Kuantan/Thaipusam

Although I have been ignoring this maxim, I know in my heart that brevity is the soul of blogging.

Three exciting things happened this week.

1. I met my state coordinator from the Malaysian Ministry of Education, who is one of the kindest, most hospitable, and most generous people I've ever met. (And my family is pretty darn kind, hospitable, and generous, so I have high standards.) She's making us feel completely taken care of.

2. I also met the beach that will be my second home while I'm here. I didn't take any pictures, because I'll flood you with pictures later. Let's just say it was so beautiful that I almost cried. And y'all know I'm no crier.

3. I went to a Hindu festival called Thaipusam at the Batu Caves outside Kuala Lumpur. The 20 of us from Pahang were there for about 13 hours, which was exhausting, but also a great chance to see things very thoroughly. I won't try to explain what it's about, because I don't know enough about it to do so accurately and respectfully. Just read the Wikipedia article.

In addition to a pilgrimage site, the Batu Caves area also becomes something of a festival grounds during the holiday, with tons of Indian food and sweets and even carnival rides (in a section labeled "Euro Fun Park"). The atmosphere was certainly carnivalesque, as it was full of loud music, sari stands, aggressive vendors, and Bollywood DVD stalls.  There were millions of attendees, and I've never felt so crushed in a crowd before.

However, the somewhat wild atmosphere was coupled with a meaningful religious holiday. It was an odd experience to be an outsider at an event like this. The core of the experience for me was basically gawking at devotees dragging chariots with hooks stuck into the skin of their backs and watching as others had hooks attached to bells, fruit, or even coconuts put into or removed from their backs. Oh, and seeing skewers pierced through their mouths from one cheek to the other. People even carried their babies up the hundreds of steps to the caves suspended in cloths hung from long sugar cane stalks. As I understand from talking to a Hindu man handing out pamphlets condemning the showiness of Thaipusam, these parents had prayed for a child and vowed to do this walk if granted one. Supposedly, people work themselves up into a trance-like state so that they don't really feel the pain of all this.

It was easy for me to feel judgmental of other tourists who were getting all up in everyone's face to take pictures of the devotees, but I was also there as a picture-snapping voyeur (if a less aggressive one). Fittingly for someone who took pictures despite the urgings of my moral compass, most of my photos came out terribly.

The experience seemed very foreign to me, but it's not as if the concept of religious sacrifice is a foreign one. The very physical nature of it that was somewhat jarring, but I guess it's one way to seek a transcendent experience. This is a really simplistic and irreverent thing to say, but here goes: Maybe in doing something like this, you're at least really in the moment and really DOING something, rather than sitting bored and with a wandering mind in a pew. Oh, it also made me think about under what circumstances I can and cannot handle watching violence/physical pain. It didn't bother me much to watch this, but I hate violence in movies. Discuss amongst yourselves.

Ugh still too long. It's always easier for me to write more than to edit down to less. In future will edit more.

Diplomatic Immunity

I don't have it--finally came down with a little mini-cold and lost my voice after a day of screaming and cheering for six hours at my first "English camp" on Saturday. Fourteen other ETAs (English Teaching Assistants) and I went to a school in KL to lead 100 kids in a day of activities intended to make learning English fun. As much as I sincerely hate cheesy phrases like "make learning English fun," I also sincerely had a great time at English camp. Our theme was superheroes, and the kids were extremely enthusiastic and had really creative ideas. My group came up with a superhero named "Sleeping Man." My personal favorite superhero creation was "Spicy Marvin Alice the Mind Reader." As his group's skit revealed, Marvin acquired his mind-reading abilities by eating spicy food, and he also has the power to change genders at will. This came in handy when he heard a scream of distress from the ladies' bathroom and was able to change into a woman to help. Yes. 100% created by Malaysian kids.

All the ETAs worked really well together, and I was blown away by my fellow ETAs' mad skills. (Seriously, people who've worked as camp counselors know the best games.) It was a good confidence-booster for me, in that it made me realize that I can be goofier and a better performer and improviser than I thought. My most inspirational moment was seeing a shy girl step up to narrate our skit and knock everyone's socks off.

The kids were shockingly willing to play silly games for 15- to 17-year-olds. People were talking about how "immature" they seem compared to American teens, but I'm not sure that's the best way to describe it. It made me realize how much my definition of being "mature" at that age is really just about being jaded and rebellious. These kids are probably going to get married and start jobs sooner than their American counterparts, so in some ways aren't they MORE mature? And maybe being willing to go along enthusiastically with English camp is a sign of maturity, since it shows an understanding that you only get something out of activities like that if you commit to them. In conclusion, I don't actually know what maturity means, especially if I'm trying to come up with a definition that works across cultures.

Even if I lack diplomatic immunity, I did get to attend a soiree at the ambassador's house.

Best perk of ambassadorship = stationery.

The most interesting parts of it were the performances. There was a huge group of Malaysian high school students there who were about to leave for a semester in small town America, and they performed a multi-part dance with different sections that were supposed to represent all the major ethnic groups in Malaysia. It was great, but it was a little jarring to hear the announcer say, "And now representing the Indian Malaysian community..." as a multi-ethnic group of students came out to do an Indian-inspired dance. It just struck me as a very different way of handling diversity than we would in the U.S. (Imagine the U.S. equivalent.) The other ETAs also put on some great performances. May I just say that I never expected to be singing along to a live rendition of "Wonderwall" in the home of the U.S. Ambassador to Malaysia.

On Sunday I went on a rainforest hike at the Forest Research Institute of Malaysia (FRIM), which was amazing. Also amazingly vertical at points. Wasn't sure I would make it, but I'm still alive. We got to walk along a rope bridge at canopy level with a view of the rainforest below and the city in the distance. Breathtaking. The hike ended with a waterfall. What more can you ask for?

7-foot long monster fish called an aparaima just chilling in the pond by the FRIM ticket office. A little decorative pond where you'd expect koi. Not here.

Not my hand. Artsy.

Jurassic Park. 

Safety?

What the ropes look like. 

The coiled cord of God's landline. 

KL from the canopy. 

In terms of my mental climate, I've been thinking a little bit more about what it means to be here. The U.S. government wants me to be a cultural ambassador--i.e., an agent of soft power. The Malaysian government wants me to improve the level of English here. Both those goals are fine with me, but do I necessarily agree with the reasons behind them and the specific ways they're carried out? Do I have to if I'm on the payroll? Is it unethical if I have personal goals that are different?

One thing that happens a lot here is that people tell us how important we are and how amazing we must be to have been selected, yada yada. And that becomes a self-reinforcing thing within the group: "Well,  the other people here are awesome, which means I'm part of a selective group, which makes me awesome." (Or I guess that cycle could go in reverse, starting from the premise, "I'm awesome.")  I'm going to go out on a limb and say that any time I've gotten similar messages in the past, there has been an underlying element of social control. At Cornell, being told how awesome we were just for being admitted was a way to perpetuate the idea that it makes sense to pay exorbitant amounts for a prestigious school. At Telluride, being told how selective the institution was was a way to make us more likely to go along with the more cult-like and uncomfortable aspects of that curious "educational experiment." On a more basic level, these messages make you want to act in a way that's deemed respectable and worthy of whatever big name you're associated with. And it all feels so nice that I haven't questioned it enough in the past. That's all for now, but I'll keep thinking about this. Probably not blogging about it anymore, though, since Big Brother is watching.

Reading: The Art of Travel by Alain de Botton.

Scavenging

A highlight of this week was the orientation scavenger hunt we did on Saturday. Sure, it was corny, but it was also a good chance to work on one of my number one goals for my time in Malaysia: taking myself less seriously and being more willing to make a fool of myself in public. Once I start teaching, I will enter a life of nonstop public humiliation, so I might as well start now.

On that note, I finally got word of my teaching assignment. I will be at a secondary school in Kuantan, the capital of the state of Pahang. It's on a lovely beach on the east coast, and it's a fairly large city. If you know me, you know I've already started the hand-wringing about whether I'm missing out on the full cultural immersion experience by not going to the most rural, conservative place possible. My mother encouraged me to stop being such a baby, and to get over my simplistic, patronizing idea that the only authentic experience of a developing country is to be in a backwater. Wise, wise woman.

Some memorable moments of the hunt and of the week:

-Going to a fish spa to have "doctor fish" bite the dead skin off my feet. It's debatable whether this has any real benefits, but boy does it tickle. 

 -Taking in the view from the top of Menara KL by night.

Menara KL. I was too cheap to go to the summit. My mind has quickly adjusted to Malaysian prices, so anything over 10 ringgit ($3.33) seems outrageous.

 -Finding various places of worship for the scavenger hunt. I have no photos of the church, which was not that impressive.

Hindu temple interior.

Incense in Buddhist temple. Pro tip: If you stand under it, hot ash WILL fall on you. 

Buddhist temple interior.

Not sure the name of this mosque, since this photo is taken from the balcony of an outdoor mall.

The National Mosque.

-Witnessing the pulling of teh tarik (tea with condensed milk).

By a professional.

By a promising beginner.

Celebratory cheers with scavenger hunt team. (Photo credit: Middle-aged Dutch tourist seated next to us.)

-Visiting Chinatown. 

Tail end of a protest. Note that the building says "Jalan Sultan" (Sultan Street).

Part of the scavenger hunt involved getting the recipe for char kuey teow. If the internet ever gets faster in my hotel, I'll upload a video of me talking to the owner of a stall that's been around for over 60 years as her husband whips up (woks up?) the dish.  For now, here's what it looks like:

Finished product. 

-Night market in Little India. I didn't get many good ambience shots, so stalk me on Facebook. I think friends will post some soon. 

Not a cheesesteak. Still delicious.

Awkward group candid. 

My meal for under $3. Laksa, some unnamed oniony, doughy thing (hard to see here, in brown paper), and a delicious durian juice drink. I'm slowly approaching eating actual durian fruit. That's right, I've got you in my sights, durian. 

-Attending a circus-themed gallery opening featuring the work of East Malaysian artists (mostly from Sabah). The aim was to showcase outsider art, and, as one artist explained to me, to show that there is more to art in Sabah than paintings of touristy beach scenes and Mt. Kinabalu. 

Dragon bones? Actually the artist, Cracko's, dead dog's bones. Yes. He told us this.

Clown painting (also by Cracko). 

-Singing R. Kelly's "The World's Greatest" with a Malaysian student near the Petronas Towers. 

One task in our scavenger hunt was to ask a Malaysian to sing an American song and to try to learn a song in Bahasa Malaysia. (By the way, I'm finally learning a little of the language.) The student suggested the song, not us. Glad only the best parts of American culture get exported. Video omitted to protect the innocent. 

-Dancing at a happy hour hosted by the 6 Marines who live on the Embassy grounds. Ask me what good story I learned from a State Dept. employee who was in attendance. 

That's all for now! Oh, I'm trying to keep track of what I read. Just started Farewell Waltz by Milan Kundera.  

First Full Day in Kuala Lumpur

No one wants to hear tales of woe about long-distance flights, so I'll just say that it took me 17 hours of sleep to recover. On the plus side, I'm seriously considering retiring to the Singapore airport. It has a cactus garden, a butterfly garden, a movie theater, a swimming pool, and some sort of mysterious game involving Angry Birds and giant eggs that's called "Redemption." I didn't have the energy to enjoy any of these things, but I did spend some time riding a newfangled contraption labeled the "Travelator"--a.k.a. the moving sidewalk.

After a day of sleep and the most amazing complimentary buffet I've ever had, I felt amazing this morning. Seriously, the buffet was out of control--I had roti, sushi, lamb curry, nasi lemak (a Malaysian coconut rice dish), a plate full of mysterious fruits, and more. The fruits included mangosteen, rambutan, and something we're calling "snake fruit" because of the texture of its peel. (We later found out the real name is salak fruit.) I'll try to post a picture tomorrow of the breakfast bounty, because the internet clearly needs more pictures of foods that twentysomethings are about to eat.

It's surprising how quickly you adapt to a new environment. I went from this tree in the Soltan household (note the photo of Kathleen and me in the corner):

to this unexpected sight in the hotel lobby:

without much difficulty adjusting. It's very hot and humid here, but in KL at least I can wear shorts and tank tops without offending sensibilities. And I've already nearly gone through one tube of sunblock (CVS SPF 50) already.

I spent the morning walking around near our lovely, fancypants hotel, which is right next to the Petronas Towers.

Hotel Lobby

Note: Those trees are actually fake. 

Unexpectedly Christmasy hotel lobby

Petronas Towers

We played on this playground in the shadow of the towers. This is one of a series of awkward photos in which I tried to squeeze in the towers, usually cutting at least one of the spires out. They really are tall, ok?

There were more fountains and pools and such than you could shake a stick at in this area.

The hotel is located in an area blessed with an unusual number of high-end malls.

Not really my cup of tea, but a sight to see nonetheless. After lunch I spent some time swimming and reading (The Last Crusade: The Epic Voyage of Vasco da Gama--thanks Mom and Dad!) by the beautiful outdoor pool at the hotel. The luxury level of this place makes me think that Malaysia really wants this whole English teaching thing to work out. The room I'm staying in has a rain shower and a balcony, plus a weird shutter set-up that allows you to see into the main room from the bath tub if you so desire. I think Fulbright's plan is to lull us into complacency with a 5-star hotel before jettisoning us out into far-flung, rural outposts. If so, it's working.

Dinner was a delicious adventure. Up till now we'd been eating at the surprisingly decent food court at a nearby mall. Pathetic, I know, but cheap and convenient. This time we ventured a little further in search of street food. I had a delicious, filling meal with friends--spicy chicken, seafood noodle soup, fried rice, ginger chicken, and watermelon juice--for about $2.50.

The predators.

                                                             The prey.
                                       

Afterwards we went to another food court, which was more like Reading Terminal than a food court. Over the course of the day I also explored two grocery stores. At one of them my roommate and I bought Durian Pop Pops, a crunch treat that was disgusting and delicious all at the same time. Can't wait to try the real deal. At the second grocery store, we noticed a sign in the liquor section stating that selling to customers under 18 or to Muslim customers was prohibited. Hm.

Since I went to bed well before dark yesterday, this was my first chance to see Malaysia after dark.

                                                     As you can see, the town gets mighty blurry after nightfall.

Walking a little outside the immediate neighborhood where I'm staying was a good chance to see a more bustling side of the city that felt more foreign than the rather sterile fancy environs of the Royale Chulan Hotel.

Despite my anxieties about meeting 75 other people at once while jet-lagged and disoriented, the group seems to be much friendlier, more fun, and quirkier than I anticipated. This has inspired much internal rejoicing on my part.

Official orientation starts bright and early tomorrow, and I have no idea what to expect other than a lunch with the ambassador to Malaysia. At least I'll be well-fortified with a hotel breakfast.