When I first moved to Ontario, I was horrified by the state of my new apartment. It was filthy and I ended up spending three full days scrubbing it from top to bottom. Being from Alberta, where we clean when we move out and the are gauged by the landlords who take our full damage deposit for 'steam cleaning', it never occurred to me that it would be the opposite in Ontario. But it is - crazy province! To my Alberta mind, it seems totally backward, but there, you clean other people's messes and leave your own behind.
I'll admit, I was tempted. Who wouldn't be by the idea that they could live as they please and then move - consequence free. But, to me it seemed wrong. You just don't leave your mess behind for strangers to clean up. Upon vacating the premises, I fully intended to clean my London place when I moved out. Now, don't get me wrong. It's not that my apartment was disgusting (and believe me, I am now well familiar with disgusting); really, all it needed was a bit of polish. A good vacuuming, a bit of work on the windows, a quick wipe down of the freezer...nothing major. But...I was a student. I was working in one respect or another - assignments, networking (or, in other words, going away parties) until the last minute and was literally still packing as my ride came to take me to the airport. I just didn't get to it. I felt bad. I still feel bad
And, apparently, the universe wasn't too pleased with me either 'cause, boy, am I paying for it. Between late August and now, I have lived in 4 different apartments and of those, only one did not come covered in mold, dust, grease and garbage. A domestic goddess I'm not. I'm willing to admit that I'm a bit slack in the cleaning department. I tend to be a bit oblivious to the finer, dusty details, so you know that when I say I've spent a full 9+ days cleaning in the last seven months or so (and I do mean full - we're talking from the time I wake up until the time I go to bed), that these places are not fit for human consumption*. And every time I move into one, all I can think is that I brought it on myself.
Oh, and for the record, I leave them spotless.
*I would like to clarify that in the case of the first apartment, it was brand new and covered in drywall and dust only. In the other two, it was not because the recent inhabitants were filthy pigs; rather, they were filthy because there had been no recent inhabitants. The dirt that I spent (and continue to spend) my time cleaning is the dirt of ages. And ages. And ages.
Seriously. Karma's a bitch.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
One true thing
One of the best parts about travel is that it's a learning experience. You learn about yourself; what you are capable of and what the limits of your comfort zone are. Confronting the ugly Westerner can that lives within can be hard, but it's good to do, and usually I think we are surprised to find that we are capable of much more tolerance, generosity, resourcefulness and adventure than we would give ourselves credit for.
We also learn about the world around us. Being in a totally new environment forces us to interact with that world, and whether we really look for it or not, we still learn about the culture, history, food, art, almost by osmosis. Along these lines, we also learn practicalities that we may not have been aware of. Exchange rates, airlines that we might never have heard of. Our world grows and our knowledge increases, hopefully making us permanently better for the experience.
I don't know if that has, or will happen to me. I do know, though, that of all the things that I have learned on this trip, one will never leave me. It is important, and I would like to share it with anyone who comes across this blog....
Never ever. Ever. EVER ever. Ever. Fly Air China!
Seriously. Flying out of Shenyang, they delayed my plane for something like 4 hours due to a few centimetres of snow. Other airlines seemed to function despite the 'critical condition[s]'. I ended up in Beijing for 2 days. I was delayed an hour flying out of there to Kuala Lumpur.
On the way home, I was to catch a 1:30 am flight to Beijing; it didn't leave until 3:30 am. This time, however, I did not miss my connection as, conveniently it is also on Air China and is delayed 5 hours.
And, this is not an experience unique only to me. I've bumped into a few people and had emails from others. It seems that Air China just can't get the whole 'leaving on time' thing down.
So, if my experiences over the last month or so can serve any sort of purpose beyond my own self-growth, I hope it is this... Avoid Air China or bring a few good books.
---
Postscript : Since I was had a flight booked to Shenyang and then was planning to take the train to Dalian, and I had the time, I managed to get my flight switched (for a small cost) so that I flew straight into Dalian. It was scheduled to leave at 8pm. Any guesses on when it took off? Oh, I'll tell you. 9:30pm
Actually, pretty good by their standards.
We also learn about the world around us. Being in a totally new environment forces us to interact with that world, and whether we really look for it or not, we still learn about the culture, history, food, art, almost by osmosis. Along these lines, we also learn practicalities that we may not have been aware of. Exchange rates, airlines that we might never have heard of. Our world grows and our knowledge increases, hopefully making us permanently better for the experience.
I don't know if that has, or will happen to me. I do know, though, that of all the things that I have learned on this trip, one will never leave me. It is important, and I would like to share it with anyone who comes across this blog....
Never ever. Ever. EVER ever. Ever. Fly Air China!
Seriously. Flying out of Shenyang, they delayed my plane for something like 4 hours due to a few centimetres of snow. Other airlines seemed to function despite the 'critical condition[s]'. I ended up in Beijing for 2 days. I was delayed an hour flying out of there to Kuala Lumpur.
On the way home, I was to catch a 1:30 am flight to Beijing; it didn't leave until 3:30 am. This time, however, I did not miss my connection as, conveniently it is also on Air China and is delayed 5 hours.
And, this is not an experience unique only to me. I've bumped into a few people and had emails from others. It seems that Air China just can't get the whole 'leaving on time' thing down.
So, if my experiences over the last month or so can serve any sort of purpose beyond my own self-growth, I hope it is this... Avoid Air China or bring a few good books.
---
Postscript : Since I was had a flight booked to Shenyang and then was planning to take the train to Dalian, and I had the time, I managed to get my flight switched (for a small cost) so that I flew straight into Dalian. It was scheduled to leave at 8pm. Any guesses on when it took off? Oh, I'll tell you. 9:30pm
Actually, pretty good by their standards.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Achoo...
If Malaysia brought me back to those aspects of Western culture that I love and revel in, and Singapore brought me back to my bored suburban roots, then Phuket served to highlight all the things about Western culture that make me want to move to an isolated island and disassociate myself from humanity.
Thailand is supposed to be a fantastic place to visit. Beautiful people, beautiful culture, beautiful beaches, amazing food... I didn't care for it.
Just like there is no 'real' China, I'm sure there's no real Thailand. That said, there are always flavours of a country that seep through, regardless of where you go, but I'm pretty sure that in a place where the only person of colour in an given restaurant was my half-Japanese traveling companion, I didn't get it. The town of Phuket spreads across the entire island right down to the beautiful beaches marred only by the masses of red-skinned tourists sporting the unfortunate braids found in resort towns everywhere. Rows upon rows of streets full of shops, each touting almost identical shell necklaces, watches designed to stop within minutes of purchase and knock-off Billabong shirts compete with restaurants which serve less authentic Thai food than I've had in Canada. Who would have thought that Pad Thai could taste so much like spaghetti?
And, I caught a cold. It's hard to like a place that gives you a runny nose.
Thailand is supposed to be a fantastic place to visit. Beautiful people, beautiful culture, beautiful beaches, amazing food... I didn't care for it.
Just like there is no 'real' China, I'm sure there's no real Thailand. That said, there are always flavours of a country that seep through, regardless of where you go, but I'm pretty sure that in a place where the only person of colour in an given restaurant was my half-Japanese traveling companion, I didn't get it. The town of Phuket spreads across the entire island right down to the beautiful beaches marred only by the masses of red-skinned tourists sporting the unfortunate braids found in resort towns everywhere. Rows upon rows of streets full of shops, each touting almost identical shell necklaces, watches designed to stop within minutes of purchase and knock-off Billabong shirts compete with restaurants which serve less authentic Thai food than I've had in Canada. Who would have thought that Pad Thai could taste so much like spaghetti?
And, I caught a cold. It's hard to like a place that gives you a runny nose.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
A little town called....
My next stop was Singapore. I've been trying to think of something interesting to say about it, but really, I've got nothing. I had, not surprisingly, certain expectations of what it would be like. Seems I'm a little quick to jump to conclusions.
Singapore is, in part, famous for being a 'nanny state'. Gum chewing is a big no-no. Jaywalking and littering can incur some serious, serious fines. There is no smoking in public places and, of course, everything I read about it made sure to point out that drugs are met with the death penalty, which is regularly carried out. In retrospect, I think I expected a country of Stepford people.
There were a few indications that this is the case. Absolutely everything is neat and tidy. Unlike anywhere else I've been to lately, every single building had been painted within the decade. Traffic runs in an orderly fashion; not once did I see a cab drive onto the sidewalk. The lawns, trees, shrubs, flowers...all are immaculately manicured. Perhaps most Stepford of all, though, is the fact that there's very little else to do except shop. I'm willing to give them the benifit of the doubt on this, however. Quite honestly, more so than the strong colonial presence, shoopping may be due to the fact that Singapore is one degree off of the equator and if you're not inside and near an air conditioner by noon, you're either local or crazy.
Aside from that, there was quite a bit of litter on the streets. I was a few tourists chewing gum, and there was quite a lot of outdoor social gathering going on in Little India on Sunday night; another big no. I myself also jaywalked once; albeit at midnight on an empty street. I am Canadian after all. I can break the law, but only the small ones when they aren't really meaningful anyway. And I didn't take so much as an aspirin with me, so I can't speak to the drug laws.
Mostly, I would say that Singapore defied any expectations I had simply because of it's blandness. Or, maybe it's the 'if it's Sunday, it must be Singapore' syndrome setting in. I'm off to Phuket, Thailand today and I've never heard of anything but absolute raves so, if there's a litmus test for jaded traveler, I'm guessing that this is it.
Singapore is, in part, famous for being a 'nanny state'. Gum chewing is a big no-no. Jaywalking and littering can incur some serious, serious fines. There is no smoking in public places and, of course, everything I read about it made sure to point out that drugs are met with the death penalty, which is regularly carried out. In retrospect, I think I expected a country of Stepford people.
There were a few indications that this is the case. Absolutely everything is neat and tidy. Unlike anywhere else I've been to lately, every single building had been painted within the decade. Traffic runs in an orderly fashion; not once did I see a cab drive onto the sidewalk. The lawns, trees, shrubs, flowers...all are immaculately manicured. Perhaps most Stepford of all, though, is the fact that there's very little else to do except shop. I'm willing to give them the benifit of the doubt on this, however. Quite honestly, more so than the strong colonial presence, shoopping may be due to the fact that Singapore is one degree off of the equator and if you're not inside and near an air conditioner by noon, you're either local or crazy.
Aside from that, there was quite a bit of litter on the streets. I was a few tourists chewing gum, and there was quite a lot of outdoor social gathering going on in Little India on Sunday night; another big no. I myself also jaywalked once; albeit at midnight on an empty street. I am Canadian after all. I can break the law, but only the small ones when they aren't really meaningful anyway. And I didn't take so much as an aspirin with me, so I can't speak to the drug laws.
Mostly, I would say that Singapore defied any expectations I had simply because of it's blandness. Or, maybe it's the 'if it's Sunday, it must be Singapore' syndrome setting in. I'm off to Phuket, Thailand today and I've never heard of anything but absolute raves so, if there's a litmus test for jaded traveler, I'm guessing that this is it.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Hand on the throat of Venice
So, next stop Malacca. Well, actually it was KL, but I'll be in and out of KL 5 times this trip so it seems sort of right to bookend the posts rather than repeat the city.
It's funny how, without ever being somewhere, you can form a strong opinion of what it will be like.
The Beijing Weekend, an ex-pat magazine recently ran an article about searching for the 'real' China. In it, the author described his frustration at arriving in China and not finding the true China of his ideas. He included several quotes and anecdotes from others who felt the same. One had gone as far as dragging his poor girlfriend off to a yurt in search of his per-conceived expectations.
Reading the article, I was suitably horrified. Perhaps its coming from Canada, a country with it's own share of cultural stereotypes, eh? A country like China, in the middle of radical economic and social changes could hardly be expected to retain the static images we all have of China...masses of bike riders in Mao suites, carrying little red books...than a visitor to Canada could expect igloos and dogsleds. Not to mention the regional differences. I would no more expect Beijing to be like Xi'an than I would Halifax to be like Winnipeg. A real China is as likely to exist as a real Canada. In fact, it's likely the mixture of cultures, regional variations and change that is the real China.
So, what does this have to do with Malacca? Malacca was one of the great port cities, once upon a time. Written on a wall in a cafe I had coffee was the quote "Whoever is the lord of Malakka has his hand on the throat of Venice.." (although it didn't provide the source. Those of you who are librarian minded can look it up for yourselves - this is costing me money to type.) This means that at one point or another, the Dutch and Portuguese were ruling powers and it was initially founded by the Chinese, leaving a still strong and vibrant Chinese community.
And, I realized, that despite what I've just said, I had a pretty strong image of what I thought would be the 'real' China. I found it in Malacca. Old men and women, wearing flowing cotton shirts and short pants, ride their bicycles through small, crowded and winding streets. There are birdcages hanging outside shops selling Buddhist alters and lucky money. At night, red lanterns light the streets of temples and alters. Without the Cultural Revolution and the re-opening of China, Malacca is exactly what I would have expected to find in China. Overall, it was a very satisfying trip; although, I have to admit that I was surprised to find that I thought China would have so much Portuguese and Dutch architecture.
It's funny how, without ever being somewhere, you can form a strong opinion of what it will be like.
The Beijing Weekend, an ex-pat magazine recently ran an article about searching for the 'real' China. In it, the author described his frustration at arriving in China and not finding the true China of his ideas. He included several quotes and anecdotes from others who felt the same. One had gone as far as dragging his poor girlfriend off to a yurt in search of his per-conceived expectations.
Reading the article, I was suitably horrified. Perhaps its coming from Canada, a country with it's own share of cultural stereotypes, eh? A country like China, in the middle of radical economic and social changes could hardly be expected to retain the static images we all have of China...masses of bike riders in Mao suites, carrying little red books...than a visitor to Canada could expect igloos and dogsleds. Not to mention the regional differences. I would no more expect Beijing to be like Xi'an than I would Halifax to be like Winnipeg. A real China is as likely to exist as a real Canada. In fact, it's likely the mixture of cultures, regional variations and change that is the real China.
So, what does this have to do with Malacca? Malacca was one of the great port cities, once upon a time. Written on a wall in a cafe I had coffee was the quote "Whoever is the lord of Malakka has his hand on the throat of Venice.." (although it didn't provide the source. Those of you who are librarian minded can look it up for yourselves - this is costing me money to type.) This means that at one point or another, the Dutch and Portuguese were ruling powers and it was initially founded by the Chinese, leaving a still strong and vibrant Chinese community.
And, I realized, that despite what I've just said, I had a pretty strong image of what I thought would be the 'real' China. I found it in Malacca. Old men and women, wearing flowing cotton shirts and short pants, ride their bicycles through small, crowded and winding streets. There are birdcages hanging outside shops selling Buddhist alters and lucky money. At night, red lanterns light the streets of temples and alters. Without the Cultural Revolution and the re-opening of China, Malacca is exactly what I would have expected to find in China. Overall, it was a very satisfying trip; although, I have to admit that I was surprised to find that I thought China would have so much Portuguese and Dutch architecture.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Cheeseburgers
I really only stayed in KL for a few days. Just long enough to get a haircut, a few summery clothes and a pedicure and then I was off to paradise. When I'd started planning my holidays, one of the first thoughts I'd had was that I needed to decompress a little. I needed to get away. Like, really get away. I did a little research and found this.
Now, I've travelled alone before. I spent a month on my own in Europe and had no regrets. It's one thing to be alone in big cities, but I had some concern about how I could cope somewhere isolated. We all spend a certain amount of time alone...on the commute to work, an hour here or there running errands or that space of time before a partner gets home. I can only speak for myself, but I think that the idea of loneliness, or being alone, comes in part at those times when we see ourselves through other peoples eyes. Moments when we are perfectly okay with our own company but socially, it is unconventional not to be with someone. It's the reason why, left to your own devices for a night, we order in rather than go out. It's the reason some people feel uncomfortable at a movie alone. Seeing ourselves through others eyes, we are suddenly aware of the lack of what is not there. At home with a Pizza Hut, we're content. Out by ourselves at Pizza Hut, we're self-conscious and self-aware.
This is easier to manage in a city. Walking along busy streets, we are but one of many individuals. At meals, well, my budget tends to preclude me from any high end restaurants and nobody thinks twice about someone grabbing a quick bite on their own.
Pangkor offers no anonymity whatsoever. Within a day, I recognized most of the people staying there. I quickly developed a routine :
-banana pancakes and coffee
-check internet
-long walk through jungle
-pinapple on a stick
-walk on beach, read on beach, swim, sleep on beach, in no particular order
-shower and nap
-dinner
-read on balcony until tired
and it didn't vary at all. Quite clearly, I was alone during all of these activities. I had expected that it would feel painfully so. It didn't.
Maybe I just really did need to get away that bad. Maybe it was the anticipation that carried through what would otherwise have felt awkward. Maybe it was magic; it certainly felt so. Quite simply, it was paradise.
In fact, the only moment I found myself really wanting company was when I managed to anger a Mommy monkey by taking a picture of her baby. And let's be honest. With visions of rabies dancing through your head, who wouldn't be wanting some companionship; hopefully standing a few feet in front of you.
Now, I've travelled alone before. I spent a month on my own in Europe and had no regrets. It's one thing to be alone in big cities, but I had some concern about how I could cope somewhere isolated. We all spend a certain amount of time alone...on the commute to work, an hour here or there running errands or that space of time before a partner gets home. I can only speak for myself, but I think that the idea of loneliness, or being alone, comes in part at those times when we see ourselves through other peoples eyes. Moments when we are perfectly okay with our own company but socially, it is unconventional not to be with someone. It's the reason why, left to your own devices for a night, we order in rather than go out. It's the reason some people feel uncomfortable at a movie alone. Seeing ourselves through others eyes, we are suddenly aware of the lack of what is not there. At home with a Pizza Hut, we're content. Out by ourselves at Pizza Hut, we're self-conscious and self-aware.
This is easier to manage in a city. Walking along busy streets, we are but one of many individuals. At meals, well, my budget tends to preclude me from any high end restaurants and nobody thinks twice about someone grabbing a quick bite on their own.
Pangkor offers no anonymity whatsoever. Within a day, I recognized most of the people staying there. I quickly developed a routine :
-banana pancakes and coffee
-check internet
-long walk through jungle
-pinapple on a stick
-walk on beach, read on beach, swim, sleep on beach, in no particular order
-shower and nap
-dinner
-read on balcony until tired
and it didn't vary at all. Quite clearly, I was alone during all of these activities. I had expected that it would feel painfully so. It didn't.
Maybe I just really did need to get away that bad. Maybe it was the anticipation that carried through what would otherwise have felt awkward. Maybe it was magic; it certainly felt so. Quite simply, it was paradise.
In fact, the only moment I found myself really wanting company was when I managed to anger a Mommy monkey by taking a picture of her baby. And let's be honest. With visions of rabies dancing through your head, who wouldn't be wanting some companionship; hopefully standing a few feet in front of you.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
A few false starts
As alluded to in my previous post, I'm not actually in China right now and haven't been for over a week now. Thanks to the extended break the school takes for Chinese New year, I'm currently taking a well deserved convalescence in Malaysia.
Normally, I wouldn't think of touching a computer for more than a few brief, requisite "Hi Mom and Dad, I'm okay" emails, but turns out that when you have a month of free time in a tropical country, you are able to relax and slow down enough to start writing again.
My vacation started, and I mean this fondly, in a fashion typical of all my experiences in China. Our school, within the space of four days, had decided to pick up and move part and parcel four hours to the South to a city called Dalian. Once there, it was collectively realized that everyone's respective flights still left from Shenyang, so off we went. A few days later, having re-visited my 'hometown' as a tourist and 'catching up' with friends I'd seen a week before, I was off to Malaysia.
Only, it wasn't quite that easy. Waking up early, I looked out to realize that it had snowed. Not much, maybe 2", but it was fresh and probably a little slippy driving. I had planned to have a quick coffee with the friend driving me to the airport before heading off. Too bad, we would probably have to head right out. Well, no, as it turns out, we had a long leisurely coffee. Those 2", in a city not used to moisture of any kind meant that not only the airport was closed, but the highways were temporarily shut as well.
Unfortunately, by the time we actually got out to the airport, and my plane finally took off, I'd totally missed my connection and found myself with two very unexpected days in Beijing. Now, there are certainly worse places to be stuck. Beijing is a great, vibrant, cosmopolitan city; one of those places where just walking the streets is energizing. That said, it would have maybe been a bit better if all of my bag hadn't been full of clothes more suited to +30 C, rather than +3 C. Regardless, still a treat.
I think I've mentioned my China situation? A collection of roughly 16 people with almost nothing in common except the extenuating circumstances? We're all pretty tight and supportive of each other, but we work, eat and play almost on top of each other in what can be some very trying circumstances and after five months, a few cracks are beginning to show. Almost by unspoken agreement, most everyone has gone their separate ways, either for the whole trip or for at the very least for a few weeks.
So, as luck would have it, not only did I find myself in Beijing unexpectedly, but it just so happened that I was able to call up a few people who I knew would be there at the same time to keep me company until I could actually start my vacation proper.
Normally, I wouldn't think of touching a computer for more than a few brief, requisite "Hi Mom and Dad, I'm okay" emails, but turns out that when you have a month of free time in a tropical country, you are able to relax and slow down enough to start writing again.
My vacation started, and I mean this fondly, in a fashion typical of all my experiences in China. Our school, within the space of four days, had decided to pick up and move part and parcel four hours to the South to a city called Dalian. Once there, it was collectively realized that everyone's respective flights still left from Shenyang, so off we went. A few days later, having re-visited my 'hometown' as a tourist and 'catching up' with friends I'd seen a week before, I was off to Malaysia.
Only, it wasn't quite that easy. Waking up early, I looked out to realize that it had snowed. Not much, maybe 2", but it was fresh and probably a little slippy driving. I had planned to have a quick coffee with the friend driving me to the airport before heading off. Too bad, we would probably have to head right out. Well, no, as it turns out, we had a long leisurely coffee. Those 2", in a city not used to moisture of any kind meant that not only the airport was closed, but the highways were temporarily shut as well.
Unfortunately, by the time we actually got out to the airport, and my plane finally took off, I'd totally missed my connection and found myself with two very unexpected days in Beijing. Now, there are certainly worse places to be stuck. Beijing is a great, vibrant, cosmopolitan city; one of those places where just walking the streets is energizing. That said, it would have maybe been a bit better if all of my bag hadn't been full of clothes more suited to +30 C, rather than +3 C. Regardless, still a treat.
I think I've mentioned my China situation? A collection of roughly 16 people with almost nothing in common except the extenuating circumstances? We're all pretty tight and supportive of each other, but we work, eat and play almost on top of each other in what can be some very trying circumstances and after five months, a few cracks are beginning to show. Almost by unspoken agreement, most everyone has gone their separate ways, either for the whole trip or for at the very least for a few weeks.
So, as luck would have it, not only did I find myself in Beijing unexpectedly, but it just so happened that I was able to call up a few people who I knew would be there at the same time to keep me company until I could actually start my vacation proper.
Another grande mocha latte, please
So, I finally made it to KL. And, typically, things didn't exactly go so well. I got in after midnight and all the ATMs were down for maintenance, requiring a half hour wait. The cab driver couldn't find my hostel. When he did, it was locked up tight. When the manager was finally roused, they didn't have my reservation (to be fair though, I should have let them know I'd be 2 days late.) But, eventually I got settled and the next morning, I set off to do a few errands and realized that all the trouble over the last few days had been totally worth it.
I have no idea what I would have thought of Malaysia if I had come directly from Canada. The air is humid and sweet with incense burning in alters on every corner. Palm trees and food stalls line the streets, cats wandering in between patrons legs. Lanterns are hung from the shops in anticipation of Chinese New Year. Women in traditional Hindu and Muslim dress pass punks with cellphones. Compared to Canada, it's definitely pretty exotic. And all I could see was the Western-ess of it.
I can read the signs on the shops. English is taught in school and everyone I've spoken to, I've understood. I forgot how good it feels to do a little harmless eavesdropping. I recognize the foods. Western music comes out of the shops and restaurants. Granted, it sometimes sounds like late 80s Rod Stewart, but judging from the many t-shirts wandering the streets, the Sex Pistols and the Ramones are alive and well. (Oh, ironic t-shirts, oh, band t-shirts - staples of my youth, and, uh, adulthood. My heart is glad to see you.) There are malls that take a form I recognize. There are 7/11s. I had a Greek salad. With real feta!!!
All I felt was joy that first day. And not a quiet, zen-like joy. More like a butterflies in your stomach, 15 year old great first kiss with a boy you really really like kind of joy. When I stumbled across a two story, ENGLISH bookstore, I actually think I did a jig of joy.
I got my haircut and it looks good for the first time in 3 months. I've drank so much coffee that my nerves are permanently shot. There's a Kenny Rogers Roasters, for gods sake. There were...well, you get the idea. It was like coming home, if only home were warm.
I have no idea what I would have thought of Malaysia if I had come directly from Canada. The air is humid and sweet with incense burning in alters on every corner. Palm trees and food stalls line the streets, cats wandering in between patrons legs. Lanterns are hung from the shops in anticipation of Chinese New Year. Women in traditional Hindu and Muslim dress pass punks with cellphones. Compared to Canada, it's definitely pretty exotic. And all I could see was the Western-ess of it.
I can read the signs on the shops. English is taught in school and everyone I've spoken to, I've understood. I forgot how good it feels to do a little harmless eavesdropping. I recognize the foods. Western music comes out of the shops and restaurants. Granted, it sometimes sounds like late 80s Rod Stewart, but judging from the many t-shirts wandering the streets, the Sex Pistols and the Ramones are alive and well. (Oh, ironic t-shirts, oh, band t-shirts - staples of my youth, and, uh, adulthood. My heart is glad to see you.) There are malls that take a form I recognize. There are 7/11s. I had a Greek salad. With real feta!!!
All I felt was joy that first day. And not a quiet, zen-like joy. More like a butterflies in your stomach, 15 year old great first kiss with a boy you really really like kind of joy. When I stumbled across a two story, ENGLISH bookstore, I actually think I did a jig of joy.
I got my haircut and it looks good for the first time in 3 months. I've drank so much coffee that my nerves are permanently shot. There's a Kenny Rogers Roasters, for gods sake. There were...well, you get the idea. It was like coming home, if only home were warm.
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