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.
Thursday, 28 November 2013
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.
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