Canada

Maybe I'll just skip over the airport fiasco involved in getting me back here to my old digs. Suffice it to say,

"When booking a flight online, always, (I repeat) always make sure to use the exact same name as the name in your passport."

Otherwise, you may be refused your boarding pass and then have to cancel your flight losing most of your money on the refund. And then, you may have to book another flight and spend the night sleeping at the airport on two hard chairs.

On a more positive note, the first thing I noticed about landing at the Seattle airport was the delightful smell all around. Just lovely. I can't put my finger on it, but it was a lovely smell.

Then, of course, there was the smell of coffee. And something cooking. (Western food.) And there were the tall, tall people who could speak very quickly in perfect English.

By the time I landed in Calgary, I was happy that I hadn't actually thrown up in the "sick bag" provided on the back of the seat in front of us while the plane went into a roller coaster turbulence that threw us around like bucking broncos.

Safe on the ground again with my suitcase and (thank God) my guitar, I discovered my cell phone worked enough to send a text to my son who showed up soon after.

Driving to the mall, I was overcome with that "reverse culture shock" they tell you about. There was that feeling that everything is just too clean and organised and perfect. But, I reasoned that that was really not going to pose any problem or threat to my survival. Just a little hard to adjust to at first.

My son's house in Calgary was like many others. It was just big enough for his little family.

 

One fine week-end we headed off for the Rockies in Banff. The mountains were magnificent, just as I remembered them. Although the trees did seem even greener than before.

Then, off to Jasper and the Athabasca Icefields!

That's ice-cold glacier water. And, although the glacier is lightly covered in silt, there's a huge, thick bed of ice underneath that is receding little by little every year.

One More Illegal Alien

In order to comply with my transit visa, I quickly packed a heavier suitcase to be able to stay out of the country for a few months this time. Man! Was it ever heavy! But, mercifully it had wheels.

So, I decided a sleeper on the train would be a nice way of easing into the two-day journey to Bangkok. Then, if I decided to take the bus in Thailand, at least it was only the one day. (Maybe my ankles wouldn't swell up so much.)

I took the commuter to K.L. in plenty of time for the train, visited the mall, had a coffee, tried on some perfume (Victoria's Secret was nice) and ate my packed squished peanut butter and jam sandwich. (It's an addiction since childhood. My comfort food I guess.)

While waiting for the train, I met an interesting fellow from Australia who now lives with his wife and kids in Japan. He expounded on life in Japan which surprised me to find out has lots and lots of regular earth-quakes. It sounds like they get them more often than California. And they drill the kids on survival tactics. (Never, never go outside in an earthquake. That sort of thing.) I asked him my usual sarcastic question,

"So, do they teach them to put their head between their knees and kiss their ass good-bye?"

He was only slightly amused. He commented that people get used to the quakes and that they are far enough away from Fukoshima. And, besides, to go back to Australia now would mean taking the kids out of school where they are learning to do Math so amazingly well.

(How will Math skills help if you're dead? Ok, that's just negative.)


Japan. That's a story in itself and I don't think we should go there or even ever go there under the circumstances. Things just seem to be getting worse and worse all the time and the economy is in the you-know-what...

So, I got on the train and started chatting with a lovely lady across from me. Then sat on the comfy sleeper with the comfy pillow behind my neck. Later on that night, I almost dozed off a couple of times but whenever the train stops, it wakes you right up!

The next day, we're travelling along. I'm enjoying the scenery and wondering when we'll pull into Immigrations. I thought,

"Please don't let them give me a fine for overstaying my visa for a few hours!"

But, what happened next never entered my conscious mind!

I was queuing up behind an Indonesian girl who was having a bit of a sticky time. She looked at me and I gave her the look. You know that look that says,

"WTF is their PROBLEM?" That look. And she shrugged.

I'm up. He takes my passport and gets this really ugly look on his face, then calls his supervisor. She calls me aside.

Bother.

So, after lots of gibberish which I cannot understand, they tell me,

"You cannot leave the country on the train. You must go back to KLIA and fly out."

By this time, I'm too tired to argue. Besides, nobody is listening. So, we get my bag off the train. The young officer calls a taxi and I go! It costs 100RM to get to the bus station!

On the way back, the bus breaks down. Three times. But, somehow I get back to Seremban.

My friend said to me,

"Now you are one more illegal alien in Malaysia."

Funny. But true. But I got a flight to Canada. So, I hope I don't get arrested before Thursday!

Can Immigrations tell you how to leave the country? And WHERE to go when you leave? I never would have believed it, but apparently THEY CAN. (Malaysia boleh.)

Sage Advice

Well, there's no better way to gain some hard-earned lessons than by making huge mistakes, right? It just so happens that I'm really good at that. Making huge mistakes, I mean. In fact, over the years, it seems I have developed a skill for it that surpasses human ability. But, here's the thing:

When it comes to Malaysian Immigrations, there are "rules". They're not exact. They're not always the same. They are tricky. AND, they are mysterious. But, alas, fear not for you can discover them... eventually. That is, IF you make enough mistakes. Alternatively, you could read this blog. You know or talk to a foreigner who has managed to live in Malaysia for more than two years.

Ok, I've been here two years this trip. It'll be two years at the end of July. So, what's my secret?

TENACITY.

No, it's not a city where everyone plays tennis.

Seriously though. You must have brass balls to get through Immigrations these days. NOT that I do. I was thoroughly intimidated this trip. I mean thoroughly.

You know the drill: You show up at the little window, waiting behind two guys and watch the Immigrations officer behind the little window. (He's smiling!) Yes! Heck, he's practically enjoying himself stamping those guys passports so quickly.

Now it's my turn. The smile evaporates. Poof! Just like that. He's frowning now. Uh, oh. No! Don't turn your back! Don't... Too late. He's turned around and talking to someone else. I hate that. Back to me.

"Eskoos me, ma'am? You mus' follow me please."

I hate that, too. Off to the back room for the fifty questions. But, first, wait until the last person finishes her high-pitched rant and rave, begging for her visa. Ahyo.

Immigrations Officer: (first question, as usual) "What are you doing in Malaysia?"

It really doesn't matter what you tell her. It really doesn't matter how much money you're earning online and bringing into the Malaysian economy. So, don't even bother with that line of arguing. Sooner or later, she will say,

"You must have a 'proper visa'."

That's the buzz word that rings in my head over and over as I visualise the Grim Reaper standing over me with his curved thingy. (What is that, anyway? A parang? Or what? It's pretty sharp.)

Now, here again, I'll give you some advice. DON'T ask her what a proper visa is. Just accept the fact that the so-called visas you have been getting stamped into your passport (by who? Oh, yeah, by Immigrations) is, in fact not proper. It's just not... "proper".

She told me I had "abused my social pass". Now, I guess that means I haven't been smiling enough?

Ok, so next question.

"Why don't you go back to your own country?"

Me, "Um..."

"You keep going to Third World countries and then returning to Malaysia. You should go back to your own country."

(Gosh, I thought it was a free world. Have I ever been mistaken. But... did she just use the word "Third Word"? Aren't these the "Developing Nations" or something, now?)

I am told to wait. So I sit. Then a man comes out with a really sober face (unlike the jokers who were enjoying a good laugh behind the counter while I fought for my three months) and he says,

"I'm sorry ma'am but we have decided to refuse you entry into Malaysia. You must go back to Singapore. Is that ok?"

" Um, NO!", I'm thinking, but I say, "But, Officer, all my belongings are in Malaysia. I don't even have a change of clothes with me." (Singapore? Are you mad?)

He says, "Ok, well, we can give you one week to go back and pack up your belongings." He disappears and comes back. "We can give you two weeks. Is that alright?"

Me, (relieved) "Yes. Thank you."

Somehow, you come out of there feeling abused, accused, exposed, incriminated, humiliated and totally brow-beaten, yet GRATEFUL for only two weeks!

Beaches in Malaysia

In one month, I had the privilege to visit three beaches. It's unusual for me to go to any beaches because I live in a land-locked town. But, I found myself visiting Malacca one day and on the way home, went to a beach. It was night time, so I don't know whether the water was clean or not. I didn't go in!

 

Then, a friend of mine and I drove to another beach the same week. It seemed to be very out-of-the-way. We drove through villages and palm tree groves and on and on. But, it was worth it! The beach was astounding! And there were free inner tubes in a pile right on the beach, so I grabbed one.

The water was just so warm and the gentle motion of the tides was so soothing. I wanted to live there forever.

But, the best part was when we were leaving! We saw herds of the cutest monkeys you can imagine. One of them had a teensy baby on it's stomach, clinging to it. Oh, my!

Some people who seemed to be locals were giving them junk food. The monkeys loved it. One of them had a big pink round piece of junk food that he was treasuring and showing it off in front of his peers. Next time, I'll bring some peanuts.

Then, there was Port Dixon.

I always thought that beach was filthy, but this time, we found a nice, clean white sandy beach. Although I didn't go swimming, I did go to visit the seaside resort there called the Grand Lexis. It was inspiring. We just walked around it and sat down in one of the airy dining rooms for a coffee.

Port Dixon is fun. It's got all the mod coms.

Reflexology

While I was living in China, I got into getting foot massages. Once I got a full body massage but I did not respond well to it. Maybe my body didn't like being pushed into new positions or something. It caused a bad neck for a while. But, foot massages were just the ticket. It seemed they'd massage you from the waist down anyway.

So, when I came back to Malaysia, I went for a Reflexology treatment in Kemayan Square. It hurt! But, afterwards, I felt like I was walking on air. That was a few years ago.

Well, a couple of days ago, I was in the Tesco here in Seremban and I happened to walk past a sign in front of a massage clinic. It said "Reflexology 20RM for 30 minutes", so I went in.

The people were very nice. The gentleman was from Myanmar and the woman who gave me the treatment was from Indonesia.

Man, was she strong! I wanted to cry out a few times as she worked on my toes. But, it was a good pain. I'll definitely go back again. I think she pushed a few pints of blood back up to my waist. Maybe next time, I'll get a full body massage. There's a first time for everything.

So far, January has been a victory in the health department for me, as well as for the two friends I jog/walk with. We have been walking our butts off lately. I hope. One of my friends measures the kms and at an average of 4 per walk, I think we've done well over 50kms just this month! Good for us!

Black Mold!

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.

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!