Totally Random Photos

My father-in-law has been asking for my business cards so that he can hand them out to his friends. I didn't actually have any cards and had to get some printed. Taking inspiration from my photographer cousin whose business cards are a mini portfolio of his work, I ordered cards from MOO with an assortment of 50 different images from my blog.  That got me "flipping" through my old photos and doing a lot of reminiscing over the fun worldwide travels and slow exploration of Penang, Malaysia that I've enjoyed over the last few years.

For this post, I must give credit for the idea to Nancy over at Budget Travelers Sandbox. Her post this week for her Travel Photo Thursday linkup is to randomly open four of her Flickr travel photo albums and share the seventh photo from each album. I'm being a total copycat and doing the same with my Malaysia albums so that I don't overwhelm you with all 50 of the photos from my stack of business cards.

Dreaming of an Indian Summer

False store fronts hid the 5-foot-way of Armenian Street when it was transformed into the town of Simla, India.

Dreams are a weird thing. They can be familiar but with details thrown in that keep them from seeming completely real. Friends rub elbows with characters from movies. Scenes plucked from your memory are altered until they no longer seem like something belonging to you. And when you wake up, you find yourself grasping at the remnants as it drifts away and trying to decipher what in the world it means. As strange as it may sound, I fell into a kind of dream state watching television last night even though I was wide awake.

Indian Summers recently premiered in America on PBS Masterpiece. Originally broadcast on BBC Channel 4, it's been deemed the heir to the "period costume drama" crown currently held by Downton Abbey. Set in Simla, an Indian town in the foothills of the Himalayas, in 1932 as the British Raj is beginning to unwillingly loosen its hold there, the on-location filming is visually rich and enticing. Except, it was not filmed in India. Indian Summer was filmed in Penang, Malaysia. Simla had an overabundance of modern structures and a monsoon season that would wreak havoc with the production. So, the producers cast their sights further afield and decided on Penang instead. Sharing the same British colonial history, both cities have similar architectural influences. There's also a sizeable Indian population in Malaysia and plenty of white expats to serve as extras.

I'm a Cover Model!

Something really unexpected happened the last few weeks that we were in Penang. I got an email from Expatriate Lifestyle, a glossy print magazine in Malaysia, asking the kids and I to be on the cover of their July 2014 issue. A sane person in the midst of ending the school year, preparing to visit the Philippines and Italy, AND moving the household across the ocean that month might have replied, "Sorry, I'm busy." I am not a sane person as my hubby will attest. He constantly tells me, "You're crazy," to which I retort, "Well, you married me. So, who's the crazy one?"

Farewell to Penang

We are moving back to Texas. As I write this, the movers are here packing up my belongings for the sloooow boat ride back to America. On Friday, I'll lock the door behind me, get on a plane, and say goodbye to the place that I've called home for the last three years. My husband will return on business trips, but I have no idea when, if ever, the kids and I will come back to Penang. It's a long way, and the company will no longer be paying for the airfare.

Seeing how much the island has changed in just the short while that we've been here, I know that it will be a different place in the future. A little more polished. A few more highrises. A few more malls. I'll never come back to Penang as it is at this exact moment in time. My local friends may still be here. My expat friends will have most likely moved on.

Living in Malaysia and all the travel that we've done has been such a learning experience and broadened my mind. I feel like there's been an explosive growth of brain synapses that hasn't occurred since I was a young child exploring the world anew.

I originally created this blog as a way to update "in real life" friends and family about our time as expats. About our fish-out-of-water experiences. It turned into something more public and enabled me to meet people in the virtual world. Astonishingly, it's lead to being able to legitimately call myself a professional writer. Because of this blog, freelance opportunities have fallen into my lap.

But the real audience that I write for is something more narcissistic. I'm writing this blog to me. The me from four years ago. The me that I was as I prepared to move. The me that was so worried and depressed about the great unknown that was Malaysia. Mothering in Malaysia? Daily life in Malaysia? Could I do it? Was I strong enough? Would I end up resenting my husband and the job that took us here? The job that brought a sparkle to his eyes.

I'm writing this blog to the old me and to anyone else who frets about moving to Malaysia. I want to send it back through a time portal to tell myself not to worry so much and that life here can be fantastic. Yes, it has its challenges, but the pros outweigh the cons.

It's a great launching pad for travel. Hop on a plane for a few hours, and you end up in a place with a very different culture and history. While I also enjoy traveling in the United States, there's a certain "Anywhere, USA" aspect wherever you go. The same Wal-Marts. The same Targets. Most of the time in America, I don't look out the window and marvel at the exotic lives of the regular people passing by. I enjoy visiting the landmarks, but I don't find myself wanting to simply soak up the culture.

I will miss the company paying for some of our airfare as is commonplace with many corporate expat packages. When someone offers you money that is earmarked solely for airfare, and it's a "use it or lose it" situation, you should definitely use it!

I will definitely miss Malaysia. It will always hold a cherished place in my heart. Here's a look back at some of the wonderful things I am going to find lacking when I move back to America.

Street Art — There is public art everywhere in George Town.

Monkeys — Once I am back in Texas, I can romanticize monkeys instead of finding them to be thieving ruffians as I currently do.

School Field Trips — We visit amazing places around town like the Reclining Buddha Temple with its golden stupa and jewel-like naga statues.

Trishaws — I have a love-hate relationship with trishaws. They are such an iconic part of George Town that I bought professional photos of them, but getting stuck driving behind one totally sucks.

Festivals - With a mix of Malay Muslim, Indian Hindu, and Chinese cultures, there's always seems to be an interesting festival going on. I will never forget Thaipusum and the accompanying body piercings, but I won't post a photo here in case if you are the queasy type. The water fights at the Thai and Burmese temples during Songkran are also a stand out. Night after night of fireworks for Chinese New Year were a literal eye opener as it is impossible to sleep early during this multi-week celebration. Here's a photo from Loy Krathong when I and hundreds of other people floated candle lit lotus blooms out on the water.

Heritage Bungalows — Many of these gorgeous, old mansions are a leftover from the period when Penang was a British colony. They seemed to have been mostly built by the rich British residents or wealthy Straits Chinese merchants. This one is on Gurney Drive surrounded by high-rise condominiums. The family hasn't lived here for ages but are so wealthy that they've refused all offers to buy.

Shophouses — If the heritage bungalows belong to the elite, the shophouses belong to the commoners. I enjoy wandering around George Town's UNESCO World Heritage area and looking at all the shophouses. Armenian Street is my favorite place to explore, although I think it's getting more touristy by the second.

Living by the water — Penang is an island, and I've been so fortunate that the company has put us up in a beach-side place with an amazing view of the water. I cannot believe that I get to wake up, look out the window, and see this.

Water activities — So much happens on the water, too. From our condo, I can see fishing boats and parasailers, jet skis and sailboats. My boys have tried open water kayaking. A cruise on a yacht or catamaran is a great way to see the island especially at sunset. Whenever I look at this picture, I will think back at the happy times spent with friends in Penang.

Hawker Food — One of the things Penang is most famous for is its food. You know that tip about living frugally by not eating out? It doesn't apply in Penang. You can get a delicious meal that's both filling and inexpensive at hawker stalls. Sometimes, it costs less than making it yourself. All this is just US$4.

Drive-up Fruit Stalls — Drive-thrus are difficult to find in Penang. There's not one for a bank as far as I can tell. Only a few of the McDonald's have drive-thrus. What you can find all over the place is drive-up fruit stalls. You don't have to get out of your car if you don't want to, and you can still head home with healthy eats.

What I will miss most about Penang is the slow pace of life. An abundance of free time is what enabled me to do so much exploring. I spent most of my last decade in Texas being a stay-at-home mom to young kids. Whoever thinks that life is easy is nuts. Every morning when I woke up, I felt like I was jumping on a treadmill and sprinting through the day, trying not to fall down but getting nowhere. There was always so much to get done. As a trailing spouse in Malaysia, that's not the case.

I wonder what life will be like when I move back to Texas. Some of my friends who have already repatriated tell me that their life in Penang just seems like a dream, like it couldn't possibly been real. I'm hoping to keep up this spirit of exploration I've developed and turn it towards reintroducing myself to a town that I previously called home for two decades. It's time to leave Malaysia, and whatever the future may hold, I'm ready to catch a new wave.

P.S. You haven't heard the last of me. This blog will keep going, but I'm going to have to think of a more apropos name now that I'm no longer meandering around Malaysia.

This post is part the following linkups. Check them out for more around-the-world travel inspiration.

• Travel Photo Thursday on Budget Travelers Sandbox
• Sunday Traveler on Frank About Croatia, Chasing the Donkey, A Southern Gypsy, Ice Cream and Permafrost, and Pack Me To...

Who's the Fairest of them All?

Sunny beaches and tropical breezes. That's Penang for you. For most Westerners, one of the best souvenirs of a stay on the island is a bronze glow, a golden tan, and the potential for skin cancer. Not so for the locals. In Malaysia, as well as much of Asia, being fair and white is the preferred complexion.

It's as if a culture's beauty standards purposely mess with people's minds by idealizing the hardest attribute to attain. Most Malays and Indians have medium to dark skin. Beauty ads here tempt them to make it fairer. Most white people are...well... white. The beauty ideal for them in the West is tan.

An American Thanksgiving in Penang

This is our third year celebrating Thanksgiving in Malaysia. It has been a crazy, unpredictable week where I discovered I have so much to be thankful for. (For instance, I am thankful that my middle school language arts teacher isn't grading this and marking off for ending the previous sentence with a preposition.)

A week ago, I was trying to figure out what to do since we weren't planning on traveling anywhere for the school holiday or invited over to anyone's house for a communal feast. I contemplated cooking everything myself, but the prospect of literally sweating in the kitchen for days for a meal that would be over in less than an hour didn't appeal to me. I thought about heading to the American Thanksgiving Buffet at the G Hotel, but I knew that I'd see other friends there and wish that we were all sitting at one huge, huge table. Eight days before Thanksgiving, I figured out something.

I am thankful that I realized that Thanksgiving for me is not about the food; it's about the people.

The more that I thought about it, the problem with the above scenarios is that my meal would not be shared with a large circle of people. The traditional Thanksgiving foods would be there, but the sense of community would not.

I am thankful that when I texted my husband that I had invited 100 people over for dinner, he merely replied with "Not feasible" as opposed to "You are out of your mind you crazy woman!!"

I reserved the party room in our condo complex because I may be a little crazy, but I'm not so crazy as to invite that many people over to my apartment. A couple other friends offered to help me to host the shindig for which I am very grateful. After a leisurely coffee morning, we had our guest list.

I am thankful that it turns out that there were only 65 people on the final guest list.

I sent out an Evite to everyone and set up a potluck sign up.

I am thankful that six days before Thanksgiving, I got the last two turkeys at the market since they weren't expecting another shipment until Thanksgiving day.

I panicked a bit at first because the man said there weren't any turkeys at all. After some conversation, he mentioned he had turkey breasts, and I immediately claimed them for myself. They were frozen ones from Australia. When I opened up the packaging, I was surprised to discover that the turkey breast was actually the back 75% of the turkey, complete with miniscule-for-a-turkey, chicken-sized legs and thighs. All that was missing were the wings and the front part of the bird.

I worried that we wouldn't have enough turkey for everyone and mentioned it to hubby.

"I think people will be disappointed," he replied.

That's when I realized that for others, Thanksgiving may indeed be all about the food. Perhaps I had lured someone away from the delectable hotel buffet for a dinner that might end up being mostly chicken satay.

Peppermint Patty stared in amazed disappointment. "What kind of Thanksgiving is this?!" she asked. "Don't you know anything about cooking a real Thanksgiving dinner, Chuck? Where's the turkey? Where are the mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie. What blockhead made all this?"

I am thankful that my friends found other turkeys.

With the fowl situation sorted out, it seemed that everything would be smooth sailing until the day of the party when I would inevitably freak out about playing hostess.

I was wrong.

Early Tuesday, in the middle of the night, my teen woke up with excruciating stomach pain.

I am thankful that my hubby is strong enough to lift my boy down the stairs and into the car. I am thankful he took him to the hospital and stayed the night with him.

My original plan for Tuesday was to go grocery shopping and start baking and prepping for the big feast on Thursday. Instead, I spent the entire day at the hospital with my son. When it became clear that the problem was something minor, thank God, my mind strayed towards thoughts of the two turkey chilling in the freezer instead of thawing out and brining as I had intended.

I am thankful for friends I can call to help out with my other kids while I'm tending to the one who really needs his mommy right at that moment.

One of my worries about moving overseas was losing the support of my parents and in-laws in caring for my children. My friends here have not only become the people that I share Thanksgiving with in lieu of family, they are the ones who don't mind being part of the village it takes to raise a child.

I considered the possibility that we'd still be in the hospital by the time Thanksgiving rolled around. The doctors here are more likely to keep patients hospitalized than in America. With multiple hostesses, the celebration could easily carry on in our absence.

I am thankful for friends who will pitch in with party planning.

He was eventually discharged from the hospital late Wednesday afternoon, 38 hours after he first checked in.

I am thankful that my darling boy is okay after all and that the hospital stay costs all of US$800 before filing for insurance.

It was exactly 26 hours until the Thanksgiving celebration was slated to start. I sent the kids up in the elevator to our home, and immediately jumped back in the minivan to hit the grocery store. I spent the rest of Wednesday night and all day Thursday cooking.

In the end, everything turned out fine. Some people had to cancel due to illnesses or visitors who wanted more exotic cuisine  than a traditional American Thanksgiving. There were 45 people who actually turned out. The food was bountiful and delicious. Surprisingly, we were able to have all the traditional foods including cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and pumpkin pie. Peppermint Patty would have been satisfied.  The chips and salsa, and the guacamole and hummus were rather awesome, too.



All the kids at the feast were thankful for these. treats my friend made.  They gobbled them up.

The unofficial theme for the night was Abundance.

 

I am thankful that as I tucked my teen into his own bed in his own bedroom tonight, he looked at me and said, "It was a really good Thanksgiving."

Happy Thanksgiving from Your Friend in Malaysia!

 

 

And last but not least, I am thankful there is no Black Friday craziness here as I have to hit the mall on Friday to take the kids clothes shopping.

Expat Luxury and Expat Slums

Many expats who are moved to Penang by their corporations find themselves suddenly living the grand life. Instead of a middle class house, they are now in a deluxe apartment in the sky. When my friends and I got together for breakfast a few weeks after arriving on the island, we were all still in awe of our new homes. We simply could not believe our opulent, high-rise lifestyle.

"I live in a place with Palace in its name. I have my own private elevator lobby, a view of the water out one side, and the gold stupa of a Thai temple out the other side," said one gal.

In fact, a ton of my friends have their own private elevator lobbies.

As for me, my condo is a whopping 6,000 square feet. Texas-sized! It also has a single-person sauna in the master bathroom. This is a totally frivolous feature. If you spend any time outdoors in Penang, you will become drenched in sweat and tell everyone that it's like a sauna out there. Why in the world would you need an actual sauna inside your home? Best of all is the view of the sunrise and the water from my balcony. It's the first thing I fell in love with in Penang. There have been some school days where breakfast gets on the table a little late because I can't help enjoying (and photographing) the scenery.

The fabulous view from my balcony across the water to the hilly mainland.

We middle class, American expats sometimes feel weird getting suddenly upgraded to living the Life of the 1%.  We're not rich. We're just average folks. We feel a bit like the Beverly Hillbillies in our luxury condos. Expat life is like being Cinderella at the ball, and we know it's all over when the clock strikes midnight, our contracts are over, and we move back to our home country.


Tall towers of supercondos are all over the island. Oddly enough, they seem half empty, yet more continue being built. Most of the occupants are expats, rich locals and foreign investors who keep units as holiday homes.

A 41-story, residential building started going up next door right about the time that we moved into our home. It's advertised as "sky bungalows," not boring ole condos. A couple times a day, an extremely loud siren would go off for ten minutes followed by a loud explosion. Even plugging our ears and running to the opposite side of the unit didn't help us escape the noise. They were blasting the bedrock to set the foundation for the highrise. The progress was fun to watch in the beginning as the floors began to go up. If my son had been a few years younger, I'm sure he would have spent all his time with his nose pressed to the window fascinated by the busy construction activity below. I've been trying to catch the tall crane at the very moment when it gets a few stories higher but haven't lucked out, yet.

Watching them build bungalows in the sky.

After a while, though, all the construction noise really began to wear on me. The constant jackhammering went on from morning until evening six days a week. Any time I saw a concrete truck on the site, I knew that they would be working until 11 p.m. because they don't stop pouring until they are done with a floor. They lashed together a bunch of bins to act as a rubbish chute from the top floors down to the ground. The first time I heard the rumble of it being used, I seriously thought it was one of the fighter jets that sometimes fly by. My friend nicknamed it The World's Largest Rainstick.




Construction continues late into the night.

Before we moved, I had imagined myself sitting out on the waterfront balcony relaxing and reading a book. I tried it a few times but had to go back inside and close the windows or risk hearing loss from the loud decibel noise. Once, I tried my noise cancelling headphones, but I feared that I'd fry the electronics with the rivulets of sweat that poured off my head in the sauna-like weather. Sometimes, we have to shout when we are out by the pool to be heard over the construction racket.

The work lights on the crane are so bright that I could use it as a reading light if I wanted to. It generates so much light pollution that it's extremely rare for me to see stars at night. How I miss a star-filled sky!

Plus, the unfinished building is really ugly. It lends a post-apocalyptic feel to the scenery.

In other words, the construction really annoys me! Worst of all, my gorgeous, panoramic view is blocked by the new building. I could weep. This is karmic payback for my residential tower because locals tell me that they considered where I live to be a blight on the landscape when it first went up, too. Apparently, my building was one of the first highrises to be built on this part of the island, and it basically ruined a ton of other homes' views.

Bye bye beautiful sunrise. This is taken from the same angle as the first photo.

Then, I give myself a kick in the behind and knock myself off my little diva pedestal. Yes, I am living in the lap of luxury. I have a visa that clearly states "Prohibited from Working" so I find little ways to amuse myself throughout the day. I have a maid who comes 12 hours a week, so I'm certainly not spending all my time cleaning the condo.

What about the laborers on the construction site? People tell me that they are foreign workers, usually from Indonesia. They are expats, too. They are the ones who are toiling away from morning until night while I sit in my cushy condo. They don't even stop when the wind starts blowing and the sky starts pouring.

Waiting on a ledge for an elevator to take them 25-stories down to the ground.

I'm so accustomed to safety-conscious America and their OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) laws and regulations that seeing these worker on a ladder perched on a ledge without a harness in sight gives me the heebee jeebies. I can't bear to look at them for fear that I'll witness someone falling to their death.



See they guy on the ladder by the window at the top?
It's a looooooong way down.

The thing that really gets me is the huge difference in our living accommodations even though we are right next to each other. These men live in shacks on the construction site. As the crew size grew, they've had to build more. Of course, all this is done late at night after they've spent the entire day on rich people's homes.

Where the workers live

These shacks have plywood sides and corrugated metal roofs. I cannot imagine how roaring loud it must be during a Penang storm. This is the Expat Slums. I don't know how it compares to what they were living in when in their home country. Perhaps it is a step up? Perhaps they're just happy to have a job and money to send home.

These toilets are a far cry from my luxury bathroom with a sauna and bidet.

When the second building started going up, they tore down a few of the rows of shacks, and the men moved into the lower floors of the unfinished towers. Plywood still serves to shield them from the weather since some of the walls aren't up, yet. At least the commute is short.

So whenever I get cranky from how much the construction is bugging me, I stop and say a little prayer of thanks. Living next to this site reminds me of how fortunate I am. It gives me a sense of perspective. Even though I'm living in a developing country, most of what I complain about can be classified under the popular "First World Problems" meme. The expats next door are not as lucky.

Farewell to Friends

Numerous farewell gatherings for friends continue this week in Penang. They started in May as the school year drew to a close. As with any expat community, so many people are here for just a few years, and a high turnover rate is the norm. Our school even sells T-shirts at the end of the year with either "Jumpa Lagi" for returning students and "Selamat Tinggal" for those who are leaving. They'll fly away home or onward to unknown adventures in other lands.

I'm sad to see you go. Farewell, my friends.

A few expats left before the school year ended. The goodbyes are sometimes brief as in when my friend told me on the playground one Thursday that she was starting a new job on Monday... in Swaziland. But most expats leave over the long school break, and the process of saying goodbye goes on for a few months.

One of my biggest fears about moving somewhere new, especially overseas, is that I would lead a solitary, friendless existence. Boy, was I wrong.

Luckily, the expat and local community here is so welcoming that finding a sense of belonging was not a problem. All expats seem to remember that deer-in-the-headlights feeling they had when they first arrived here. So, they go out of their way to help newcomers, just as other people did for them. When I was still a faceless stranger posting school selection questions on the Penang Mommas Discussion Forum, one kind momma specifically got testimonies for me from older students at the school where her own children attended preschool.

All the newly arrived expats bond hard and fast like it's orientation week at university and we're small town kids in the big city for the first time. We cling to each other, taking comfort that the other person looks just as slightly freaked out as oneself. As we figure out how to satisfy basic needs like food, healthcare, and banking, the information flies back and forth in hopes that pooling our collective brains will ease the transition process. For instance, I had no idea that the only place on Penang island with cobra anti-venom is General Hospital, not one of the private hospitals frequented by the expat crowd. Good info to have!

I imagined that I'd learn about Malay life by living here. I definitely have, but an unexpected bonus is the world view that the international crowd has brought into my life. For instance, I'm in a book club that has had members hailing from Norway, Germany, Australia, England, Malaysia, and the United States. It's fascinating hearing what everyday life is like in each friend's home country. I'll admit that I was somewhat lost when some of them started reminiscing about the Eurovision Song Contest and Top of the Pops since I grew up in Texas watching Solid Gold and Hee Haw. These friends enable the group to examine literature under a global lens whether we're reading about transsexuals in small town America in John Irving's In One Person or about Palestinian refugees in Mornings in Jenin by Susan Albuhawa.

We friends lead by example to encourage each other to try new experiences. I bought unrefrigerated chicken at the wet market only after another American friend assured me that she'd done it numerous times with no ill effects on her family. Traveling to Laos and Myanmar seems less daunting when you know people who brought their preschoolers there. I would have never tried Bikram Yoga except that one of my friends started leading a class here.

As I give each departing friend one last goodbye hug, I know that they'll be missed. Inheriting the contents of their liquor cabinets or leftover small appliances is small solace. I think the sadness will really hit when the school year starts up again and people who were intrinsic parts of my weekly routine are missing.

I know that I'll definitely reunite with some of them since they're from my hometown of Austin, Texas. I keep promoting Spring Break Austin 2015 to my friend recently returned to New Hampshire since so many of us Penang expats will be back by then. Others are spread out all around the world in Africa, Europe, and Australia. Visiting them gives me a good excuse to continue my international travels. I wish them all the best as they either repatriate back into their home countries or experience another new culture as a serial expat. My time in Penang has been all the richer for having known them.

American Life: The Condensed Version

In the fantasies of my visit home, I spend all my time reconnecting with friends and family, gorging on Mexican food and Texas Barbecue, and miraculously not gain a single pound or kilo. It hasn't turned out exactly as planned, especially that not gaining weight part. Instead of being 100% Fun, Fun, Fun, I've had a dose of reality kick in, too. It's as if I took a year or two of normal American life with both its fantastic and mundane parts and condensed it down to a month.

So many family celebrations have occurred around this table.

Thinking that we'd only be living in Malaysia for two years, we kept both our home and cars. While we've had wonderful, responsible people caring for them, this visit was clearly time for me to step in and take care of maintenance.

The squeaky belt noise I kept hearing when we picked up our van stopped only to be replaced with a burning rubber smell and the sudden cessation of air-conditioning. The service man was amazed I made it all the way to the shop without an alternator belt. As I paid him, all I could think of was how much air travel that money could have bought.

I planned a fun "Shop-with-Mama" week for my girl while her brothers were at camp. Instead of the clothes and makeup I had envisioned, we ended up shopping for less than exciting things like garage doors and a clothes dryer. More of the travel fund drifts away. 

That montage in the movie Up where the couple keeps breaking into their travel savings for unexpected expenditures started playing in my mind.

While I usually enjoy gardening, living in a Malaysian high rise condo made me forget the blah parts of yard maintenance. Hello to tree branches scraping against my roof shingles and a lawn that's turning increasingly brown due to years of drought. If only I could shift some of Penang's tropical rains over to Central Texas.

Our bodies needed a tune-up, too. Dentists, opthalmalogists, specialists and a trip to the Travel Clinic were all on my To See list. Boring but necessary and way too many pokey things.

Whenever people in Malaysia ask me how I'm handling the heat, I tell them what a Texas summer is like. Some days, it gets up to 107F (40F). At least it's a dry heat... much in the way that a blowtorch is a dry heat. Thank goodness for central air-conditioning in my house. I hardly ever break a sweat.

Did I mention that I haven't seen my husband in three weeks? He muttered something about a job and flew back to Penang.

But there have been moments of joy as well.

We landed in Houston on Father's Day and enjoyed a meal with both sets of parents, mine and hubby's, before driving to Austin. My teen went off to Boy Scout camp with his old troop while my other son got to spend the whole week playing with LEGOs at camp. There was time with friends at a Ladies Night Out, pool party, birthday party, and playdates. We crammed a whole school vacation's worth of excitement into a few, short weeks.

Old timey Texan lodging at the campgrounds

We visited with our extended family who my children sorely missed visiting with at Christmas time when we went to Australia instead. For my kids, wild kangaroos don't hold a candle to hugs from grandparents. The Fourth of July (America's Independence Day) was spent exactly where we love to be -- on the pier at the family's house on Galveston Bay watching fireworks up, down, and around the coast.

A long awaited first trip to an American Girl Doll store is still ahead of us.

And Target! How I've missed you. I'm sure you've missed all the money you've drained from me as well. Two shopping trips later, you've made a significant dent in my wallet.

In seven days, the kids and I will fly back to Malaysia. In six days, I'll have all our purchases spread out on the floor trying to figure out how to balance out the luggage so that none of them go over the weight limit. I certainly don't want a repeat of last year when our baggage weighing 39, 38, 38, and 45 pounds resulted in me unzipping them on the airport floor trying to redistribute things. It turns out you can't wear multiple layers of shoes on board.

I'll be glad to finally wrap my arms around my hubby again. He'll be sad to see that things no longer remain where he leaves them, but the joy he gets from our presence will hopefully offset that. Then, it's full steam ahead for our last year in Penang.

Wants Versus Needs

My son's map where he tracks where we've been.

 

We’re headed towards our Texas home for a few weeks visit before returning to Malaysia for one more year. I’m writing this somewhere just south of Greenland, racing through the sky at 512 mph, suspended over the earth at 34,000 feet with nothing but air velocity, wing shape, and physics keeping the plane aloft. It kind of reminds me of our decision to move overseas. Don't think about it too much and just trust that it will all work out fine.
 

I knew that being an expat would change us. That’s to be expected. When we first moved overseas, we returned to Texas every 6 months. That kept me tethered to my American life. It kept details fresh in my mind. But this time, it's been a year-long absence. It’s beginning to feel like I’m shedding my old American skin and turning into some hybrid, not-quite-American, not-quite-Malaysian gal. Perhaps it’s just my daftness shining through, but I’m beginning to forget exactly how things work in the United States. Knowing that this move isn’t forever has kept me in an in-between place where I don’t seem to fully adapt to Malaysian life but merely find ways to make do for the time being. I'm just biding my time. I keep putting things off in Malaysia and wait until I’m back in America – like going to the dentist or, oddly, shopping for clothes.


For the past two years, we’ve lived in a not-quite-First-World country. Malaysia is still developing, on the brink of breaking through. Life is pretty good in Penang, but it’s definitely a place where I’ve learned about wants versus needs. I have most of what I need but not everything that I want.


I’ve also reevaluated what category – want or need – things fall into. In Texas, an electrical outage would be a cause for concern. In Malaysia, it’s happened to me so often that it no longer throws me for a loop. A power outage is no reason to cancel a multi-family playdate or a friend’s Ladies Night Out. Who needs electricity to have fun? During Earth Hour, people all over the world were encouraged to turn off their electrical products for 60 whole minutes. Really? One hour of no power is for sissies. Try it for hours while playing hostess.

I’ve been up and down the 500 steps to our condo unit so many times when the elevator doesn’t work. 400 steps to the top of Notre Dame? That’s nothing. Bring it on.
 

Apparently, reliable electricity and a functional lift are now Wants, not Needs. I always want them but have learned that they aren’t completely necessary. (Note: I seem to be the only one of my Penang friends who has these problems. Most other condos don’t have as many issues. If you’re thinking of moving, don’t let me scare you off.)
 

I also seem to be using more British English like "lift" instead of "elevator" and "rubbish" instead of "garbage." Perhaps I needed an audible indicator of the gulf of change that's developing in me?
 

Is it weird that what I miss most about the United States is the rampant consumerism shopping? My impulse purchases have gone waaaaaaaay down since we’ve moved overseas. Alas, our travel expenses seem to have more than offset this change in behavior. I don’t know if it’s that Malaysian marketing isn’t as effective on me or what, but that “Ooohhh, that looks nice. Gimme, gimme, gimme,” feeling just doesn’t come over me as much when I’m at stores there. America is much better at separating me from my money. 

What do I want? Too much. What do I need? Apparently, less than what I thought when I lived in the United States.

Freakishly Excited about Wendy's

Oh how we've miss you, Wendy's.

If we were living in America, dining at Wendy's wouldn't warrant a blog post. But that's not where we live. In the entire 18 months that we have been in Malaysia, we had never seen a Wendy's here. Sometimes, I start longing for the ease of grabbing a salad at the drive-thru. It's strange what you begin to miss about home when you are an expat.

In March, we decided to take our second trip to Kuala Lumpur. While visiting the Petrosains Museum in the KLCC Suria Mall, my oldest son noticed that someone had left behind a balloon with the Wendy's logo emblazoned across it. Surely there must be one nearby! Armed with nothing more than that small clue, we began to search the mall for a Wendy's when dinner time rolled around. We rounded the corner and saw it. "Freakishly excited" is really the only way to describe our reaction.

Our eyes darted back and forth across the menu to see what the Malaysian version of this American restaurant would offer. Frosty's, chili, baked potatoes, burgers, fries, chicken nuggets... There were lots of familiar items on the menu. We also saw some local offerings like the Fried Chicken Homestyle Rice. Well, I'm assuming it's local. After all, it's been a long time since I've been in an American Wendy's.

In the end, we ordered the food that we've been missing. The Kids Meal bag with instructions in both English and Spanish, not Malay, was quite amusing. They just use the same ones that are printed in the USA. This dinner reminded us of America and was such a welcome treat.  Seasoned with a dash of homesickness, my baked potato with chili and cheese sauce has never tasted better.


This post is part of Friday Daydreamin' at R We There Yet Mom? Head over and check it out for tons of other around-the-world travel inspiration.

Please Remove Your Shoes

"Ummm... Do you mind taking off your shoes?"

 

Growing up in Houston, Texas, those words always seemed strange and awkward coming out of my mouth. My parents' house is strictly No Shoes Allowed, and as a child, this always seemed to set us apart. Sure, my aunts and uncles had the same rule. My parents' Filipino friends did, too. Grown-up parties with my folks were always marked by a huge pile of shoes at the door. But none of my friends ever made this request. I only realized this custom extended way beyond my family's circle of influence when I first entered the home of my Taiwanese friend in high school. She was surprised that I didn't automatically remove my shoes. "You're Chinese," she said, "you should know to take them off."

After I was married and had my own home, I instigated the No Shoes rule, too. When we visited Hawaii, I considered buying a plaque that said, "Please remove your shoes. It's the Hawaiian way." Except that a) I'm not Hawaiian; and b) I don't live in Hawaii. So, I couldn't figure out how I would justify that reasoning.

By the time I became a mother, non-Asians seemed to be jumping on the No Shoes bandwagon. Baby playgroup discussions covered concerns with thimerosal in vaccinations and phthalates in plastics. Leaving our shoes at the door was a way to keep environmental toxins out of the home. And of course, it's de rigueur for the kiddos to go shoeless at almost any indoor playscape.

Then, I moved to Malaysia.

Suddenly, the world flipped and what seems awkward in the United States is the norm here. When we came for our exploratory trip and looked at a bazillion rentals, we had to remove our shoes a bazillion times. Take my advice. Wear slip-on shoes when house hunting.

Everyone automatically takes off their shoes without asking. Some homes have the most beautiful, ornately carved, wooden shoe chests. If you're dressing up to attend a party at someone's home, the pressure is off to find just the right shoes for your outfit. No more standing around in heels all night! However, I do seem to get pedicures more frequently. Thank goodness they're cheap.

What's interesting is that the whole No Shoes custom extends beyond homes in Malaysia. When we visit our pediatrician, we leave our shoes on the doorstep before walking into the building. Frankly, this would have completely freaked me out in Texas because I would have been convinced that there was some highly contagious foot disease (Warts! Fungus!) ready to leap off the floor and burrow into my child's precious foot. But I just go with the flow here and take them off without worrying.

At a store called SSF, all customers must remove their shoes before heading to the 2nd story of the shop. It would be like browsing around a Crate and Barrel in America and then having to take off your shoes partway through the store. I always seem to go down a different set of stairs than the ones I head up, so I have to walk back to the first stairs to retrieve my footwear.

Of course, the No Shoes policy spreads all throughout Asia. I was impressed in Kyoto, Japan, by the highly organized system of numbered shelves to store the shoes for hundreds of visitors to the Sanjusangen Buddhist shrine. It was comparable to remembering where you parked your car in a large lot. They even had special shoe storage sections set aside for tour groups!

At Penang's Reclining Buddha Thai Temple
You are required to remove shoes, so perhaps someone is to stand guard while others tour.

Luckily, no one has ever made off with my shoes like when Sex and the City's Carrie finds her pricey Manolo Blahniks missing after leaving them at a friend's door. There's also that scene in Slumdog Millionaire where the kids steal shoes at the the Taj Mahal. This may be due to the cruddy taste in footwear that set in after Pregnancy #3 made my feet too-wide-for-regular-width but too-narrow-for-wide-width.

Back in Texas, we almost accidentally stole some other kids' brown Crocs when we were leaving the Chik-fil-A play area. Can you blame us? They are so common, and when you're waging the "No, you cannot go down the slide just one more time" battle, you grab the shoes that look right without inspecting them too closely. Good thing the mama of the rightful owner noticed.

In summary, the good thing about Malaysia is that I am now Normal! (Well, in that one aspect.) Yippee! No more awkward requests occasionally followed by the stink eye for asking guests to Please Remove Your Shoes.

Easy Malay for English Speakers

One of the biggest worries about moving to a new country is not speaking the language. Fortunately for me, enough locals in Penang speak English so that my questionable grasp of Malay has not been troublesome. At worse, I've been able to find at least one person in a shop who can assist me. Although, the time I attempted to pantomime "googly-eye stickers" was probably amusing them so much that they were only pretending to not understand.

Another blessing is that some Malay words are clearly based on their English counterparts. These remind me of early primary school's "spell it like it sounds" method and actually make more sense than English's convoluted spelling rules.

Can you figure out the following Malay words? Sometimes, it's "as easy as apple pie."

In Malay, adjectives come after the noun.



I've just been robbed! Call the POLIS!



I have a headache. Can we stop at the FARMASI to pick up some medicine?



That crazy MOTOSIKAL weaved in and out of the cars.



If you are looking for a job, read the KLASSIFIEDS.

I'm starving. Let's go and eat at a RESTORAN.

But before you start thinking that you totally understand, remember that some Malay words just look like English but have a completely different meaning.

JAM means "hour"

If a store says "24 JAM," it is not advertising its variety of jellied fruit spreads. That means it's open for 24 hours.

AIR means "water"

Do not put AIR in your tires (or "tyres" as it's spelled here). You'll be sorely disappointed when water comes out. Instead, use the hose marked ANGIN.



This post is part of Travel Photo Thursday on Budget Travelers Sandbox. Check it out for more around-the-world travel inspiration.

Telling Folks about Malaysia

Blog Expat just posted their interview with yours truly, Malaysian Meanders. I'm really hoping that by sharing my experiences, it will help make the move to Malaysia a little less nerve wracking for other expats. What's my favorite thing? What's the worst thing? How did I meet people and integrate into my new home? What do I find strange about my adopted culture?

Click here for my interview on Blog Expat

The Blog Expat directory is part of the bigger Easy Expat website. It's a great resource if you're planning to move to a new country. Check out the site's country-specific guides, FAQs, forums, employment board and classified ads.

My Interview in Expat Arrivals

The good folks over at Expat Arrivals are featuring an interview with me on their Malaysia page. It covers information that you may be interested in if you are considering or planning to move to this country. What do I enjoy? What are the negatives? How is health care and public transportation? What are the work culture and school environment like?

Expat Arrivals offers Destination Guides for numerous countries all over the world plus general information such as how to plan for moving abroad and financial or insurance issues you may face. There's also a forum where you can connect with other expats in your new country.

I invite you to read my interview and see what else Expat Arrivals has to offer you.

Click here for their interview with me. 

Blending in with the Locals

If you haven't noticed already, I can pass as a local Malaysian. Penang is a little more than 40% Chinese, some of whom have been here for 7+ generations. As for myself, my grandparents were born in China, my parents were born in the Philippines, and I was born in the USA. When strangers meet me, they assume that I'm Malaysian... until I start talking and my accent gives me away. At that point, people ask if I'm from Hong Kong or Korea. I get the occasional, "Are you Japanese?" Only two people have guessed American or Canadian. In other words, I blend in really well, and no one assumes that I'm a Westerner at heart.

Asian minority in America
Growing up in the Houston, Texas, I was always in the minority. I think I made up one elementary school "tell us about your heritage" presentation because no one was there who knew about Filipino-Chinese traditions. There are a few incidences from my childhood when I was teased for being Asian. I suppose bullies pick on people for whatever reason -- too fat, too skinny, too tall, too short, too Asian...  I remember being so thrilled as a young teenager that there was an Asian girl one time in Seventeen magazine. Wait a minute? You can be Asian and still be pretty?  By the time I reached high school, the Asian community in my area had grown, along with other ethnic groups. Roll call for my Chemistry II class sounded like the United Nations directory.

Thankfully, my kids did not have had the same Outsider experience when we were still living in Texas. Our neighborhood school there is diverse with 38% Asians, 11% Hispanics, and -- woo hoo! -- 6% mixed race students.

Blending into the crowd in Malaysia
Then, I moved here and was suddenly surrounded by people who look like me. We were at a restaurant in Penang when I pointed out to my husband that he was the only white person in the room. (Excluding my three half-white kids. If you count them, I guess there were 2.5 white people.) "This must be what it's like for you in America," he stated. Yup.

Looks Chinese, Doesn't speak Chinese
People assume that I can understand Hokkien, the dialect spoken in Penang by the ethnic Chinese. The vendors at the wet market and fruit stall finally recognize me and know not to quote the price to me in Chinese. I've been complimented that I speak English really well. It's the only language I know fluently, so I suppose it's good I've mastered it. Right? One day, I was pushing my shopping cart along the aisles of Tesco when a frazzled, Australian man loudly said to me, "Dooooo yoooouuuuu speeeeeaaaaaak Engliiiiishhhh?" He was absolutely relieved when he realized I could communicate with him and point him towards the rice.

Getting local prices
Tourists and expats are often quoted higher prices for goods and services than what locals are charged. It's nicknamed "The Skin Tax." Sometimes, this is unofficial. The owner of the little boat for hire to Monkey Beach sees that someone is a Westerner, and names a high price. Other times, two price sets are officially displayed on a sign. To take the funicular up Penang Hill, it's RM30 for adults -- unless you are Malaysian, in which case it's only RM8. If I'm the one to buy the family's tickets, I can usually get the local price. My white husband, on the other hand, was charged three times more for bananas at our usual fruit stand than what I typically pay. Since this amounted to all of US$3, he didn't really mind. (Perhaps thus supporting the idea that Westerners can afford to pay extra.)

I've noticed that when I'm at festivals with my husband and American friends, they get much more attention than I do. People push flyers and advertisements into their hands more frequently than into mine. Shopkeepers try a little harder to get them into their stores. It's as if they have a sign hanging around their neck reading, "I'm a tourist and have lots of money to spend." Not so much for me. I just fly by under the radar.

No paparazzi
The biggest perk to blending in with the locals is that we aren't stalked by "the paparazzi." If you are a Westerner living or visiting Asia, you may be surprised by the number of locals who want a picture of you. The number of cameras trained at you increases the younger you are and the blonder you are. So, if you have an adorable, little, blonde child with light-colored eyes, people will probably want a picture.

"The paparazzi" all over Asia. My father-in-law tells a story about  bringing my husband to Japan when he was a youngster. They were visiting the same circuit of tourist spots as a girls school trip. At each stop, more and more girls gathered the courage to take their picture with my guy (admittedly quite adorable at that age, so who can really blame them). Another family told me of being in rural China and having a hard time running errands with their four blonde kids because they were stopped so often. A friend in Shanghai has a beautiful daughter who could pass for Taylor Swift. She dyed her blonde hair brunette just so she wouldn't attract so much unwanted attention.

My kids have only had their picture taken once that I know of. They just don't look exotic enough. This is a relief to me. Most of my friends that this happens to get used to it after a while, and it doesn't seem to bug them.

Asian on the Outside, Western on the Inside
On the other hand, I sometimes find that whole blending into the crowd business a little strange. Is there a fellow American flashpacker at the next table proudly boasting to everyone on Facebook that she's the only foreigner in the crowd? When strangers judge this book by the cover, they are probably creating a fiction that is far removed from my real back story. On the inside, I'm just a gal who had a typical American upbringing.

Vote for me at the Expats Blog Awards

UPDATE: Thank you so much to everyone who voted. Malaysian Meanders took Honourable Mention at the Expats Blog Awards 2012. If you live in Malaysia, especially Kuala Lumpur, you should take some time to read The Yum List which took 1st place. It covers the best places to eat, drink, stay and spa. It only includes spots that are worth the visit because time is too precious to waste on average food and experiences.

I am both surprised and honored to find out that someone nominated me for an Expats Blog Award. At first, I thought that I'd easily win the Malaysia category since I was the only blog listed. I thought it was a slam dunk. However, they seem to have found a few other blogs in the last few weeks. I no longer stand alone.

If you enjoy my blog and have found it helpful, please vote for me. The judging is largely based on public opinion, so every nice review or comment helps. Just click through below.

 

Click here to vote for Malaysian Meanders at ExpatsBlog.

Then scroll down to the bottom of new window and comment.

 

 

Fill in your info and comments in the form

 

 

 

If you are one of the strangers that I've met at Starbucks during your exploratory visit to answer your questions about moving to Penang, please vote for me. Same goes for those whose messages I've answered on Facebook.

 

Most of all, thank you so much for reading my blog and helping me with my mission to share what a wonderful, exciting place Penang is for an expat to live or a world traveler to explore.

 

 

 





A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving

What blockhead made all this?

When you're an expat living overseas, the chances of going home to visit your family for Thanksgiving dinner are rather slim. On the other hand, my friend in Austin, Texas just drove 27 hours straight to Buffalo, New York for a week's visit, so perhaps it's not totally out of the question. This year, we're pulling a Peppermint Patty and inviting ourselves over to other people's homes to celebrate this American holiday in Penang.

I've always loved Thanksgiving. I jokingly tell my younger boy that he's named after the governor of Plymouth Colony, William Bradford. Moving across the ocean, I've come to understand how much the Pilgrims must have truly appreciated the Native Americans. When we first arrived, we relied heavily on the experience of others to figure out daily life in this new world. Where do you buy food? Who's a good pediatrician? How do people watch American college football? You know... important things like that. This week, a group of long-timers and newly arrived expats will gather together for a communal meal, sharing our food and reminiscing about our homeland. And just like where the Peanuts gang drives off to at the end of the show, we'll be doing it in a condominium.

What kind of meal will we end up with? Is it toast, popcorn, pretzels and jelly beans for us? After all, it's sometimes a bit hard to track down exact ingredients in Penang. This is not a place where you go to the market with a week's menu and ingredients all planned out. There's no fear of starvation, but you must remain flexible. My typical modus operandi is to purchase whatever looks fresh and then figure out later what to do with it all. I feel a bit like Alice Waters except that I have no talent in throwing together an impromptu meal.

Before we moved, I had turned into a bit of a turkey snob. I special ordered my free-range, organic, heritage turkey, dry brined it, then roasted it for the big day. Could I find a turkey here? Last week, a group of serial expats were discussing the relative ease of finding good turkeys in different countries. In summary, the ones in Egypt are awful, the Caucasus Mountains have good ones, and Afghanistan turkeys are great.

I was quite happy to come across turkey and cranberries, both fresh and canned, at Straits Minimarket. Someone else ordered a fresh turkey from Mutha's near the Tanjung Bungah Wet Market, probably slaughtered according to Halal rules. A few restaurants around town have roasted turkeys for take away, too. Last year, sweet potatoes were a bit questionable, though. Pecans are the same price as macadamia nuts, if you can find them. I actually have a stash of Texas pecans in my fridge that I brought back from my summer visit. Did the pilgrims do this? Did they hoard precious food from home and only serve it on special occassions?

So during this time when expats start to miss the families they left behind, we gather together as a makeshift family far, far away from America. Just like Charlie Brown figures out, it doesn't matter where you eat Thanksgiving dinner. Whether it's at a condo or at a doghouse, it will always be special when you share the feast with friends.

"We thank God for our homes and our food and our safety in a new land."

- Linus quoting Elder William Brewster's prayer