She caved. We were in for the low, low price of double what we expected. Yeah! Take that, highly successful business woman. Not only were we paying double, we were paying double to see fireflies! Bam!

As we walked triumphantly down the floating dock, Ann told me my timing was perfect. Apparently, as I was bullying up to this 8-5 pound Chinese woman, Ann was saying to her in Cantonese, "This is what happens when White people get angry. The angry White man is serious. They will leave. You do not want us to leave. You want our money." 

I mean, I'm no Tom Selleck, but I play a pretty convincing angry White man when put to the challenge while a friend is playing Chinese Jedi mind tricks. So, we are now there to finally see what it was we came to see. Apparently, Malaysian fireflies are big fans of the Mangrove bushes that line the river through Kuala Selangor. So, we take off through the jungle, past the seven levels of the candy cane forest and our flatboat captain turned off the motor. There we floated, full of seafood (hopefully not caught in that disgusting river) and paying double down on what we were about to see. It was ... amazing.

You're not allowed to take pictures, so I stole this illegal one from Google. Two wrongs make this oh-so-right.

As our eyes adjusted to the light, you suddenly could see thousands of the little boogers crowded through the bushes. It was an exterior illumination that would make Clark Griswold proud. Apparently, a lot of Gringos from the States come during the week of Christmas to get a feel of back home comfort (in 85 degree weather). Then, as we headed back, already thinking that it was worth the trip, we saw one of the coolest things I've ever seen. Showing only by the light of the moon, on the other banks of the river, were about 200 or so white storks lining the trees to sleep for the night. I don't have a picture for that, and I'm glad I don't. Whatever I could take (or, as in most instances, steal) would not do justice to just how beautiful and calming the scene was. 

It wasn't just the sight of the birds, it was the thought of the beautiful ecological balance He has created in our world. The trees serve their purpose, the bugs theirs and then the birds all resting together to help ensure they make it through the night. All where they need to be -- all serving a bigger purpose. On this night, that purpose was to calm the angry White Tom Selleck/Sean Connery look-alike and make him feel better for turning over his hard earned Malaysian cash to the nice Chinese business lady. 

Come to find out, Malaysian Fireflies and the North Carolina ones aren't "same-same." Love them both, but for different reasons now, you see.

Heading to Langkawi next week for vacation. May do my first remote blog! Until then, bye-bye (yes, that would be a fourth cousin to the others). 

Culture Shock

Hello True Believers, Sports Fans and Insightful Folks. It is I, me, the guy you used to read weekly and then he disappeared into the Blogosphere. For those of you clamoring for more wit and charm, I have made like pre-gubernatorial Ah-nold and held to my promise to be back.

So, here's the deal. My last post was on August 10th, and we started school on August 12th. You can do the math. I mean, I have less students, but I still have three preps, two of which I have never taught. I have great curriculum maps to build upon, but it's been like being a first-year teacher all over again. You have to learn your way around the school, memorize names, learn who your hookups are in the copying center, maintenance and the lunchroom (for the record, that would be Kamal, Marvin and Connie in that order).

Plus, learning names like Myung Ho, Takahiro, Shota and Kristen take a bit longer to remember than names like Tracy, Katy, Patrick and Kristen. I mean, Kristen is a HARD name to remember. I actually called her Isabel today (yes, true story ... I really did, and she's an American kid).

Oh, and then there was that severe bout of culture shock I went through where all I wanted to do was get on a plane, see my best friends, their kids and eat my mom's home cooking (and El Corral, of course) for every meal. Culture shock is real. We got pamphlets and web links and handouts and all that jazz, but who were they fooling? I was 'Murican, and we can handle anything! We've survived Pearl Harbor, 9/11, boy bands and the Teletubbies. But, as I took out my frustrations on the three people I love the most (sorry to my wife and kids there, eh?), I tried to make the most of being surrounded by Canadians, Koreans, bustling traffic that doesn't stop for pedestrians, service contractors that don't show up (twice) despite you taking off work, and more rice and noodles than I ever thought I could imagine. Yeah, I know ... I've been to the archives. I know I was raving about the food in those first couple of blogs. But, that is to be expected as culture shock is real. Want proof? Why, here's a graphic:

Northeastern wouldn't make something like this up, now would they? Thanks, by the way, NU. Hope to see you in the first round of the NCAA tournament soon because that would mean the Heels are a No. 1 seed!

 So, let me take you through the phases from my perspective:

1. Everything is interesting -- yeah, that basically manifested itself in food, I'll admit it. I've had Nasi Lemak several times since that initial review. It's still pretty good, but what in the world was I raving about back then? It's rice, spicy sauce, chicken and some sardines. In fact, the last couple of batches I got, all I could see were the little eyeballs looking back at me. Ugh. But,  for that first month -- WHEN I WASN'T WORKING, it was like an extended vacation where you just wanted to take in the sites. Everything was new and exciting and you were patting yourself on the back for the best decision you'd ever made. But then ...

2. Differences become apparent -- We're not just talking about the fact folks drive on the left side of the road here, and steering wheels are on the right. About three days into work starting, everything just started seeming different. It's hard to explain -- nothing changed, just my perspective. Instead of celebrating diversity, I started to focus on it. I joke with people all the time that Malaysia is the only place in the world where four people can be speaking in English to each other and no one knows what the other is saying. Don't get me wrong, we are blessed to have started our international teaching careers in an English speaking country. I've heard pretty tough stories from folks who started out in Paraguay, Bangladesh, Cambodia, Vietnam and other various places you occasionally hear about on CNN. Also, I suddenly became the spokesperson for all things American -- people would ask me why the riots in Missouri were happening. I've been to St. Louis once for a day trip. Hit the arch, saw Busch Stadium and headed for Kansas City for some ribs and Blues music that night. It probably didn't help I suddenly started referring to all White people here as Gringos. Oddly enough, I think it's sticking. Did I mention I miss El Corral?

Kansas City ... where playoff baseball returns after 20 years ... no rioting there. Just baseball and Arthur Bryant Ribs. 

3. Homesick and Depression -- Yeah, about 3 weeks into the school year, this hit like a ton of bricks. I can just about put my finger on the calendar date. But, that would require me to get up and walk to the kitchen and that's about 3.5 meters away.

For your convenience to measure my American-Asian laziness

Maybe it was having to convert everything to the metric system; maybe it was getting tired of dodging traffic at a red light in a cross walk; maybe it was the lack of red meat and/or bacon. I'm pretty sure it was the fact that my Cedar Ridge family was starting year 13 without me. That was A LOT tougher than I was expecting. I hear things are going pretty well without me though, so I guess getting some dead weight out of the way must have reinvigorated the Red Wolves. :)

Whatever it was, I hated this place. I mean, I hated this place. I second guessed every aspect of this decision. Murphy's Law speaks many languages, and Murphy himself was fluent in Bahasa Malay for quite a time period. Anything and everything I touched, considered, contacted or involved myself in turned to crap it seemed. It was all because of "the way they did things" and not what I was doing. I actually went online and priced return trips to the US (it was $1,752 with two stops in Hong Kong and San Francisco, incidentally). I looked for loopholes throughout the contract. I avoided Vibering/iMessaging with family and friends back home because all I wanted to do was cry ... and I did. People tell you that you can dehydrate in the tropics. Yeah, I almost did, and I never left the condo and into the humidity. It was rough. Even my mom and dad somehow picked up on it because they kept sending me little pick-me-up messages, and not those cheesy viral ones you see with kittens and yarn balls and stuff on Facebook.

Dusty and Janie would not approve of this as appropriate motivation to overcome culture shock.

I have amazing parents in case you were wondering. And, apparently I have a pretty special wife, too. So, while I was pouting and crying and screaming and storming out of the room at the drop of a hat (or, typically Jared and Ethan running across the condo), Jill apparently was telling all her family that I had hit rock bottom. I started getting random emails, texts, Viber messages and the like from her parents, sisters and brother-in-laws. It was a like a multi-generational, multi-national cyber intervention suddenly. I think it finally hit me how badly I was acting when I was playing 2048 (read: using the toilet) mid-day and I realized my brother-in-law was texting me at 4:30 a.m. Gringo time just to check on me. Then, something kind of cool just happened. I rode the train.

4. Coping Strategies and Adaption -- I'm not 100 percent sure why riding a mass transit train through the inner city of Kuala Lumpur cleansed me of stage 3. Maybe it was the fact I was able to navigate the whole system on my own, starting with the crazy lines at the automated token stand all the way to boarding via the pushing and shoving that is the Asian Stereotype.


Okay, it's not this bad, but it can get quite crowded, I assure you. I think what happened was, as I looked around the train and saw a myriad of different cultures -- Korean, Chinese, Japanese, African, Indian, Malay, Gringos from random places like Europe, Australia and New Zealand -- I oddly felt like I was one of them. I didn't see "them" and it wasn't me against them. For the first time it was "us". We were all living in this city of 4.2 million people, and we all had our different stories. No one was right, no one was wrong, we were just all different people with somewhere we needed to be. As I looked at the graffiti covered walls of the waste system that runs parallel to the transit system, I found an odd beauty in its design and details. And to think, I was just looking to buy a new golf bag at a downtown mall, and somehow I found serenity and peace. I assure you, that is the only time I will ever type the words "golf", "serenity" and "peace" in the same sentence (Yes, I realize I just did it again).

I feel you, senior Gringo. I feel you ...

So, I guess right now I'm hanging tough in Phase Four. I'm beginning to make new friends, but I still miss the others back home like crazy. Facebook helps, but it's not the same. Vibering my mom, sister and dad every week is cool, but I'm going to miss hugging them come Thanksgiving and Christmas time. And I still so dearly miss Meg, Amy, Ella and Kate. But, they are helping me cope in their own special way. Thanks to technology and their graciousness (and Dish Network's "anywhere, anytime" feature), I have access to Gringo television! So, we get to watch Grey's Anatomy, and Saturday Night Live and yes, despite the woeful porous defense, I am yet to miss a UNC football game. I'm playing Fantasy Football, and I'm playing golf again. I guess you can say I'm coping. I've even come up with a decent recipe for homemade chicken and chorizo fajitas here, but it's not El Corral. Have I mentioned how much I miss El Corral?

Phase 5 is supposedly in the "Que" but I'm going to hold off on that one, and I'm terrified of that second half of the graphic about returning home. But, for now, I'm coping, I'm adjusting, I'm accepting and I'm happy again. I'm blessed to have this opportunity, a supportive family and wonderful friends. The boys are figuring out the new expectations of a new school, new cultures, and we even have Jared playing basketball. He is the "5" and his job is to rebound. Jill is happy as a pig in mud (we don't use that colloquialism around here that much for some reason) in her position, and she's ready to get out there and see the country outside of the city like Ethan and I were able to do last week. We're heading to Langkawi in about 20 days. That's going to be fun. (Oh, just go Google it already ... I'm tired of pirating online pics. It's 11:30 in the morning there ... I gotta go to bed)

I'll try to post more often now. In the meantime, go to my Facebook page and enjoy all the cool pics I've posted since leaving the dreaded Phase 3.

Peace,
JLowe

A weekend of cultural fun!

To appease those of you who were ready to jump ship from the MayberrytoMalaysia blogosphere, I come to you yet again on Sunday afternoon! So, you only had to wait about five days for this one after a two-week hiatus prior. I aim to please. And, though the Ridge folks really enjoyed that last one about similarities and differences of the two schools, the rest of you were probably bored to tears.

So, I come back to you today in a more neutral forum. We've had a lot of really cool cultural things happen in the last three days or so, and I wanted to share! These will take the form of four separate minuets, stages, acts ... whatever you want to call it.

ACT ONE -- Boy's Night

Ethan, Jared and I were needing a boys' night out. You can only take so much Jill, right? Oh, I'm just joshing ... of course we love our mom/wife figure and all, but Boy's Night is very special to us. It's a tradition that basically was born from two origins ... my absenteeism during baseball season (which, you'll remember is 14 months out of the year if you're doing it right), and Jill's former book club which took her to the far reaches of Oxford and Rawlee one Wednesday a month for about a decade. That said, Boy's Night usually involved copious amounts of food being consumed by me and the Worms, and then some type of fun activity. Since this was our first Boy's Night over here on the other side of the world, we went conservative and decided to go hit "Guardians of the Galaxy" and the local Cineplex. Simple enough, right?

Wrong. Very wrong.

First off, we don't have a car here. One cool thing about Malaysia is a locally manufactured car known as a Proton. Oddly enough, even though oil is one of the three major exports of Malaysia, Protons run on natural gas (well, it's a hybrid, but the Taxi drivers never let the tank get low enough to kick in the petrol b/c it's much, much more expensive. So, if you want to buy an export (read: any car in the world besides a Proton), you have to pay the sticker price, plus a 100% tariff tax. No, I didn't mistype that. If you want a Nissan that lists for $24,000 in Hong Kong, you're taking it off the lot new for $48,000 here. Therefore, the Lowes rely on free shuttles and taxis! Oddly enough, even though the big oil companies have convinced Congress that natural gas will blow up a car instantaneously, we are yet to see any of the 2.4 million of them in the city spontaneously combust (political aside for the day).

The free shuttle took us to the Mid Valley Mega Mall ... as appropriately named a structure as there ever has been. We estimate we probably saw about 1/10th of the mall yesterday as we tried to find the movie theatre (pronounced: "The-uh-truh" I have come to realize ... that Queen's English sure is cool). We got there about an hour and 45 minutes before the show. This would give us ample time to get tickets ... or so we thought.

The line ... and we were in the middle of it!

The 5 o'clock show was already sold out, and we were holding our breath hoping we could get one of the remaining 12 seats for the 5:30 show. You see, when you are in a "Q" (which is Malaysian for line), you need something to pass your time. So, they let you know EXACTLY how close you are to seeing Teenage Muntant Ninja Turtles instead of your intended movie. But, we made it, just in time to find out that Malaysian The-uh-truhs have assigned seats. The only ones left -- the three at the far left of the front row. But, the next available show was at 7, and the thought of "Q'ing" again terrified us. And, I wasn't about to spend my first Malaysian cinema experience watching overgrown Big 10 mascots trained by a hamster fight Shredded Cheese Man. I much rather wanted to see a raccoon and tree fight a galactic conquerer! Much higher level of verisimilitude there!

Now, for the good part. The three of us got our tickets for a combined $31RM. I'm sick and tired of you guys not utilizing your Ringitt converter I provided last month, so I'll let  you in on a secret -- just divide by 3. That's right -- three movie tickets for $10USD total. Pretty good, and then you realize that you can get a large tub of caramel popcorn for $8RM (about $2.50) and a $4RM soda (a little over a buck) -- and you'll realize just how much you're getting ripped off at the American thee-ay-turs. 

With the extra time, we decided to get some authentic Malaysian cuisine within the mall. We went to the Pancake House (where I got the Southern delicacy of Fried Chicken and Waffles), and got a dozen Krispy Kreme assorted flavor doughnuts for "take away" (Malaysian for "to go"). Though Mary was not impressed that I was from North Carolina and spent a lot of time at the original KK (Mary actually responded: "I am Mary; I'm glad to make your acquaintance -- $23.40 Ringitt, please), I will say the varieties over here are outstanding. So, a dozen assorted for about $5.50 USD.  Our choices -- Chocolate filled, PBJ and Chocolate, Custard filled Chocolate covered, Caramel Cookie, Oreo and four original glazed for good measures. Let's be honest -- you just can't get more Malaysian than that! How much did you spend for that last assorted dozen stateside? 

The movie experience was awesome. We were able to move back three rows enabling us to ogle a green Zoe Zaldana without having to move our heads (puberty is alive and well  in the Lowe Condo). Super sound system, great picture quality and the largest mall in SE Asia. Those of you who thought we were moving to a land of Tiki Huts and indigenous tribes would have gone into culture shock last night!

CULTURAL EXPERIENCE NO. 1 -- American movie, American Mall, American food.

ACT TWO -- Chinese Ghost Month Ceremony

Technically, this one happened fourth out of the four events, but for the sake of making sense, I have to explain it second. I have provided THIS LINK for you to learn more about the Chinese tradition of Ghost month. In a nutshell, the Chinese dearly departed get a bit cranky and needy about this time of year. There are about seven different traditions I've come to learn. Why the sudden interest? Well, on the way back from a "staff bonding soirée" (more on that in Act Three), we saw an older Chinese gentleman and three younger folks randomly burning things in the street adjacent to the sidewalk. Now, there are plenty of things that burn in this city -- Palm Oil plantations regularly burn stripped land and stumps to fertilize before planting the next run. This leads to a pretty hazy day from time to time around here. But, this was 11 p.m., and typically burning in the middle of the street isn't acceptable (though I fully expect a bonfire if Malaysia wins a World Badminton Title as expected!) in any circumstance. We stopped with a couple of new pals to find out what was going on -- that's what Gringos do when we are stupefied by non-White folk behavior. Sort of like one of those early scenes in "Remember the Titans," right? Anyway, they explained Ghost Month to us and explained that burning random pieces of paper in front of your home (in this case, their ridiculously nice condo) would appease the ghosts and they would grant you prosperity going forward. Since we are broke right now, and just because you want ghosts on your side, we threw a few pieces on, secured our place as the nosy Americans, and moved on.

I found out today that apparently there IS a ghost story associated with our condo -- score one for the Gringos! Way to plan accordingly (even if it were blind coincidence ... or was it? Cue Twilight Zone score now).

CULTURAL EXPERIENCE NO. 2 (or 3, technically) -- Chinese tradition, Chinese folks with an American twist.

ACT THREE --  Oat and Aboat with the Canadians, eh? 

Alright, I love some Canadians. I really, really do. They are funny ...

Wait ... is this the right Mike Myers?

They are athletic ...

Before he was famous for his daughter's good looks

They make a mean coffee and doughnut combination ...

Janice Gilreath's Summer Breakfast of Champions

I haven't even mentioned the maple syrup, wool cap toques or the fact they conceded the War of 1812 after kicking our tails for two years simply because they're just that nice. Well, apparently they send quite a gaggle of international teachers oat and aboat (that's Canadian for "out and about" if you're not bilingual like me. I also speak Scottish, Irish, New Zealand, Australian and three different types of British for those scoring at home. I'm most fluent in Westender I have come to find). So, for the intent and purpose of this blog, we are also considering Wisconsin and Minnesota as part of Canada, because, well ... just because. They kinda talk funny, too, those folks from Minn-E-Soh-tah and Wis-KAN-sin. You know what I'm talking about (nudging you in the ribs with my multi-lingual elbow). 

So, the point of all this is Canadians do neat things to raise money for Cancer awareness. Like, basically, break every one of the "do not do's" you found on your previous link to Ghost Month. See why that had to go first now? I actually do plan these things oat (sorry, I was in Canadian mode). 

First things first, Canadians set up a race for the whole school and the money goes to Cancer research. That doesn't bother Chinese ghosts to the best of my knowledge. The rest ... well, it's pretty darn funny, actually. Here are the Chinese traditions and how they were ironically stepped upon this weekend:

1. Do not go out after 7 p.m. during Ghost Month -- after the 4 p.m. race, the entirety of the racers go out and frolic amongst the shopkeepers and pub owners of an area known as Solaris around these parts. It went a long, long time. Remember when I told you we were heading home around 11 when we saw the Ghostfire? 

2. Refrain from wearing red at night -- yeah, the name of the race was the "Red Dress Hash" -- this is where lots of Canadian men wear women's dresses (usually about 7 sizes too small), run about a mile, and then wear said red dresses well past 7 p.m. I am not sure where Chinese ghosts stand on bad wigs, but there were a few of those, too. 

3. Don't turn your head if you hear your name called at night -- well, those clever Canadians must have known aboat this one! Instead of your actual names, everyone is given a nickname for the race and the post-race frivolity via the organizers' whims. For instance, Jill's given nickname was "Chicken Fried" ... I'm about 87% sure the Canadian contingency came up with this while drinking a cold beer on a Friday night. Though she wasn't wearing a pair of jeans that fit just right (I mean, it's a tropical climate for goodness sakes), it may have had more to do with her accent. An accent described as "the most American accent" our friend Owen had ever heard. And, he lived in the states for quite some time before returning Down Under! Luckily, no one called "Jill" across the way, forcing her turn her head. They just rambled on about how Southern we are. That takes us to the final act ...

Cultural Experience: Canadian runners/cross dressers, Southern US-drawl nicknames.

ACT FOUR: Rhinestone Cowboys

Have you ever seen Mickey Rooney's turn as a Japanese Man in "Breakfast at Tiffany's" by any chance? Well, if you haven't go watch it real quick-like -- fast forward to the 3 minute mark if you don't like the best scene in the movie (outside of the Moon River window scene, of course):

It's been called one of the most racially insensitive portrayals in history. And, if you're growing up in Bottom or Little Utah, it might be your only exposure to Japanese culture (other than a rare jaunt to a Japanese Steakhouse in Winston-Salem for a special occasion). Well, I'm not holding Mickey accountable, and I'm not holding the Malays accountable for their misconstrued idea of what America is. We have encountered three "American style" moments in our first month -- Belgian waffles at the mall, "America World" at the Amusement/Water Park and now the "Saloon" Bar and Restaurant at Solaris this weekend. Apparently, the only American movies Malaysians watched growing up featured either John Wayne or John Travolta wearing chaps. American World at Sunway Park featured all Wild-West themed rides with bad Travis Tritt and Toby Keith songs playing in the background. The saloon last night featured a mechanical bull. Yep ... we both rode it. We had to, apparently. Since we are from the South, the assumption amongst all the Canadians and Upper Midwest folks was that we both would ride that steel woven beast to the limit. For the record, it looked more like a yak than a bull, but we rode. And not that well. In fact, the guy who made it the full minute is from Ontario and lived in Vancouver before moving here.

As I explained to one perplexed staff member after being thrown only 15 seconds in, "Where I'm from, we milk cows, not ride them. Trust me ... you don't want to make that mistake with a bull."

Cultural experience: Uh ... somewhere in the playlist of Glen Campbell's greatest hits is all I can figure.

That's all for now. Cheery-o! G'day, mates! (There I go showing off my linguistic gifts again ...)