This Girl Just Wants To Have Fun

...and for me fun consisted of 2 things in Singapore-- flowers and festivals. It was Mid-autum festival in Singapore. The celebration incorporated various forms of art from chinese culture, the dominant culture in Singapore (I know what you're thinking, "an arts festival? I'm surprised.") I spent my first two days identically-- walking around downtown, eating, going to gardens and then going to the festival.
At the festival I walked around and talked to people who had booths there. All of them were incredibly enthusiastic and I learned a lot. I spent a particularly long time at the painting and tea appreciation booths. After that I would watch the first show, see the light show and then watched the second show. As I've said before-- my life is tough.
Singapore is a bit too orderly to have any great stories, but here are some pictures.

The Merlion Statue

The Singapore Flyer

The Light Show

One of the many gorgeous lanterns on display.

At night.

Up close during the day.

Skyline

Chinese Painting.

One of the acts.

Don't worry though, I've since come back to Malaysia, where things are not exactly orderly and thus I'll have many more stories.

Admiration and Mob Bosses

I'll start this post with a cliche statement-- one of the best parts of this trip are the people I meet... for better or worse. An example of the good would be the daughters of my host in Malaka. I got to go see the older daughter, Yasmin's (I'm totally guessing at that spelling) university. She's studying biotech at one of the best universities in Malaysia. During the trip I was able to talk to her for a nice long time and getting some perspective. At Hamilton, yes, the academics can be hard, some of the dorms are a bit small, but really I studied in the lap of luxury. I had a beautiful campus on which to learn and a clean bed in which to sleep. I greatly admire Yasmin (and her little sister who is at boarding school) for succeeding in their academics despite barriers and conditions that I think would make most American students (including myself) give up. She's not planning on stopping there. When our conversation turned to boys (as conversations go between girls of our age) she told me she wanted to wait a long time to get married. She said she had things to do; she wants to travel, and also wants to get her phd in biology in the UK or Australia. With her drive, I think she just might.

On the day I went from Malaka to Singapore, Yasmin's mother dropped me off and gave me a blessing to have safe travels and to find a good husband (those being mutually exclusive.) My bus ride went very smoothly until we reached the border. I remember thinking half way through that I wouldn't have anything to write about on my blog, and then singapore customs happened. We got off the bus and got all of our stuff to take up the stairs to the boarder control. (As a side note-- planning a RTW trip? I have two words for you-- rolling backpack.) We were given 20 minutes to make it through, otherwise the bus would leave without us. I looked at the stairs (which had a large sign that said no suitcases) and looked at the long line for the elevator. Without stopping I undid the straps and put it on... I thought I looked awesome, but I highly doubt anyone noticed.

Luckily from then on out I was safe. I joined a line of people with European passports and we flew through. I was back in 16 minutes (oh, yes I was counting.) The bus driver waited for another five and then left half of the people on my bus. Half! I couldn't believe it. A British couple and I gave each other "oh my gosh" looks as we saw people sprinting down the stairs.

Once being dropped off I realized Singapore might be the place for me...if I could just move it off the equator. The streets are clean, there's a beautiful subway system, cheap good food, tons of flowers, and everyone seems to be so polite. Still, there are nice little reminders everywhere such as "the punishment for drug trafficking is death" on your entrance form and "the punishment for molest is jail and caining" on the subway.

The bus had run into some problems on the way down so I was late for my check in. After getting a bit lost I finally made it and luckily they were still there. I happily sat down while chatting with the woman that "yes, I am a woman, yes I booked a female room, and no Mackenzie can be a girl's name." I got cleaned up, went and got something to eat. The place I had chosen sold porriage, but it was unlike any porriage I had ever eaten. The name said porriage, the texture said oatmeal, and the flavor said egg drop soup. My choices were chicken, raw fish, frog & preserved egg, brain, fish innards or various pork intestines. I opted for the chicken, but they were out. To couldn't see anywhere else open so I ate frog and preserved egg. Honestly the egg got me way more than the frog. The frog was a bit slimy but the egg was black and had the texture of a mushroom. Still, I'd probably eat both again.

Century Egg

Full of frog and months old egg (the things I write) I settled down with a book back at the hostel when an Irish man in his late 50s sat down next to me. Douglas would be an example of the "for worse" or at least the "weird" people I meet. Now I'm used to having random people sit down next to me and tell me their life stories. It happens to me all the time, and it's basically a requirement for the one middle aged man at a hostel where everyone else is in their 20s to be a bit weird. But Douglas decided to really take it a step further.

He made normal conversation for about 2 minutes and then out of nowhere just said, "You know this reminds me of my nephew. He died in Afghanistan." Despite the abrupt turn in conversation, for no reason, I do what any person would do and tell him I'm sorry. He pulls out a laptop and I proceed to watch a sideshow of his nephew, and his grave... But I notice the name of the solider isn't the same as the name he told me, and this guy died in Iraq. Suddenly his phone rings, he answers and says, "yes, I'm willing to talk... If you're not with me you're against me...as of tomorrow I'm taking the law into my own hands. You know you follow the rules but then sometimes you need to make your own law... That's what going to happen unfortunately... I'm sorry I need the money, my mother is dying." (That's verbatim, as I typed it while it was happening.) After this phone call the suspected mob boss next to me told me that for the last 9 months he's been chasing a woman who cheated him out of a lot of money, so he's here because he's "run out of options so (he) needs to go see her and smash her face in." Needless to say I left the conversation after that thinking, "well at least I now have something to write about."

 

"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.)