The American Way and a lack of "substance"

As I'm often surrounded by people from other countries. I take note of the cultural differences that are ever-present. There are some differences that I regret, like the lack of a culture and traditions that are thousands of years old. Even things that are both a gift and a curse - such as a more homogeneous society as far as ethnicity or religion - has some benefits culturally that we miss out on; such as monuments as extraordinary as the Giant Buddha in Hong Kong or the Batu Caves here in KL. But I realize now that one of the biggest differences is a success oriented "dare to dream" mindset. Although I'm relatively inexperienced in my field, I maintain a mindset that I want to continue to improve at what I do. I ask a lot of questions and ask to be involved in more and more because I plan on being the man someday. And when some smart kid straight outta college shows up askin me tough questions the same way I do, I need to be good enough to answer. It seems many other nations have very successful people but they get content much easier. Noone sets out to 'change the world.' Of the many inventions that have truly changed the world or fundamentally changed the way we do certain things, many of them have been invented by Americans. With as little history as we have compared to so many countries, how did we get so ahead of the curve? Da Vinci designed a flying machine in the 1400's. There were no more great minded dreamers in Europe who could figure out how to finish it. It took two young bike salesmen in America over 400 years later to finish the job? With all the minds from different countries that had hands in giving the world the computer, how is it that it took Americans to allow them connect and form the Internet? Better yet, how did two college drop outs in Silicon Valley become the first to make a workable interface systems to operate computers? With foods from European originals being so popular - Hamburgers (named for Hamburg, Germany), Hot dogs/Frankfurters (named for Frankfurt, Germany), pizza (of Italian origin), french fries (self-explanatory), etc - how did fast food of such foods become an American creation? How'd someone like Henry Ford - who invented neither the car or the assembly line - become first to fuse the two into the modern automotive industry? Theater and entertainment go back thousands of years, how did Hollywod end up in America? There are so many others. Even lately, there have been several Internet-based inventions that have fundamentally changed the way we do things. Google has fundamentally changed the way the world shares and finds information; it was started by college students who expanded it from research project of theirs. Facebook has fundamentally changed the way people communicate and find each other; It's founder, Mark Zuckerberg is a programmer who dropped out to run with an idea. Wikipedia has replaces volumes of encyclopedia as the dominant way to research and find collections of information on certain topics;Its founder left a lucrative financial business to make the vision a reality. These are just examples of what I mean. Maybe it's a by-product of a nation of immigrants who went to the "New World" to shake things up. Maybe, we don't have sentimentalities that could hold us back. I'm not sure what it is. But I appreciate it. It almost depresses me to see people with little focus or ambition. I've come to look for it in conversation in general and especially look for it in women that I plan on taking seriously. The combination of intellect, critical thinking, will to stand for beliefs, and ambition are appealing. I've ccome to call this "substance." And I would say I have not met enough women here with adequate substance. I've met college grads with no sense of wanting to do more than just "hold what they have." Even among those still in college, there is often a lack of focus. I meet people who party almost every night and use that as an excuse to miss class; which they consider "boring." And I'm not saying classes aren't boring. I'm saying that this is not the proper mindset of an achiever. Do I think I'm some genius? No. Do I think I am going to be president? Not at all. Do I think I'm going to be Mark Zuckerberg and be a billionaire by my mid-20s? No, but if the opportunity and passion struck me I may go for it. The point is I'm ambitious enough to want to keep moving forward, to do things a cut above what most ppl my age do; like this trip in general. Even if I'm not a billionaire, or hailed as one of the minds that shaped my time, I wanna do something with myself. I wanna be successful. I want to look back and say I achieved something. I want to harness a slice of the American dream...

Going Postal

Ever since going to Hong Kong, I have been trying hard to round up Christmas gifts to send home. So I got to the point where I went to Petaling Street, the discount mall/flea market equivalent here, and picked up my stuff. So I finally get everything organized and ready to send off. I check Fed Ex and DHL and they cost way too much. I’m told the only affordable way will be POS Malaysia, the national postal service; cool. The post office closes at 6 pm, so I have to find a way to get off early just to get to a post office before they’re closed. But I get there, upon talking to the gentleman I find that they have no packing supplies to use. No Styrofoam, no bubble wrap, only one box choice. Now, the man uses the word “sold out” so I’m thinking they’re just slack on re-upping their inventory. But whatever, it’s too late for me to make it back by 6pm. So go to Tesco (Britain’s poor excuse for Wal-Mart) and I buy some Styrofoam and bubble tape and take a supply box that is just sitting on the floor. So I make everything fit fine and am determined to get it done the next day. So the next day after lunch, I have by boss drop me at the post office near work so I can handle this “real quick” and come back to work. Little did I know. SMH. I take a number, sit down for a sec, then look up at the number board. They’re serving customer number 2244, my card says 2272, I’m the 29th person in line. Are you serious? I get mad if I'm the 10th person in line back home. I suck it up, determined to get this done. So about 45 minutes later, I finally get called to the counter, the lady is cooperative finding a rate for me, giving me the proper label and everything. Then she looks at my box and says, “Oh sir, we can’t send it like that.” I look at my regular cardboard box sitting open with everything securely surrounded by bubble wrap and foam. I’m thinking “What do you mean, we can tape this bad boy up and get this done. She says "it has to be fully wrapped like that" and points to a box wrapped in brown paper and taped up securely. They got specific standards to follow, ok whatever, let's get it done. So I ask "so where and how much is ur brown paper and tape?" to which she replies "Oh we don't have those things here. You have to go to the bookstore downstairs for that stuff." Yet again a post office, the expertise center of packing and shipping items, has no appropriate packing supplies despite specific standards of how they want things packed. How does that work? But anyway, I go searching for this bookstore she mentioned. I don't see, it's a big business complex though, so I continue walking around with my open box looking for it. 15 minutes to no avail. So I ask the security guards, who after clarifying that they understand the words "book store" tell me that there is no bookstore in the complex. The long wait bored me more than annoying me, but this news starts to heat me up a little bit. Is the post office chick playing mind games? Trying to run me around in circles or something? What's going on? Eventually, I'm finally directed to a little grocery store that has some Christmas style wrapping paper. I figure "that's just gonna have to work." So I have pay for the paper and get them to wrap it and head back up to the post office. Now, obviously the line has moves on far past my number. I guess technically I was supposed to grab a number again and hop back in line; wasn't going to happen though. I walked right up to the lady who had been handing me before and wait until she's finished with her current customer. So everything is finally ready, the total price by air is RM 210 or so (about $70 US) which actually wasn't bad. By sea, it's only RM 54 (about $18) but it would take about 3 months rather than 1-2 weeks by air. It's worth the extra to me. Especially since it's still only about half of what it would cost with DHL or FedEx. After hours and lots of impatience and aggravation, the package is headed stateside finally. I'm not in a rush to deal with a post office here again, POS Malaysia is noone's friend. But as I was told about the long wait getting many things - access card, new SIM card, wi-fi in the house, etc - this is the Malaysian way. Lucky me. Selamat malam...

Powerless, Literally

About a month ago, we received a notice at our door saying that several bills were past due including maintenance fee, water bill, and others. The notice says if the balance owed hasn’t been paid by November 30th, they would turn our water off. So the next day after I work I take this notice into headquarters to let them know. One of the ladies in accounts tells me to consult another lady who works there because she is our contact with the renting agent. The condo is actually owned/lived in by a family who has gone somewhere and rented it out to my company. This process and the attached bills are handled by some combination of the owner, my company, and an agent that my company hired. I’m not exactly sure how it is supposed to work. I don’t know if the owner is supposed to pay the bills and my companies pays him back a fixed rate or if the company is supposed to pay him a rate and handle all bills, etc. All I know is that they told me upon arrival that they would “take care of my housing” so I expect it to get handled. I talk to the lady they refer me to who is like “Ok, I’ll talk to the agent.” When I follow up, she hasn’t spoken to the agent at all because she has been busy with work. This is a higher priority to me than them, so even though I’m disappointed by this, I understand how that can happen. She gives me the number and I talk to the agent myself. The agent is saying that in their terms there is some stuff that the agent has to handle, but not others and that the company is responsible for most of what they say is owed. So we speak back to the accounts department at HQ, now I’m pushing the issue because that deadline is almost upon us. They say “fine, but we need an official statement to write the check.” In the back of my mind, “so you couldn’t have told me that before instead of trying to bounce this to the agent” but whatever I have to do what is necessary to avoid them cancelling our water. So I go to the mailbox (full of bills and notices and such despite the agent telling us that she checks it weekly for these things), I go to the management office, go everywhere I know to go and gather up everything I can. At the management office, the lady tells me “Don’t worry, your water won’t be cut off right at the end of the month, you will have more time to settle before they actually take such action.” This eases my mind a little; I still want it handled though. The next day or so, I hear that handling this has now been delegated to our new human resources lady, who’s already garnered a reputation as a bit of a shrewd despite only starting a few weeks ago. Once again, my mind starts working “why are they trying to bounce this thing around so much?” But I assure myself it’s cool because one thing uptight people are usually good for is handling things in a timely manner. The 30th comes and goes, water is still on, no more notices. I’m relaxed, I don’t inquire anymore about the issue and go on with my life. On a day where I was fairly annoyed at work, which also happened to be one of the hotter days we had in a while (there are no seasons here, so despite being December I could easily be working in 85-90 degree weather), I return home to the apartment anxious to engage in my usual routine: I walk in the house, walk into my room, switch on the air conditioning and lay at the spot in the bed it points to for a few minutes before going about my evening. I unlock our gate, unlock the front door, in stride towards my room I hit the light switch; nothing. I try another light switch, nothing still. I look on the ground and see what must be a “cut off” notice; I’m not entirely sure because it’s in Malay. The notice we received mentioned maintenance fees, water bill, and some other jargin, but it didn’t mention electricity at all. My Filipino housemate opts to stay in the apartment but I can’t sit stewing in a dark room. After a somewhat stressful day, I want to shed the day’s troubles and relax, not sweat off pounds of water weight as if I’m a boxer trying to make my division size limit. The entire time I’ve been in Malaysia, despite working 6 days a week at a job which can be very stressful at times, despite my frustrating lack of independence as far as transportation goes, despite missing family and friends and a traditional holiday season, one thing I always have had complete confidence in is that my company has been taking good care of me; paying me good, exposing me to some things, taking care of my housing and transportation. For the first time, that confidence was shaken a little bit.

Tom, Tom, Tom - A Cautionary Tale

The weird British roommate stories continue, soon you’re gonna think I’m making them up. This man is simply a story in contradiction. Early after arriving here, he criticized cameras as girly and smart phones as risky (along with complaining every time me or our safety officer Seelan used wifi on our phones), then he ended up buying an iPhone and taking pictures of everything. Be reminded, he bough this iPhone for RM 3000 (about $1000 US) after complaining that he didn’t have enough money to buy more shirts for work. Since we’ve been here he’s boycotted (either short-term or permanently) foods such as bread, rice, noodles, and chicken because he claimed they don’t agree with his stomach. But he will eat weird foods, including octopus, stingray, fermented beans, durian (these are just some of the ones I’ve physically seen), with no hesitation at all. But none of that tops his contradictions when it comes to alcohol. First of all, the first time we ever went out drinking here in Malaysia, he was talking big junk about drinking ability “Oh, Americans can’t drink, the British have to show you how it’s done,” etc. Then the first two times we went for beer, he tried to outdrink me and failed miserably and then felt terrible the next day while I felt fine; and I don’t even really drink beer back home. So he decided afterwards that he would go with us to the bar but he wouldn’t drink, he would watch us drink while sipping ice water. This happened several times. Then once we went out to a club with some Chinese ladies we work with and had bottles of Hennessy (see blog entry “The Bite”). When we first got there and the bartender put Coke in my Hennessy, he sounded off “I thought men were supposed to drink it on the rocks” despite me not requesting Coke. So the rest of the night I drank it straight. By the end of the night, he was drinking ice water again. But his latest fiasco…SMH. We were without power at our apartment for a day and a half because someone at our headquarters was slack paying our bill. Rather than sit in a hot house, I ended up going to some friends’ place and chilling with them. He chose to go to a bar, by himself. Going out drinking already seems like a move of desperation or alcoholism, but whatever I don’t think much of it. When I get back, I go straight to sleep and I don’t see him in the mornings because we now work on different projects. That afternoon, he can hardly eat because his stomach has been weakened. I inquire why. I find out that he apparently drank an entire bottle of wine in the span of about an hour and followed that up with tequila shots…by himself on a weekday. He doesn’t remember how he got home or much of the night, all he remembers is waking up in his bed in a puddle of his own vomit. Absolutely terrible. Most people I know, myself included, are social drinkers; they go out drinking with other people to have some fun, you know about where your limits are but sometimes people go a little overboard if you’re having a lot of fun. Or if you do go by yourself and drink a lot, it’s probably because he was entertaining some chick he met and was trying to enable a good time with her or something of that nature. The concept of drinking is usually to have fun in the company of others. For this reason, most people don’t really go out to a bar to drink by themselves. I mean I understand if someone goes out alone and has a beer or two while he watched a game on their TV. But to down a whole bottle of wine in a short span and follow it up with tequila shots, which result in you swimming in a pool of your own regurgitation, is not cool by any means. It seems even more odd when this is the same guys who has sat at a table full of coworkers and cute bar girls while we were playing a drinking game with dice and chose to drink ice water instead of participate. He didn’t even have to drive that night. I simply don’t understand. I’m not sure I ever will. Wish me luck, I will be traveling with him to Singapore for Christmas. I’m not sure what to expect. Selamat malam…

Two Odd Club Nights

A couple weekends ago, I went out both Friday and Saturday night with two entirely different crowds of people. And each night ended up having quite a story, to which I've given both names to accompany the stories:

Night One: The Bite
My Brit roommate and I were invited to a club right in the middle of downtown KL by some of the young Chinese ladies who work in the HQ of the company I work for. It ended up being 3-4 guys and about 8-9 women, good odds in my book. The way ppl avoid paying cover charges for clubs here is to buy a certain amount of alcohol to get a certain number of people in; so we committed to buying two bottles of Hennessy. So I'm there having a good time, mingling with cute little Chinese women. Two dance in the cages above the bar, good for scenery. LOL. Everybody is enjoying themselves. Then one chick hits that point where she is just way too drunk. As the biggest person there, I have to be the one to carry her to the car. I was hoping to kind of walk her to the car, but she stumbles and falls in the three step walk to where I'm standing. So I reach down, grab her by the underarms and start picking her up. As I'm picking her up and her head is passing my chest area, she bites me on the collarbone. I mean, locks on like a pitbull on the ankle of someone robbing their owner's house. She was locked on for a good 10-12 seconds or so. Long enough for me (be reminded, I'm dark skinned) to have teeth marks on my collar bone for about 3-4 days after. I had to throw her over my shoulder and then toss her into the guy's car. I certainly hope she didn't throw up all over his back seat...

Night 2: Rent-A-Cops on Patrol
The following night, still with bite marks on my collarbone, I head out to a spot called HQ with some Kenyan and Tanzanian ladies I know. The promotion they have for Ladies Night is that all women get in free and get long island iced teas from the bar free all night. Meanwhile, I have to pay a cover charge and buy my drinks. So after a drink or two, I decide I don't wanna spend anymore money. So the ladies decide that they'll help me out and just hand me some of the free drinks they keep getting. I'm down, at this point I'm dancing a little bit but mostly chilling and socializing with the ladies. Two of them have slight crushes on me at the same time, but how that manifests itself is a story for another day. At one point as I'm finishing one of the ladies' drinks and the security guard walks up to me and pulls that "Ay man, the free drinks are just for the women." In my mind, "Go sit down rent-a-cop." But of course, I stay polite "She said she wasn't going to finish her drink and asked me too, that's all." So he leaves but assigns one of his lackies to stand near us and watch if I take anymore drinks. I'm guessing the guy was supposed to do it secretly, but I was onto the schmuck the instead he stopped halfway up the stairs and kept peeking at me. So i don't drink anything for a while. I know the guy is watching to see if I will drink, plus the fact that I see him peeking at me sometimes is creeping me out anyway. I guess the chicks didn't spot him, because one of them pours her drink into a cup between me and one of the women. Even without me touching it, the schmuck from the stairs runs down grabs the cup and signals for me to get out of the club. First of all, he isn't wearing anything identifying himself as an employee in the first place. Secondly, I came to your club, paid a cover charge, paid for a few drinks, and brought five women with me. Don't get me wrong, I realize I was technically breaking the spirit of the rules u've laid out but You should pray for more guys like me to come there. I'm helping the guy-to-girl ratio which attracts other guys (who have to spend money) to come to your club. Beyond all that, u give a girl a free drink and then snatch it off the table in front of her. Not a good look as we say. So the chick goes and rips someone a new one and gets her drink back. By this time, my mood is somewhat ruined. The rent-a-cop and his lackey put a damper on an otherwise good night.

Becoming Closer to God in Malaysia

This breaks the sequential order that I was gonna establish with the Hong Kong events and pics, but I feel it's important. Plus, this is my blog, get over it. LOL...

Yeah, this entry's title is strange and almost oxymoronic. I know. But it’s true. Before coming here, I had no idea what to expect going to a Muslim country. I try not to give in to believing stereotypes of Muslims too much; such as the religion being so objectifying and abusive of women or being a training ground for terrorism. However, to stay considerate I did leave all Christian/religious paraphernalia behind. I wanted to avoid any possibility of things being taken or having problems entering through customs or immigration. However, a few weeks after arriving I met students who attend a Christian church near where I work. I started out attending out of convenience because the service was immediately after work and nearby my job. Also, there was an added element of guilt. After all, I had been slack on my church going during my 5 years of college primarily because Sunday morning was usually spent either resting on the way back from a track meet or recovering from partying and socializing Saturday night. So I started going and found that Saturday night service was a fairly small service of mostly African students and was focused mainly on simple and applicable lessons from the Bible; the pastor was even Malay, the biggest surprise. From there, as I met more people through the church, I was introduced to an Indian who lived and studied in America who hosts Bible study every Wednesday evening. Bible study provided an even more intimate environment, usually about 10 people or so, and it very interactive and revolved around lessons usually made by college-aged members of the bible study class. I never doubted that Christianity would always be part of my life. But somehow, being here has provided me with a new sense of purpose towards it. I had gained a procrastinating attitude instead of truly taking action towards this goal. But being here around these African and Indian Christians, has made me look at things a little differently. They are much more spiritual and aware of the presence of God in their everyday lives that I would have guessed. They truly do use the Bible as a source of strength and encouragement through their troubling times. So although I’m not a huge fan of what organized religion can become such as the business mentality, competitive spirituality, and overwhelming theatrics that can take place. However, these are flaws with man, not flaws of God. Therefore, whether done in a mega church, normal church, small church, or at home alone with a Bible and a friend, I want to work on my spirituality. I have seen what faith can do for people and even though I admit I sometimes question the events of the Bible or warped applications that men have applied, I want the positive affects that faith can have; the strength to overcome tough times, the gratitude for things often overlooked, and the overall optimism that relieves stresses in life. Now, I doubt I’ll ever be a “holy roller” as my brother would say. But I feel I can do better and am trying to stop standing still and believe that I want to. In my spare time, of which I have a lot, I try to read from my Bible Reader iPod touch app instead of dosing off or listening to songs I’ve heard 500 times. Baby steps, but steps nonetheless. I’m blessed, as far as talents, abilities, family, achievement, and more. I want to fulfill my full potential.

Hong Kong Getaway: Part 1, The Culture

I had the glorious opportunity to escape work for 4 days and take a vacation to Hong Kong recently. I needed a change from 60+ hour work weeks plus who doesn't wanna see Hong Kong? I met up with a college friend of mine who is teaching in South Korea and wanted to see Hong Kong too. It was a marvelous trip. I'll be talking things I took away from the trip in a few different pieces, don't want to overload the pictures or the information. Gotta keep it organized. LOL. This first segment speaks to their culture.

One thing I usually marvel at when going abroad is the seamless integration between culture and society. I'm used to the US where ppl are from everywhere, so culture is kind of what u make it to be personally. There aren't universal rituals and traditions built into the culture. It's different in a country like China, which is thousands of yrs old and has a population mostly made of the same race and religion. We saw the Giant Buddha at Ngong Ping. This Buddha statue is about 40-50 feet tall and built in top of a mountain far up in the mountains only accessible by either a 45 minute cable car ride or (if u're dedicated and slightly insane) a walk that has to take the better part of the day. It's also surrounded by praying ladies making offering to Buddha. It's amazing to me that a country's people take such pride in their religion that they would build and regularly travel so far to see such a sight and often to pray. I'm not Buddhist, but I had to go see it. It's a testament to their character. On a similar note, we visited several different temples all over the Hong Kong area. Many are very old but still very impressive and magnificent inside. The golden statues, artwork, models, decorations, and incense are a very soothing environment. They also have spiral incense which would be very nice burning in my living room when I get my own place. LOL. Also at Ngong Ping, we saw a walkway lined with The Twelve Generals, which serve as a symbol of protection in their culture. They are also pictured. Once again, no suitable American equivalent. Can u imagine the fire storm which would start in America, a land of so many religions, if one religion wanted to build such a statue and complex. It would become and competition of which religion could do it the biggest.
Also pictured below are the infinite statues, basically tall wooden totems in the shape of a giant infinity sign, once again very high up in the mountains. Each totem has it's own distinctive carvings in Chinese. I wish I could enlighten you with the knowledge of what each was saying, but I have no idea. Sorry.
Moving on, I also included pictures from the district of markets. There is a Flower Market, a Jade Market, and most interestingly a Bird Market. They have full markets - meaning like a block or two of storefronts or big rooms full of stands - selling their specialty. I'm not into flowers, but the store pictured below with the deep green plants and the glass waterfall at the store front was very calming. It amazes me at the bird market to see ppl just chilling with their birds at their sides in cages. It was just as natural as I'd sit my brief case on the ground beside me when I sit. Any kind of bird (normal birds anyway, no condors or anything obviously) or bird-related item is available for u. And it was packed, ppl give em love there. The Jade Market is the one that got me excited, unfortunately my card didn't work overseas so I had to monitor my cash and couldn't splurge when I got there, but it's a great place to get nice and distinctive gifts. Jewelry, statues, paperweights, etc., if it's made of jade or a distinctive stone, it was there for u.
Last but not least, pictured directly below, was our trip to the Wishing Tree. The Wishing Tree is rehabbing at the moment. Apparently it was falling or something, because it's being supported by stands as pictured, but nonetheless, people come and visit the wish lady to write their wishes in Chinese on the parchment pictured and hang them on the stands near the tree. We followed suit. Once again, although I am from a different religion entirely, I see the value in faith. Not saying the US doesn't have faith, that's not true at all, but I can tell a difference in a homogeneous society where u can build faith from thousands of years ago into your everyday life. To be continued with another aspect of my trip...

An Interesting Convo To Have...

The construction industry in general is one that is dominated by men. There tend to be some women in the headquarters but I work at the construction site office. The management can feature women if they're not scared to work outside in an environment filled with large machinery, safety hazards, and confrontation in the name of compliance and protocol. As far as general workers, the everyday physical demands of the job seem to dissuade women as candidates; especially when all this lifting, moving, hacking, bar bending, carpentry, masonry and everything happens in a place like Malaysia which is summer all year long. Combined with that trend, here in Malaysia, the general workers live in temporary housing on the job site itself. The carpenters have built themselves a village of housing structures and a bathroom facility. This bathroom has become fairly offensive as far as the odors and there is only one tub to wash in. So the guys usually go in their briefs and wash from the tub water. Out of the 30 or more general workers on the site, only two of them are women. As with most of my workers, they don't speak more than about 4 popular words of English so we can't communicate beyond me gesturing and using my tone to suggest what tasks I want them to do at work. But if I could communicate with them, there are several questions I would ask them. How do u feel about working in such a physical profession surrounded by organized chaos? What is it like sharing such a primitive living environment and bathing in an unhygienic bathroom facility with all men? Do u ever deal with sexism in such an environment? What is it like working an unconventional job for women in a Muslim country? Furthermore, and most importantly, how did u end up doing this? I think I'm missing out on an interesting convo...

The Job: What I Actually Do

Here is the answer to the ever-popular question "So what do you actually do?" which I get every time after I surprise people by saying that I'm not an African studying here in Malaysia. Also, the actual words in the title of my position contradicts with my degree and the nature of what I actually do day-to-day. I am Project Engineer for a construction company called Bumimetro Construction. I am working on a high rise condo project called One Kiara; pictured above. The project is in a very high end area of KL called Mont Kiara. Each individual unit has it's own elevator and elevator lobby, the units range from 2000 - 7000 square feet and most cost over 1 million ringgits(RM). As for me, I am vital to ensuring the quality and compliance with the drawings as well as the optimal management of time and money. So on a daily basis, I'm conducting inspections of important members to ensure quality and specifications before they're cast in concrete (which they use for everything here), testing building materials to ensure their strength and quality, calculating and reporting material quantities to reduce unnecessary wastage, helping coordinate my workers (mostly Indonesian and Bangladeshi) as quality control for the work that they are preforming, and lately writing stinging letters to our client or consultants in response to their often irrational or excessive requests or questioning. Also, my project manager has been involving and simultaneously educating me about how the logistics and large-scale coordination aspect is thought out and planned. I can proudly say that I do think my major has done a lot to help prepare me. Being around coworkers who have strictly engineering background, which don't go into the construction process or financial sides, I have knowledge of reading drawings, contract stipulation, human resource management, construction techniques, reasoning and terminology. I also benefit from the fact that I have a strong work ethic and am a fast learner. For the past few weeks, I have been the only engineer on-site for our project. Most of the others on our management team - a surveyor, a clerk, a safety manager, a quality control & assurance person - have no involvement in the actual construction processes ongoing. Those others who are involved - our project manager and site supervisor - call most of the shots but don't handle any of the day-to-day operations paperwork or quality control aspect. That leaves me at this moment feeling like somewhat of a 'One Man Island' on a 150,000,000 ringgit project; on top of the 6 day, 60+ hour work week, it's a bit of a grind. The silver lining is that I'm fairly good at what I do and get respect from my coworkers for my work ethic and acumen. My boss now wants me to stay for an extra year until the completion of the project. I don't know about all that...

The Characters I Work With

Date: 10/25/10

One of the most important aspects of any job is the simple question 'Can you stand the people you work with?' This will go a long way to determining whether you like your job or not. I inherited quite a cast of different personalities on my job. You have me in all my glory. Formerly there was my roommate (read previous blog out him if you have not), but he has since been transferred to a different project due to lack of enthusiasm and productivity; he needed to see something different. First there is Seelan, the Indian safety officer and one of my closest friends since I've gotten to Malaysia. Cool dude, funny, enjoys having fun. Also 32 yrs old, basically taking care of his niece like his own child. Honestly, in a culture like this, I can't figure out why the dude isn't married; i think it's a combo of confidence issues around women and concentration on some other family issues going on. It's nice that he's a bachelor so we can go out and discuss 'eye candy' but one of my biggest missions is to get him out of his bad habit of driving after drinking. I finally think I broke through to him about it after a somewhat unsafe night we had weeks ago. So i will continue working this with him. I can't help thinking I have an opportunity to change his life for the better and I won't stop monitoring him on this. Great guy though. Next there is Khairul. Boy, boy, boy. He's a Malay clerk of works (i won't try to explain what that means) working for the client of the project rather than the contractor, who I work for. He's 35 yrs old, looks like a teenager because of his size and personality. Although married, he's very vocally girl crazy (at least talking, hopefully not acting on such thoughts) especially for young girls (too young). Because he works for the client, basically the customer in the construction situation, whenever women are mentioned his favorite phrase is "Client first."He is the class clown of our work situation; always talking, usually something that ends with his hyena-like laughter. The jokes are often at my roommate's expense. He has been at odds with his bosses since I arrived on the project and has been looking for a new job. He has been offered two or three, he has one big problem. He adamantly refuses to take a blood test; no matter what. Whether he wants the job or not, he is turning it down immediately if it requires a blood test. As hilarious at he his, the funniest part of all my be his territorial attitude towards me 'stealing' Seelan from him. Wow. Moving on, Zambri is our Malay surveyor. He's one of the bigger Malays I encounter (probably 5'11, 210 or so) but rides a small motor bike like his undersized counterparts. He's a cool guy as long as you don't disturb the hour of sleep he sneaks in at work everyday. Ms. Oon, my greatest ally and also my archnemesis. A useful wealth of info to talk to and simultaneously the most frequent source of headaches on the job. She is the Chinese senior clerk of works for the client. Inspections of all members being built, one of the biggest parts of my job, are performed side-by-side with her. She's very good at her job and very good at knowing what to look for. At the same time, she can be very picky - sometimes overly picky - about things that don't matter. Why do we need to waste time brushing the rust off the the rebar if it's part of the foundation and is about to be casted into concrete and buried underground? This is Malaysia, it rains all the time, the rebar is going to rust; let it go. But I digress…Next you have Mr. Ong (pictured below sleeping AKA hard at work) our older Chinese resident engineer. He don’t talk much, but when he does, you probably won’t like it. Come back from break late, he will get mad and tell on you; right after taking a nap and right before he goes on his 3 pm break at 5:15 himself. Old men. SMH. But all old men are not created equal. I have an adopted Grandfather for my time here, Ah Fatt Lim. He doesn’t speak much English. But he can say “Happy Hour” perfectly. He’s that old man that your parents try to keep you away from until you’re a little older because he’s still acting up for his age. He’s pictured below acting up with a bar girl at a local pub. What a character. CH Tan, my former boss (recently transferred due to butting heads with the clients), is two completely different people wrapped into one. He’s the coolest, most inviting middle aged dude outside of work. He used to show us the good, cheap restaurants, he showed us where to by the ‘legally illegal’ DVDs, etc. But at work, he can catch a quick temper with the best of them. He likes to start barking at us if more pressure is put on him He's pictured below in the doorway. Fook Lee Low is our site supervisor; essentially day-to-day he calls the shots. He doesn’t speak much English but increasingly we can understand each other more and more. He’s the most athletic 53 year old Chinese man the world has ever seen (he’s pictured below 20 feet in the air helping construct a roof with no hard hat). I’ve seen him instinctively hop up on things I have to be careful with myself. The other person unsafely constructing that roof is Hasan Ali, my favorite worker. He’s a 28-year old Bangladeshi who you can tell wants more for himself. Most of the general workers on our site are satisfied living on site in meager accommodations and getting paid pennies to build expensive buildings. Hasan is different. Somehow, with the slim salary our workers get paid, he’s bought a PDA and a laptop and is determined to learn how to use them to make himself better prepared to take another step in his life. I support anybody tryna move forward as long as they're not sellin their soul to do it. And how could I forget our security guard Mazlan. Round as he wants to be, always smiling and standing at the gate with this one leg cocked out stance like he's waiting on the spot light to hit him. The funniest guy I can't understand. The "artwork" on his guard house door is pictured below. Interesting times and people. Better than a site full of stiffs....

The Joys of Workers Who Don't Speak English

Date: 10/2/10

“Morning Boss” this is how I am greeted by my workers on the jobsite when I enter every morning. Being mostly Indonesian and Bangladeshi (and full of vibrant personality), this is as far as some of their English vocabularies stretch. So during the day, trying to give them specific directions for what I need them to do becomes quite a difficult yet entertaining task. Hand gestures always help so I could imagine I may look a little silly from 50 feet away if you see me making hand motions but don’t know what I am talking about. Our Safety Supervisor, my main man Seelan, speaks very good Bahasa Malay and English, so sometimes (especially on time-sensitive issues), he gets drafted as my temporary translator for purposes of clarity. It already feels a little strange from time to time giving orders for manual labor to men who are on average 10 years older than me or so; the language barrier makes it that much more interesting. But luckily, the combination of me being one of the only member of the management staff that’s not scared to get their hands dirty and do something themselves and being the “big Black guy” has bought me a tremendous level of respect with my workers. I’ve rolled up the sleeves of my Polo to move something myself instead of disturbing a worker from another task and seen a worker come running 100 feet to come tell me “No boss, I will do.” It was a good feeling.. Hasan, a 28 year old Bangladeshi who’s the leader of the Kongsikong (a Mandarin term which essentially means general construction worker) has become my go-to guy because he understands a little bit of English on top of being genrally dependable, proactive, and informative. But that is the case with my Kongsikong. My site supervisor Fook Lee, a Chinese man about my parents age (who’s remarkably athletic for his age I’ve come to find watching him climb and navigate to the least accessible points on site) understands English okay because he watches American movies; however, he does not speak English well at all. I ask questions, about EVERYTHING. I want to learn about EVERYTHING because I plan to be the big man on the job one day and when I have young, handsome, educated college grad asking me questions about why I do the things I do on site, I need to be able to answer. With Fook Lee, trying to have a productive conversation with him is hit or miss. Sometimes I can decipher what he means and learn something, other times I just end up leaving unfulfilled. I don’t’ even get frustrated any more, I just know it’s part of the game. The most interesting events as far as language barrier are our inspections. Inspections of every building member before it’s concreted are done by Ms. Oon, the bilingual clerk or works for the project owner, and myself. Fook Lee often comes along though. There are times where she and I will disagree and be arguing with something in English and Fook Lee will lean to her a little later and ask in Malay “what was that about?” Then other times she and Fook Lee will argue in Malay and then I have to lean in and ask for clarification in English. After a year of this site dynamic, communicating with worker in English when I return to the States should be a piece of cake. Off to bed, need to get some rest and enjoy Sunday, my only day off each week. Selamat malam…

My Weird British Roommate

September 3, 2010 and ongoingThere he is. The man, the myth, the legend. I’m past the point of avoiding him. Even past the point that he annoys me a little. I’m actually at the point where I pity him. Yes, I said I pity him. I pity him because I realize that if he truly believes the things that he argues, his life is not going to be anything I’d want to live in. His priorities are curious to say the least. We’re here for one year and he wants to do things like buy a car and a motorbike, but he only brought 3 work-suitable shirts and no work-suitable pants to somewhere he’d be working for an entire year. How much sense does that make to you? When we went shopping for our house with reps from our company, the things he was most worried about were very weird stuff: a frying pan with grill marks (very picky about the size of the grill marks), strainers (multiple, actually), a wash pan (because apparently doing the dishes in the sink just won’t do), etc. Even more so, since I’ve been here, he finds something rather ridiculous to argue with me every few days. First we were talking about eating healthy and he honestly tries to convince me and others that pork is very good for you and it is bread that is giving everyone high cholesterol and heart disease. He says scientists in general are proven wrong and that conventional knowledge about nutrition is all media propaganda because Jimmy Carter was a vegetarian and this has somehow lived on since then. Think that over for a minute. Media propaganda from the Carter administration, he said. On a similar note, he argued that Subway is a sham because it’s actually worse for you than McDonald’s. Yeah, he said this to me with a straight face. However, his diet is weird, he claims he likes spicy food and isn’t a picky eater however he tries to order them “no padas” meaning ‘not hot’ because the spice messed up his stomach. Also, he doesn’t eat bread, rice, or noodles because he says they mess up his stomach; but I’ve seen him eat weird foods like Durian, octopus, and sting ray. If you got a picky stomach, fine. But be real. I don’t have a picky stomach. Other coworkers don’t have picky stomachs, so we have to ask YOU where you can eat. Meaning you’re the picky one. The list goes on, we go places where there may be women or even just general an upscale environment. He “dresses up” in a plain gray t-shirt (yes, the same one everytime), jeans (the same jeans) and dingy white sneakers (once again, yes the same one every time). We saw a Lamborghini and I made a comment that I think it’s a nice car but it’s too low for me to drive everyday. He, all of 5’7 to 5’8 and 120 lbs or so, argues with me that it’s not hard to get out of because size is irrelevant in those situations so it’s just as easy for me as it is for him. If you’re talking about a car as low as a Lambo, how is size irrelevant? He’s one of those people who is a buzz kill in conversation. People, not just me, seem to look for ways to exclude him when we’re having social or funny moments. He something says something a little sexist or calls something ‘girly’ but he’s far from a man’s man. My boss questions if he’s ever been with a lady because of how odd he is around women. He talked junk about his ability to drink, but then doesn’t drink anymore because the first times he drank here, they didn’t go well. He tries to blame the beer.
But all of that has become minor in comparison to a conversation we had about decisions. After a normal, “this is a job, you have to make decisions” statement, he reveals to us that he doesn’t believe people are capable of making decisions. He believes that the environment makes your decisions for you. He says that this is verified by science and is indisputable. That’s right, he said that all nutritionists are full of hot air and spewing Jimmy Carter-originated BS; but he believes that scientists have proved without a shadow of a doubt that the environment makes decisions for people instead of them making them for themselves. After some argument, I thought a little more about things and it made me a little sad for him. Take a moment and truly think about the ramifications of a grown man who truly believes he’s not capable of deciding anything for himself. I’m here in Malaysia, despite some job offers in America, because I wanted an international work experience before I settle into the usual working grown person role for the rest of my life. I’m beginning to think that he honestly is here because it’s the first job that presented itself. In his mind, it was “Well, I’ve spent enough time in my parents’ house in England looking for an engineering job; one became available in Malaysia so destiny must want me to go there.” And that was the end of it. Unlike me, no deep thought went into it at all. He didn’t even bring a camera, saying that he doesn’t care about pictures from this YEAR LONG overseas experience. How much do you think he’ll gain from this experience compared to what he has the potential to gain? Then I thought about it even deeper and it gets scarier. How accountable can someone be if they don’t think they make their own decisions? Can you imagine how mad you would get if you tried to ask an employee about ways to rectify a bad decision he made and he says “You really can’t be mad at me, I didn’t really make the decision; the environment around me did.” I’d be tempted to hit him in the throat. Furthermore, exactly how ambitious can you be if you think that way. I went to high school with a guy, Devon, who was brilliant. I mean, I define intelligence as the ability to learn, analyze and process information. And Devon has as much or more of it than anyone else I know. He had the potential to do great things. However, to be great, you have to consciously take a step further than being average or even being good. To use a computer example, that’s how you go from being a smart kid who became a computer hacker and step up to becoming an information entrepreneur or invent something computer-related that changes the world. However, exactly how can you start this process if you don’t feel that step is not yours to take? No one else can take it for you. One of the things that I believe shaped my life immensely is my parents’ mindset on how to raise a man. They raised me and my brother in a way - through lessons, experiences, and exposures – that as an adult we will be able to analyze situations and make your own decisions and deal with the consequences of your decisions. This is probably the biggest root of my disapproval of his attitude. But another part of being an adult is that you have to accept people’s differences and take people for what they are. This reinforces my sentiment that we will never be too close of friends or see eye-to-eye on anything important. I kind of wish I could trade him in for the cool Western companion I’d imagined to counter the Asians. Instead we’re about as different as two Westerners could be. He’s a spoiled, tiny, marginally delusional (personal opinion), white Englishman from a tiny little town in North England. But hey, it is what it is. As usual, I’ll try to find a way to deal. Selamat malam…

A Bad Bill of Health

Date: 08/25/10

On another note, I met a Nigerian student who lives him my apartment complex. He’s a lbig dude named Uwa who approached me saying he wanted to talk to me sometime about eating healthy. So I hit him up another time to figure out what he’s talking about. He and an older Malay Indian lady served the Herbalife supplement that’s gotten so popular to people for free at a location in the complex. First they take your height and put you barefoot on a scale that apparently knows absolutely everything; weight, body fat, age in wear-and-tear of organs, water composition, level of internal fat around internal organs, 1-10 point scale of athleticism of the person, etc. Somehow I figured the scale was gonna spit out some foolishness; I was right. The scale said I weigh 87 kilos (about 190), which seems to be about right. According to her chart, I’m about 30 lbs (14 kgs) overweight for my height, 1.83 meters (6’1. 75 or so). 30 pounds. I know I’m not small, but would you respect me as a grown man at almost 6’2, 160? I put a picture below of how I looked the last time I weighed 160, how am I supposed to get respect as a grown man at that size in 2010? No sir, I don't want that. The scale said I’m almost 25% body fat (last time I had a body fat test I was below 10%), I was a 3 on a ten-point scale of athleticism. I’m a few months removed from being an all-ACC athlete and I was going to the gym doing double cardio before I came to Malaysia. According to the scale, my organs are significantly older than I am in wear-and-tear, and I have an extremely high almost dangerous level of fat around my internal organs and all kinds of craziness. Now, I know I’m predisposed to high cholesterol in my family, that’s a fact. But all this other stuff is garbage. They say they want me to take the supplement as dinner, which they serve for free, and I will see a notable change in the numbers. I’m gonna play the game and see what happens because they not actual salespeople but just people who publicize the product; they won’t sell it to you even if you want them to they say. Healthier is always better and I know about the cholesterol history so anything is worth a quick try. But you heard it hear first; those test numbers were some BS. We’ll see what’s up after a week or two of taking this stuff for diner. But anyway, I got my music popping, it’s almost payday and I should be getting the Internet and cable soon. I’m feeling alright at the moment. Selamat malam…

Music as a Cure-All

Date: 8/25/10

“Music is the rhythm of life,” a wise man once said. That wise man was me. As much as I tell other people that, how’d I get away from it for such a long period of time? Just a few days ago, I was a little frustrated with things. One of the subcontractors at the jobsite was holding up our schedule (which would get us, not the subcontractor, cussed out next time we have a meeting with the client) and I seemed to be the only person from the management team on site that cared; I had to talk to the boss about what we could do to aid the problem. They took our company car. We still don’t have the Internet in the apartment. I was gonna have to switch rooms into a room that was currently bright pink. And it got ridiculously hot again, which always seems to make people a little more irritable. I won’t say I was losing it or anything, but I wasn’t in the best of moods for a short period. Then something miraculous happened. I stopped using my iPod just as a device to search for available wi-fi but bought some new headphones and turned on the music. I had put the Roots’ new album “How I Got Over” on my iPod but hadn’t given it a good listen yet. I just let the album take me away. Before I knew it, I would be waiting to cross the street somewhere or riding in the car bobbing my head. The subcontractor got more manpower and machinery at the sight so now they are working at a much better pace. The project manager is giving us rides back and forth to work and we got news that we will have another car soon. They painted the pink room white and gave me brand new furniture for the move. And even in the Malaysian heat, “The Fire,” “Walk Alone,” and “The Day” among others by the Roots were keeping me cool. In addition to the usual suspects like Nas, Lupe, Kweli, Wale, and NC’s own phenomenal talent J. Col. There’s a reason I always had my iPod in during my years in college. I don’t know where I’d be without it.

Things I wouldn't have guessed about Malaysia

Date: September 29, 2010

I'm interrupting the cycle of catching up on the old entries before adding the newer ones, but it's my blog, I make the rules, so get over it.

I'm writing this blog because I think this is informative and covers a lot of the initial questions i get asked about Malaysia so far. When I got here, some things surprised; some good, some bad, some ugly. LOL.
Let's start with these roads. I guess maybe I don't think about the whole "Asians are the worse drivers stereotype" as much as most people. But the roads are utterly ridiculous over here. the best word for it is 'anarchy.' They seem to think that because they drive small cars, they have to drive in extra close quarters all the time and don't have to signal (you have to move your finger ONE INCH to turn on a signal) or be 'gradual' about any of their actions on the road. Plus the roads, and parking lots seemed absolutely packed all the time. I was on the brink of having a heart attack the first few times I rode somewhere here. And it's normal to them, I was in the car with my boss and a car rips through 3 lanes of traffic and ends up almost sideways in front of us so he has to hit the brakes. I didn't hear one horn, one word of road rage or anything. I had to look around like "Am I the only one who caught that?" Our current company car is a long pickup truck with manual transmission. Plus they drive on the other side of the road and have the steering wheel on the other side; meaning I'll have to operate the stick with my other hand. But I still think I'll be the safest driver on the road, I'm still more worried about someone else hitting me. On a related note, the cops here are corrupt too and take it out on the drivers. They frequently stop people looking for something wrong, from expired road tax to using your cell phone, as an excuse to say "If I write you this ticket, it will be $200. But if you just hand me $100 instead, I'll let you go." They have a reputation for doing this a lot right before major holidays to get extra spending money. Crooks. Next, there are quite a bit of Africans here. My complex is full of students from the colleges in the cities. I didn't expect to see Black people here but I've met people from Uganda, Zimbabwe, Burkina Faso, Ghana, and the most notorious, the Nigerians. They have a terrible rep worldwide I guess. The first things anyone says when they hear the word 'Nigerian' is "You'd be better off just staying away from all of them." Rough stuff. Most of the Africans I met have been cool people though. But I guess I live with the students and not the trouble makers. Plus I relate most to them socially. I found a Christian church, tailored to young people. I didn't know how that would work out here in a Muslim country. Shoot, they police have the right to arrest you if you're a Muslim and they catch you eating instead of fasting during the day time; I wasn't sure how accepting of other faiths they would be. In a country where food (Malay, Chinese, tradition Indian, and Muslim Indian known as Mamak), movies (the best and cheapest illegal DVDs in the world), and household items are so ridiculously cheap, some random things tend to be ridiculously expensive. Why is a fairly standard charcoal grill 6000 ringgits (about $2000 US)? 200 ringgits (about $70 for a small microwave)? 3500 ringgits (about $1150 US) for the iPhone? Well, I guess I understand the last one. Still random surprises in pricing sometimes though. Moving on, there are no seasons. I repeat NO SEASONS. It is hot, humid, and rainy all year long. Period. Better keep an umbrella or rain coat in your bag. You don't know when the downpour is coming. And I wish my British roommate and some of the locals would adopt my philosophy of wearing either undershirts of beaters. You know it's gonna be humid out, those huge sweat stains on your armpits and the middle of your back and chest aren't cool; even if you are 10,000 miles from home, Do Better. My bad, wrong blog. Last (for tonight anyway), I'll just say that a lot of things we have come to use as the norm in the US and special or upper echelon here in Malaysia. I'm sorry, I'm not amazed that your restaurant has a tv and air conditioning, I'm used to it. I'm also used to restaurants handing me printed checks, but hand-written bills and 70's style cash registers are the norm here. The gym I go to is like the best of the best in the area, and therefore is more expensive than others. But 'best of the best' means it has dance/fitness classes, trainers, and enough machines for many people to do the same exercise simultaneously to some recent music. It's a nice gym, but this is just how gyms operate back home. And it's virtually impossible to buy in bulk here. I wanted to get some juice to last me at the house for a while, getting more than about a half litre is next to impossible here. Very different. But I'm about to head home for the night. I'm working 10 or more hours a day, 6 days a week. So I'm gonna try to get some rest at a decent time. Selamat malam...

New Terminology

Date: August 22, 2010

As someone who will be spending the better part of a year here in Malaysia, I’ve decided that it’s best to have my friends help me pick up some Malay while I’m here. Although it doesn’t seem like a language I’ll ever use again once I go back to the US next year, it’s still a show of respect to try to pick some up. But I have to figure out a way to have fun while I’m learning too. So I decided to teach my Malay friend Seelan (pictured at bottom conducting a safety meeting), who speaks both Malay and English as most people I work with do, some English terms from my vocabulary that he doesn’t know; the first term “Laid Back.” Seelan is the safety officer at the site I work at. In America, safety officer is a position that requires an uptight butthole because of the steep consequences of on-site accidents or fines. Unlike the US where there is a very strict safety code (which is expensive if you break rules), the safety standards are much lower here. On our jobsite, you can see workers 20 feet off the ground tight-roping a 2”x4” and hammering nails(pictured below along with other dangerous feats), people riding the crane hooks up to the tops of boring machines, and even men walking around the site wearing bath towels (many of the general workers like in shanty style housing built on site). So the safety officer here has to take a much more ‘laid back’ approach to his job because safety is not a high priority of the management. I see dangerous actions and am immediately concerned, but he knows that he’s at the point where makes the proper recommendations (so that they can’t say he didn’t try) and then the rest is up to management whether he can buy the proper supplies or not. From there, he just has to make sure people are wearing hard hats and boots on site. The next term was “Eye Candy.” We decided to go for some drinks and were trying to figure out the appropriate venue. There were a few determining factors to be considered – prices, food, parking, distance from current location- but the eventual winning factor, Eye Candy. Since being in Malaysia, I’ve yet to really even be in a venue where there is an abundance of nice looking women to look at. Also, the search for nice lower half continues as I can count on one hand the women I’ve seen with any booty or hamstrings since I’ve been here. But it’s always nice to have women walking around to look at as you drink and tell jokes. We ended up at a nice bar in the main ‘action’ strip of a mall called the Curve. It was a good choice from an Eye Candy standpoint; even though the same absence of lower half still persisted. Seelam is starting to look like a good candidate for the road dog role that I’m not sure my British roommate can fill. Although he’s a bit older, he’s got a similar sense of humor to mine and seems like someone I would party if I worked with him back home too. Good person to find at this early stage of the trip. From last night’s trip to the movies (only $3 or so here which is wonderful) to see “The Expendables,” I’ve decided that my British roommate is odd socially. We were two straight guys going to the movies, a fairly normal situation, right? Wrong. He seems to follow me around like a puppy at times. If I walk to the other side of the sidewalk to get a little personal space, I look over and he has wondered over and is 11 inches away from me again. We get up to the ticket counter and there are four cashiers, all of which are open. Why is he right on my shoulder as I’m ordering my ticket? I literally had to tell him “Dude, those counters are open” to get him off my shoulder. Once we enter the cinema, only about 40% full, take a wild guess where he sits? You guessed it, right beside me. No one-seat guy buffer or anything. I think he’s probably be better at scaring fun away than helping to find it. Maybe he’s just out of his element, maybe he’s truly as odd as he currently seems. We will see. I’m glad I met my backup plan. Well, Selamat malam…

Lost in Translation

Date: August 18, 2010

Soul Food. Try explaining soul food to Malaysians whose only impressions of American food are McDonald’s, TGI Fridays, and KFC, and Kenny Rogers’ Roasters; that’s right, they have Kenny Rogers’ Roasters here. When is the last time I saw Kenny Rogers’ Roasters in the US? Drawing a blank, but I digress. I knew it was a futile effort before I got deep into the explanation. Like so many other things here, it was lost in translation. When I say lost in translation, it could literally mean that something was misunderstood in vocabulary. Or it could mean a misunderstanding in content or just an issue that arise that I didn’t expect to be an issue which became one. Or you just experience of see something that has you at a loss. As much as I like the food most places I go, it was a little confusing the first time I sat down at a restaurant and they give you a fork and spoon; no knife. All cutting duties fall to the spoon. Or they bring you warm water, tea or juice unless you specifically ask (and in many cases, pay slightly more) for ice in your drink. Hmmm, that’s new. Just like the hose found behind the toilet many places instead of toilet paper; wouldn’t we aiming a hose up my butt wet up my clothes? I’ve walked in and seen the entire bathroom all wet; it’s my guess that whoever used it before me got themselves wet too. I’d still grab some napkins and make due before I use the squat toilet you find some places. It was about as odd as the cold showers in a designated shower area without a tub or shower curtain. I’m sitting here right now with my hair half cut because these Malaysian plugs are destroying my clippers and I have to let them cool down. They’re louder and vibrate harder than even, the guard broke quickly, and the shapers started smoking less than 2 minutes into use because of some difficulty adapting to this new system. Once I let them cool down and do just enough to finish this bang-up job of a cut (due to the rush, it’s not gonna turn out good at all), I think I’ll put my clippers away and leave them there; if not send them home. I wasn’t aware there would be such a difference; lost in translation. I decided to get a sheet set that I wouldn’t get back home, something colorful that had a more Southeast Asian feel. I found a set that fulfilled my criteria, I talked to the Houz Depot (Yes, that really is what they’re home improvement store is called) representative and from what I could decipher, the set I had had everything I needed. I come home and put it on my bed and it’s only a fitted sheet, a bolster case (an oblong pillow case) and two pillowcases; no cover. Now I have to go back and find a cover because my rightful cover was lost in translation. My room in general is a story. I arrived first to our three bedroom two-bathroom condo, so naturally I took the largest room, which also happened to be the only one with air conditioning (“AirCon” as the locals call it) installed. The 2nd bedroom is small and has no view. The third bedroom is bright pink and has a bunk bed clearly made for toddlers just learning to count. Almost a week after arriving, I found out the Filipinos coming next are married and the master suite I’m staying in is theirs.. They better get the bunk bed, pink paint, and the flower-shaped light out of there or I’m not giving my room up. I was supposed to go from working in the office to working out on the site two days ago. However, every time I plan on going there is some kind of hold up at the last moment much to the site boss’s dismay. He doesn’t appreciate these translation issues. It’s hard enough trying to understand some of my coworkers both in the office and on-site, the one place I should be able to depend on full understanding of all English speak is at home with my English roommate, right? Not really. American English and British English are not the same language. I find myself asking him to say things over repeatedly, either because of the thick accent or the oddly chosen (in my eyes anyway) vocabulary. Is it really easier to say ‘washbasin’ than ‘sink’? Do you really not understand what I said about my pants until I use the word ‘trousers’ instead? What about the word “rubbish” makes you say that instead of ‘trash’? But I try to clear things up with him to avoid possible a lack of clarity. Sometimes it’s harder than others. Wish me luck. I threw in some pictures of things that had me scratching my head the first time I saw them here. Selamat malam…

Two Lessons Learned

Date: 8/14/10

My food tolerance boundaries have already been tested today; I’m happy to say my stomach is holding up pretty good so far. In 23 years in various parts of the United States (and a brief stint in Mexico), I’d managed to stay away from a lot of those “we might as well eat this too” foods. But today, my 3rd full day in Malaysia, I had quite a litany of different foods including chicken feet, spiced fish heads, pork mint soup, a salad topped with marinated oyster, coconut water (which you drink directly out of a skinned coconut) and most notably, Durian. Durian is the seed of a regional fruit (pictured below) got its claim to fame as the only food that Travel TV’s Bizarre Foods star could not bring himself to swallow. My boss, my British coworker, my boss’s friend, and I pulled up to an all-Durian street market where we could pull up to our table, park and grab some of the fruit off of the table. The seed, which grows inside of a blowfish-looking spiked fruit, has a very strong and odd odor and taste to go along with a very mushy, rotten custard-like texture. The texture was simply too much for me. I did what the Bizarre Foods star couldn’t and swallowed my first bite; but that was it, I had had enough. My British counterpart enjoyed it and had quite a bit. He underestimated how long and strong the odor lingers in your mouth though. It’s been almost 5 hours and I still taste it slightly even having only one bite. So I can imagine what it feels like for him. Needless to say, I tried it and I think I fulfilled my responsibility there. As I looked around at how popular the market was and how much people were enjoying the overly fatty and unhealthy ‘delicacy,’ I wondered to myself: This stuff is so popular that this place truly survives selling nothing but Durian and Durian products? They make cakes out of this mess? Once again, it made me realize just how different things were here. To be fair the coconut water, which is served out of a peeled coconut (also pictured below) was refreshing. As we were leaving, one of the native workers who was laughing at my face as I took the first bite of the Durian mustered up his best English to teach me my first Malaysian lesson of the day; “Live to Eat.” The natives insist that Malaysia has among the best and cheapest (Even at fairly upscale restaurants, I may not have to pay more than about $7.50 US for a meal, $3 or less most places) food in the region if not the world and that it’s irresistibly enjoyable almost everywhere you go; I would agree so far (except the Durian). We eat at a lot of street front cafes or street side bazaars (pictured) which are especially good and cheap. Now, some of the food is extremely hot and it will get my eyes watering and nose running; that will take some getting used to. This ain't like hot wings back home. Lesson two came through observation and analysis, everything is bigger in the US; therefore, everything is smaller in Malaysia. 90% of the cars driving on the wrong side of the toll-filled roads (it just seems weird) here are tiny, smaller than Corollas back home. Not to mention the droves of motorbikes, which are much smaller and less powerful than motorcycles. Our refrigerator is probably 60% of the size of most that you see back in the states. We went to the store to look around and buy some things and I asked the woman the absolute largest size the shower shoes I was looking to buy came in. Size 10. I wear 11 or 12. Am I really that big? As I looked at the pants with my British roommate (also significantly smaller than me), 80% of the pants are size 30 or smaller in the waist. Of the remainder, 85% of those are 32 or 34. I can count on one hand how many I saw that were 36 or 38. I don’t recall seeing one single 40. The size large shirts look like my undershirts. Much different from the states. Luckily, that also applies to prices. When converted to US dollars, most things here are about 30-45% of the cost back home; except for microwaves and grills which are much more expensive oddly enough. Gas costs about 2 ringgits (about $0.62) per litre. This is very encouraging financially to me as an American and double so to Tom, who hails from the ridiculously expensive United Kingdom. Also, I got to see the jobsite where I’ll be spending most of my year and other jobsites the company is working on. Most people in positions of power speak some English, but I’ll need to brush up on my Malay to communicate with most of the workforce. But the job still seems to be a great opportunity in the making. I also got to see the wonderful large and intricate model of the complex I’ll be working on. The model I built on my internship was impressive, but nowhere near this model in size detail or accuracy. Furthermore, I got the news that eventually we will be getting cable paid for by the company also. Once again, back flips would be in order if possible. Some things still need to be worked out, but another good day so far. It’s only 6 pm though. Another entry may be in order before the night is over. It is my first weekend in Malaysia after all. Selamat petang Malaysia…