Four-Night Stand
No matter how you cut it, Malaysia was a very intense, very involved long-term relationship. We both had a lot of issues and, well, things got messy. We stuck it out for as long as we could and in the end we decided it’d be best if I went my own way, and Malaysia stayed in Southeast Asia, attached to Thailand and parts of Indonesia. It turns out I was also really easy to pick up on the rebound.
Oh, Tokyo! You’re everything that Terengganu wasn’t. Your food is so good I want to cry a little. You’re expensive and classy but still fun. Your mass transit is a breeze to get around on (albeit a little tricky to navigate at first), and best of all, you don’t care that much about me. You give me room. Terengganu was a smotherer. I felt like I couldn’t go anywhere without someone asking “Where are you going?” “Did you eat rice?” “You can speak Malay?” It asked me questions but never listened to the answers. But Tokyo… Tokyo couldn’t care less about me. It’s there if I need something, like a vending machine full of iced teas, one on every block, and if I just want some alone time, that’s fine too. Tokyo doesn’t care that I’m white, since a lot of people are. It doesn’t care if I have money, since it has more. It doesn’t care if I speak Japanese, since it’ll always speak it better than me. It doesn’t even care if I’m in Tokyo, since there are plenty of people here with or without me. 2008 was officially “Visit Terengganu year” in Malaysia. In Japan it’s “We don’t care if you come see us now or ever year.” Again. Tokyo doesn’t care about me and it feels great to be so unloved.
There’s nothing malicious about it unloving me. It’s just apathetic. It’s even the notch below apathy, right before you realize that you could possibly feel anything about anything. I mean nothing to Tokyo, and because of that, I get to choose how much Tokyo means to me. There’s no pressure when I walk down the street. Shopkeepers greet me in a string of (presumably honorific) Japanese syllables, and I get to ignore them (like all the Japanese patrons) or rattle off my own (presumably broken) honorific Japanese syllables. Either way, no one notices me. It’s casual, anonymous, no-strings attached international travel and it feels great.
Instead of going through a whole process of falling in and out of love with a place, I just get to enjoy it and leave before things turn sour. No embittered blog posts, no desire to cry into one’s pillow for hours on end, and definitely no food with bones in it. It’s a perfect four-night stand.
But I guess there’s no real point in complimenting the many wonders of Tokyo at the expense of the many wonders of Terengganu. Terengganu and I, well, we had a good run together. I still love the place and the people and the flaws. If I stayed in Tokyo I’d find things to hate (there’s shockingly little roti chennai, for example), and if I stayed longer still, I’d find a way to love it more completely. I had a professor (the illustrious Dr. George Ball) who said that love is a choice, not an emotion. It’s easy to fall in love with a place. If you’re open to it, you can get swept off your feet by Japan just as easily as you can by Malaysia or the good ole US of A. The hard part is choosing to love the place when you’ve been there long enough that you actually get to know it. And when you get sick there, will the place care enough about you to take care of you? Will it prove to you that it’s worthy of your love? Does it need you?
Terengganu was worth loving, it turned out, fish heads and all. Tokyo probably is too, even after it stops trying to slyly woo me with steaming bowls of ramen, an abundance of drinkable water, and Disney theme parks. I just know we could give so much to each other if we only had more time… and maybe one day we will. But California’s been calling me and I’ve heard such good things about a place called Davis. Besides, I’ve always been a sucker for a college town.
Oh, Tokyo! You’re everything that Terengganu wasn’t. Your food is so good I want to cry a little. You’re expensive and classy but still fun. Your mass transit is a breeze to get around on (albeit a little tricky to navigate at first), and best of all, you don’t care that much about me. You give me room. Terengganu was a smotherer. I felt like I couldn’t go anywhere without someone asking “Where are you going?” “Did you eat rice?” “You can speak Malay?” It asked me questions but never listened to the answers. But Tokyo… Tokyo couldn’t care less about me. It’s there if I need something, like a vending machine full of iced teas, one on every block, and if I just want some alone time, that’s fine too. Tokyo doesn’t care that I’m white, since a lot of people are. It doesn’t care if I have money, since it has more. It doesn’t care if I speak Japanese, since it’ll always speak it better than me. It doesn’t even care if I’m in Tokyo, since there are plenty of people here with or without me. 2008 was officially “Visit Terengganu year” in Malaysia. In Japan it’s “We don’t care if you come see us now or ever year.” Again. Tokyo doesn’t care about me and it feels great to be so unloved.
There’s nothing malicious about it unloving me. It’s just apathetic. It’s even the notch below apathy, right before you realize that you could possibly feel anything about anything. I mean nothing to Tokyo, and because of that, I get to choose how much Tokyo means to me. There’s no pressure when I walk down the street. Shopkeepers greet me in a string of (presumably honorific) Japanese syllables, and I get to ignore them (like all the Japanese patrons) or rattle off my own (presumably broken) honorific Japanese syllables. Either way, no one notices me. It’s casual, anonymous, no-strings attached international travel and it feels great.
Instead of going through a whole process of falling in and out of love with a place, I just get to enjoy it and leave before things turn sour. No embittered blog posts, no desire to cry into one’s pillow for hours on end, and definitely no food with bones in it. It’s a perfect four-night stand.
But I guess there’s no real point in complimenting the many wonders of Tokyo at the expense of the many wonders of Terengganu. Terengganu and I, well, we had a good run together. I still love the place and the people and the flaws. If I stayed in Tokyo I’d find things to hate (there’s shockingly little roti chennai, for example), and if I stayed longer still, I’d find a way to love it more completely. I had a professor (the illustrious Dr. George Ball) who said that love is a choice, not an emotion. It’s easy to fall in love with a place. If you’re open to it, you can get swept off your feet by Japan just as easily as you can by Malaysia or the good ole US of A. The hard part is choosing to love the place when you’ve been there long enough that you actually get to know it. And when you get sick there, will the place care enough about you to take care of you? Will it prove to you that it’s worthy of your love? Does it need you?
Terengganu was worth loving, it turned out, fish heads and all. Tokyo probably is too, even after it stops trying to slyly woo me with steaming bowls of ramen, an abundance of drinkable water, and Disney theme parks. I just know we could give so much to each other if we only had more time… and maybe one day we will. But California’s been calling me and I’ve heard such good things about a place called Davis. Besides, I’ve always been a sucker for a college town.
Comments
p.s. love the new subhead :)
"Everyone in KL is a bit prejudiced against Terengganu because it is a conservative state, and a rural state. I would liken the feelings to those an East Coaster or West Coaster might have for the South. There probably is some truth to the stereotypes, but I'm sure it is also very different than urban KLers imagine. I'll find out for myself soon enough."
Would this be a good time for me as an Urban KLite to say I told you so? :P