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...
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
New Terminology
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…
Monday, September 27, 2010
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…
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…
Sunday, September 26, 2010
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…
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…
Saturday, September 25, 2010
A Tale of Bonding
Date: 8/13/10
I hope I don’t’ jinx it, but I really like the people I work with. Sure I still have a lot of trouble understanding what a few of them are saying (and don’t stand a chance in one case), but everyone is personable and upbeat in and out of the office. The day started to steal my mood early as the training session on quality management ended up taking over 3 grueling hours; how long does it take to say “You need a system that makes you learn how to do it right, do it right, check to make sure you did it right, make sure the customer believes you’re doing it right, and write down if you did it right for future reference”? See, that wasn’t even a full three lines of typing. Not to mention the tedious task of intelligently and thoroughly answering the question “If you’re American, you weren’t scared to come here? I thought Americans hate Muslims.” It’s always a bit tricky because I have less undue fear and more awareness about propagated issues (such as the “all Muslims want are jihadists and want to blow up American: bullshit) than the average American, which also has to be explained when I’m giving my opinion. But my coworkers lifted my spirits at the wonderful and cheap Chinese/Malaysian restaurant we’ve already become regulars at. I had a filling buffet over a bed of rice for $5.50 Malaysian ringgits (about $1.75 USD). Then I get back to the office and get the news that the office is doing karaoke night tonight. Although I’m not a huge karaoke fan back home, this is something I simply cannot miss for several reasons. So after work and a trip to the accurately named superstore “Giant” to pick up some supplies, we head out to Neway Karaoke Box. I thought it would be something like the US, where it’s a restaurant or bar and they’re having karaoke night where people get on stage and sing their hearts out. Wrong. This is a karaoke establishment. You get your own wildly decorated and furnished room with a large karaoke machine with a big screen for music videos and lyrics. Check the pics below. The machine must hold millions of songs, as I know it holds tens of thousands of different artists. The waiters and waitresses come up and take your drink orders. Any point after 7:30 pm, the official opening chow time of Ramadan, you can walk downstairs and partake of the buffet and sushi bar and take it back to your room. Once again, another wonderful meal did not cost me a dime. I’m not even Muslim, but Ramadan is treating me wonderfully. I guess I expected karaoke to just be the ever-energetic women at the office and some of the younger guys. Wrong again. EVERYBODY came. Young, old, outgoing shy, Malay, Chinese, entry-level intern, company driver, and the business owner; Everyone came, everyone ate and drank, everyone sang and everyone had a marvelous time for all 4.5 hours we were there. My British coworker and roommate also arrived straight from the airport to partake in the fun; a little nerdy, but he seems cool too. It was almost magical. The unity in the office is amazing so far. Granted, all I’ve done is study the plans and specs so far and I’ve yet to be in a situation where a coworker and me don’t see eye to eye on something. But even so, I’m getting a great feeling about the staff I’ll be working with. So, today was positive. The walk to work felt shorter. It was overcast and a little rainy, curbing the heat some. Some vital supplies were purchased at a decently low cost. Today was another good day. Still need these phone, electronics, Internet, and access cards situations resolved though. But the ball has been put in motion. Selamat malam KL, cheers and hopefully seeing the jobsite tomorrow is worth all the hype. Stay tuned…
I hope I don’t’ jinx it, but I really like the people I work with. Sure I still have a lot of trouble understanding what a few of them are saying (and don’t stand a chance in one case), but everyone is personable and upbeat in and out of the office. The day started to steal my mood early as the training session on quality management ended up taking over 3 grueling hours; how long does it take to say “You need a system that makes you learn how to do it right, do it right, check to make sure you did it right, make sure the customer believes you’re doing it right, and write down if you did it right for future reference”? See, that wasn’t even a full three lines of typing. Not to mention the tedious task of intelligently and thoroughly answering the question “If you’re American, you weren’t scared to come here? I thought Americans hate Muslims.” It’s always a bit tricky because I have less undue fear and more awareness about propagated issues (such as the “all Muslims want are jihadists and want to blow up American: bullshit) than the average American, which also has to be explained when I’m giving my opinion. But my coworkers lifted my spirits at the wonderful and cheap Chinese/Malaysian restaurant we’ve already become regulars at. I had a filling buffet over a bed of rice for $5.50 Malaysian ringgits (about $1.75 USD). Then I get back to the office and get the news that the office is doing karaoke night tonight. Although I’m not a huge karaoke fan back home, this is something I simply cannot miss for several reasons. So after work and a trip to the accurately named superstore “Giant” to pick up some supplies, we head out to Neway Karaoke Box. I thought it would be something like the US, where it’s a restaurant or bar and they’re having karaoke night where people get on stage and sing their hearts out. Wrong. This is a karaoke establishment. You get your own wildly decorated and furnished room with a large karaoke machine with a big screen for music videos and lyrics. Check the pics below. The machine must hold millions of songs, as I know it holds tens of thousands of different artists. The waiters and waitresses come up and take your drink orders. Any point after 7:30 pm, the official opening chow time of Ramadan, you can walk downstairs and partake of the buffet and sushi bar and take it back to your room. Once again, another wonderful meal did not cost me a dime. I’m not even Muslim, but Ramadan is treating me wonderfully. I guess I expected karaoke to just be the ever-energetic women at the office and some of the younger guys. Wrong again. EVERYBODY came. Young, old, outgoing shy, Malay, Chinese, entry-level intern, company driver, and the business owner; Everyone came, everyone ate and drank, everyone sang and everyone had a marvelous time for all 4.5 hours we were there. My British coworker and roommate also arrived straight from the airport to partake in the fun; a little nerdy, but he seems cool too. It was almost magical. The unity in the office is amazing so far. Granted, all I’ve done is study the plans and specs so far and I’ve yet to be in a situation where a coworker and me don’t see eye to eye on something. But even so, I’m getting a great feeling about the staff I’ll be working with. So, today was positive. The walk to work felt shorter. It was overcast and a little rainy, curbing the heat some. Some vital supplies were purchased at a decently low cost. Today was another good day. Still need these phone, electronics, Internet, and access cards situations resolved though. But the ball has been put in motion. Selamat malam KL, cheers and hopefully seeing the jobsite tomorrow is worth all the hype. Stay tuned…
Hope Shines through
Date: 8/12/10
The morning starts off rocky. I was told to meet my ride at 9:30 am at the front gates of the complex, Palm Spring Damansara. In the style of my father, Lt Col Orr, I get to the rendezvous point 15 minutes early. 9:30 comes and goes, 9:45 comes and goes; no ride comes. So the thought hits me, I can’t miss my first day of work, period. At about 1 am the night before my ride pointed out to me where the office was on our way to grab some late night food. However, at this point, I wasn’t exactly sure where the complex was and the office is at least a mile away in a large business complex without visibility from the main street. Regardless, my crazy – or shall I say less cautious – side takes over and I say to myself “if my ride isn’t here by 10 am, I’m going to walk and find it myself.” 10 am arrives and I take off on foot in a city that I’ve never been alone in. After about 25 minutes of uncertainty, - deciding in my mind that s long as I can see my very tall complex, I always have the option to turn around and go home – some things start looking familiar and I gain confidence. About 10 minutes later, I find my destination. If I could do a back flip and I wasn’t wearing a backpacking and sweating in the humidity, I would have done a back flip. When I enter, everyone I speak to initially is also amazed that I found my way there on foot. Regardless, I’ve made it. So I speak to my contact, also my boss, who is happy to see me. I’m immediately given the good news that I will be getting paid more than expected and won’t be spending a dime on my lodging unless I decide to move out of my prearranged and convenient situation; fat chance. Furthermore, any problems with electricity or anything else with the condo will be taken care of at the company’s expense. Furthermore, within the next day or two, I will have a phone ready to use in Malaysia. The office has wireless, which I’m free to use also. I’m informed that Ramadan, the month where Muslims fast from 10:30 pm to 7:15 pm every day, has just begun and they have celebratory meals every evening. So, I will be attending such a dinner this evening with two ladies and some higher ups in the company (especially a high-roller, I've come to affectionately call "Deep Pockets" pictured below) in downtown Kuala Lumpur at a fabulous restaurant right beside the Petronas Towers; the architectural marvel and iconic image of the country. Although professional on the outside, I’m grinning on the inside. I meet my coworkers who mostly seem excited or intrigued at their American coworker. A few of the ladies are fairly cute too, although covered up. The office is brand new, including office chairs still wrapped in plastic, and I get to pick my chair. I settle into one facing a window where I can see another of the company’s construction projects, a shopping mall being built just down the block. So I spend the day diving into the plans and in some cases authentic blue prints (a rarity these days) of the fabulous project I will be working on. I feel like I have grasped a decent understanding of what is currently going on and how the progress of the project is coming together. Some coworkers treat me to lunch at a Chinese restaurant, as Muslim run spots won’t serve mid day food in observance or Ramadan. Upon my return from lunch, I’m fighting the –itis combined with the effects of no full nights of sleep in the past 72 hours and jet lag. But I’m still optimistic. We go straight from work through the ridiculous rush hour traffic to dinner at the Mandarin Oriental. The food was great. Among the standouts as chicken rendang, it’s even better than the beef rendang at the Malaysian restaurant in Charlotte. I make friends with an older authority figure in the company and his family, I get to see the traditional Malaysian equivalent of a live cover band, and I get to see downtown KL and the Petronas Towers up close. Good food, nice scenery and laughs before heading home for the night. I feel a lot better about things today than I did 24 hours prior. Whenever I complete a shopping trip at “Giant” (a Super Wal-Mart equivalent), get the phone tomorrow, have the electrician come by, get my two needed access cards, and hack into one of the wireless networks at my condo, everything may just shape up fine. Everything seems like it’s going to be fine after all. Selamat malam (“Goodnight” in Malay)…
The morning starts off rocky. I was told to meet my ride at 9:30 am at the front gates of the complex, Palm Spring Damansara. In the style of my father, Lt Col Orr, I get to the rendezvous point 15 minutes early. 9:30 comes and goes, 9:45 comes and goes; no ride comes. So the thought hits me, I can’t miss my first day of work, period. At about 1 am the night before my ride pointed out to me where the office was on our way to grab some late night food. However, at this point, I wasn’t exactly sure where the complex was and the office is at least a mile away in a large business complex without visibility from the main street. Regardless, my crazy – or shall I say less cautious – side takes over and I say to myself “if my ride isn’t here by 10 am, I’m going to walk and find it myself.” 10 am arrives and I take off on foot in a city that I’ve never been alone in. After about 25 minutes of uncertainty, - deciding in my mind that s long as I can see my very tall complex, I always have the option to turn around and go home – some things start looking familiar and I gain confidence. About 10 minutes later, I find my destination. If I could do a back flip and I wasn’t wearing a backpacking and sweating in the humidity, I would have done a back flip. When I enter, everyone I speak to initially is also amazed that I found my way there on foot. Regardless, I’ve made it. So I speak to my contact, also my boss, who is happy to see me. I’m immediately given the good news that I will be getting paid more than expected and won’t be spending a dime on my lodging unless I decide to move out of my prearranged and convenient situation; fat chance. Furthermore, any problems with electricity or anything else with the condo will be taken care of at the company’s expense. Furthermore, within the next day or two, I will have a phone ready to use in Malaysia. The office has wireless, which I’m free to use also. I’m informed that Ramadan, the month where Muslims fast from 10:30 pm to 7:15 pm every day, has just begun and they have celebratory meals every evening. So, I will be attending such a dinner this evening with two ladies and some higher ups in the company (especially a high-roller, I've come to affectionately call "Deep Pockets" pictured below) in downtown Kuala Lumpur at a fabulous restaurant right beside the Petronas Towers; the architectural marvel and iconic image of the country. Although professional on the outside, I’m grinning on the inside. I meet my coworkers who mostly seem excited or intrigued at their American coworker. A few of the ladies are fairly cute too, although covered up. The office is brand new, including office chairs still wrapped in plastic, and I get to pick my chair. I settle into one facing a window where I can see another of the company’s construction projects, a shopping mall being built just down the block. So I spend the day diving into the plans and in some cases authentic blue prints (a rarity these days) of the fabulous project I will be working on. I feel like I have grasped a decent understanding of what is currently going on and how the progress of the project is coming together. Some coworkers treat me to lunch at a Chinese restaurant, as Muslim run spots won’t serve mid day food in observance or Ramadan. Upon my return from lunch, I’m fighting the –itis combined with the effects of no full nights of sleep in the past 72 hours and jet lag. But I’m still optimistic. We go straight from work through the ridiculous rush hour traffic to dinner at the Mandarin Oriental. The food was great. Among the standouts as chicken rendang, it’s even better than the beef rendang at the Malaysian restaurant in Charlotte. I make friends with an older authority figure in the company and his family, I get to see the traditional Malaysian equivalent of a live cover band, and I get to see downtown KL and the Petronas Towers up close. Good food, nice scenery and laughs before heading home for the night. I feel a lot better about things today than I did 24 hours prior. Whenever I complete a shopping trip at “Giant” (a Super Wal-Mart equivalent), get the phone tomorrow, have the electrician come by, get my two needed access cards, and hack into one of the wireless networks at my condo, everything may just shape up fine. Everything seems like it’s going to be fine after all. Selamat malam (“Goodnight” in Malay)…
An Unsure Step Out of My Comfort Zone
Date: 8/11/10 11:45 pm or so
Twelve Hours in Seoul, South Korea
I arrived at the beautiful Incheon International Airport outside Seoul, South Korea about 4 am the next day; meaning the 30 minutes prior to my 12:30 am August 10th departure time where the only 30 minutes of that entire day that I witnessed because of a long flight and forward progression into time. I was now 13 hours ahead of Eastern Standard Time. By the time I get through customs, pick up my boarding pass for my next flight departing 12 hours later, and get the lay of the airport, it’s still only about 5 am but I’m wide awake. So then I have to devise a plan. Looking at the map, Incheon is easily an hour’s ride away from downtown Seoul where the sightseeing action is. The prices reflected that fact: a bus ride to Center City was 14000 Won (about $12 USD), a cab ride into town was 1700 Won (more like $14), a 5-hour Seoul City tour costs $50 USD (only listed in USD oddly enough, guess they know who the target base is), and even smaller one or two venue tours charged $20-$35 USD to show you around a site or two and bring you back to the airport. I originally was going to nap or chill until about 8 am as I felt nothing was open so early, so I looked around the airport and saw some interesting things (such as unrefrigerated anchovies and meat in bags available for purchase in the convenient stores) but I got bored and decided I needed to maximize my layover. After swapping out some currency, I opted for the charter bus (or ‘Airport Limousine’) ride into the city. After consulting the list of possible Seoul points of interest in my iPod, I opted to first check the Dongdaemun Food and Fashion Market. From an architectural standpoint, there is much to see on the hour-plus ride from Incheon through Gimpo into downtown Seoul. I came to find the city was very overpopulated and therefore to every skyscraper that was an office building, there were 6 buildings its height or taller that were residential. Literally, there was often a complex of 3-5 identical 65-story buildings, which were all apartments or condos; Asia is very fond of multiple identical buildings. Donald Trump has a handful of high-rise condos with his name in big letters on the outside too. Even in what would qualify as suburban areas in the states, there are many high-rise residential complexes countered by low-income shanty style housing. I saw very little ‘middle class’ single-family housing development that I’m used to back home. I arrive at the Market at about 6:45 am and start exploring. Even at this time of the morning when most stores aren’t open, the street food vendors are already setting up and starting to cook. I see things such as tanks of energetic fish sitting right on the street at you walk by, colorful cartoon displays on the sides of buildings, a barbeque and fried chicken kitchen (the only English words on the building, international I guess), a casino, and I stumble across an underground shopping mall called Seoul Square. The mall is nice, there are boutiques, restaurants and at last free wi-fi Internet; this enables my International texting to begin. But my most interesting discover was in the bathroom. There is push-button bidet and other toilet sprinkler control right on the side of the toilet bowl. Interesting. I leave there and go to one of the huge supermarkets to look around for a while. Then I decide I can’t leave Seoul without seeing something with some historical significance. So upon talking to some taxi drivers, con men there just as back at home, I get a slightly over-priced ride (all I had was a 10000 Won, about $8.75) to the Korean War History Memorial. The structure is already impressive visually with two intricate sculptures of soldiers helping everyday people to go with a tall, obelisk-like structure right at the front signs. Somehow or another, the customer service rep gets me a free admissions ticket; I didn’t ask any questions. But the museum is spectacular. I can’t help but think how much my father and grandfather, both retired from the US Air Force, would have loved it. There is not only tons of information, although much of it in Korean, but there are well-crafted models, demonstrations, videos (with an English option) and life-size jungle and refugee camp scenes. Although I’m pretty sure it was not allowed, I snapped hundreds of pictures in the museum. There are actual planes, cannons, boats, tanks, and other equipment outside the museum. After leaving the museum I cross the courtyard to find the most authentic of the eating options; I didn’t come halfway around the world to eat McDonald’s or KFC no matter how popular they are locally. I arrive at an unnamed (or more accurately, unsigned) cafeteria-style location where I’m the only foreigner; authentic enough. I order a dish I believe was called (Man, I’m about to mess this up. I should’ve taken a picture) Jyangdamyeoung. It was noodles in a brown sauce with vegetables and small cuts of meat. Each meal also comes with complementary soup and slices of some yellow fruit/vegetable about the consistency of beets. It all went well together, I was happy. By this point, it is about 1:15 and I decide to head back early to be in place for this 4:35 flight; partially because I’m tired of walking around and sweating with this heavy ass book bag and partially because I don’t want to spend any more money there. Little did I know how difficult this would become. I talk to the same taxi drivers about a ride back to Incheon Airport. $80 US? He recalculates $65 US? For the same ride that costs about $14 the other way? I’m foreign, but I’m not stupid. The bus schedule says that the bus I took there isn’t going back the other way until 5:20 pm, which is too late obviously. I check the subway map to see how hard it would be to make it that way. A helpful older gentleman also at the map asked me where I’m going. I tell him and he starts laughing, he says I’d better find a different way; there would probably be 15 train transfers on the way to that airport. I look back at the map. He was right. I’ve never seen such a confusing lattice of lines and intersections. 15 may have been an exaggeration, but not by much. He says there is another bus that goes directly there. So I go back up to the bus stop, where the same taxi driver that tried to charge me $65 to go to the airport tells me about the bus I need to get on and even eliminates my currency problem as I don’t have enough Won for the return trip. So I actually get a discount for the return trip by paying with a US $20 bill. Bad math on the ticket salesman’s part? I don’t know, I didn’t ask questions. I also meet a cute Korean woman who starts up conversation with me while we wait for the same bus. She’s a flight attendant for Air Asia and use to be a flight attendant for Korean Air. She’s headed to the other airport along the way. We talk about Korea and her one trip to Atlanta while we ride. She says that the nightlife in Seoul doesn’t close until 6-7 am, unlike Atlanta, which she said all the nightlife closed down at 10 pm when she went. I don’t know what nightspot she went to but that’s blatantly wrong; but I’m not in an argumentative mood. She gives me her information and asks me to hit her up if I’m every back in Seoul. I also find out that a friend of mine from college is teaching right outside of Seoul; good to have options in other places if I do feel adventurous. Enough talking, check out the photos:
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