Sky Juice
Last Thursday was Sarah's 23rd birthday, hot on the heels of my own, though she just can't seem to overtake me. To celebrate nearly all the ETAs (and later, actually all of the ETAs) descended
upon Kuala Terengganu like a bunch of bumbling, culture-shocked locusts. Locusts are an especially apt comparison as my bearded colleague Joe Haley has now contracted his 3rd plague of the trip. He seems to be skipping around a bit, having already hit a version of boil and some kind of insect bites before this weekend's ridiculously-high-fever struck. Malaysia might be taking its anger out on him in order to get us all to leave, but since no one on the trip has any first-born sons (knock on wood) we might be a bit recklessly confident in our ability to withstand anything the country can throw at us.
Turns out the country's been throwing a lot lately, and hitting more often than not. During our time together we had ample time to commiserate about everything we've had to scrape off our faces in the last few weeks (Not all of it was pie. I made a crab claw explode at lunch yesterday and it nailed me as well as two innocents). I think it was pretty cathartic on the whole. That being said, I was both shocked and impressed by how racist (or more accurately xenophobic, but with us being the foreigners) a lot of our comments ended up being. Had Ezra of two months ago heard these generalizations, his nubile and culturally pluralistic ears would've surely exploded. True, young Ezra didn't know a lot that I know now (like the word for cheek is pipi. Look it up.) but I still have to admire his blind faith, innocence, and child-like wonder. So I'm resolving to learn the language, stay positive and... and learn how to laugh again. Young Ezra loved to laugh. I still remember his boyish charm, his effervescent giggle... his beard that was slightly longer than mine... sigh...
To start that wave of positivity, let me give you my top ten since the last post:
5. As also happened in Costa Rica, I've grown an affinity for imperfect or abnormal people- the balding Chinese woman, the skinny kid with the mullet-hawk, the young guy with the speech impediment- I can identify with them because I feel abnormal too. It's easy to feel like I'm too tall, too white, and too stupid to know this language, but they're a lot of people here who are too something and when they go home they're just as abnormal as they are now.
4. Because the Chinese have a very different take on religion, Chinese restaurants, shops, and homes have been something of a safe haven for myself and the other ETAs, as their culture is much more initially compatible with ours. Women will shake my hand and bare their hair and shoulders. Pork and Alcohol runs free and they're the best bet for English speakers as well. ETAs have said that it's weird when you go to Chinatown, because it could be Chinatown anywhere. I could be in San Francisco again, and that is a comforting thought.
3. It's not just that Malay is new, but English is new again as well. I ordered Sky Juice to be adventurous (and because it was only .30 RM [9 cents] and was given a fresh glass of water. Of course that's Sky Juice.
2. I just talked about Heroes with one of my co-workers at school. Hiro Nakamura is almost as big of an international ambassador of good will as the beloved Mr. Bean, who they can't get enough of.
1. Sarah and I had to get visas to go to Vietnam for March break, so we needed passport-sized photos. They're cheap here, but we needed to wear the sports coat they provided. No real explanation, just "you have to wear this jacket." It was blue, so it brought out my eyes, and I was pretty okay with that. Sarah had to wear it too and she looked very professional.
Okay, it's lunch time. My ratio of working hours to not-working hours is 1 to 5 today. Which is just silly. I'm going to the cafe and keep a close eye on my sky juice. Gotta make sure it doesn't turn to blood.
Update:
Some of you (mainly Sarah), may have actually been following the "positive things" count and only got up to 5, not the 10 I originally promised. I assure you that while there are no phantom numbers, there are some missing numbers, possibly being eaten by locusts, possibly eating locusts themselves. I'll look into the matter further when the opportunity presents itself.
upon Kuala Terengganu like a bunch of bumbling, culture-shocked locusts. Locusts are an especially apt comparison as my bearded colleague Joe Haley has now contracted his 3rd plague of the trip. He seems to be skipping around a bit, having already hit a version of boil and some kind of insect bites before this weekend's ridiculously-high-fever struck. Malaysia might be taking its anger out on him in order to get us all to leave, but since no one on the trip has any first-born sons (knock on wood) we might be a bit recklessly confident in our ability to withstand anything the country can throw at us.Turns out the country's been throwing a lot lately, and hitting more often than not. During our time together we had ample time to commiserate about everything we've had to scrape off our faces in the last few weeks (Not all of it was pie. I made a crab claw explode at lunch yesterday and it nailed me as well as two innocents). I think it was pretty cathartic on the whole. That being said, I was both shocked and impressed by how racist (or more accurately xenophobic, but with us being the foreigners) a lot of our comments ended up being. Had Ezra of two months ago heard these generalizations, his nubile and culturally pluralistic ears would've surely exploded. True, young Ezra didn't know a lot that I know now (like the word for cheek is pipi. Look it up.) but I still have to admire his blind faith, innocence, and child-like wonder. So I'm resolving to learn the language, stay positive and... and learn how to laugh again. Young Ezra loved to laugh. I still remember his boyish charm, his effervescent giggle... his beard that was slightly longer than mine... sigh...
To start that wave of positivity, let me give you my top ten since the last post:
5. As also happened in Costa Rica, I've grown an affinity for imperfect or abnormal people- the balding Chinese woman, the skinny kid with the mullet-hawk, the young guy with the speech impediment- I can identify with them because I feel abnormal too. It's easy to feel like I'm too tall, too white, and too stupid to know this language, but they're a lot of people here who are too something and when they go home they're just as abnormal as they are now.
4. Because the Chinese have a very different take on religion, Chinese restaurants, shops, and homes have been something of a safe haven for myself and the other ETAs, as their culture is much more initially compatible with ours. Women will shake my hand and bare their hair and shoulders. Pork and Alcohol runs free and they're the best bet for English speakers as well. ETAs have said that it's weird when you go to Chinatown, because it could be Chinatown anywhere. I could be in San Francisco again, and that is a comforting thought.
3. It's not just that Malay is new, but English is new again as well. I ordered Sky Juice to be adventurous (and because it was only .30 RM [9 cents] and was given a fresh glass of water. Of course that's Sky Juice.
2. I just talked about Heroes with one of my co-workers at school. Hiro Nakamura is almost as big of an international ambassador of good will as the beloved Mr. Bean, who they can't get enough of.
1. Sarah and I had to get visas to go to Vietnam for March break, so we needed passport-sized photos. They're cheap here, but we needed to wear the sports coat they provided. No real explanation, just "you have to wear this jacket." It was blue, so it brought out my eyes, and I was pretty okay with that. Sarah had to wear it too and she looked very professional.
Okay, it's lunch time. My ratio of working hours to not-working hours is 1 to 5 today. Which is just silly. I'm going to the cafe and keep a close eye on my sky juice. Gotta make sure it doesn't turn to blood.
Update:
Some of you (mainly Sarah), may have actually been following the "positive things" count and only got up to 5, not the 10 I originally promised. I assure you that while there are no phantom numbers, there are some missing numbers, possibly being eaten by locusts, possibly eating locusts themselves. I'll look into the matter further when the opportunity presents itself.
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