Where I'm from, black mold is anathema. It's forbidden. It's dangerous and unhealthy and just plain not allowed. I think the building inspectors won't allow you to sell your home if it has this dreaded infection in it.
Am I right, Canadians? (I'll look it up later, but I believe you certainly are not allowed to rent to people if there is black mold in your house because it's such a health risk.)
So, here I am, living with black mold all around me. Yike.
It's rainy season. It was rainy season when I moved in. I guess I didn't think anything of it. Mind you, it did feel a bit damp. But, as time went on, I started to find mold in unexpected places.
I opened my suitcase and found an old leather pouch that was just hairy with greyish-black mold. It's like when a peach gets moldy. You know what that looks like?
Then, I started to see it growing other places, like on shelves. It was growing on a shelving unit I had cleaned only a couple of weeks ago. So, it seemed like this stuff was growing super fast! Like, what IS that, anyway?
I started feeling like I was in the middle of an epidemic like in that movie starring Dustin Hofman, "Outbreak". It started seeming to me that this fungus growth was just multiplying faster and faster beyond all normal expectations.
It's everywhere! It's everywhere!
I went into the spare room and it was growing in patches on the back of the wardrobe. The wardrobe had been sitting there for less than two weeks, after I'd given it the once-over. But, the back, having been close to the wall must have gotten to just the right temperature and conditions for the mold to prosper.
I climbed up the ladder to clean the fans in the livingroom and discovered there was more black dirt and mold up there than was suspected. Could it be that the fans literally distribute the spores?
Heck, if mold were a plant, I'd have a green thumb. My house must be providing all the right conditions for it.
At first, I'd just look down and see dirt. "Oh, my, is that ever dirty! Look at that black d-- THAT'S not dirt!"
The bathroom tiles are rife with it. In that situation (white tiles with black mold growing between them) it's obvious. But, in the rest of the house, it can disguise itself as dirt.
When I first moved in, I filled a squirt bottle with bleach water. Then later, I made a Dettol squirt bottle. NOW, I added Grape Seed Extract to up the power. But, a friend of mine went out and bought a bottle of stuff at Cosway especially for mildew and mold. (It smells a lot like ammonia to me.) My friend has a mold problem in her shoe cupboard.
The thing is that, Malaysians don't seem to be worried about it at all.
It really is everywhere here.
Today, I spent an hour cleaning one wooden chair. There are three more chairs to clean. Then the rest of the furniture. Then, by the time I'm finished, I'll have to start all over again. Like how they continue painting the San Francisco Bridge! ... The never-ending story...
But, I, for one, refuse to co-exist with it.
Monday, 30 December 2013
Thursday, 12 December 2013
Prices in Malaysia
Is it me or have the prices sky-rocketed in Malaysia?
Last year, (or was it six months ago?) I bought a tiny bottle of TeaTree Oil for 15 RM. Now, the same sized bottle costs 30RM! In many cases, chocolate bar prices have also doubled. I haven't checked out all the prices on all the items at Jusco, but I'm beginning to think it will be a similar story.
I went into the DVD shop to see if I could find those cheapo 10 ringgit movies. You used to be able to find DVD movies for 9.99RM. Not any more. They start at 19.99 and go up. Yes, you can get "Buy One Free One" for 19.99 if you look hard in the sale box. But, most older movies cost 49.99RM! Phew.
Looks like I'm cutting down on chocolate and movies. I guess that can't be bad. So, I have the economy hike to thank for something.
Somebody tell me: "Where can I shop that's cheap?"
Maybe I'll check out the night market (Pasar Malam) and see what their prices are like.
On the bright side, I found a cheap book on sale today. Since the book is 994 pages, I asked the attendant if it was the correct price on the back. It said 13.90. He said,
"No, that's the pre-twenty percent-off price."
"Oh, so it's cheaper?"
"Yes."
"I'll take it."
It actually worked out to be about a penny a page. (And I mean Malaysian cents, ha.) Not a bad price for a complete and unabridged copy of "War and Peace". It even has a colour copy of "Napoleon Crossing the Alps" by Jaques Louis Davide on the front cover!
If you haven't read "War and Peace" yet, you can pick up a copy upstairs in Jusco at the MPH sale!
Last year, (or was it six months ago?) I bought a tiny bottle of TeaTree Oil for 15 RM. Now, the same sized bottle costs 30RM! In many cases, chocolate bar prices have also doubled. I haven't checked out all the prices on all the items at Jusco, but I'm beginning to think it will be a similar story.
I went into the DVD shop to see if I could find those cheapo 10 ringgit movies. You used to be able to find DVD movies for 9.99RM. Not any more. They start at 19.99 and go up. Yes, you can get "Buy One Free One" for 19.99 if you look hard in the sale box. But, most older movies cost 49.99RM! Phew.
Looks like I'm cutting down on chocolate and movies. I guess that can't be bad. So, I have the economy hike to thank for something.
Somebody tell me: "Where can I shop that's cheap?"
Maybe I'll check out the night market (Pasar Malam) and see what their prices are like.
On the bright side, I found a cheap book on sale today. Since the book is 994 pages, I asked the attendant if it was the correct price on the back. It said 13.90. He said,
"No, that's the pre-twenty percent-off price."
"Oh, so it's cheaper?"
"Yes."
"I'll take it."
It actually worked out to be about a penny a page. (And I mean Malaysian cents, ha.) Not a bad price for a complete and unabridged copy of "War and Peace". It even has a colour copy of "Napoleon Crossing the Alps" by Jaques Louis Davide on the front cover!
If you haven't read "War and Peace" yet, you can pick up a copy upstairs in Jusco at the MPH sale!
Thursday, 28 November 2013
The Punjabi Moving Man and His Helpers
Maybe I should have titled this one, "Leaving Kampar Again", but, really the most impressionable experience I have had in my move is the Punjabi movers. They turn everything upside-down. Don't ask me why cause I sure don't know. But, they do. They do.
First off, I'm expecting to pay around 500 to 700 ringgit for a truck to Seremban. Not. He told me flat out that one truck would cost 1,000 and that I needed TWO trucks. (Only, here, they call them lorries. Maybe that's why they cost so much.)
Two truck loads of stuff that mostly doesn't belong to me. But, even if I owned it all, I sure wouldn't want to PAY someone to break up, damage and destroy my belongings. Would you?
The English-speaking older man had brought with him three others who were also Punjabis. Two of them could speak little to no English and so, had no idea what I was yelling about, I'm sure. But, as soon as the men set foot in my house, it's like there was a fire in the house. Their motto was
"Get it out FAST! The faster you get it out, the more money you'll make!" --or something to that effect. The boss wanted to get into Seremban before the traffic, so that was the priority.
Obviously, my furniture took third or fourth priority. I swear these young guys were trying to make a show of their strength by taking large pieces of furniture, such as the china cabinet and turning them upside-down! But, it wasn't until we reached Seremban that the real nightmare began.
I guess I'd been too busy rushing like mad to finish wrapping and packing last minute things at the house to notice how the furniture was being treated. It seemed fairly well-organised.
But, once in Seremban, I noticed the house afire attitude had escalated and my belongings were taking the brunt of it.
"NO! NO!" I wave my arms at a young Punjabi in a turn-it-around motion and trying to talk to the real estate agent as one of the movers turns the china cabinet upside down! Later, the agent laughed when he went into the bedroom and saw the cabinet sitting with its feet in the air! He had one of the men turn it around, but all the shelves had fallen first one way, then the other, bending the corners. Yike! (Don't tell my son.)
Coffee tables went in the bedroom with the dining room chairs. Dressers in the living room. It's gonna be a long week!
A wardrobe got turned on its side and dragged across the gravel, scraping the thin fake wood grain to crap. Big gouges were made in shelves and cupboards. Ho hum. Lesson learned:
Rent furnished housing. Don't buy your furniture here but if you do, NEVER move it! Unless, of course, you do it yourself.
First off, I'm expecting to pay around 500 to 700 ringgit for a truck to Seremban. Not. He told me flat out that one truck would cost 1,000 and that I needed TWO trucks. (Only, here, they call them lorries. Maybe that's why they cost so much.)
Two truck loads of stuff that mostly doesn't belong to me. But, even if I owned it all, I sure wouldn't want to PAY someone to break up, damage and destroy my belongings. Would you?
The English-speaking older man had brought with him three others who were also Punjabis. Two of them could speak little to no English and so, had no idea what I was yelling about, I'm sure. But, as soon as the men set foot in my house, it's like there was a fire in the house. Their motto was
"Get it out FAST! The faster you get it out, the more money you'll make!" --or something to that effect. The boss wanted to get into Seremban before the traffic, so that was the priority.
Obviously, my furniture took third or fourth priority. I swear these young guys were trying to make a show of their strength by taking large pieces of furniture, such as the china cabinet and turning them upside-down! But, it wasn't until we reached Seremban that the real nightmare began.
I guess I'd been too busy rushing like mad to finish wrapping and packing last minute things at the house to notice how the furniture was being treated. It seemed fairly well-organised.
But, once in Seremban, I noticed the house afire attitude had escalated and my belongings were taking the brunt of it.
"NO! NO!" I wave my arms at a young Punjabi in a turn-it-around motion and trying to talk to the real estate agent as one of the movers turns the china cabinet upside down! Later, the agent laughed when he went into the bedroom and saw the cabinet sitting with its feet in the air! He had one of the men turn it around, but all the shelves had fallen first one way, then the other, bending the corners. Yike! (Don't tell my son.)
Coffee tables went in the bedroom with the dining room chairs. Dressers in the living room. It's gonna be a long week!
A wardrobe got turned on its side and dragged across the gravel, scraping the thin fake wood grain to crap. Big gouges were made in shelves and cupboards. Ho hum. Lesson learned:
Rent furnished housing. Don't buy your furniture here but if you do, NEVER move it! Unless, of course, you do it yourself.
Tuesday, 5 November 2013
Going Bananas at Tesco!
Ok, so this is one to keep me humble. I was shopping at Tesco and, as I so often do, I was carrying my list of items, checking them off one at a time, adding the price beside the item.
Now, I know you're thinking, "Wow, what a conscientious person." But, really, if I don't do this, I end up going to the check-out counter with all my stuff and not having enough cash in my wallet to pay for what I picked up. It has happened to me.
It's embarassing when you have to ask the poor check-out guy, "Could you please put that back? and add it up again?" ...and "...oh and could you also put that back and add it up again?" Then, "Still too much la? Ok, put THIS back."
Last time I had to put back my nice fresh-looking brocoli. But, anyway, all that to say, I was shopping and checking items off my list. It was a very long list. (I like to get value for my taxi fare by buying everything in one trip, too.)
I had made one trip to the scale. (Oh, you guys in the West don't know this, but here in Malaysia, you have to take your produce to the scale to get the price marked on it before you check out at the cash. That's something we USED to do in Canada when I was a kid. Did I date myself?)
So, I'm totally absorbed in "The List" and I'm standing there at the scale, having passed something to the lady and totally forgotten WHAT I'd handed her. But, when I saw this Indian man pick up his bananas, I thought I suddenly remembered what I'd handed her. I suddenly put out my hand and shouted at the man!
"WAIT!"
He looked at me like I was insane. Truly insane. (He could have been at least partially correct in his thinking.)
"Are you SURE those are YOUR bananas?" I asked, thinking to myself, "You PEOPLE are so stupid, you don't even focus on what you're handing to the scale lady. You should probably pay more attention..."
But, something about the way this guy is looking at me begins to open an area of consciousness I had been unaware of. Then, it suddenly dawned on me!
He had his bananas in one hand and a strange, insulted look on his face and I quickly said,
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
He didn't say a word. Not one word. Either he was too shocked or just couldn't speak English.
And he's gone. Poor man.
(I mean, it's not like I was mad at him or anything. In my mind, I was actually problem-solving, thinking he'd accidentally picked up the wrong item since our items were being weighed at the same time. Easy mistake. But, it could be that I had that "English Teacher authority" in my voice or something because, he stopped dead in his tracks when I spoke to him. Of course, how often does a Canadian woman walk up to you in the supermarket speaking English in accusing tones? Like: never.)
And I'm feeling like an idiot. Which is not unusual. It's the same way I felt today when the chicken lady was making a chopping motion to me. She was pretending she was mute or something and I'm standing there shaking my head, pretending I'm mute. We're both looking like idiots. I even said something in her language and she ignored me. She was really into the mute thing. So, I got into the motioning too. Waving my hands to shape a perfectly uncut roasted chicken. "Satu." and "Bole." (Meaning, "one" and "can" because in Malaysia, everything is "bole".)
Yes, so as he's walking away and I'm bleary-eyed and blinking at "The List", I finally, FINALLY realized that I'd weighed in my bananas previously. I was the one who hadn't been paying attention. After the rather unpleasant altercation with the Indian man, the scale lady held out the item she had priced for me. Heck, I STILL can't remember what it was.
Now, I know you're thinking, "Wow, what a conscientious person." But, really, if I don't do this, I end up going to the check-out counter with all my stuff and not having enough cash in my wallet to pay for what I picked up. It has happened to me.
It's embarassing when you have to ask the poor check-out guy, "Could you please put that back? and add it up again?" ...and "...oh and could you also put that back and add it up again?" Then, "Still too much la? Ok, put THIS back."
Last time I had to put back my nice fresh-looking brocoli. But, anyway, all that to say, I was shopping and checking items off my list. It was a very long list. (I like to get value for my taxi fare by buying everything in one trip, too.)
I had made one trip to the scale. (Oh, you guys in the West don't know this, but here in Malaysia, you have to take your produce to the scale to get the price marked on it before you check out at the cash. That's something we USED to do in Canada when I was a kid. Did I date myself?)
So, I'm totally absorbed in "The List" and I'm standing there at the scale, having passed something to the lady and totally forgotten WHAT I'd handed her. But, when I saw this Indian man pick up his bananas, I thought I suddenly remembered what I'd handed her. I suddenly put out my hand and shouted at the man!
"WAIT!"
He looked at me like I was insane. Truly insane. (He could have been at least partially correct in his thinking.)
"Are you SURE those are YOUR bananas?" I asked, thinking to myself, "You PEOPLE are so stupid, you don't even focus on what you're handing to the scale lady. You should probably pay more attention..."
But, something about the way this guy is looking at me begins to open an area of consciousness I had been unaware of. Then, it suddenly dawned on me!
He had his bananas in one hand and a strange, insulted look on his face and I quickly said,
"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"
He didn't say a word. Not one word. Either he was too shocked or just couldn't speak English.
And he's gone. Poor man.
(I mean, it's not like I was mad at him or anything. In my mind, I was actually problem-solving, thinking he'd accidentally picked up the wrong item since our items were being weighed at the same time. Easy mistake. But, it could be that I had that "English Teacher authority" in my voice or something because, he stopped dead in his tracks when I spoke to him. Of course, how often does a Canadian woman walk up to you in the supermarket speaking English in accusing tones? Like: never.)
And I'm feeling like an idiot. Which is not unusual. It's the same way I felt today when the chicken lady was making a chopping motion to me. She was pretending she was mute or something and I'm standing there shaking my head, pretending I'm mute. We're both looking like idiots. I even said something in her language and she ignored me. She was really into the mute thing. So, I got into the motioning too. Waving my hands to shape a perfectly uncut roasted chicken. "Satu." and "Bole." (Meaning, "one" and "can" because in Malaysia, everything is "bole".)
Yes, so as he's walking away and I'm bleary-eyed and blinking at "The List", I finally, FINALLY realized that I'd weighed in my bananas previously. I was the one who hadn't been paying attention. After the rather unpleasant altercation with the Indian man, the scale lady held out the item she had priced for me. Heck, I STILL can't remember what it was.
Saturday, 19 October 2013
Train Travel
The plan was to go to Seremban, meet my Finnish friend, stay overnight then leave the next morning for K.L. to meet up with my Finnish friend's Finnish friend and go shopping at Ikea. That was the plan.
So, I woke up, got ready to go and called my taxi-driver. He said his taxi was rosak (broken). Ok, let's see, I think I have another taxi phone number. Yep. Found it and called. That driver was in Ipoh. Ooooh. Not so easy to get a taxi in Kampar. I could call my friend. Called. He was at work! Ouch. I'll have to walk it outta here.
Walked out to the road and flagged a very, very slow taxi but managed to get to the train station in time for the LRT. Went to buy my ticket.
"The LRT is rosak." WHAT? She said I'd have to take the "old train" which she said will take 4 hours or so...
"I should have taken the bus," I thought out loud. "Ok, I'll take the old train." It was only 20 ringgit and leaving in an hour. But, I was already hungry and really couldn't think of how to get any food. (The little food kiosk was closed as it always is at the train station which means somebody is missing out on a lot of business.)
On board the train, the dining car was the next car beside mine so I went along to find FOOD. I saw a lady order nasi lama, so ordered that. He said, "So sorry, they are sold out." Of course they are. All I could find was a pack of Oreo cookies. Breakfast. (Again, someone is missing out on a lot of business selling food on this train full of captive people who will be here quite a while.)
Well, I got to Seremban and the next morning, my friend and I ate breakfast before heading off to K.L. After we finished our breakfast, we got in the car, and it would not turn over! The battery was DEAD.
No problem, we were able to buy a new battery at the repair shop and were soon on our way to Ikea. It was great! Gotta love those Swedish meatballs! We found reading lamps, looked at curtain material, picked up a few odds and ends and headed to the specialty shop where my Finnish friends could get their berry jam, Finnish chocolate and Finnish sausages.
There was no berry jam, no Finnish chocolate and no Finnish sausages! My friends were disappointed.
On the other hand, I was able to find Organic coffee, to my joy.
I decided to spend another night in Seremban and when my friend dropped me off at the train station after lunch, it was 2:00 pm. I was told that the "old train" was leaving at 2:30. It would go all the way through to Kampar. Hmmm... decisions. Do I go to K.L. and change trains or get the one that goes all the way through?
I bought a ticket on the old train. They told me it could take 5 hours, but I thought they probably were mistaken because I'd taken it before and the trip was only about 4 hours. Boy was I wrong!
Before we arrived in K.L., the train came to a halt. Fifteen minutes later, the chattering around me is heating up. I can tell people are wondering what's going on and what will happen next. Thirty minutes later, we're still sitting there. I pull out my tablet, plug in my ear-phones and listen to soothing music. But, find it hard to concentrate.
There are three races of people on my car. Across from me, two Muslim ladies sit quietly. Beside me, a young Chinese boy is quietly listening to music. and two seats in front of me, an Indian man is doing most of the talking. Nobody is upset. People are smiling and chatting. I'm listening to my music.
An hour later, we are still in the same place. They make an announcement that anyone going to K.L. should get off the train. Everyone else stayed on. It took another hour and we were on our way, slowly.
But, it seemed the train was moving unusually slowly and when it passed Kuala Lumpur, it stopped again! This time, there was an announcement. The boy beside me translated,
"There is a technical problem with the train and it will be moving in about 15 minutes." Not so bad...
Still, I noted that the passengers were quite patient and calm. (Not like you'd see in my country.) Then, the stewards passed around free banana cake and water. I was glad to have some supper.
Well, by the time I arrived at Kampar, it was 10pm! 7 1/2 hours! Phew! By the time my taxi got me to my house, the trip that should have taken 4 hrs had taken 8!
Next time, I'll take the BUS!
So, I woke up, got ready to go and called my taxi-driver. He said his taxi was rosak (broken). Ok, let's see, I think I have another taxi phone number. Yep. Found it and called. That driver was in Ipoh. Ooooh. Not so easy to get a taxi in Kampar. I could call my friend. Called. He was at work! Ouch. I'll have to walk it outta here.
Walked out to the road and flagged a very, very slow taxi but managed to get to the train station in time for the LRT. Went to buy my ticket.
"The LRT is rosak." WHAT? She said I'd have to take the "old train" which she said will take 4 hours or so...
"I should have taken the bus," I thought out loud. "Ok, I'll take the old train." It was only 20 ringgit and leaving in an hour. But, I was already hungry and really couldn't think of how to get any food. (The little food kiosk was closed as it always is at the train station which means somebody is missing out on a lot of business.)
On board the train, the dining car was the next car beside mine so I went along to find FOOD. I saw a lady order nasi lama, so ordered that. He said, "So sorry, they are sold out." Of course they are. All I could find was a pack of Oreo cookies. Breakfast. (Again, someone is missing out on a lot of business selling food on this train full of captive people who will be here quite a while.)
Well, I got to Seremban and the next morning, my friend and I ate breakfast before heading off to K.L. After we finished our breakfast, we got in the car, and it would not turn over! The battery was DEAD.
No problem, we were able to buy a new battery at the repair shop and were soon on our way to Ikea. It was great! Gotta love those Swedish meatballs! We found reading lamps, looked at curtain material, picked up a few odds and ends and headed to the specialty shop where my Finnish friends could get their berry jam, Finnish chocolate and Finnish sausages.
There was no berry jam, no Finnish chocolate and no Finnish sausages! My friends were disappointed.
On the other hand, I was able to find Organic coffee, to my joy.
I decided to spend another night in Seremban and when my friend dropped me off at the train station after lunch, it was 2:00 pm. I was told that the "old train" was leaving at 2:30. It would go all the way through to Kampar. Hmmm... decisions. Do I go to K.L. and change trains or get the one that goes all the way through?
I bought a ticket on the old train. They told me it could take 5 hours, but I thought they probably were mistaken because I'd taken it before and the trip was only about 4 hours. Boy was I wrong!
Before we arrived in K.L., the train came to a halt. Fifteen minutes later, the chattering around me is heating up. I can tell people are wondering what's going on and what will happen next. Thirty minutes later, we're still sitting there. I pull out my tablet, plug in my ear-phones and listen to soothing music. But, find it hard to concentrate.
There are three races of people on my car. Across from me, two Muslim ladies sit quietly. Beside me, a young Chinese boy is quietly listening to music. and two seats in front of me, an Indian man is doing most of the talking. Nobody is upset. People are smiling and chatting. I'm listening to my music.
An hour later, we are still in the same place. They make an announcement that anyone going to K.L. should get off the train. Everyone else stayed on. It took another hour and we were on our way, slowly.
But, it seemed the train was moving unusually slowly and when it passed Kuala Lumpur, it stopped again! This time, there was an announcement. The boy beside me translated,
"There is a technical problem with the train and it will be moving in about 15 minutes." Not so bad...
Still, I noted that the passengers were quite patient and calm. (Not like you'd see in my country.) Then, the stewards passed around free banana cake and water. I was glad to have some supper.
Well, by the time I arrived at Kampar, it was 10pm! 7 1/2 hours! Phew! By the time my taxi got me to my house, the trip that should have taken 4 hrs had taken 8!
Next time, I'll take the BUS!
Sunday, 13 October 2013
Tin Mining
I may have mentioned that Kampar used to be a tin-mining town. In fact, my house is one row of houses away from an old tin-mining pond. I call it a pond. (Need to research this whole subject.) Now, apparently, people who worked the tin would sit in the water ALL DAY LONG. Can you imagine? And what was in that water?
These days, you know, there'd be all kinds of regulations if that were happening in the West. In fact, they probably wouldn't even allow it to happen. So, there were fatalities. I guess some people even drowned in the water. Maybe they fell asleep and just fell in and nobody noticed?
Anyway, there's this huge dent in the ground behind my house where the water used to be sitting. Now it has grass growing over it. And, for some strange reason, I never see anyone go into the park. Maybe a dog or cat, once in a while. It sort of gives me the creeps, actually, thinking about the slavery that went on here.
My house is only a decade old or so, but where my house is used to be the home of tin-miners. It was probably more like a shack. It's doubtful that they had electric fans in those days. We still don't have street lights on the narrow paved road that leads to my street. That road passes by the "water buffalo field", as I like to call it-- especially since my encounter with the angry water buffalo.
Speaking of water buffalo, I looked out my back kitchen window this evening to see a light coloured buffalo sauntering along through the alley! Just taking a quiet walk all by itself. I guess, since it had been raining, it was a little cooler and a nice time for a bit of a jaunt through the neighbourhood. Funny things. I just don't enjoy coming on them unawares!
The other day, a dozen of them decided to take a walk in the middle of the road, back and forth and wherever they pleased, nibbling here and there on the roadside growth. And the cars were stopping and waiting for them to GET OUT OF THE WAY. MOVE! And driving around them (carefully) so as not to get a horn in the windshield. Never in Canada. (Well, we have unruly moose, it's true.)
Then, you have the "meadow muffins" left plentifully by the well-fed cattle. These things grow like wildfire. After a couple of days, you get a whole garden in a muffin because I guess all the seeds are in whatever the buffalo eat.
And, when they move on, the grass is evenly trimmed. Yep, we have free gardening here in Kampar. Maybe I should open my gate once in a while and let the buffalo weed-whackers at my mess of weeds. I usually just pull it up by hand myself. Thorny stuff.
These days, you know, there'd be all kinds of regulations if that were happening in the West. In fact, they probably wouldn't even allow it to happen. So, there were fatalities. I guess some people even drowned in the water. Maybe they fell asleep and just fell in and nobody noticed?
Anyway, there's this huge dent in the ground behind my house where the water used to be sitting. Now it has grass growing over it. And, for some strange reason, I never see anyone go into the park. Maybe a dog or cat, once in a while. It sort of gives me the creeps, actually, thinking about the slavery that went on here.
My house is only a decade old or so, but where my house is used to be the home of tin-miners. It was probably more like a shack. It's doubtful that they had electric fans in those days. We still don't have street lights on the narrow paved road that leads to my street. That road passes by the "water buffalo field", as I like to call it-- especially since my encounter with the angry water buffalo.
Speaking of water buffalo, I looked out my back kitchen window this evening to see a light coloured buffalo sauntering along through the alley! Just taking a quiet walk all by itself. I guess, since it had been raining, it was a little cooler and a nice time for a bit of a jaunt through the neighbourhood. Funny things. I just don't enjoy coming on them unawares!
The other day, a dozen of them decided to take a walk in the middle of the road, back and forth and wherever they pleased, nibbling here and there on the roadside growth. And the cars were stopping and waiting for them to GET OUT OF THE WAY. MOVE! And driving around them (carefully) so as not to get a horn in the windshield. Never in Canada. (Well, we have unruly moose, it's true.)
Then, you have the "meadow muffins" left plentifully by the well-fed cattle. These things grow like wildfire. After a couple of days, you get a whole garden in a muffin because I guess all the seeds are in whatever the buffalo eat.
And, when they move on, the grass is evenly trimmed. Yep, we have free gardening here in Kampar. Maybe I should open my gate once in a while and let the buffalo weed-whackers at my mess of weeds. I usually just pull it up by hand myself. Thorny stuff.
Saturday, 5 October 2013
MSG Epidemic
Ok, I understand that MSG is not a disease. But, if it were, it would be a fatal disease. It's EVERYWHERE.
For example, I decided one area I could eliminate MSG was in my regular use of coffee creamer. Everyone knows that coffee creamer has MSG in it, as well as a lot of other chemicals that are probably just as bad. But, I wanted to zero in on the one that I am focusing on at the moment.
So, what did I do? I went out and bought some milk to put in my coffee, of course. Nice, natural, whole milk. I got the "Dutch Lady" one in the blue box that says "full cream" and "susu penuh krim berkhasiat". You know the one. On the front it also says: "Protein, Kalsium, Vitamin A, Vitamin B2". (Why only B2?)
Anyway, it tastes pretty good. NOT as good as Coffee Mate, but, I figured I was doing myself a huge favour by avoiding all the MSG in the creamer, right?
WRONG.
It suddenly popped into my mind that I should probably read the ingredients in the milk, just to make sure there is no msg in it.
Here are the ingredients: Milk solids non fat, milk fat, calcium and vitamins (A, D3, B2). Contains permitted stabilizer (of plant origin). THERE IT IS. HIDING OUT RIGHT AT THE BOTTOM. "PERMITTED STABILIZER (OF PLANT ORIGIN). That's a fancy way of saying "Mono-sodium Glutamate", in case you didn't know. Or, angino moto in Japanese and sorry but I can't spell in Japanese.
Yes, folks, IT'S EVERYWHERE! Even in your MILK!
For example, I decided one area I could eliminate MSG was in my regular use of coffee creamer. Everyone knows that coffee creamer has MSG in it, as well as a lot of other chemicals that are probably just as bad. But, I wanted to zero in on the one that I am focusing on at the moment.
So, what did I do? I went out and bought some milk to put in my coffee, of course. Nice, natural, whole milk. I got the "Dutch Lady" one in the blue box that says "full cream" and "susu penuh krim berkhasiat". You know the one. On the front it also says: "Protein, Kalsium, Vitamin A, Vitamin B2". (Why only B2?)
Anyway, it tastes pretty good. NOT as good as Coffee Mate, but, I figured I was doing myself a huge favour by avoiding all the MSG in the creamer, right?
WRONG.
It suddenly popped into my mind that I should probably read the ingredients in the milk, just to make sure there is no msg in it.
Here are the ingredients: Milk solids non fat, milk fat, calcium and vitamins (A, D3, B2). Contains permitted stabilizer (of plant origin). THERE IT IS. HIDING OUT RIGHT AT THE BOTTOM. "PERMITTED STABILIZER (OF PLANT ORIGIN). That's a fancy way of saying "Mono-sodium Glutamate", in case you didn't know. Or, angino moto in Japanese and sorry but I can't spell in Japanese.
Yes, folks, IT'S EVERYWHERE! Even in your MILK!
Monday, 23 September 2013
News Flash!
I have to admit, this news flash is actually just gossip that has been passed onto me. Nevertheless, I believe it's true.
After a friend of a friend was held at gun point and robbed of her jewelry and money, the burglaries started to hit closer to home. Our friend was just seeing her husband out of the gate and as his car drove away, the burglars managed to slip into her yard before the gate fully closed. They came into her home, wielding "parongs" (what I would call machettes) and a gun!
Imagine her shock. She had a serious medical condition and so was already in a weakened state before they arrived. They aimed their gun at the dog, threatening to kill it and she pleaded for its life. Whether she fell on the floor or was pushed, I haven't ascertained, but she was on the floor and couldn't get herself up. The bandits locked her maid into her bedroom. (The maid took advantage of the situation to call our friend's husband, who turned his car around and headed home. Although too late to catch the robbers, he at least helped his wife.)
Now, these men had been making the rounds in that particular neighbourhood where other of my friends happen to live, so we had prayer against this inroad of the enemy!
A while later, the Police chased down the robbers in their car! They even managed to shoot one of the men without killing him and discovered that the team is from South America!
It seems their looting has come to an end, at least in my friends' neighbourhood! We can all breathe a sigh of relief. (I include myself in this, since I stay at the house of friends' in that neighbourhood overnight once per week.) Many of the yards have low walls or walls that are easily penetrable. The guard house has been out of commission for years and it seems the local Police don't even know how to find their way around the area!
Still, we are very grateful to the Seremban Police for a job well-done! THANKS GUYS! You deserve a doughnut. Or, at least a Papa Roti or something...
I guess it just goes to show me that there is a time and a place for weapons, although I hate to admit it.
After a friend of a friend was held at gun point and robbed of her jewelry and money, the burglaries started to hit closer to home. Our friend was just seeing her husband out of the gate and as his car drove away, the burglars managed to slip into her yard before the gate fully closed. They came into her home, wielding "parongs" (what I would call machettes) and a gun!
Imagine her shock. She had a serious medical condition and so was already in a weakened state before they arrived. They aimed their gun at the dog, threatening to kill it and she pleaded for its life. Whether she fell on the floor or was pushed, I haven't ascertained, but she was on the floor and couldn't get herself up. The bandits locked her maid into her bedroom. (The maid took advantage of the situation to call our friend's husband, who turned his car around and headed home. Although too late to catch the robbers, he at least helped his wife.)
Now, these men had been making the rounds in that particular neighbourhood where other of my friends happen to live, so we had prayer against this inroad of the enemy!
A while later, the Police chased down the robbers in their car! They even managed to shoot one of the men without killing him and discovered that the team is from South America!
It seems their looting has come to an end, at least in my friends' neighbourhood! We can all breathe a sigh of relief. (I include myself in this, since I stay at the house of friends' in that neighbourhood overnight once per week.) Many of the yards have low walls or walls that are easily penetrable. The guard house has been out of commission for years and it seems the local Police don't even know how to find their way around the area!
Still, we are very grateful to the Seremban Police for a job well-done! THANKS GUYS! You deserve a doughnut. Or, at least a Papa Roti or something...
I guess it just goes to show me that there is a time and a place for weapons, although I hate to admit it.
Wednesday, 11 September 2013
Twisted Taxi!
So... here I am, free and clear of Immigrations with a three-month stamp in my passport. Light as air. Still, I had to look, just to make sure. ...Yep, 90 days from date of arrival. Good to go.
I decided to buy a ticket for the taxi so I could get the budget price and went outside to find one. I was directed to a car across the traffic island and got in. The young driver asked where I was going and I told him. He wanted to make sure how to get there, so he got out to talk to another driver.
"Better safe than sorry," I thought, even though I could tell him the directions once we were in S2. (Seremban 2).
After a quiet ride (which meant he could not speak any English), we arrived in Seremban. But, instead of U-turning into S2, this guy passed into Seremban 1 and, before I could stop him, headed off the road to a TOLL BOOTH!
"What are you doing? Don't go there! Don't! Stop!"
Did he stop? Nope. He went right out to the toll booth and PAID THE TOLL, heading to Port Dixon or who-knows-where-else!!
"Why you sleep?" he accused me.
What? I said, "Ok, you have to turn around. Get off the road as soon as you can and turn around." So, he did. But, this time we entered Seremban from the other side and I completely lost my bearings. I was trying to read the signs to direct him, but before I knew it, he had gone off the road AGAIN.
"Wait. Wait. What are you doing? Where are you going?"
He was driving without listening and apparently wasn't able to read the signs. I said,
"Jusco. You know Jusco?"
"Ah, Jusco. I know Jusco. Why you not tell me Jusco first time?"
I'm thinking, "Phew, he knows where Jusco is. We're home clear." But, he headed off in another direction, again, trying to go to Port Dixon!
I leaned into the front seat and said,
"See that sign? It says Seremban. Seremban is back that way," pointing behind us, "Make a U-turn, now. You know U-turn?"
He looked like he was falling off a cliff. But, he pulled into the right lane, so I was hopeful. Then, he drove off to a road leading off to the left without making a U-turn. That was it for me.
"STOP. STOP THE CAR." I said. And I jumped out.
So, there I was standing at an intersection somewhere in Seremban 3, in the middle of the night. There was little traffic and no taxis seemed to be passing by. I was too fuming and frustrated to care. My friends were waiting for me and I couldn't just sit in that guy's taxi all night. He would have ended up taking me to the coast or God-knows-where, round and round in circles
and I wouldn't have been able to explain to him how to get back.
So, there I stood. Then I started walking. Then a motorcycle pulled up.
He asked if I needed help and whether he could help me and I said he could and instinctively got on the back of his motor bike. (After using motorcycle taxis in Cambodia, it seemed like the natural thing to do.) He seemed a bit surprised and said I had no helmet but that he could take me to S2 anyway. So, he did. Friendly chap.
He let me off at the taxi stand at Jusco and I got the last taxi that was there. He took me to my friends' house, finally. Bless his heart. (I even gave him a tip, which is very uncharacteristic of me.)
My friend in Seremban 2 welcomed me back to Malaysia and then said, "Good-night."
I decided to buy a ticket for the taxi so I could get the budget price and went outside to find one. I was directed to a car across the traffic island and got in. The young driver asked where I was going and I told him. He wanted to make sure how to get there, so he got out to talk to another driver.
"Better safe than sorry," I thought, even though I could tell him the directions once we were in S2. (Seremban 2).
After a quiet ride (which meant he could not speak any English), we arrived in Seremban. But, instead of U-turning into S2, this guy passed into Seremban 1 and, before I could stop him, headed off the road to a TOLL BOOTH!
"What are you doing? Don't go there! Don't! Stop!"
Did he stop? Nope. He went right out to the toll booth and PAID THE TOLL, heading to Port Dixon or who-knows-where-else!!
"Why you sleep?" he accused me.
What? I said, "Ok, you have to turn around. Get off the road as soon as you can and turn around." So, he did. But, this time we entered Seremban from the other side and I completely lost my bearings. I was trying to read the signs to direct him, but before I knew it, he had gone off the road AGAIN.
"Wait. Wait. What are you doing? Where are you going?"
He was driving without listening and apparently wasn't able to read the signs. I said,
"Jusco. You know Jusco?"
"Ah, Jusco. I know Jusco. Why you not tell me Jusco first time?"
I'm thinking, "Phew, he knows where Jusco is. We're home clear." But, he headed off in another direction, again, trying to go to Port Dixon!
I leaned into the front seat and said,
"See that sign? It says Seremban. Seremban is back that way," pointing behind us, "Make a U-turn, now. You know U-turn?"
He looked like he was falling off a cliff. But, he pulled into the right lane, so I was hopeful. Then, he drove off to a road leading off to the left without making a U-turn. That was it for me.
"STOP. STOP THE CAR." I said. And I jumped out.
So, there I was standing at an intersection somewhere in Seremban 3, in the middle of the night. There was little traffic and no taxis seemed to be passing by. I was too fuming and frustrated to care. My friends were waiting for me and I couldn't just sit in that guy's taxi all night. He would have ended up taking me to the coast or God-knows-where, round and round in circles
So, there I stood. Then I started walking. Then a motorcycle pulled up.
He asked if I needed help and whether he could help me and I said he could and instinctively got on the back of his motor bike. (After using motorcycle taxis in Cambodia, it seemed like the natural thing to do.) He seemed a bit surprised and said I had no helmet but that he could take me to S2 anyway. So, he did. Friendly chap.
He let me off at the taxi stand at Jusco and I got the last taxi that was there. He took me to my friends' house, finally. Bless his heart. (I even gave him a tip, which is very uncharacteristic of me.)
My friend in Seremban 2 welcomed me back to Malaysia and then said, "Good-night."
Monday, 9 September 2013
Sunday, 8 September 2013
Singapore's Changi Airport! Wow!
Time for a visa chop! Yay! (Not my favourite time.)
Now, why should a Westerner, such as myself, feel uncomfortable, annoyed or even stressed out over a simple visa trip? Shouldn't we enjoy the change of visiting another country and re-entering Malaysia, being greeted by welcoming and friendly immigrations officers? Shouldn't it be something to look forward to?
After all, countries like Cambodia, Indonesia and Thailand welcome us for as long as we want without question. Pay the visa fee. Welcome! Welcome! Come and stay as long as you like.
I'm not selling guns or drugs. I'm not smuggling. Or kidnapping people. I don't even have the strength to be any kind of a threat.
So, why do they hate me?
Ah, yes another visa trip. We pray the next one will be less painful than the last. This time, I decided to fly to Singapore, rather than do the ride-the-bus-all-day-for-two-days thing. Granted, it is a little more expensive. But, you know, sometimes, that extra comfort is worth a little more. Don't you think so? Less stress...
Just a joke.
First, I had to take a three-hour bus trip into K.L. (Kuala Lumpur) before boarding the airport bus at the terminal. But, when I went to buy the airport bus ticket, the girl behind the glass insisted that I absolutely did not have time to take the airport bus from that terminal because I needed to be at the airport two hours in advance. (Take heed, all you would-be-fliers to Sing.)
She sent me out to hail a taxi to K.L. Central, but as I got in the taxi, we were at a stand-still in a jam. Right about then is when I started to feel like I was going to have a heart attack. Talk about stress. The friendly taxi driver offered to take me directly to the airport.
"But," I lamented, "You're going to charge me 100 ringgit and I can't afford it."
"No!" he said. "I only charge you 75."
"Still too much," I said.
But, the wheels are going around. (At least the wheels in my head, not the ones on the cars!) And I'm thinking, Yeesh, I'm going to be out a lot more than 75 ringgit if I miss that carnsorn plane.
When I realized we were going nowhere fast, I finally accepted his offer. He went on to praise himself for how fast he could get me there. To which I replied (like the seasoned travel veteran I am)
"Hao le."
Well, true to his word, he got me there an hour later and I had an hour and thirty-five minutes to spare. I found my way to "Air Asia" and waited in the snail pace line. When I finally got served, the polite young man said,
"I'm afraid I have to inform you that you have over-stayed your visa by five days."
What?
They ushered me into "the back room". I just love back rooms. Not. And told me to take a seat among a group of other people who were standing.
"Fill the form."
Form Question: Why did you over-stay your visa?
My writing: I counted the days wrong. (Seriously, could there possibly BE another reason?)
I sat there thinking this minor infraction was going to empty my entire bank account and wondering whether I even had enough money to pay the fines for five whole days.
But, the man handed me back my passport after writing something in it in his language and began to speak. He had a vacant look on his face even while looking into my eyes the whole time.
"You have applied for a visa several times in Malaysia and have been refused. You will most likely not be allowed back into Malaysia and if you are refused entry into Singapore, we will only be able to give you a one-week pass."
Of course I tried to argue that I'd been in Cambodia for a whole month, but then I realized, he was just quoting what he was taught and had not the least interest in anything I had to say. I was so surprised that he didn't issue a fine that I went on my way light-heartedly to queue up yet again.
Arriving in Singapore airport, the first thing that hit me in the eye (after using the WC) was a chocolate shop! Wow! Chocolates from all over the world. I dared not go in.
Wandering around, you come across interesting sights like the kinetic waterfall sculpture. It's thousands of copper rain-drops that fall in patterns on perpendicular lines from the ceiling. Very soothing and entertaining.
Then, of course, there's the "Burger King" with its outrageous prices. (For those of us who are used to Malaysian prices, paying three-times the usual price feels like a gouge. Especially when your onion rings are stale.)
Changi has a swimming pool and sauna up on their roof! And you can swim for free. Once you're finished, try the huge high-speed slide. Then take a walk in the cactus garden. Fun.
Legs tired? Get a free mechanical massage in one of their massage chairs. Want to smell pretty? Try on some perfume. I love Channel. Although, I'm not sure which one it was, exactly.
Four hours later, I'm back on the plane and totally exhausted. Having your body transported around seems to wear it out, for some reason.
As we were landing, an idea came to mind. I thought,
"I can walk faster than all these people even if I get off the plane last. So, I'm going to get myself to the front of the line at Immigrations."
(Why haven't I ever thought of this before? I have always lagged behind, milling slowly with the rest of the herd like cows to the slaughter, when I could have just moved a little more quickly.)
So I charged ahead of hundreds of people until I was up at the front, catching up to a lone speeder who apparently had gotten off the same plane. I followed his lead past four "No Entry" doors into "International Arrivals" and into "Immigrations" which was totally and completely void of people! In fact, he was the only one who went all the way to the front and up to the counter. I followed.
When I arrived at the white line, an elderly man said,
"Go."
I looked at him with a little amused grin and said,
"Go, la?" to which he nodded. It was a little funny. The only two people in the entire Immigrations.
I went to the counter, smiling and asked the young attendant,
"How are you?" He also seemed amused and smiled.
Then came the passport perusal. I watched as his eyes scanned the hundreds of stamps and stuck in visa extensions, holding my breath and not breathing one single word. After thirty seconds of suspense, he lifted his friendly hand and stamped a three-month visa into my passport.
And I smiled even bigger.
Now, why should a Westerner, such as myself, feel uncomfortable, annoyed or even stressed out over a simple visa trip? Shouldn't we enjoy the change of visiting another country and re-entering Malaysia, being greeted by welcoming and friendly immigrations officers? Shouldn't it be something to look forward to?
After all, countries like Cambodia, Indonesia and Thailand welcome us for as long as we want without question. Pay the visa fee. Welcome! Welcome! Come and stay as long as you like.
I'm not selling guns or drugs. I'm not smuggling. Or kidnapping people. I don't even have the strength to be any kind of a threat.
So, why do they hate me?
Ah, yes another visa trip. We pray the next one will be less painful than the last. This time, I decided to fly to Singapore, rather than do the ride-the-bus-all-day-for-two-days thing. Granted, it is a little more expensive. But, you know, sometimes, that extra comfort is worth a little more. Don't you think so? Less stress...
Just a joke.
First, I had to take a three-hour bus trip into K.L. (Kuala Lumpur) before boarding the airport bus at the terminal. But, when I went to buy the airport bus ticket, the girl behind the glass insisted that I absolutely did not have time to take the airport bus from that terminal because I needed to be at the airport two hours in advance. (Take heed, all you would-be-fliers to Sing.)
She sent me out to hail a taxi to K.L. Central, but as I got in the taxi, we were at a stand-still in a jam. Right about then is when I started to feel like I was going to have a heart attack. Talk about stress. The friendly taxi driver offered to take me directly to the airport.
"But," I lamented, "You're going to charge me 100 ringgit and I can't afford it."
"No!" he said. "I only charge you 75."
"Still too much," I said.
But, the wheels are going around. (At least the wheels in my head, not the ones on the cars!) And I'm thinking, Yeesh, I'm going to be out a lot more than 75 ringgit if I miss that carnsorn plane.
When I realized we were going nowhere fast, I finally accepted his offer. He went on to praise himself for how fast he could get me there. To which I replied (like the seasoned travel veteran I am)
"Hao le."
Well, true to his word, he got me there an hour later and I had an hour and thirty-five minutes to spare. I found my way to "Air Asia" and waited in the snail pace line. When I finally got served, the polite young man said,
"I'm afraid I have to inform you that you have over-stayed your visa by five days."
What?
They ushered me into "the back room". I just love back rooms. Not. And told me to take a seat among a group of other people who were standing.
"Fill the form."
Form Question: Why did you over-stay your visa?
My writing: I counted the days wrong. (Seriously, could there possibly BE another reason?)
I sat there thinking this minor infraction was going to empty my entire bank account and wondering whether I even had enough money to pay the fines for five whole days.
But, the man handed me back my passport after writing something in it in his language and began to speak. He had a vacant look on his face even while looking into my eyes the whole time.
"You have applied for a visa several times in Malaysia and have been refused. You will most likely not be allowed back into Malaysia and if you are refused entry into Singapore, we will only be able to give you a one-week pass."
Of course I tried to argue that I'd been in Cambodia for a whole month, but then I realized, he was just quoting what he was taught and had not the least interest in anything I had to say. I was so surprised that he didn't issue a fine that I went on my way light-heartedly to queue up yet again.
Arriving in Singapore airport, the first thing that hit me in the eye (after using the WC) was a chocolate shop! Wow! Chocolates from all over the world. I dared not go in.
Wandering around, you come across interesting sights like the kinetic waterfall sculpture. It's thousands of copper rain-drops that fall in patterns on perpendicular lines from the ceiling. Very soothing and entertaining.
Then, of course, there's the "Burger King" with its outrageous prices. (For those of us who are used to Malaysian prices, paying three-times the usual price feels like a gouge. Especially when your onion rings are stale.)
Changi has a swimming pool and sauna up on their roof! And you can swim for free. Once you're finished, try the huge high-speed slide. Then take a walk in the cactus garden. Fun.
Legs tired? Get a free mechanical massage in one of their massage chairs. Want to smell pretty? Try on some perfume. I love Channel. Although, I'm not sure which one it was, exactly.
Four hours later, I'm back on the plane and totally exhausted. Having your body transported around seems to wear it out, for some reason.
As we were landing, an idea came to mind. I thought,
"I can walk faster than all these people even if I get off the plane last. So, I'm going to get myself to the front of the line at Immigrations."
(Why haven't I ever thought of this before? I have always lagged behind, milling slowly with the rest of the herd like cows to the slaughter, when I could have just moved a little more quickly.)
So I charged ahead of hundreds of people until I was up at the front, catching up to a lone speeder who apparently had gotten off the same plane. I followed his lead past four "No Entry" doors into "International Arrivals" and into "Immigrations" which was totally and completely void of people! In fact, he was the only one who went all the way to the front and up to the counter. I followed.
When I arrived at the white line, an elderly man said,
"Go."
I looked at him with a little amused grin and said,
"Go, la?" to which he nodded. It was a little funny. The only two people in the entire Immigrations.
I went to the counter, smiling and asked the young attendant,
"How are you?" He also seemed amused and smiled.
Then came the passport perusal. I watched as his eyes scanned the hundreds of stamps and stuck in visa extensions, holding my breath and not breathing one single word. After thirty seconds of suspense, he lifted his friendly hand and stamped a three-month visa into my passport.
And I smiled even bigger.
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
Petrol Prices and Break-Ins
Does the hike in petrol pricing explain the reason for a rash of recent break-ins in Seremban and Kuala Lumpur?
According to a friend of mine, the petrol hike is the reason for all of Malaysia's woes and worries today!
"The sky is falling, people!"
Well, what's done is done. And what goes up, stays up. And it will never come down again. I'm talking about food prices, now. Yes, that dried milk you must buy to keep your baby alive is going to sky-rocket. That bag of rice is going to cost you an arm and a leg. And possibly a few fingers.
But, please, good people, don't let it drive you to burglary!
For all of us "sitting ducks" with our useless security bars and less than useless Police back-up, what to do? The latest B&E criminals are brandishing parongs and guns. Talk about a total lack of respect. They've got us on the run. In fact, they just walk up to your door and demand entry.
And the residents let them in!
There was one elderly lady who had been keep all her savings in her house because she didn't put any trust in the banks. She lost it all to these masked marauders!
What they do is, they wear a ski mask or something black that covers their entire head and face with only a slit for the eyes. And they talk in one word sentences, like,
"Money." And, "Go."
That makes it very difficult to identify their nationality or identity. And, the fact that they're doing rich neighbourhoods and getting away with it "Scott free", is more-than-likely a great encouragement for them to keep doing what they're doing. Wouldn't you say?
So, it's time to take a stand against this inroad of the enemy! And, what's my bright idea?
Let's see: pepper spray?
I suggest setting up alarm systems to at least allow for an early warning. A buzzer of some type can be set up inside the house where you can hear it when it's triggered. From the buzzer, a thin, barely visible line can run across the yard in the path of would-be intruders so that it is tripped when a foot pulls on it.
Don't allow fear to be your master.
A loud alarm system installed inside so that if a bar or window is touched, it will go off, will deter most robbers. Once the alarm goes off, all the lights inside and outside of the house should go on immediately.
I've also heard that rubber bullets really sting! Without killing anyone.
Another option is to assemble a night watch team to patrol the neighbourhood. Those guys in the guard boxes are anything but guards. In fact, more often than not, they're the ones cuing the intruders!
The price of petrol is up. Whether or not it stays up, the cost of living will. Survival is the name of the game. Both on the home front and on the financial front.
So, hang in there, Malaysia.
According to a friend of mine, the petrol hike is the reason for all of Malaysia's woes and worries today!
"The sky is falling, people!"
Well, what's done is done. And what goes up, stays up. And it will never come down again. I'm talking about food prices, now. Yes, that dried milk you must buy to keep your baby alive is going to sky-rocket. That bag of rice is going to cost you an arm and a leg. And possibly a few fingers.
But, please, good people, don't let it drive you to burglary!
For all of us "sitting ducks" with our useless security bars and less than useless Police back-up, what to do? The latest B&E criminals are brandishing parongs and guns. Talk about a total lack of respect. They've got us on the run. In fact, they just walk up to your door and demand entry.
And the residents let them in!
There was one elderly lady who had been keep all her savings in her house because she didn't put any trust in the banks. She lost it all to these masked marauders!
What they do is, they wear a ski mask or something black that covers their entire head and face with only a slit for the eyes. And they talk in one word sentences, like,
"Money." And, "Go."
That makes it very difficult to identify their nationality or identity. And, the fact that they're doing rich neighbourhoods and getting away with it "Scott free", is more-than-likely a great encouragement for them to keep doing what they're doing. Wouldn't you say?
So, it's time to take a stand against this inroad of the enemy! And, what's my bright idea?
Let's see: pepper spray?
I suggest setting up alarm systems to at least allow for an early warning. A buzzer of some type can be set up inside the house where you can hear it when it's triggered. From the buzzer, a thin, barely visible line can run across the yard in the path of would-be intruders so that it is tripped when a foot pulls on it.
Don't allow fear to be your master.
A loud alarm system installed inside so that if a bar or window is touched, it will go off, will deter most robbers. Once the alarm goes off, all the lights inside and outside of the house should go on immediately.
I've also heard that rubber bullets really sting! Without killing anyone.
Another option is to assemble a night watch team to patrol the neighbourhood. Those guys in the guard boxes are anything but guards. In fact, more often than not, they're the ones cuing the intruders!
The price of petrol is up. Whether or not it stays up, the cost of living will. Survival is the name of the game. Both on the home front and on the financial front.
So, hang in there, Malaysia.
Wednesday, 14 August 2013
Yes! We Have Some Bananas!
Banana trees are prolific here. In fact, they grow wild. They have a tuber root, like grass has. So they just keep on reproducing and covering an area. Then, quickly they start to produce fruit. That's another reason why I love banana trees - bananas! They are a happy fruit. They pick you up and fill you up and supply stuff like zinc. Of course, as we know, they're especially good for men's health.
Go, bananas! Go! My son even started planting baby banana trees to have his very own crop of this lovely non-fruit. Well, is it a fruit? Or is it a vegetable? Hmmm....
My friend was mentioning her experience with the avocados that grow on her tree. She said that she and her
husband spent a great deal of time and effort taping bags around each of the avocados so that they would ripen protected against the bugs.
The next morning, they went out to see whether the bags had survived the night and all the avocados were GONE. Somebody or some bodies had come along and picked them all!
So, that's why she has decided not to bother covering her avocados this year.
Yes, you can eat the fruit right off the trees here. And, they do. Although, I call that stealing. Unless the tree is on common ground and not in your neighbour's yard, you should be careful about who's tree to plunder.
Friday, 9 August 2013
Hari Raya Traffic Accident
I had bought a train ticket to K.L. and my usual taxi driver was navigating us through the horrendous traffic jam down the main street toward the train station. Cars were coming and going on the roughly paved single-lane village road. I'd never seen so much traffic in Kampar. But, of course, it was the first day of Hari Raya.
People were coming into town, passing through town and leaving town to get to wherever their home town was. Kampar roads were not built with Hari Raya in mind.
So, as the traffic opened up, my taxi driver eased his way into the passing lane and excellerated. I said, "All this traffic! I'm so glad I don't have a car."
"Glad?" he asked.
"Yes, I don't like to drive. I don't even like to watch other people drive. It's so annoying when someone pulls out in front of you and cuts you off, things like that."
The words were barely out of my mouth, when suddenly, Hong slammed on his brakes as we slammed into a motorcycle! For once, I didn't have my seat-belt on, but I braced myself and kept my eyes glued on the dislodged biker who was sliding along the ground in front of my door.
As the car stopped, I got out and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the motorcyclist stood up. He had a strange look on his face. It was a mixture of pain, shock and Westerner fascination. I touched his arm and asked him if he was "ok". He understood that word and smiled.
When he went to pick up his motorcycle, it was jammed under the bumper of Hong's car. So Hong moved the car back. The motorcycle went right along with it! It was stuck good. So, we pulled it out, crunching and crumbling parts of the plastic like Corn Flakes that scattered over the road.
As we gathered at the side of the road, I realized this young man had been carrying two heavy gas cylinders on his motorcycle. That's why he didn't go flying off into space when we hit him. Instead, the bike's weight caused it to stick close to the ground and jam under the car as we made the connection. His injuries were a grazed elbow and a gouge in his ankle.
I pulled out a Bandaid and handed it to him. He stuck it on his elbow, poor fellow.
By now, I was late for the train and it seemed my ticket would be worthless. Still, when another taxi offered to take me to the station, I went, hoping for the best. Although we were ten minutes late, so was the train.
Less than one second after I passed through the wicked and stepped onto the platform, the train pulled into the station.
People were coming into town, passing through town and leaving town to get to wherever their home town was. Kampar roads were not built with Hari Raya in mind.
So, as the traffic opened up, my taxi driver eased his way into the passing lane and excellerated. I said, "All this traffic! I'm so glad I don't have a car."
"Glad?" he asked.
"Yes, I don't like to drive. I don't even like to watch other people drive. It's so annoying when someone pulls out in front of you and cuts you off, things like that."
The words were barely out of my mouth, when suddenly, Hong slammed on his brakes as we slammed into a motorcycle! For once, I didn't have my seat-belt on, but I braced myself and kept my eyes glued on the dislodged biker who was sliding along the ground in front of my door.
As the car stopped, I got out and breathed a sigh of relief to see that the motorcyclist stood up. He had a strange look on his face. It was a mixture of pain, shock and Westerner fascination. I touched his arm and asked him if he was "ok". He understood that word and smiled.
When he went to pick up his motorcycle, it was jammed under the bumper of Hong's car. So Hong moved the car back. The motorcycle went right along with it! It was stuck good. So, we pulled it out, crunching and crumbling parts of the plastic like Corn Flakes that scattered over the road.
As we gathered at the side of the road, I realized this young man had been carrying two heavy gas cylinders on his motorcycle. That's why he didn't go flying off into space when we hit him. Instead, the bike's weight caused it to stick close to the ground and jam under the car as we made the connection. His injuries were a grazed elbow and a gouge in his ankle.
I pulled out a Bandaid and handed it to him. He stuck it on his elbow, poor fellow.
By now, I was late for the train and it seemed my ticket would be worthless. Still, when another taxi offered to take me to the station, I went, hoping for the best. Although we were ten minutes late, so was the train.
Less than one second after I passed through the wicked and stepped onto the platform, the train pulled into the station.
Sarawak Chinese Rice
When I got off my bike, I accidentally knocked over another bike so that it was leaning towards me from a higher sidewalk and left me struggling with two bikes. And, looking like an uncoordinated spastic. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get that cawnsorn bike to stand up on its stand.
The next thing I knew, a spry young lady jumped up to help me saying,
"I can help you! This is my bike."
"Oh! I'm sorry!" I apologized. But, she wouldn't let me apologize. Instead, she apologized to me that her bike stand was broken. So humble.
I asked her what her name was and we introduced each other. She is Jerry from Sabah.
"Sabah! I went to Borneo," I said, "I went to the longhouses in Capit."
She was all happy about that. In fact, this energetic bundle just never stopped smiling. It was contagious. Two of her friends popped up momentarily. They were off to a restaurant and invited me to come along. So I did.
We went to a very inexpensive place filled with young people eating platefuls of various student-type food. It was quite edible. When Jerry ordered Sarawak Chinese rice, I followed suit. I even ate the fishball soup which was not bad at all.
More young ladies joined us and in the end, there were eight of us, speaking three languages. We had a good old time, ate up our rice and moved on to "Each a Cup" where sate was ordered. But I was full.
"Wo baol la." I said. My attempt at Chinese made them laugh heartily and repeat my words to show they understood. I was pleased to try out a few rusty, dusty phrases I'd learned back in China.
Jerry and me
After a few hours of giggles and grins, I headed home to pack for my trip to Seremban the following day. Little did I realize that the next day, I would be in my very first car accident! To be continued . . .
Monday, 5 August 2013
The Door Knob Fiasco
Here, in Malaysia, the bedrooms usually have a button on the inside of the doorknobs that lock when you press it in. And, in most cases, there is no key supplied for these doors. (You can lock yourself in and the door will open again when twisted from the inside.) I discovered the hard way, while living in Seremban, that when you accidentally push the button in, you can lock yourself out. It took a friend over an hour to get the doorknobs off my bedroom door so that I could finally get in.
Here, in Kampar the other day, my bedroom door closed, as it often does. Only, this time, when I went to open it, it wouldn't open. I twisted the knob several times and then unscrewed a bit of the cuff of it to fiddle with the insides a bit. It was super complicated. Forget it.
So, I started trying to slide things between the door frame and the door to push the tongue out of the hole. I was grabbing pieces of plastic, DVD's, pieces of slick cardboard. I even got them to pass the place where it seemed the tongue was inside of the gap in the door, but the door still would not open.
At length, a friend came by and had a look. He twisted the knob all around and announced,
"Look, it's not locked. If it were locked, you couldn't move the knob all the way around."
Yeesh. I didn't want to believe that. So, we went out to look for a key-maker. However, the shops were closed for such things. When I came back, I was firmly decided on what to do.
I would drill my way back into my bedroom! So, I got out my son's electric drill and started in on it. It was late at night, so, not wanting to keep the kids next door awake, I decided to postpone it until the morrow.
Next morning, bright and early I started drilling! I'd never held a drill in my hand before and it gave me a feeling of power. Not much power, mind you, but some. At first all I could get was a little hole, so I switched bits for a larger one. Then, it broke off when I pulled it sideways.
Lesson number one: You can only drill in one direction at a time!
The door was almost as thick as the bit was long. And what a lot of wood came out! Sawdust started flying everywhere. I took a break after an hour. My hands were getting a bit stiff already.
When I went back at it, another bit broke. I started feeling intense about the operation, seeing the hole getting bigger and bigger. I started saying things like,
"Have at 'er!" and "Let's get 'er done!"
The sawdust was piling up. So were the tools at my feet: a file, hammer, pliers, wrench, and a box full of bits, etc. I was determined to get through that door. Everything important to me in the whole world was behind that door! There was my Passport, for one thing; all my money, clothing, shoes, bank cards, mobile phone and ID.
After 3 1/2 hours, I finally made a hole big enough for my hand to fit through! I turned the knob!
The door wouldn't open! My friend was right! It wasn't locked. But, man, was it jammed. I could see my cell phone sitting on the bed and my wallet teasingly close, but I could not touch them. More determined than ever, I continued to drill, in spite of the growing ache in my back and the open cuts developing on my fingers. I knocked the knobs out with the hammer and they fell on the floor. Still the door would not open.
Holy cow. Who makes door knobs like this? Come on.
After a while, I bared enough wood between the frame and the plate that held the tongue so that the plate fell off, finally releasing the tongue. The door opened. Victory. I got my life back.
By now, there was sawdust everywhere. It was in my hair, up my nose, all over my face and neck and spread thinly over the living room furniture.
My door looked like a rat chewed it. In fact, more like a few rats "had at 'er".
Don't tell the landlord.
Here, in Kampar the other day, my bedroom door closed, as it often does. Only, this time, when I went to open it, it wouldn't open. I twisted the knob several times and then unscrewed a bit of the cuff of it to fiddle with the insides a bit. It was super complicated. Forget it.
So, I started trying to slide things between the door frame and the door to push the tongue out of the hole. I was grabbing pieces of plastic, DVD's, pieces of slick cardboard. I even got them to pass the place where it seemed the tongue was inside of the gap in the door, but the door still would not open.
At length, a friend came by and had a look. He twisted the knob all around and announced,
"Look, it's not locked. If it were locked, you couldn't move the knob all the way around."
Yeesh. I didn't want to believe that. So, we went out to look for a key-maker. However, the shops were closed for such things. When I came back, I was firmly decided on what to do.
I would drill my way back into my bedroom! So, I got out my son's electric drill and started in on it. It was late at night, so, not wanting to keep the kids next door awake, I decided to postpone it until the morrow.
Next morning, bright and early I started drilling! I'd never held a drill in my hand before and it gave me a feeling of power. Not much power, mind you, but some. At first all I could get was a little hole, so I switched bits for a larger one. Then, it broke off when I pulled it sideways.
Lesson number one: You can only drill in one direction at a time!
The door was almost as thick as the bit was long. And what a lot of wood came out! Sawdust started flying everywhere. I took a break after an hour. My hands were getting a bit stiff already.
When I went back at it, another bit broke. I started feeling intense about the operation, seeing the hole getting bigger and bigger. I started saying things like,
"Have at 'er!" and "Let's get 'er done!"
The sawdust was piling up. So were the tools at my feet: a file, hammer, pliers, wrench, and a box full of bits, etc. I was determined to get through that door. Everything important to me in the whole world was behind that door! There was my Passport, for one thing; all my money, clothing, shoes, bank cards, mobile phone and ID.
After 3 1/2 hours, I finally made a hole big enough for my hand to fit through! I turned the knob!
The door wouldn't open! My friend was right! It wasn't locked. But, man, was it jammed. I could see my cell phone sitting on the bed and my wallet teasingly close, but I could not touch them. More determined than ever, I continued to drill, in spite of the growing ache in my back and the open cuts developing on my fingers. I knocked the knobs out with the hammer and they fell on the floor. Still the door would not open.
Holy cow. Who makes door knobs like this? Come on.
After a while, I bared enough wood between the frame and the plate that held the tongue so that the plate fell off, finally releasing the tongue. The door opened. Victory. I got my life back.
By now, there was sawdust everywhere. It was in my hair, up my nose, all over my face and neck and spread thinly over the living room furniture.
My door looked like a rat chewed it. In fact, more like a few rats "had at 'er".
Don't tell the landlord.
Friday, 19 July 2013
How to Beat the Heat!
There's an old song that says that only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun. I haven't seen any dogs mad enough to go out in the heat of the day. Most dogs like to find a shady spot of some sort and dig in for a few hours during the hottest part of the day. As do I.
My son, on the other hand, would go trouncing off at full speed ahead out into the sunniest weather, pouring with sweat from head to toe. It didn't seem to bother him. He didn't even wear sunglasses. (He's back in the cold north now, suffering from the freezing summer weather over in Canada.)
My friend who recently returned to her home in Finland was caught wearing a sweater there on a "hot" summer day, much to the amusement of her friends. Now that she's back in Malaysia, she appreciates the cool days here. Ah, the human body. It's always searching for that perfect temperature that it will never find.
So, how does one remain relatively comfortable - or at least survive - in the searing warmth of SE Asia?
I began to carry an umbrella a few years back. It's like carrying your very own piece of shade. They have them coated in silver, which is supposed to keep down the ultraviolet rays. Though, I sincerely doubt that. I bought one anyway. It has a somewhat psychological effect.
The thing about carrying an umbrella is that, well, you have to carry an umbrella. Your arm has to be out there, carrying something extra. That's a little more effort exerted and possible another cause for perspiration.
Still, I discovered a few advantages that the umbrella has to offer. Besides keeping the inferno off the top of your scalp, the lovely tool can be implemented to shade your face, not from the sun, but from passers-by. And, what a comfort that can be. Rather than suffering the staring eyes of ne'er-do-wells, scallywags and nosey-parkers, one can tilt the umbrella slightly on an angle of roughly 45 degrees and completely blot of one's entire face!
How's that for an advantage?
Perhaps you haven't walked along the side of a highway in Malaysia or down a main street; in which case, you wouldn't be able to appreciate avoiding the good old Malaysian stare. Actually, it's more like a gawk. At times, it's a gawk, followed by a shout, followed by laughter. It's all good - if you're in the mood. But, if you don't feel like being teased, yelled at, stared at or otherwise annoyed, pulling that umbrella down does wonders.
One can anticipate yards ahead when a tormenter is approaching and put the blockage into motion. It's as easy as that.
Umbrellas also offer shelter from sudden rain.
Here's a favourite of mine: to be used as a weapon. What dog (or man, for that matter) dares approach an umbrella-wielding woman? Mine has a four-inch point on the end, for goodness sakes. Be ware. I don't hesitate to use it.
Speaking of heat, what do we do about the sun? Do we slather on mounds of sunscreen?
Maybe you do. I sure don't. Not when I've heard so much about the downside of sunscreen. My replacement for sunscreen is coconut oil. Of course, the best kind is organic baby coconut oil. But, one should try to only get ten to fifteen minutes of direct sunlight per day. That will ensure your vitamin D requirements are being obtained. And, we all know the importance of vitamin D, especially D3.
When you first arrive in the tropics, ease into it. If you're from a cooler clime, it may take time to adjust. If you're staying for a long time, allow a month for your blood to thin and remember, after a month, you'll be feeling much more at home.
If you like to lay on your stomach in the sun, don't forget to protect the soles of your feet. Ever had a sunburn on the bottom of your feet? It makes walking very uncomfortable!
Drink water all the time. That's important, so I'll say it again. Drink water all the time. Whether you're thirsty or not, you need water. And, I don't mean beer. If you're drinking alcohol, drink twice as much water as alcohol. But, you know that, right?
Here, in Malaysia, we have barley water. It's supposed to cool off the heaty. If you're heaty, you can also drink this black jelly drink that's supposed to cool down the blood.
Of course, you'll want to shower - lots. Prickley heat powder is an option for those inclosed areas of the body. It can be found in Walgreen's or most pharmacies. Otherwise, corn starch is more natural and doesn't present a problem for the lungs.
Clothing? Wear 100% cotton clothing when possible. Your underwear especially needs to be cotton. Check the tags.
You may want to change your schedule so that the outdoor activities in your day will take place early in the morning or after sunset.
If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen. In other words, don't cook at home. Eat out. It's cheap.
Put a fan in the bathroom. You'll probably need an extension cord because most bathrooms don't have outlets. If you use a fan in the kitchen, don't point it towards the stove jets. Most stoves here run on gas.
Wet wipes or handi-wipes or baby wipes, whatever you want to call them, are great to put in your purse, or your wife's purse, or your girlfriend's purse. - Or your backpack.
At most restaurants, you'll find a sink where you're welcome to wash your hands. If you're lucky, there will also be a soap dispenser there. And even a mirror. Although, the mirror will most-likely be cracked and smeared.
So, my advice is to stay out of the sun when possible. Stay inside during the hot part of the day. Ok, the day is all hot. Maybe you can't tell the difference, yet. But, when your blood thins out, in about a month, you will. You'll say to yourself,
"What's going on? I'm not sweating."
When that happens, look at your watch. It's probably either before 9 am or after 7 pm. And that's why they say, "Mad dogs and English men go out in the noon-day sun." Take my word for it, it's not the mad dogs that go out.
My son, on the other hand, would go trouncing off at full speed ahead out into the sunniest weather, pouring with sweat from head to toe. It didn't seem to bother him. He didn't even wear sunglasses. (He's back in the cold north now, suffering from the freezing summer weather over in Canada.)
My friend who recently returned to her home in Finland was caught wearing a sweater there on a "hot" summer day, much to the amusement of her friends. Now that she's back in Malaysia, she appreciates the cool days here. Ah, the human body. It's always searching for that perfect temperature that it will never find.
So, how does one remain relatively comfortable - or at least survive - in the searing warmth of SE Asia?
I began to carry an umbrella a few years back. It's like carrying your very own piece of shade. They have them coated in silver, which is supposed to keep down the ultraviolet rays. Though, I sincerely doubt that. I bought one anyway. It has a somewhat psychological effect.
The thing about carrying an umbrella is that, well, you have to carry an umbrella. Your arm has to be out there, carrying something extra. That's a little more effort exerted and possible another cause for perspiration.
Still, I discovered a few advantages that the umbrella has to offer. Besides keeping the inferno off the top of your scalp, the lovely tool can be implemented to shade your face, not from the sun, but from passers-by. And, what a comfort that can be. Rather than suffering the staring eyes of ne'er-do-wells, scallywags and nosey-parkers, one can tilt the umbrella slightly on an angle of roughly 45 degrees and completely blot of one's entire face!
How's that for an advantage?
Perhaps you haven't walked along the side of a highway in Malaysia or down a main street; in which case, you wouldn't be able to appreciate avoiding the good old Malaysian stare. Actually, it's more like a gawk. At times, it's a gawk, followed by a shout, followed by laughter. It's all good - if you're in the mood. But, if you don't feel like being teased, yelled at, stared at or otherwise annoyed, pulling that umbrella down does wonders.
One can anticipate yards ahead when a tormenter is approaching and put the blockage into motion. It's as easy as that.
Umbrellas also offer shelter from sudden rain.
Here's a favourite of mine: to be used as a weapon. What dog (or man, for that matter) dares approach an umbrella-wielding woman? Mine has a four-inch point on the end, for goodness sakes. Be ware. I don't hesitate to use it.
Speaking of heat, what do we do about the sun? Do we slather on mounds of sunscreen?
Maybe you do. I sure don't. Not when I've heard so much about the downside of sunscreen. My replacement for sunscreen is coconut oil. Of course, the best kind is organic baby coconut oil. But, one should try to only get ten to fifteen minutes of direct sunlight per day. That will ensure your vitamin D requirements are being obtained. And, we all know the importance of vitamin D, especially D3.
When you first arrive in the tropics, ease into it. If you're from a cooler clime, it may take time to adjust. If you're staying for a long time, allow a month for your blood to thin and remember, after a month, you'll be feeling much more at home.
If you like to lay on your stomach in the sun, don't forget to protect the soles of your feet. Ever had a sunburn on the bottom of your feet? It makes walking very uncomfortable!
Drink water all the time. That's important, so I'll say it again. Drink water all the time. Whether you're thirsty or not, you need water. And, I don't mean beer. If you're drinking alcohol, drink twice as much water as alcohol. But, you know that, right?
Here, in Malaysia, we have barley water. It's supposed to cool off the heaty. If you're heaty, you can also drink this black jelly drink that's supposed to cool down the blood.
Of course, you'll want to shower - lots. Prickley heat powder is an option for those inclosed areas of the body. It can be found in Walgreen's or most pharmacies. Otherwise, corn starch is more natural and doesn't present a problem for the lungs.
Clothing? Wear 100% cotton clothing when possible. Your underwear especially needs to be cotton. Check the tags.
You may want to change your schedule so that the outdoor activities in your day will take place early in the morning or after sunset.
If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen. In other words, don't cook at home. Eat out. It's cheap.
Put a fan in the bathroom. You'll probably need an extension cord because most bathrooms don't have outlets. If you use a fan in the kitchen, don't point it towards the stove jets. Most stoves here run on gas.
Wet wipes or handi-wipes or baby wipes, whatever you want to call them, are great to put in your purse, or your wife's purse, or your girlfriend's purse. - Or your backpack.
At most restaurants, you'll find a sink where you're welcome to wash your hands. If you're lucky, there will also be a soap dispenser there. And even a mirror. Although, the mirror will most-likely be cracked and smeared.
So, my advice is to stay out of the sun when possible. Stay inside during the hot part of the day. Ok, the day is all hot. Maybe you can't tell the difference, yet. But, when your blood thins out, in about a month, you will. You'll say to yourself,
"What's going on? I'm not sweating."
When that happens, look at your watch. It's probably either before 9 am or after 7 pm. And that's why they say, "Mad dogs and English men go out in the noon-day sun." Take my word for it, it's not the mad dogs that go out.
Friday, 5 July 2013
The Beat Goes On!
Somebody please tell me why heat bugs get so loud! Their screeching or buzzing is ear-piercing at times. It's downright distracting is what it is. Now, are they calling to their mates? Or, is it the heat that drives them into a frenzy?
For the past two nights, the noise has begun at exactly 9 pm! The first night, I thought it was just a rough guess for the time. The sun had gone down. All was quiet. Even the dogs next door were at peace. Until, suddenly this unadulterated racket disrupts the entire neighborhood with a frenzy of wild high-pitched buzzing!
I thought that an electric wire had fallen down on the road or something, so I opened the sliding door to have a look. Nope. Just mind-boggling noise. So loud? I thought, "I've heard heat bugs before, but this is ridiculous."
Ten minutes later, it stopped. It was so silent, it was like a factory had shut down. You could hear a pin drop. That night, the noise didn't start up again. Not so last night.
At exactly 50 seconds past 9pm, it started up again! Ten minutes later, gone! Ahhh... but this time, they went right back at it and rose the crescendo to a maddening pitch. Ten minutes later, quiet. Again, they went into their crazy screeching for exactly ten minutes. So far, the buzzing has stopped after exactly ten minutes.
I'll let you know whether this happens again tonight. I don't know why they're so loud. But, I'm going to find out!
For the past two nights, the noise has begun at exactly 9 pm! The first night, I thought it was just a rough guess for the time. The sun had gone down. All was quiet. Even the dogs next door were at peace. Until, suddenly this unadulterated racket disrupts the entire neighborhood with a frenzy of wild high-pitched buzzing!
I thought that an electric wire had fallen down on the road or something, so I opened the sliding door to have a look. Nope. Just mind-boggling noise. So loud? I thought, "I've heard heat bugs before, but this is ridiculous."
Ten minutes later, it stopped. It was so silent, it was like a factory had shut down. You could hear a pin drop. That night, the noise didn't start up again. Not so last night.
At exactly 50 seconds past 9pm, it started up again! Ten minutes later, gone! Ahhh... but this time, they went right back at it and rose the crescendo to a maddening pitch. Ten minutes later, quiet. Again, they went into their crazy screeching for exactly ten minutes. So far, the buzzing has stopped after exactly ten minutes.
I'll let you know whether this happens again tonight. I don't know why they're so loud. But, I'm going to find out!
Tuesday, 2 July 2013
Electricity
One thing it's only fair to warn you about, if you are a newcomer to SE Asia, is the electricity. The voltage, of course, is higher than in the US and Canada. (Not sure about Europe, but maybe the same.) So, when you get a shock, it's not just a little sizzle. It can be a pretty big sizzle.
Even when I go to put a DVD in the DVD player, I almost always get a little pin prick shock. That's without even going near any wires or anything. So, you electricians out there can help me on this one, but I think it's because the current is not grounded properly. Is that right?
For an adult, it's very easy to get a jolt, but for children, I'm thinking, it must be very scary when it happens. There are live wires just protruding from my living room wall that could cause a fatality. I accidentally touched one similar to it that was partially covered and it gave me a full body jolt! These wires should be toggled at the ends in plastic coverings.
So, if you happen to see a thick bundle of wire sticking out of a wall, leave it be! All you tourists, or would-be tourists, be warned. The voltage is higher and the electricians are not always certified and certainly the wiring would not pass Western standard certification.
My son went into my "attic" (the space between ceiling and roof, which is just beams) to look for a way to plug in my fridge. He was shocked at the mess of wires piled together in nest-like configurations just sitting helter skelter on the beams!
While the voltage in Canada is 120, in Malaysia, the voltage is 240. (He made sure to shut down the power before touching anything.) Twice as much zap for your money.
The funny thing is that, although the electricity comes out in more amperage or volts, the appliances here are built to run on low voltage. Even the air conditioners could easily run on 120.
For more information worldwide on the electricity output, here is a site I found useful:
http://www.kropla.com/electric2.htm
One more thing about the electricity in Malaysia. There are switches over the outlets that you can use to shut off the flow of electricity when it's not being used. I highly recommend using these at all times!
I was warned. I can't say I wasn't warned that the current can suddenly flux and short out appliances even when they are not in use! Yes! (Again, I have to remind you, this is a third world country. It's stuff like this that is a constant reminder.)
So, one night, I turned off my TV but forgot to go behind the TV to turn off the outlet switch. I thought, "No biggie. Besides, it's such a pain to climb in there behind all those wires to switch that silly little switch."
The next morning, I turned on the TV to discover it was dead. I had allowed my precious television to get killed all because I was too lazy to turn off the outlet switch. You see? That silly little switch would have prevented the flood of power from zapping my appliance while I slept!
Did I ever learn my lesson. I switch off everything I'm not using. I switch off the air-con outlet and unplug the appliance when it's not in use. I unplug my washer and I remove my rice cooker from harm.
"Better safe than sorry."
Even when I go to put a DVD in the DVD player, I almost always get a little pin prick shock. That's without even going near any wires or anything. So, you electricians out there can help me on this one, but I think it's because the current is not grounded properly. Is that right?
For an adult, it's very easy to get a jolt, but for children, I'm thinking, it must be very scary when it happens. There are live wires just protruding from my living room wall that could cause a fatality. I accidentally touched one similar to it that was partially covered and it gave me a full body jolt! These wires should be toggled at the ends in plastic coverings.
So, if you happen to see a thick bundle of wire sticking out of a wall, leave it be! All you tourists, or would-be tourists, be warned. The voltage is higher and the electricians are not always certified and certainly the wiring would not pass Western standard certification.
My son went into my "attic" (the space between ceiling and roof, which is just beams) to look for a way to plug in my fridge. He was shocked at the mess of wires piled together in nest-like configurations just sitting helter skelter on the beams!
While the voltage in Canada is 120, in Malaysia, the voltage is 240. (He made sure to shut down the power before touching anything.) Twice as much zap for your money.
The funny thing is that, although the electricity comes out in more amperage or volts, the appliances here are built to run on low voltage. Even the air conditioners could easily run on 120.
For more information worldwide on the electricity output, here is a site I found useful:
http://www.kropla.com/electric2.htm
One more thing about the electricity in Malaysia. There are switches over the outlets that you can use to shut off the flow of electricity when it's not being used. I highly recommend using these at all times!
I was warned. I can't say I wasn't warned that the current can suddenly flux and short out appliances even when they are not in use! Yes! (Again, I have to remind you, this is a third world country. It's stuff like this that is a constant reminder.)
So, one night, I turned off my TV but forgot to go behind the TV to turn off the outlet switch. I thought, "No biggie. Besides, it's such a pain to climb in there behind all those wires to switch that silly little switch."
The next morning, I turned on the TV to discover it was dead. I had allowed my precious television to get killed all because I was too lazy to turn off the outlet switch. You see? That silly little switch would have prevented the flood of power from zapping my appliance while I slept!
Did I ever learn my lesson. I switch off everything I'm not using. I switch off the air-con outlet and unplug the appliance when it's not in use. I unplug my washer and I remove my rice cooker from harm.
"Better safe than sorry."
Sunday, 30 June 2013
Haze Relief!
Thank heavens the haze has dissipated almost completely and we are experiencing relief from the smog! It seems that two men were arrested in concern with the burning.
Smile, Malaysia! You can take off your surgical masks! (This is not a professional medical opinion. So don't quote me on this one, folks.)
"Blue skies! Nothing but blue skies! Nothing but blue skies do I see!"
You really do appreciate the fresh air and sunshine after being "under a cloud" for a week or two! It was eery. It was like living in a mystery novel or something.
It reminds me of the time in the Netherlands when we were walking along the canal and as the sun went down, the mist moved in. It was thick as pea soup, stringy and white. And like a Sherlock Holmes mystery. Eery!
So, back to business as usual.
As for me, I'm house-hunting in Seremban. The above house is called a double story terrace house and although it is not attached to the houses on either side, it is attached at the back!
The above is the 5-bedroom home my son rented a while back. It's close to Seremban. Now, as I may have mentioned, Seremban is actually two different towns, Seremban 1 and Seremban 2. Seremban 1 is the old part which means Seremban 2 is the new. Homes like the above are a rare find in old Seremban.
You won't find them in this great condition because this particular house was hand-painted by my son! It's immaculate compared to most rentals. He even built a floor in the kitchen. It was rented to him with cement floors but he went out and got a tile-cutter and laid his own tiles. Now it has lovely grey-blue Italian tile in the kitchen.
We have a motto in our family that says, "Try to leave a place in better condition than you found it." So, our landlords are very happy campers by the time we move out. My diligent son painted the entire fence and the inside walls as well.
"You're welcome, Mr. Landlord!"
The more modern housing is to be found in Seremban 2. Here you can find mansions. But, the home I rented a few years back was a single story "bungalow" detached all around, front back and sides. It had an alarm system installed so that if the windows or door were touched, it set off an alarm. That doesn't mean that the Police will automatically come. It's just a deterrent to scare off thieves.
Every home in Malaysia has bars on the windows. Ugly and useless, they really don't add any beauty. And, they really don't add protection. Sorry to say, but it's true.
I learned that the bars used on the doors and windows here are hollow. They can easily be cut and the glass can be just as easily cut. Although the cages of bars are always locked with pad locks or some-such-lock, the thief doesn't bother with it. He just goes straight through the bars and the glass. Easy as pie.
So, what Malaysia needs is better security systems for the home-owner. And an active Police force wouldn't hurt. But, for now, get yourself a can of mace. Or a Taser!
Smile, Malaysia! You can take off your surgical masks! (This is not a professional medical opinion. So don't quote me on this one, folks.)
"Blue skies! Nothing but blue skies! Nothing but blue skies do I see!"
You really do appreciate the fresh air and sunshine after being "under a cloud" for a week or two! It was eery. It was like living in a mystery novel or something.
It reminds me of the time in the Netherlands when we were walking along the canal and as the sun went down, the mist moved in. It was thick as pea soup, stringy and white. And like a Sherlock Holmes mystery. Eery!
So, back to business as usual.
The above is the 5-bedroom home my son rented a while back. It's close to Seremban. Now, as I may have mentioned, Seremban is actually two different towns, Seremban 1 and Seremban 2. Seremban 1 is the old part which means Seremban 2 is the new. Homes like the above are a rare find in old Seremban.
You won't find them in this great condition because this particular house was hand-painted by my son! It's immaculate compared to most rentals. He even built a floor in the kitchen. It was rented to him with cement floors but he went out and got a tile-cutter and laid his own tiles. Now it has lovely grey-blue Italian tile in the kitchen.
We have a motto in our family that says, "Try to leave a place in better condition than you found it." So, our landlords are very happy campers by the time we move out. My diligent son painted the entire fence and the inside walls as well.
"You're welcome, Mr. Landlord!"
The more modern housing is to be found in Seremban 2. Here you can find mansions. But, the home I rented a few years back was a single story "bungalow" detached all around, front back and sides. It had an alarm system installed so that if the windows or door were touched, it set off an alarm. That doesn't mean that the Police will automatically come. It's just a deterrent to scare off thieves.
Every home in Malaysia has bars on the windows. Ugly and useless, they really don't add any beauty. And, they really don't add protection. Sorry to say, but it's true.
I learned that the bars used on the doors and windows here are hollow. They can easily be cut and the glass can be just as easily cut. Although the cages of bars are always locked with pad locks or some-such-lock, the thief doesn't bother with it. He just goes straight through the bars and the glass. Easy as pie.
So, what Malaysia needs is better security systems for the home-owner. And an active Police force wouldn't hurt. But, for now, get yourself a can of mace. Or a Taser!
Monday, 24 June 2013
Indonesia Fires Creating Unhealthy Smog!
I looked out my front door a few days ago to see a haze covering the row of coconut trees alongside the road. It looked like they were fading away in a mist. What a strange feeling. It was something I hadn't seen before,a white fog that hung heavily over the area.
Still, I put it down to someone burning toxic trash as so often is the case around here. Then, looking up into the sky, it seemed as though there were clouds of smoke rolling in, stretching out above the cloud coverage. That also seemed a bit unusual.
Facebook was where I learned that there is a huge amount of pollution blowing in from Indonesia!
Apparently there are acres and acres of palm oil palms burning as a result of land clearing. Whether it's being done on purpose or not has yet to be proved. Most of us here in Malaysia believe it's all on purpose, of course. And for what?
MONEY.
It's all about the money. It sure isn't about conserving our health now, is it? There are millions of these palm trees being grown for money for the palm oil trade. And a quick and easy way to clear the land is to burn it. And, who cares about the health of people's lungs when you're making money?
In Seremban, schools were closed because the pollution index was so high they deemed the air unfit for students to go outside! We are being warned to wear surgical masks outside and to keep the windows shut while inside. There's a particularly toxic content in the smoke during the night. (Perhaps that's because the jungle is being burned at night? That's my guess. You can smell the burnt smell!)
They're blaming it on the dry season and some are saying this may last even until September! Good grief.
Let's hope there's a shift in the wind. Or something!
Still, I put it down to someone burning toxic trash as so often is the case around here. Then, looking up into the sky, it seemed as though there were clouds of smoke rolling in, stretching out above the cloud coverage. That also seemed a bit unusual.
Facebook was where I learned that there is a huge amount of pollution blowing in from Indonesia!
Apparently there are acres and acres of palm oil palms burning as a result of land clearing. Whether it's being done on purpose or not has yet to be proved. Most of us here in Malaysia believe it's all on purpose, of course. And for what?
MONEY.
It's all about the money. It sure isn't about conserving our health now, is it? There are millions of these palm trees being grown for money for the palm oil trade. And a quick and easy way to clear the land is to burn it. And, who cares about the health of people's lungs when you're making money?
In Seremban, schools were closed because the pollution index was so high they deemed the air unfit for students to go outside! We are being warned to wear surgical masks outside and to keep the windows shut while inside. There's a particularly toxic content in the smoke during the night. (Perhaps that's because the jungle is being burned at night? That's my guess. You can smell the burnt smell!)
They're blaming it on the dry season and some are saying this may last even until September! Good grief.
Let's hope there's a shift in the wind. Or something!
Tuesday, 18 June 2013
Seremban
Flowers. Yes, these are flowers. What can I say?
Monday, 17 June 2013
Buses vs Trains
Having traveled several times to and from Kampar and Seremban, I have decided that I prefer the bus. And it's not just because it's half the price! No. Honestly. Well, ok, that's a big draw, but I do actually enjoy riding the bus more than sitting on a freezing train even though the train is faster and you can watch a movie.
Truth be told, they play the same movie over and over for weeks and the little cartoon of Mr. Bean is really only cute the first three times. After that, you want to throw tomatoes at the screen. Anything to switch your focus from the monotony and discomfort of the "First Class" seating. (The seat doesn't fully recline.)
Why the bus?
It's the scenery! No matter how many times I travel the road, there are always new things that pop out that I never noticed before. With a positive attitude, one can find amazing beauty in the passing jungle, small towns and even the palm oil palm plantations. I do love palm trees. I love any trees.
Just don't focus on all the black mold, rotting wood, crumbling walls and pealing paint. Think of it as authenticity in a world of otherwise tropical splendor. And the people are so cute sometimes.
I was sitting on the bus, minding my own business, trying not to be anxious about the late departure, when this sweet, little white-haired Chinese lady looked up and caught my eye. She broke into a beaming smile and waved excitedly, as though she were greeting her best friend.
Of course, I was a little taken aback, wondering whether she was indeed looking at me. So, I checked around and realized I should wave back. When I did, she seemed pleased and carried on her way across the street. I guess she hadn't seen many foreigners in Old Town Kampar recently.
Old Town Kampar is where the retired like to stay. It seems they put down very long roots and never budge once they've gotten settled. They go to the same restaurants every day and the same coffee shops. It seems everyone knows everyone. So, a White person stands out as a new attraction.
There are disadvantages to riding the bus, I confess. Sometimes the bus driver smokes! Whereas, that will never happen on the train.
Truth be told, they play the same movie over and over for weeks and the little cartoon of Mr. Bean is really only cute the first three times. After that, you want to throw tomatoes at the screen. Anything to switch your focus from the monotony and discomfort of the "First Class" seating. (The seat doesn't fully recline.)
Why the bus?
It's the scenery! No matter how many times I travel the road, there are always new things that pop out that I never noticed before. With a positive attitude, one can find amazing beauty in the passing jungle, small towns and even the palm oil palm plantations. I do love palm trees. I love any trees.
Just don't focus on all the black mold, rotting wood, crumbling walls and pealing paint. Think of it as authenticity in a world of otherwise tropical splendor. And the people are so cute sometimes.
I was sitting on the bus, minding my own business, trying not to be anxious about the late departure, when this sweet, little white-haired Chinese lady looked up and caught my eye. She broke into a beaming smile and waved excitedly, as though she were greeting her best friend.
Of course, I was a little taken aback, wondering whether she was indeed looking at me. So, I checked around and realized I should wave back. When I did, she seemed pleased and carried on her way across the street. I guess she hadn't seen many foreigners in Old Town Kampar recently.
Old Town Kampar is where the retired like to stay. It seems they put down very long roots and never budge once they've gotten settled. They go to the same restaurants every day and the same coffee shops. It seems everyone knows everyone. So, a White person stands out as a new attraction.
There are disadvantages to riding the bus, I confess. Sometimes the bus driver smokes! Whereas, that will never happen on the train.
Friday, 7 June 2013
Singapore!
What comes to your mind when you hear that word? It sounds like a happy name, doesn't it? "Sing". Reminds me of a Singapore sling! Some day I'll see if I can actually buy a sling there. So, the "sing" part sounds Chinese and the "apore" part sounds Malaysian. And you know what else comes to my mind? "Pirates of the Caribbean" and one of my favourite movie stars, Jonnie Depp. But, I always wonder,
"How come there are all these 'white' whores hanging around in Singapore?" You know; the ones that slap Will across the face. So, I need to look up some history to find out if there really were white whores there at the time of the old pirate ships. There are STILL pirates in the region. Oh, yes! Pirates are alive and well in the warm waters of the south seas.
But all that aside, what is Singapore like to a newcomer?
My first impression, coming in from Malaysia, after several years, is that it reminds me of my home town. Believe it or not, it reminded me of Toronto! I guess it's because there are actual sidewalks. And, it also reminded me of Hong Kong because of the trees growing out of the sidewalks. But, you know what makes it different than Toronto?
It's cleaner!
Everyone seems so polite and well-behaved. Then I caught a glimpse of the PRICES. Holy cow! Jeepers creepers! It IS like my home town! Just a little too rich for my blood!
So, I figured, "I should at least get a decent cup of coffee while I'm out here on this commercially and technologically developed island."
But, then I decided it just wasn't worth it to purchase one little cupful of liquid for the price they were asking at the mall. Between 8 to 10 Singapore dollars for some tea or juice.By the time you pay the withdrawal fee and the exchange fee at the bank machine, the Sing dollar is equal to the Canadian dollar!
So, I tried the Burger King. I ended up paying 8 dollars, but at least I got a whole meal for that price. And, indigestion all the way home on the bus. But, heck. Buses will do that to you.
Coming back into Malaysia was like stepping back into reality. I guess my reality is a bit impoverished and down-to-earth. But, at least it's stress free most of the time.
"How come there are all these 'white' whores hanging around in Singapore?" You know; the ones that slap Will across the face. So, I need to look up some history to find out if there really were white whores there at the time of the old pirate ships. There are STILL pirates in the region. Oh, yes! Pirates are alive and well in the warm waters of the south seas.
But all that aside, what is Singapore like to a newcomer?
My first impression, coming in from Malaysia, after several years, is that it reminds me of my home town. Believe it or not, it reminded me of Toronto! I guess it's because there are actual sidewalks. And, it also reminded me of Hong Kong because of the trees growing out of the sidewalks. But, you know what makes it different than Toronto?
It's cleaner!
Everyone seems so polite and well-behaved. Then I caught a glimpse of the PRICES. Holy cow! Jeepers creepers! It IS like my home town! Just a little too rich for my blood!
So, I figured, "I should at least get a decent cup of coffee while I'm out here on this commercially and technologically developed island."
But, then I decided it just wasn't worth it to purchase one little cupful of liquid for the price they were asking at the mall. Between 8 to 10 Singapore dollars for some tea or juice.By the time you pay the withdrawal fee and the exchange fee at the bank machine, the Sing dollar is equal to the Canadian dollar!
So, I tried the Burger King. I ended up paying 8 dollars, but at least I got a whole meal for that price. And, indigestion all the way home on the bus. But, heck. Buses will do that to you.
Coming back into Malaysia was like stepping back into reality. I guess my reality is a bit impoverished and down-to-earth. But, at least it's stress free most of the time.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
Air Conditioning
For years, I have avoided the extravagance of air-con. Well, the one exception was for teaching a tuition class. One must be cool when teaching English to a group of students. It's dangerous to allow the temperature to rise to the point that either you or your students are sweating. That would never do.
Moving to Kampar has exposed me to more heat than ever before. Here at the foot of the Cameron Highlands, we are snuggled into a permanent cloud of moisture. Perspiration is inevitable. You are coated with it all day and all night until the early hours of the morning, at which time, you may get some reprieve.
Therefore, after I got two hefty writing assignments on Elance, I made a decision to break the rules. I decided to use the air-conditioner in the fore-ordained schoolroom, now office.
That's right, I moved my desk and computer in and took one of the beds out!
It's a bit of a strange feeling to work all day long in air conditioning. There's something unusual and unnatural about it. But, I manage. Sometimes when I come out of there, I feel like I just re-entered the real world. Heat. Then, the heat is a welcome change for my bones. But, heat does tend to make one lazy.
Ok, so I'm writing in the air-con! Hallelujah! And, now, I'm going to take a break and go back to the real world. ...And watch a movie.
Moving to Kampar has exposed me to more heat than ever before. Here at the foot of the Cameron Highlands, we are snuggled into a permanent cloud of moisture. Perspiration is inevitable. You are coated with it all day and all night until the early hours of the morning, at which time, you may get some reprieve.
Therefore, after I got two hefty writing assignments on Elance, I made a decision to break the rules. I decided to use the air-conditioner in the fore-ordained schoolroom, now office.
That's right, I moved my desk and computer in and took one of the beds out!
It's a bit of a strange feeling to work all day long in air conditioning. There's something unusual and unnatural about it. But, I manage. Sometimes when I come out of there, I feel like I just re-entered the real world. Heat. Then, the heat is a welcome change for my bones. But, heat does tend to make one lazy.
Ok, so I'm writing in the air-con! Hallelujah! And, now, I'm going to take a break and go back to the real world. ...And watch a movie.
Thursday, 23 May 2013
Jungle Fun
Even if you put a motorcycle motor on your
longboat, it's still a longboat. A faster
longboat!
Monday, 20 May 2013
No Place Like Home!
As you adjust to the climate and begin to feel more at home in Malaysia, you may want to take another step in the direction of lengthening your visit by actually renting your own home. It's easy enough to do here. Perhaps you have passive income or savings or a way of making money online to support yourself for a few months. In that case, a little foreign income goes a long way in the exchange rate of approximately 3 to 1. (That's if you're dealing with American, Canadian or Australian dollars. It's even better in Euros.)
So, if you figure an average rent on a three-bedroom house here is about 400 RM, you'll be paying only one third of that every month. Although, if you'd like to go all-out and rent a furnished house, of course, it will be a tad more.
I'm the sort who doesn't mind roughing it to save a few bucks. It doesn't bother me to sleep on a mattress on the floor. But, owning a TV and DVD player sure does add to the quality of life. You can buy those quite cheaply at "The Store" or "Jusco" or even "Carrefore". I think I paid $10.00 Canadian for my DVD player.
One way to keep the price down on a rental is to have a local do the talking for you. Once they ascertain that the rent is as low as it would be for a local person, you can do the paper work and continue to pay your landlord. The banks here allow you to place cash into a bank machine directly into your landlord's account! I thought that was pretty cool. It saves the hassle of queuing inside the bank.
Personally, I find it's a great convenience to have a home base. It's so nice to come "home" after a few days or weeks of gadding about and just relax in your own digs! And cook your own food with no MSG added!
So, if you figure an average rent on a three-bedroom house here is about 400 RM, you'll be paying only one third of that every month. Although, if you'd like to go all-out and rent a furnished house, of course, it will be a tad more.
I'm the sort who doesn't mind roughing it to save a few bucks. It doesn't bother me to sleep on a mattress on the floor. But, owning a TV and DVD player sure does add to the quality of life. You can buy those quite cheaply at "The Store" or "Jusco" or even "Carrefore". I think I paid $10.00 Canadian for my DVD player.
One way to keep the price down on a rental is to have a local do the talking for you. Once they ascertain that the rent is as low as it would be for a local person, you can do the paper work and continue to pay your landlord. The banks here allow you to place cash into a bank machine directly into your landlord's account! I thought that was pretty cool. It saves the hassle of queuing inside the bank.
Personally, I find it's a great convenience to have a home base. It's so nice to come "home" after a few days or weeks of gadding about and just relax in your own digs! And cook your own food with no MSG added!
Wednesday, 15 May 2013
This is Malaysia!
If you're new to Malaysia and wondering why all the palm trees look exactly the same, all line upon line for miles and miles and miles, that's because they're growing palm tree for their cooking oil. Palm oil is very popular and is used as fuel as well as in many products around the world. If you check out the ingredients on many processed food packages, you
will find palm oil is one of them. It shows up everywhere. And Malaysia grows it like it's going out of style! It's just everywhere! I sure hope it doesn't get attacked with some kind of disease or this country is going to look naked.
Complete with wall-to-wall broadloom. Or should I say, "slat-to-slat"? Breezy and natural, don't you think?
Tuesday, 14 May 2013
One Malaysia
These guys like to bang on drums
and make lots of noise. They also do their dragon or lion dance to ring in
the New Year.
Malaysia is multi-cultural and their theme is: "Satu Malaysia" or "One Malaysia".
Well, that's what they say, anyway. . .
And, here's one of my grandsons, showing off his medal that he won running a half marathon. Malaysians love running, especially at 5 a.m. in the morning. That makes sense, really, since it's the coolest part of the day.
Thursday, 18 April 2013
It Works!
Yesterday, I got into the back seat of a taxi and just as my behind hit the vinyl, the driver turned his head asking,
"You stay where?"
Now, normally, I would have answered an innocuous question like that, but I could tell! I could tell by the very sound of his voice that that question was going to lead to . . . "The Thousand Questions".
Warning bells went off! Interrogation! Interrogation! Privacy Alert! Privacy Alert! Go to Plan! Go to Plan!
Taking a long breath, I calmly smiled a calm smile. Then, I squeaked,
"Sorry, can't talk now. I have a sore throat."
"Oh," he said, "I see." There was a flustered pause in the front seat. Then, a silent implosion. Then, silence.
Silence! Yes! It worked!
For a half of a second, I felt a teensy bit guilty for lying. But, then I felt a little soreness in my throat and thought, "I do have a little bit of a sore throat, actually. I mean, it's not extreme, but I prefer not to talk. Besides, why fill the air with all kinds of personal information that this stranger has no need to know? I'm doing us both a favour and it's not really a lie. My throat is slightly sore. I have a right to be still."
The ride was enjoyed in silence, except for the clacking of the radio speaker and repeated "confirm" from the girl on the taxi dispatch. I had won a victory. My plan was indeed watertight!
"You stay where?"
Now, normally, I would have answered an innocuous question like that, but I could tell! I could tell by the very sound of his voice that that question was going to lead to . . . "The Thousand Questions".
Warning bells went off! Interrogation! Interrogation! Privacy Alert! Privacy Alert! Go to Plan! Go to Plan!
Taking a long breath, I calmly smiled a calm smile. Then, I squeaked,
"Sorry, can't talk now. I have a sore throat."
"Oh," he said, "I see." There was a flustered pause in the front seat. Then, a silent implosion. Then, silence.
Silence! Yes! It worked!
For a half of a second, I felt a teensy bit guilty for lying. But, then I felt a little soreness in my throat and thought, "I do have a little bit of a sore throat, actually. I mean, it's not extreme, but I prefer not to talk. Besides, why fill the air with all kinds of personal information that this stranger has no need to know? I'm doing us both a favour and it's not really a lie. My throat is slightly sore. I have a right to be still."
The ride was enjoyed in silence, except for the clacking of the radio speaker and repeated "confirm" from the girl on the taxi dispatch. I had won a victory. My plan was indeed watertight!
Sunday, 14 April 2013
TAXI ADVICE FOR SINGLE WOMEN TRAVELING IN MALAYSIA
Here in Malaysia, getting into a taxi can be dicey. As a single woman, you may be imposed upon with what I affectionately refer to as "The Thousand Questions". They go something like this:
(In rapid succession, like he can't wait to get the next question out of his mouth to continue the interrogation.)
Where are you FROM? What are you DOING here? Why are you staying in MALAYSIA? Where do you LIVE? How much do you pay for RENT? Where is your HUSBAND? Why aren't you WITH your husband? How many children do you have? How much money do THEY give you to live on? How OLD are you? Where do you WORK? How much MONEY do you make?
This is not an exaggeration. Not even slightly. The questions that some taxi drivers have the nerve to ask is embarrassing.
In the past, I tried to deal with it in different ways. I used to be cordial, sociable and have a nice "chat". Until, I discovered that, with a lot (not all) of taxi drivers, it's impossible to get out of the question vice. They will repeat the question until they get an answer. You can ignore the question and sometimes that works, but, they will only come up with another more invasive question, so you really have to have "A PLAN".
Because I have suffered head-aches and proposals, incessant banter and the nine yards, I finally made a decision about how to deal with talkative, inquisitive and gold-digging drivers!
First, I always sit in the back seat, now! That, in itself, has deterred most of the taxi drivers I've encountered lately. I look staunchly out the SIDE window and do not engage. If it looks like the driver may be turning his head to start a chat, I pull out my cellphone fast and pretend to text a message.
So far, I haven't had to pull out my big guns. I'm rather looking forward to it, though. Now that I have a water tight plan, I want to USE it!
Here's what it is:
I'm going to answer the first question with,
"Oooh, so sorry la, but I have a VEERY sore THROAT. Cannot TALK."
And THAT, my dear traveler, is the BEST POSSIBLE ADVICE I CAN GIVE TO A SINGLE WOMAN USING A TAXI IN MALAYSIA!
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