I really like this picture I took the other day walking home from school. It's the sunset over the Taiping Lake Gardens, located right across the street from our new apartment. Click on the picture to get an enlarged view.
Ok, there's this photo sharing site called Zooomr that is promising a free pro account totaling 2.4 gigs of storage for bloggers if you put an image of yours they are hosting on your blog. OK, I'm game. So far I haven't been impressed with their service. It is in Beta, but still- I uploaded an image at work, and now, when I signed in here at the Internet cafe, it was gone! I tried uploading some more images, but after getting an "upload successful" message, I kept getting a 404 error message, and no pics uploaded. I don't know if my pics will still be there after I sign out, but what the hell! I need more frustration and things to get pissed at in my life, right?
HA!
Ok, so what the hell, here goes:
Monkey Hosted on ZooomrAn interesting little blurb. A woman from southern Thailand tried to get on a bus to Malaysia for a shopping trip. Instead, she ends up in Chiang Mai for 25 years! Not that it is a bad place to be.
The moral of the story? When you travel, don't be afraid to ask for directions!
Ok, say you are a Filipino, living in Malaysia, and you miss the food at home. Someone, like, ooooh say, my wife. You really crave some adobo, diniguan, sinigang, or some other food you haven't had since last time you were at home. What do you do?
This year is the 50th anniversary of Malaysian independence. As such, It has been declared "Visit Malaysia Year 2007". They are are making a big effort, and spending a lot of money to draw in the tourists. If they want to draw in tourists, and improve the country's image in the eyes of the world, most of that money would be better spent improving the dismal state of the public restrooms.
Oh, they are making some effort. There is a cute little commercial playing that seems to be urging workers to clean up and take care of the public facilities. But seeing as my Malay skills are not too good, it could also just be urging the cute little kids in the background not to poop and piss all over the floor.
Lets face it- the public restrooms here are horrible. Most of them are not maintained even at a minimum standard at all. Worst of all, you have to pay for the right to use these crap houses.
Normally, there is a bored looking someone sitting at the entrance, behind a sign asking 20 sen (about 5 cents) for admittance. Most of the places, I wouldn't even pay that much to get in, because they look like proving grounds for top secret biological weapons. If you want toilet paper and soap, that is extra, of course.
The attendant looks bored beyond belief, and totally apathetic to anything going on around them. They act as if they can barely be bothered to take your money. God forbid you ask them to make change. That is a major annoyance, and aways met by a dirty look, because the stupid foreigner doesn't know enough to carry 20 sen in their pocket.
If there is a problem, forget about trying to rouse them from their torpor. If you say something about a toilet overflowing all over the floor, or some other such problem, the general response will be either a blank stare of total what-do-I-care non-concern, a bitter look like you just ruined their life, or you will be laughed at as a stupid foreigner, who actually thinks they are there to do something other than exist in a catatonic state.
Lets face it, the way most of these places are maintained, you are better off urinating and defecating in your pants. It's much more hygienic than using one of these cesspools. What can you do, though? If you really have to go, the only other choice you have is to wait until you get to your hotel or other accommodation, or wait until you get to some other country.
In my experience, the only other place worse than a Malaysian restroom are the walled in trenches that pass for restrooms in the villages in China. That's all they are- a trench in the ground, with no stalls, no privacy, no place to wash your hands, nothing. You drop your pants and grin stupidly at any others there while taking a dump. The only improvement a Malaysian restroom has over that is that it does have stalls, so at least you can have some privacy and dignity.
There seems to be a nationwide contest for which place has the worst disease factory. There must be a law in Malaysia that all public facilities must not be mopped, fixed, maintained, or deodorized. Some of the most noxious places in Asia are Malaysian public restrooms. They probably contribute as much or more to global warming than anything else in Asia.
Yeah, the government wants you to visit Malaysia in 2007. But if they want your trip to be a little less adventuresome, and a lot more pleasant, then they should do something about these #@$%holes.
My wife and I are in her village in Cebu, in the Philippines. I ask my mom to send me my barong tagalog, so I can wear it for our blessing ceremony in my wife's village. A couple days later, I call her up to make sure she sent it, as it is the Christmas season, and time is of the essence. She says she sent it, and that a letter or something just arrived for me. Too bad it didn't arrive the day before, she says, otherwise I could have sent it with the barong tagalog. She asks me where to send it to, and I say I don't know. I have to ask my wife.
My wife says to send it to her cousin at her job, because it would get there quicker, and be more reliable. So OK, I have to wait another day while my wife gets the full address. Then I take a jeepney into town and go to an internet cafe, and e-mail the address to my sister. Then my sister calls up my Mom, and spells out the address line by line to her.
My Mom puts the letter in another envelope, and then sends it by airmail to the Philippines.
By the time it gets to my wife's cousin at her job, I am back in Malaysia.
My wife's cousin calls my wife on her cellphone. My wife is in Manila getting ready to leave the next day to join me. She tells her cousin to hold on to the letter, because she doesn't know where I want it sent to.
My wife leaves the Philippines, and I meet her at the KL Sentral train station. After we kiss, hug, and greet each other, she tells me her cousin has a letter for me at work.
So I tell her to send it to me at my job.
My wife goes to the internet cafe once a week to check her email. On her next visit, she goes there, and emails her cousin to mail it to me at my job.
It takes a few days before her cousin can do that. She spends 40 pesos on postage.
Yesterday, there's a letter on my desk from my wife's cousin. My first thought was- why am I getting a letter from her? Then I remember my Mom saying I got a letter from someone.
I don't open it. I leave it at work, because I have business to do in town, and don't want to carry a bunch of stuff with me. AT 5pm I come back with Mr. Wong to act as a judge for the 100 meter dash contest for the form 3, 4, and 5 boys and girls. Then I grab it and my other stuff.
Finally, I take the letter home. After a nice refreshing shower, I open up the first envelope, from her cousin in Cebu.
I open up the second envelope, from my Mom in New Jersey.
I take a look at the original envelope. On it is a name and address I don't recognize at all.
I open it up, and it is just a generic Christmas card. The handwritten message inside is written in a nearly indecipherable scrawl. It seems to be wishing me and my daughter a Merry Christmas.
I don't have a daughter.
I check the envelope again. Sure enough, it is addressed to me at my Mom's address, but I still have no idea who it is that sent it, and how they know me. I'm sure no one else does either.
So after all that effort, trouble, and expense, I am left with a card I can't read from someone I don't know from I don't know where.
Sometimes my life is nothing more than an existential object lesson.
No, this is not some Arabian palace. This is the former state mosque of Perak, the Ubudiah mosque.
The mosque is in Kuala Kangsar, about 25 kilometers away from where we live.
Supposedly, that is real gold in the dome. I don't think so, because if it was, there wouldn't be a dome. Some metal thief would have had the whole thing melted down in his workshop in the Kampung.
Mr. Wong took my wife and I around Kuala Kangsar after the conference where he and I made presentations was over. It is a really nice, clean town. The Sultan's palace is also there, but it is not nearly as impressive as the mosque. Mr. Wong says that this is not the largest mosque in Malaysia, but it is the most beautiful. After seeing it, I have to agree with him. The blue mosque in Shah Alam is certainly imposing and impressive, but nowhere near as aesthetically pleasing as the Ubudiah mosque.
Yeah, it was hard to deal with emotionally after that. It felt like something had been taken out of me. It had been cut out of my world with sharp surgical precision. Something that I wanted, a child to validate my existence in this world. A chance to leave something of myself behind to continue on after I am gone. Instead, all that hope, all that expectation of happiness, the excitement of having a new life, which was a part of you, brought into the world, was gone. The anticipation of having a child of our own to watch grow up, to raise up the right way, and be proud of had exploded.
At work, they told me to take as much time as I need. I didn't need any time off, because that would just make things worse. The last thing I needed was to stay in our little dorm room, having a misery contest with my wife. I needed to be doing something, even if it was just sitting at the computer surfing the net. That didn't help much though. Sometimes I sat at my desk, or at the computer, and started crying for no reason. I wasn't even aware that I was hurting until it just bubbled out of me, like one of those little volcanoes kids make for science projects. I was trying to be strong for her, and support her, because I knew as bad as it was for me, it was worse for her. This was what she thought was a new life miraculously growing inside her. When it didn't, I knew she felt that her womb, her body, her being was somehow at fault. That's why she would suddenly blurt out she was sorry, and start crying. Then I would hold her, and we would both cry.
I did my best to reassure her. We were both obviously very fertile. We would have another baby, no problem. Next time there would be no problem. We would go back to Dr. Jaya, get a full blood work up, and see if we could find out what caused the problem.
Despite my best efforts to comfort her, I could see she still thought it was ll her fault. I almost had to yell at her to get her to stop suddenly apologizing for no reason, sitting with her and holding her hands and saying 'stop it, there's nothing you did or could do to change things'. finally she did stop saying these things, although I could still see she felt some guilt about it.
We went to get the blood test. She was scared, because she was afraid it was going to show some serious incurable infectious disease that we would both die from. Sometimes my wife is an optimist, just like I am.
A few days later, the results came back. We got a surprise. Yes, there were a few conditions indicated, but none we were going to die from.
The surprise was that she had Rubella (German Measles). In the good old USA, you get vaccinated as a kid for such things. But if you are from a poor family in the Philippines, the government and schools aren't so careful about what shots you get. If you don't get a vaccination for a certain thing, it's probably because the money for the shot went into someones pocket instead of buying the medicine. That's the way things are there- screw you and go to hell so I can live a nice corrupt life. Killing your own and putting them in misery so that you can live as a big shot.
There was more than just Rubella. There was also two types of non-sexually transmitted herpes indicated, and Cytomegalovirus. It s seems that you can get CMV from babies, and even though my wife loves to hold and coo over any baby she sees, it is just as likely that I was the one that gave it to her. It's possible that I got infected while working at the orphanage in China, what with 26 cute and active (and possibly CMV infected) kids climbing all over me.
So the doctor prescribed some pretty strong antiviral medication. We were told not to get pregnant while taking it, as it causes neural tube defects. Well, we were careful, except for one night when we got carried away . . .
Well, a couple weeks later she started feeling nauseous, and showing all the signs of being pregnant. We knew what that meant, and we didn't want it to be true. Another visit to Dr. Jaya confirmed that it was true. It was a completely normal pregnancy, and the baby was there and developing normally. All signs looked good. My wife would probably carry the baby to term, and have a normal delivery. Yet there was a big risk that the baby was abnormal. Sure, maybe it was normal, but it wasn't likely. More than likely, the baby would be born retarded, or with severe problems. Or my wife would deliver the baby, only to have it die a couple weeks later.
If only it had happened a few days later . . .
So this time it was no surprise, and we went in for another DNC. This time it was easier for my wife, as she had been through it before. A simple outpatient procedure, and in a couple hours she was resting at home, her loving husband doing his best to pamper her and look after her.
This time there were no tears. We had cried ourselves out the first time. This time, we were numb.
(To be continued . . .)
We're Having a Baby!?!?!
The cheap home pregnancy test we bought in Lapu-Lapu City came back positive. Well, the second one did, the first one didn't work at all. Her body hasn't shown any of the physiological changes that happened the first two times she got pregnant, and her morning sickness has been non-existent so far, except for a little nausea. She didn't go to the doctor after the test, because she wanted to wait until we got to Malaysia, and see her Ob/Gyn here. OK, I can live with that. I have to, like it or not, because it's her body, and you can't argue with women about these things. So we're not 100% sure yet that she actually is pregnant.
OK, so you might be wondering what the problem is. My wife and I both love kids. We both have been told we are great with kids. We both want to have some of our own. I have no doubt she'll make a GREAT Mommy, although I do have doubts about me as a father. She is kind and patient and loving with children, and every time she sees a baby, she gets the brightest and most beautiful smile I have ever seen.
The problem is, this is the third time she's been pregnant in a year. During that time, she was pregnant a total of 5 months. The first time it was 3 months, the second 2 months.
The first time, it was bad. It was my first day teaching at my new job in a government residential school in northwest Malaysia. It was also her birthday. We had a nice dinner. To celebrate, we went to see Dr. Jaya, the Ob/Gyn at a local private clinic. Our previous Ob/Gyn near KL told us that next time we went for a checkup, we would be able to hear the baby's heartbeat. We were excitedly anticipating hearing the first sounds of the new life growing in my wife's womb. Dr. Jaya was very nice, talked to us, then took an ultrasound to check on the baby. That's when our whole world changed. No life was growing in my wife's womb. It was just an empty sac. There had been an embryo, and it had implanted, but it never developed. There was enough there to cause all the signs and symptoms of developing life, but no baby. Nothing.
My wife burst into tears, and I had a hard time trying not to do the same. We both really wanted this baby. Just a couple days before, we had gone to the local department store, and looked at the baby clothes, the toys, and all the things we needed to buy. We talked about who the baby would look like, and what the baby would be like. As we wandered through the store, we both felt like kids ourselves, laughing and playing, and excited that what we both wanted was coming true. In that one moment in the doctors office, all that joy seemed so useless and futile.
The same thought crossed our minds- the doctor was wrong, and there really was a living and growing baby there. You just couldn't see it. Just give it time, and you'll see.
The doctor spoke softly and soothingly trying to comfort us. She said we could take our time and think about it, but that it had to be done. When we were ready to deal with it, we could make an appointment.
We didn't have to, as things took care of themselves.
When we got back that night, she noticed a little spotting. It wasn't too bad. We went to bed, but her bleeding started getting worse. At 2am, it was bad. She went through two pads in 5 minutes. Being the eternal optimist, of course I thought the worst. So I ran to the Principal's house (we were living on campus), and pounded on his door. No answer. So I stood in the driveway, and called him on my cellphone, and he picked up. Then I had to run back to our dorm room, and get her.
She brought a plastic bag to sit on, so there wouldn't be a stain in the car. I could smell the blood from the front seat. We got to the Private hospital at 2:30am, and they called Dr. Jaya. One good thing about living in small town Malaysia, is that she was there in 15 minutes. She examined my wife, and cleaned her up a little. Dr. Jaya said my wife was OK, that the pregnancy was terminating itself. When Doctor Jaya came back at 9am, they would do the procedure- a "DNC". In the meantime, the nurses would come in every hour to take my wife's blood pressure, to make sure she wasn't hemorrhaging.
I didn't get much, if any sleep. The nurses got her ready, and just before they wheeled her in, my boss, Mr. Wong, and the head of the English panel, Zuraidah, came in to see how things were. Then the principal, Haji Jamaluddin bin Yussoff, came in to check on us.
Things went quick. She was in and out within 15 minutes, while I sat tensed up in the waiting room. I went back to the room with her, and kissed her and held her hand. She slept for a couple hours, so I took a walk around town to try to clear my head. It didn't work, as I had several emotions swirling around inside of me in various mixtures, fighting to see which one would get the most attention. When my wife woke up, the first thing she said was she was sorry. She kept saying she was sorry. I told her to stop it- it wasn't her fault, and she had nothing to be sorry about.
Then I had to run to the bank and get the money to pay for it. Just before we were ready to check out, Mr. Wong showed up and asked if we needed a ride. Good old Mr. Wong. He seems to have the uncanny knack of always being there when you need him. Whether you know it or not.
It was hard emotionally after that . . .
(To Be Continued)
Okay- First off let me tell you who I am.
I am an itinerant ESL teacher, who is currently teaching at a government residential school in Taiping, Malaysia.
Let me tell you where in the world I am.
Right now I am in the Philippines:
In the Province of Cebu, on Mactan Island, in Lapu-Lapu City, in Bario Buaya.
(Ignore the bright pink arrow, as it points to a resort which is much too fancy for us to afford. We are located where the red line with the black circle is, a much lower rent district.)
Why?
Because it is vacation time. I am married to a Filipina I met while I was teaching here.
(This is my favorite picture of my wife, Trien, on the beach in Phuket, Thailand during a vacation).
Her family lives in Buaya, and she hasn't seen them for almost two years. Filipinos families are very close, unlike American families. It's not easy for her to be separated from her family and friends, especially since she had lived in the same house for almost her whole life. So we are spending our six week vacation here.
Why am I writing this Blog?
Because today, Pearl Harbor Day, my wife and I went walking along the "beach", which is actually a mangrove swamp that has been cleared near the Cebu International Airport. Buaya basically sits just right of the end of the runway. So while the planes were taking off, we went looking for "shells", meaning shellfish to eat. She knew what to look for, and where to look for it. You are supposed to look for two holes close together, then reach into the mud and pull out a tiny clam. Everytime I tried to get a clam, I came up with a handful of muck, and either something singularly unappetizing or really scary looking. Meanwhile, my wife was having a good time, reliving her childhood. There was no way she was going to leave there without a bag full of tiny clams for supper. It was obvious I wasn't going to be much help, so there was nothing else for me to do but relax, slog through the mud, and think deep thoughts. That's what I did- walked along through the muck, trying to avoid getting sucked under, and thought deep thoughts. I thought many deep thoughts. I wished there was a taperecorder inside my brain so I could record all my deep thoughts.
The one deep thought I could still remember afterwards was- why don't I write a Blog? Then I can share all my deep thoughts.
Even better- I won't ever have to e-mail anybody again. My friends and family can just drop by, and see what I am up to. Or more than likely not drop by, then e-mail me asking if everything is Ok, and ask me what I have been up to.
So it was off to the internet cafe by multicab:
before I forgot that deep thought.
So here I am, making my first try at Blogging, and sharing all my rants, interests, deep thoughts, etc. with all of you, the unknown internet proletariat.
I just hope I won't be the only one reading my Blog. So tell your friends, tell the neighbors-
"John's got a Blog!!!"
