"The Historic State"

Even when I'm staying with a host I generally spend my days by myself. You know you've been traveling alone for a bit too long when you talk (to yourself) and you're surprised when someone answers. (Like a normal conversation!) It's especially surprising if that voice has an accent, and is a different gender. Luckily for me, the person who owned this voice was also very nice, funny and had great taste in tv.

My host had informed me the day before that Giovanni, an Italian (that name I didn't think that clarification was nessesary) was coming to stay. I was told, "if he's nice boy, you take him into the city." That type of statement was frequent during my five days. I had to just roll with the fact that almost all decisions regarding me were generally already decided. The next morning I was updated that he was indeed a "nice, serious, smart boy." Honestly, it was really nice just to have some company. Perhaps it was just because I'm coming from Australia, where a bottle of water might as well be liquid gold, but I fell in love Malaysian prices. Most places I have to pick and choose what to do, because it's just too expensive. I also never eat out if I can help it. I made up for lost time in Malaka.

We started the day at the Baba Nyonya Heritage Museum. Babas (the boys) and nyonyas (the girls) were a new Chinese-Malay hybrid culture. The museum was housed in an old gorgeous house. I'd recommend it if just to see the furniture. The middle aged woman inside of me was contented.

At lunch we had rice and I had sour plum juice. 10 year old me would have fallen in love, but I found it a bit too strong and too sweet. Still, I was in no position to judge liquids. We spent the afternoon walking around the town, and going up the hill. Up there we saw a malaysian wedding. It's a shame my siblings are both married, because I think my brother and brother in law would have looked quite dashing in a malaysian themed wedding. Don't you think K and Elli? (Those sequins would have suited both of you as well-- maybe you can wear it as maternity wear.)

Afterwards we went up an oberservation tower and then went to the maritime museum, which was housed on a ship. The strangest part of it was having to take off my shoes to go in. I couldn't imagine walking barefooted in museums in other places in the world.

The night market had started by then so we wandered over there. It was packed, but do quiet. At one point I even closed my eyes and except for the light patter of shoes on stone I would have never of guessed hundreds of people were around me. I splurged on a 33 cent popcicle and we had a late dinner. Only at the end did I realize that the bus might stop running on Sunday nights... sure enough, it does. Luckily, we could pay the son of our host to pick us up.

For all this I spent less than $30 usd.

Just as an aside, Giovanni runs two businesses one of which is pretty nifty. It's a website that offers homestays, but instead of sleeping and staying there you go only for a meal (clearly the best part.) If that sounds interesting you can go here: http://www.bonappetour.com. And while you're there you can think about the fact that he's 23 and then feel unaccomplished (I need company in feeling that way.)

"That Story I Tell My Kids One Day" #1

Where are all the people that live in this large city?

"Angel on a Motorbike"
My father has one story that is clearly his best. (That's more a comment on how good this story is rather than how his other stories are.) It happened during his time when he was traveling solo, and accidentally got on a train that was headed to Poland. He was taken home by a Good Samaritan, a man on the train in East Germany, where he spent the night. Unless I accidentally take a train in China and almost go to North Korea, it's very unlikely I'll have a story that compares-- however I'm starting to think I'll have a set of stories that might altogether come close. Luckily I have a year to accumulate them all. This is one of those stories.

When I booked my homestay I didn't realize how far outside the city it was. "Oh well," I though, "I'll be able to find my way, I'll do my research and go in." So I set off. The journey took almost two hours and I had to transfer, but I was incredibly pleased with myself. I got off at a stop I knew was near to the information center so I could get a map. That's when I met an older Indian man I'll call Jaz (for reasons that will soon become apparent.) I've been having quite the numerous conversations like this so I wasn't particularly unnerved or surprised when Jaz sat next to me and started talking to me. He asked me the usual questions (where I was from, what I was doing there etc.) but then he asked me some other questions (if I was alone, where I was going, ect.) When he told me that he was, "a good man, not a creepy man, but a respectful one" I tried to excuse myself saying I wanted to get walking, but Jaz invited himself along. Soon out of nowhere he turned to me and said, "you like to walk? I like to jazzercise. It's like exercise, but jazzy." I now know all about Jaz's life long love of jazzercise. Unfortunately soon he started talking about other things, and feeling increasingly uncomfortable I managed to say goodbye to Jaz.

Notice how there's literally no one else on the street--just me and Jaz.

               
After parting ways I managed to find the visitors center which has just close for prayer hour. I came back an hour later only to find it closed for lunch. This gave me a few solid hours of going around and seeing the sites. While thrilling to me, the real excitement happen on my way home. I got to the central bus station just fine but when I checked to see where my transfer would stop there wasn't a platform number. I started to walk down the rows of buses individually to see if I could find mine. After an hour and a bus or two missed I found it hanging out in an unmarked platform. It was pulling away when I jumped on. The bus driver looked at me disapprovingly, when I told him where I was going. He then gave me both my ticket and my money back and told me to sit down.
On my way there I had written down a landmark for each stop (so I would know when my stop was coming up.) However, about 2 minutes in I realized that this bus was going on a totally different route back. Nervous, I rather anxiously, over the course of an hour I watched as every single person got off the bus. Finally it was just me and him. He stopped at the next stop and motioned me to get off. I walked up there and told him that I thought it went further. Speaking zero English, he just kept motioning me to get off. A man who was standing on his porch decided to come over and join in the conversation. He did some rough translating for me and basically I was told that I needed to get off. So I got off not knowing where I was. It hasn't been the easiest of days with Mr. Jaz following me, so to be honest, I was a bit panicked.
I walked a bit until I saw the airport, and called my host. Between the accent, the traffic, the language barrier, and the signal failing, all I got from it was "pick up" "airport" "call from there." It was then I realized I was on the completely wrong side of the airport. It would take me over an hour to walk. I was incredibly hot, in a lot of clothing for it being that temperature and once again I would be walking on the shoulder of a busy highway to get to an airport. That's when my guardian angels came. I never envisioned my guardian angel to be about 17, Malay and riding a motorbike, but there she was. The man who had translated for me walked up with his three children on two motorbikes and said, "here, my daughter, take you." So I hopped on and they drove me around to the terminal. They dropped me off, waved and with that they were gone. It's one of the most thoughtful things every done for me.

To demonstrate that I was outside the city: this is in the neighborhood.

Absolutely gorgeous though.

And here's a similar model of the bike.

There were a surprising number of people there for it being a non operational airport, but every single one asked me if I needed help... come to think of it, that was probably because I was at a non operational airport. Luckily, however, I got a ride from my host and with that one of the hardest days I've ever had was done.
Good story though.

Starts with an "M." Malay? Machine gun?

Since coming to Malaysia I've been playing a lot of "pictorades." To play pictorades:
Supplies
hands
a notebook
a writing utensil
a task you need to accomplish
one or more individuals with whom you do not have a language in common
Rules
1 part charades, 1 part pictionary
An example:

Which, of course, with hand signs gives you, "You called me on the phone speaking Malay. Could I have a shuttle to the airport? At 10?"
My first round was with the reception at my hotel. I was a bit tired coming in from a long flight, but with the help of pictorades it went smoothly. The next morning, during round two, I got a shuttle to the airport. Round 3 with the shuttle driver brought me to believe that my bus to Melaka didn't exist. But since I had a ticket, I felt confident. I entered the bus terminal and was quickly swarmed with bus hawkers. One by one I showed them my ticket and one by one they pointed me toward the desk. Once I got to the desk a woman outside the desk looked at my ticket and then joined in the game. Her clue I guessed to be "Why the heck are you 2 hours early? Sit in that chair right there and I'll deal with you later."
The reason I was so early was so I could walk (oh sorry dad, take a bus) to the other airport if my bus was actually out of there. My ticket said "KLIA/KLIA2" which are actually two separate airports a little ways apart. Spoiler alert: I sat in that chair dutifully for 1.5 hours, and yes, I was at the wrong airport.
Not knowing this, when it was a 1/2 hour until my bus the woman I had talked to came over and told me she'd come back and show me where the bus was once it got there. What happened next is anyone's (or at least my) guess. Two men carrying machine guns entered the terminal wearing camouflage. With them was a man dressed in a blue uniform. As if by magic all the hawkers disappeared... Something, perhaps my strong grasp of the Malay language, tells me what they were doing wasn't legal. The one or two that were left were questioned. Of course, my hawker, who said she'd tell me where to go, was gone. Knowing I needed to figure it out myself I went outside and went bus by bus until I found one by the company I was taking. Bus #3 was my lucky one where I played my "bonus round" explaining to the driver that my ticket in English was a ticket for his bus and that he should let me on.
The bus pulled out (luckily with me on it) 10 minutes early. This was long enough for the bus driver to drive to the correct airport to pick up the other 39 passengers. No wonder it was so confusing for the driver, I had found him in his waiting lot. My bus ride was quiet, quite literally as no one spoke a word, and I was picked up at the bus terminal without a problem.
The highlight of the next day and a half was the food. As a former chef, the mother of the house offers cooking lessons... Which of course I had to try. I was joined by a German couple (who were both teachers) and we watched and took notes as she made 5 Malay/Arabian dishes... Get ready to be jealous. But don't worry I have the recipes and I'll post one soon!

This photo also nicely demonstrates the other unforeseen reason I stick out here. I am quite literally a head taller. In fact, at 5' 7" I'm only 3 inches above the US female average, but I'm 7 inches above average for a woman and 2 inches above the average for a man in Malaysia.

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

Tomorrow brings both a new day and a new continent. While I’m very excited to be going to Malaysia(!) it will be a bit bittersweet. Australia has been such an amazing adventure. Of course, there are a few things I won’t miss such as trying to explain to people "no, I don’t have a speech impediment, I just have an accent," gawking at the price of everything, or trying to justify the amount of peanut butter I eat.
Still, on the whole, Australia has been good to me and here are the things for which I am most grateful, the things I’ll miss the most.
1. Being in constant awe of their social policy.
I realize that this one is a bit weird, but it’s true. Whenever I talk to an Australian about social policy (which just by the nature of what I’m doing here is daily) I feel as if I’m a time traveller to the future. A college education with no money down? Check. A generous welfare system? Check. Universal healthcare? Check. Gun control? One massacre and they put in stringent policies. Incredible leave policies? They make me want to have my future children in Australia. (And yes, they still get to complain about them, so that simple pleasure still exists too.)
2. Blending in.
This doesn’t really need much explanation. Though I could be one of them until I open my mouth, once I do Australians have been in two groups—those that immediately ask me where I’m from, and those who cut me off mid conversation to ask just that. I’ll be honest, I’ll miss having everyone speak English... and since I’ll be in Asia, most likely until February, I don’t need to tell you why I don’t think I will blend in too well for a while.
3. Art Shows
I am sure I’ll find these other places but it has been amazing how many I’ve seen. For instance, this week I took the train just out of town to a free contemporary art contest sponsored by metro. The location didn’t make much sense, but it was an amazing venue, and a fun show.

Credit: melbourneinphotos.com

4. Cheering for a "football" team that isn’t terrible.

I’m from Indiana, and I like college football. The last time we made it to a Rose Bowl I was -23. If we’re not the team with the most losses ever, we’re close. (I won’t talk about Hamilton’s team, and I basically only cared about their tennis program anyway.) You can therefore understand my excitement when my adopted football team only lost once in my time here. I even got to go see a game. My favorite thing about the experience was the man a few down from us who kept shouting, "you mongrel!" I’ve never actually heard anyone ever use that word before.
5. Passionfruit
It’s delicious. Try it.
6. "Good on you."
A great saying.
7. The people (and dogs) I’ve met.
Cliché, I know. I’ve been so lucky to have had the pleasure to meet so many wonderful people. I feel like one of the family here, and will really miss them. I roughly counted that I’ve talked to about 55 people about my project. Only once did I have someone not eagerly respond to my questions. In fact many times as soon as I told someone what I did they would automatically tell me what they thought about it. A great example would be when I was in Hobart. Doug introduced me to one of his friends who was a teacher there. He agreed to talk to me the next day. Not only did he then show me around his classroom (which has an arts focus), and talk to me about it for four hours but he then drove me up the mountain because I hadn’t yet seen the view. I wish I had a better picture-- it was glorious.

& there was nothing better than spending my evenings with this one.

I'd be tempted to stay but I think it's time-- I got a sign.

It is "time for taiwan" just with a brief stop in Malaysia and Singapore first!

Transit Edition

As a special request (see I take requests!) this is a special transit edition. I think it's actually worth writing about because Melbourne has a sophisticated, yet confusing system. The buses, trains and trams all run on a system called myki. When you board any of them you touch your card to bright green sensors. Well, for being so sophisticated they give NO written explanation for how this works. I knew I needed a card but couldn't get one from the machine. Luckily the people at the station helped me out. Nicholas (my new best friend for the next 30 minutes) stayed by me for the "illegal" of my journey and even got my card for me. When I expressed worry that I would get in trouble going one stop a woman told me, "you're clearly a tourist, use stereotypes to your advantage!" Once getting my card all sorted out (and don't worry, I paid for my previous journey!) I was all set.
Waiting for a tram is weird as all heck. You stand in the middle of the road next to a very small fence and a poll.

This station has a little hut-- but most don't.

The advantage of myki is made clear then as all doors are utilized and getting on is very quick. What is unclear to me is how they make sure everyone pays. Except for a small sign that reminds people to "not be a freeloader" it seems its up to people to be honest. Yet again even that doesn't necessarily work... My balance stood at -12 cents for a while. So it seems to work, (as long as you're trustworthy and already know how it works.)

Hope that was informational!

My most common form of transportation is walking, and my most common route is to the train station. This walk has a few great highlights along it... or maybe I'm just very easily entertained (that's probably more likely.)

But, regardless, here are some pictures:

This American themed hotel's selling points are an all you can eat buffet, gambling, sports, and a bar. It is also next to the only fast food restaurant for quite a radius.

Almost all mail boxes have a sign that says something about not wanting junk mail. It seems like these people now want it.

This is my favorite. I have yet to walk past this "garage" without laughing.

Hope everyone is well,

(This might say Hattie, but I'm sticking with my original thought.)

Daniel, Danny, Dan

One of the consequences of having to meet everyone you talk to is that I search for conversation topics as soon as I see them. This sometimes causes me to find connections in things that just aren't there. For instance, last week when I was in the airport I saw someone wearing a Pittsburgh Pirates hat and all I could think was-- ("we both have some sort of connection to Pennsylvania.") I also got overly sentimental about the woman a few in front of me who removed her shoes to go through security ("I also remove my shoes! Are we the same nationality?") Luckily I didn't have to use any of those simulating conversation starters- but I did meet a lot of new people while having a very eventful day.
My day played out as if I was in some indie film I'm not nearly cool enough to understand. I got an early ride to the airport and had a rather uneventful flight to Tasmania. I talked a bit to the teacher sitting next to me but my main focus was on her 5 month old baby-- Daniel. Harkening back to my successful walk to the airport in New Zealand I decided to not pay the $30 to take the shuttle and just walk.

However things didn't go nearly as smoothly. There wasn't a trace of a sidewalk and I was walking down a 4 lane highway with about 4 feet of shoulder. One of the consequences of this was that I would frequently run across flattened (or in the case of a gigantic kangaroo-- not so flattened) roadkill. I'm sure I looked ridiculous walking on a highway with a little bag rolling behind me, and many people were not so shy in telling me that I did. It was okay for the first two hours but then my shoulder disappeared and was replaced with a cliff. Luckily there was about 2 feet of concrete running down the middle of the road so I was able to walk down that-- unfortunately that started to slope and soon I was walking on a few feet of very steep median. I was just over 3 or 3.5 hours in when I heard someone shouting. Being focused on not slipping and tumbling into traffic I didn't realize they were calling out to me. It was a taxi who asked if I needed a ride. I said that I would be fine (as taxis here are so expensive) but he insisted, telling me he wouldn't charge me and he was headed into the city anyway.

Danny, the taxi driver, was from Liverpool. On the short journey into Hobart (I was so close!) he pointed out all the sites, and even offered to drive me up to Doug's house. I didn't want him going to any more trouble so was dropped off at the docks. I had barely sat down to rest for just a bit when an older man came off one of the big old sailing ships and came and sat next to me (note: how does this always happen?)

He asked me if I would help him win a bet. He told me all the boys working on the ship had bet going on who could get the most girls to wave and say hello to them. Supposedly a man named Dan was losing quite badly, so I played along and shouted hello to him. Leon (the older man) chatted to me for a bit afterwards and then went back on. A bit later another sailor came over and asked me if I'd like a cup of coffee (an offer I cannot refuse.) So that's how within 10 minutes of arriving to Hobart after walking for 3 hours down a highway and getting a lift I ended up sipping coffee on a old sailing vessel. I stayed for a few cups chatting with everyone before saying goodbye and starting my walk to Doug's. I stopped by a succulent shop to get a small gift and then made my journey up a path-- it got pretty steep. After another two hours of that my feet were killing me and it was dark so I was quite happy when I heard a car beep and saw Doug had come out looking for me (I felt a bit like a lost dog.)

I got into the house, met his chickens (who he refers to as "his girls") and then walked into the room where I was to be staying where there were about 100 balloons. I guess when he was in Melbourne a group of his friends got together and blew up hundreds of balloons. It was as if I was in an adult sized ball pit-- so much fun. Unfortunately they did have a dangerous side as the night before Doug gave his roommate a black eye while playing in them.

We went into town and ate at a Vietnamese restaurant with one of his friends who plays saxophone. He was a really nice guy who was really interested in what words we say differently. (For instance the word "fire" when said with an American accent we both agreed sounded much more like a call to action.) We went to a sort of get together and from there went with a small group to go eat gluten free ice cream sundaes while we discussed cultural differences among other things. I found out something there that honestly blew my mind-- in Australia there's compulsory voting. You get a fine and can be given a prison sentence if you don't vote. That's crazy to me, but really interesting. Sort of like my day and this tree's bark.
(I realize that wasn't a very good transition, but look at this bark!)

Drumsticks

One thing that has taken the most getting used to this year is the amount of free time that I have. (I live a charmed life, I know.) Coming from the busiest year of my life straight into this makes me do odd things like taking hours to make sculptures out of drumsticks. (I just knew my bachelors in art would help me out somehow!)

You know the saying, time is money? Well I’ve found it certainly can help save it. Normally I use this free time by walking everywhere as I’m disgusted that a train costs $6 each way. However it doesn’t always actually work. Last week I decided to walk into Melbourne . However, upon finishing my multi-hour (and less than scenic) walk I promptly got back on a train and took it home as I was quite tired (so much for saving money.) The good news was that I found a walk of public art all done by high school students. The bad news was that I found that my boots were not made for walking as I split the zipper about an hour away from home. Given that my boots cost just a bit more than $6 it was probably not a particularly smart trade off, but I won’t cry over the sunk cost. Luckily with a pair of pliers and a safety pin they’re back in working order for a bit. Given my aversion to spending money on this trip I found I was a bit weirdly excited while I came across a mall the other day. I took a bit too much joy in being disgusted by the prices of clothing in this country. I have no idea how anybody can afford to clothe themselves. It reminded me a bit of this video:

Yesterday (or today in parts of US) was my 23^rd birthday. My first ever winter birthday. Being that I’ll probably be somewhere in India for “real” thanksgiving I decided to make a full thanksgiving feast—ambitious? Yes. Delicious? Also yes. Patrice and I went to the market on Sunday to get all of my supplies but we struck out with the turkey. There was not a turkey to be found. So instead I got the biggest chicken I have ever seen, my turicken. At least it still had drumsticks. Knowing that I wouldn’t want to walk up early on Tuesday I starting cooking at around noon on Monday. I figured I’d finish up my cake and then have plenty of time for other things... little did I know I was about to embark on the longest cake making ever. The first thing I noticed was that I needed to blanch my hazelnuts. Unfortunately the easiest way to do this is by using baking soda, something that I could only get with a 2 hour round trip walk. Instead I spent those two hours individually peeling hazelnuts after boiling them. The skins still haunt me, two days later I found some in my hair. The cake then called for each layer to be baked separately. While the crust of skinless hazelnuts, sweat, tears and butter was baking I found that someone had eaten an incredibly alarming number of eggs the night before. It was at that moment I realized I had been talking as if I was on a cooking show for the last few hours. I’m sure my fans were riveted for the two hours of peeling (just as you probably are now with my detailed description of torte making.) Luckily I can report that my hazelnut salted caramel chocolate torte was one of the best desserts I have ever had... I’ve becoming incredibly modest in my old age.

At about midnight I was still working. While stirring I started singing myself happy birthday during which Phil walked out and politely pretended he hadn’t heard. I woke up the next day and cooked to finish just in time. In addition to my host family, I had my host father’s mother, brother and sister come as well. It was a bit weird at times like when I brought out my cake and sort of felt like I was saying, “here, eat dessert in honor of my birth!”  It was also uncomfortable when I asked everyone to make a wish (as we do in my family) and the grandmother politely but firmly told me no because she "doesn't go for those sort of things." I've never had anyone deny the chance to make a wish, but that's okay.

I wish for all of you to be doing well!