Last Snuggles With My Only Child

I'm laying here next to Regin in our family bed, all snuggled up and warm, and I'm feeling something bitter-sweet. I'm relishing this moment together and the peaceful stillness of the morning with my little one curled up against me.  But I can't help but wonder... How many days or even hours do we have left to be just the two of us?

Our relationship will change so much soon. His life will change. Three is becoming Four and Only is becoming First or Older.

Somehow even at his age I get the feeling he somehow understands his life is in transition. Even though he's going through a powerful Papi phase, he clings to me and cries for me more than ever.  He's become suddenly hyper and more difficult for an easily overstimulated Mamma to handle and it's been a sudden shift. We've talked about the baby in Mamma's tummy, how it's going to come out soon and how we'll love it and care for it when it does.  We've read Welcome with Love and We  Have a Baby together.  But can a two-year old understand what's happening?

Even if he doesn't, I do. And it makes me think back over the last almost three years...

His birth was long and difficult and I didn't bond with him right away, but when I started pulling out of my post-labor fog, and I looked at his poor little face that had been squeezed out of me, I recognized him and I smiled at the large feet he'd inherited from his Papi.  And on that first night together, as he slept on my chest, I listened to and learned the timbre and cadence of his voice in his breath.

In the early days I couldn't believe I'd made him.  When I looked at him sleeping next to me I marveled at the thought that I had made something so beautiful and I whispered to him that things would stay as they were and we'd never fight.  As he learned to focus his gaze on mine, I saw his love and felt mine.

In the following months, I learned how he and I would be together, that the books and websites were often wrong, and that I could trust what we developed together.  He learned to smile almost right away, earlier than supposedly possible, though he'd never let me catch it on camera, and after months of stressful and painful breastfeeding, I learned that I could go lengths of time without feeding him from my breast and still not lose my milk.  So in tune were we that if I was ever out of sync with his feeding schedule, even if it had changed suddenly and I wasn't there to know it, I would leak, and not any time I felt emotional or heard a baby cry like they show on TV.

As he's grown, I've been astonished at every new thing he's learned and wished I could track his language acquisition (English, Spanish, ASL, and even Faroese) and record every word as it came to him.  I tried a couple of times but just couldn't keep up.  I chuckled at my little climber, who did amazing stunts, scaling relatively high furniture before learning to walk.  I've seen him fall in love with identifying monkeys ("mono!"), motorcycles ("moto!"), balls, balloons, airplanes, fire trucks, robots, trains, and now letters, especially his favorite: the letter 'H'.  And I've watched him study his world as a scientist while using the same 'concentration face' I do.  I love that face, Little One, even though at some point you'll be misread as grumpy when you use it like I've often been and your Omma was before me.  It's funny that the 'sign name' that Tía Monica gave you is based on the word 'happy' (because you were always so happy as a baby) when others have often commented how serious you are.  I know you're just as silly as you are serious though.

He has gravitated towards boyish toys and interests despite having had no reinforcement for that from us.  So, maybe building and cars and shooting (SERIOUSLY don't know where he got that one) really do have something to do with the chromosomes.  Or maybe it's just coincidence.  After all, I did gravitate towards similar interests as a child even though I consciously made efforts to make myself like baby and Barbie dolls like my friends did.

He has his particulars with his foods as most children do.  Since graduating from purees, veggies and wet foods have been completely out, there is no limit to the amount blueberries he can eat, and as of the last six plus months, he has to have a glass of water and a glass of milk with every meal, including cereal.

He's always been extremely sensitive and empathetic and I adore that about him.  When he sees me upset or hears me yelp he asks me what's wrong and comes over to offer his kisses and rubs to make it better.  He uses pleases, thank yous, you're  welcomes, and such of his own accord, I frequently get an "I love you too, Mamma," and sometimes even get an unsolicited "I love you."  He's a hand holder, like me, and loves to hold our hands off and on when we eat together at the kitchen table.

Every day I learn something new about my boy.  Every day I get to laugh, even through the struggles and yes, fights, and delight in all the silly things he does.  I love even the things that annoy me like his singing Smilla-de-Lilla or Heffalumps and Woozles for hours on end, though I must say his aggressive display of affection for Smilla is not my personal favorite. 

Most of all I love the morning wake ups together; our snuggles and tickles and all the good stuff that comes before he insists we get up to eat.  I hope that a new baby won't interrupt that morning ritual too much, I hope it won't be too long before (s)he joins in the morning yumminess and that another member of our snugglefest only enhances the warmth of it.  But for now I want to savor the last moments we have alone together.  I love that it's just we, my little boy and me.

A clean bill of health?

I had a whole series of blood/urine tests last week, then an ultrasound for some abdominal complaints on Saturday.  I brought all the results back to our doctor (yeah we're still with the same one.  It's just too much trouble to find a new one at this point.)  She goes through each line nodding, saying, "good... good... cholesterol good... nothing wrong on the ultrasound... kidneys look good... liver... pancreas... ."  And then she looks up at me and says, "you're in great health!"

Funny.  I don't feel like I'm in great health, which is exactly what I told her.  She then mentions things about stress and such.

There seems to be a common theme here.  She, the endocrinologist, and the dietitian all seem to think I could do with some psycho-therapeutic help.  While that may be true, it's not what is causing my issues, and if we're going to examine the causal relationship between my hypoglycemic symptoms and my psychological issues we would have to conclude the opposite:  the latter will be resolved by treating the former, or, put another way, the latter IS from the former.  My psychological issues are, by and large, symptoms of my hypoglycemia.

It's not unusual for doctors to dismiss hypoglycemia symptoms as psychological.  After everything I have read and researched I believe that, in truth, not just mine, but most psychological problems should be treated as hypoglycemia!  This includes anxiety, depression, alcoholism and criminal behavior, even schizophrenia!  The list goes on and on.  And then there are lists of "physical" ailments that are linked to hypoglycemia. 

GET THE PICTURE PEOPLE!  IF YOU WANT TO BE IN GOOD HEALTH AND STOP SUFFERING FROM THAT/THOSE _________________ (headaches? phobias? chronic fatigue? aches and pains? bronchitis? heart conditions? cancer? -- yes I have read about links with ALL of these to hg) STOP PUTTING CRAPPY FUEL INTO YOUR BODY!!!

It is so hard on me to see people putting crap in their bodies every day and dismissing any concerns about how their diets can put them in my shoes.  When I tell many of you that I have HG, most of you say, "sucks to be you!"  When I suggest that you may also have it (though not as severe) and that you should also change your diet you say, "no way!  Are you nuts?"  Yes.  I am nuts.  But regardless of that I have a hard time not taking your refusal personally.

I know you love and enjoy all of those foods and drinks you won't give up.  Believe me, I know how hard it would be (is) to stop.  And, realistically, I wouldn't want to give them up either.  But your refusal and immediate dismissal is like telling a mother of a drunk-driving victim that there is no way (how ridiculous!) you'd give up drinking and driving.  There are, of course, some obvious, major differences, but bare with me while I explain.

First, it says to me that you don't take your own health seriously, or the impact it has on others, or even that there are very limited ways in which you're willing to improve your current health issues, which I guess is all normal, but it also says that you won't do anything you can to avoid being in my situation, and by extension (at least in my crazy mind), you wouldn't save me if you could.

But there is little I can do to convince you all isn't there?  I mean if it were absolutely proven that my issues were actually caused by some other illness and I could go back to eating anything I wanted, wouldn't I?  I have to just let it go just like all the other things I get riled up about.  And besides, I'm getting off topic a smidge.


Back at the doctor's office...
OK so I'm annoyed that she's not taking my hypoglycemia as a legitimate complaint and that she doesn't see it as evidence of compromised health, but I have to admit, it's an awfully sweet feeling to hear that I'm otherwise doing so well.  And it was fun to think it proof that there is nothing wrong with the high protein, high (saturated) fat and high calorie content of my diet.  Proof also that mainstream nutrition information is totally bogus. 

Then George whacks my head out of the clouds with a big old baseball bat.  Maybe, for example, my cholesterol was even lower before and it's now on the rise.  We'll have to wait for future blood scans to decide anything so bold as my diet being the true ideal.

But you know, I did get the ultrasound for a reason.  When I ask the doctor about my stomach complaints, she decides it must be gas.
"Do you have a lot of wind?"
"No."
"I think it's wind."
???

Cyber-stalking our old neighborhood

So George sent me a link to our address on Google Maps in 'street view' and...

creepy? cool? both?  You can even move around a little and see it from slightly different angles.

Based on a number of clues (which are kind of hard to see in my capture) we've determined this has to be last year in the fall.  It's funny, because before we figured that out I looked at it and some other spots in our neighborhood and thought, "wow! That really looks like how I remember it looking last year in the fall!"

It's weird seeing our house again.  A few of you know that I'm considering coming back to the States very soon and I've been feeling more homesick than I was before.  I would have thought seeing this would make me want to go back more.  It doesn't.  Looking at it, I feel totally indifferent.  Even when I used the map to "walk" through our neighborhood and look at the park I wasn't all that nostalgic.  I really think I'm ready to go home and I think my illness is an incredibly good excuse for me to go since it has been totally out of control since we got back from Thailand, but I fear that I will regret cutting my trip short.  Hmmm...

For fun, here are some other houses I've lived in in Colorado...
My sister's house:

My parents' old house:

Denver is one of the test areas for Google Maps' street view.  George and I have previously already had fun 'walking' through downtown and looking at familiar buildings.  But when it comes to people's homes, what do you think?  Is it creepy?  Why is it more scary to me to publish a link to the street vew of my house on Google Maps than it is to publish my address?  Should I even be publishing the above photos?  I figure, they can't be any worse than posting my own photos of my house when it snows or whatever.  Can it?  What do you think?  I'm also starting to get a little nervous about all of the information we're putting about ourselves on Facebook and Geni, etc..  And yes, I'm aware that I'm a heavy contributor to both.  But I'm just thinking, if someone ever does want to get all "big brother" on us, are we giving them the means to do so?

Penang -- Week 33 -- The Lunch Group

THURSDAY, October 30th
A bunch of us from babywearing meet at our friend Alison's house for lunch.  There's been talk of a regular play group starting.  I thought it would be fun and casual like the ones we're already doing, but Jess sent us all a long email last week detaling all of the 'guidelines' for what she calls a "structured playgroup."  She wants it to be a sort of home-run, preschool co-op.  Where a couple of moms each week would host and lead a learning activity or craft.  We'd have lunch, and scheduled free play as well, but we'd eventually leave all the kids with two moms and the rest of the moms would go out for their own free play.  That last part has been vetoed by several group members already.  But the rest sounds a little hyper structured to me too.  I told Jess I'm willing to try it, but I don't know that I'm looking for Regin to learn anything when we go to a playgroup.

A few of the ladies are buzzing about what I must have brought to eat for lunch.  It's my veggie-squash-tuna bake which has recently become a staple at our house.  People are oohing and ahhing about how delicious it must be up until the moment it hits their plates.  But as soon as they put it in their mouths, silence.  Hmmph.  It's not my best veggie-squash-tuna bake, but I think it's still pretty darned good.  But no one makes a peep about it.  I know locals never talk much while dining, but there are also English and Australian women at the table and there is some chatter.

Maybe I've lost my touch?

Jess, one of the Malaysians at the table, then tells me that my frittata last Thursday inspired her to make her own.  Huh!  I guess she liked it.  And now that I'm paying attention, everyone is quietly reaching for seconds and thirds of my dish this week.  Strange.  No compliments on the dish during or after lunch.  But everyone thanks each other for bringing each dish.

Jess and Debz have been trying to make Elisabeth-friendly food when we get together.  So sweet, but it's an almost impossible task.  Amazingly, Jess has something I can eat this time.  It's mushrooms, garlic, bell pepper (which they call capsicum) and lemon grass.  Oh my goodness.  Very tasty.  I have to learn how to make it!  I make sure to mention my pleasure while eating it.

More about American prejudice

Sorry, one more.  But this one is important I think.  George sent me this article this morning.  It seems to be an article about how the Islamic American community overwhelmingly voted for Obama, but that's just the intro to the more important topic:  the treatment of Islam during the campaign.  I.e.  how dirty of a word "Muslim" is, so much so that it was used to defame Obama's character.  It's horrifying to hear what some of my fellow Americans have been saying in regards to this.  This is what I mean about the ugliness and prejudice that we're showing the world.  How can the Middle East ever trust us or be interested in any kind of peace process when our president has his citizens behind him saying that Islam is necessarily evil and absolutely tied to terrorism? 

Did any of you receive the DVD insert in the newspaper (mentioned in the article) that repeatedly shows juxtaposed images of Nazis and Muslims?  I'm sick to my stomach!  And how sad that Muslim Americans had to hide their support lest they destroy Obama's chances at the White House!  How can we end this ignorance?  And how can we hide all the evidence of it until we do?  I guess I could start by not posting it on my blog, huh?

Supporting a positive global effect

Reem sent this article to me about the sudden change in attitude towards Americans living overseas since Obama's win.  I identify so much with the woman in the article who has learned ways to cope with varying degrees of hostility due to her American nationality.  I have not ever pretended to be from another country or lied when asked, but I have had a "never-tell-unless-asked" policy.  It worked particularly well in England when I had an English accent.  Of course, the news still traveled and those who found out often gave me hell.

"Are you American?"
"Yes."
"I've just taken a sudden disliking to you!"

I sat through one class where the teacher spent the entire period telling a joke about the massive amounts of excrement on Noah's Arc.  That was the set up, the punchline was that the pile that was discarded into the sea was eventually discovered by Columbus and named America.  He said that looking directly at me.  I was about 11 or 12.

I developed the shame that is discussed in the article.  And it's a shame I still struggle to free myself from. But should I?  Although I'm not personally responsible for my country's past actions, I'm not sure that all American's shouldn't be feeling a little shame.  It's not an accident we're so unpopular.  And it is important that we change that.  Maybe a little of that shame, instead of the blind pride many of us walk so boldly with, can help us make the necessary change.

The fact that Obama is helping our PR to this extent is so great.  I only hope that he doesn't disappoint to a degree that would bring us back to square one or even somewhere worse.  We also need to act as ambassadors to support the PR shift.  And I don't only mean people who are overseas.  I mean you guys at home too.  I cringe when I read what Americans say online.  And what foreigners see of our YouTube videos, TV shows, and other media does not paint a very friendly picture of us.

Shanti was asking me about it all Friday.  As usual, she really didn't understand or remember what I'd said to her before.  So she came in saying, "He already won?"
"Yes."
"Everybody say is a good thing."
"Yes!"  My excitement was renewing.  "Lots of people think so, but not everyone."
"It's very scary.  They really don't like black people there."

Sigh.  How can I argue with her?  You read those couple of quotes in my newspaper summary yesterday, right?  In case you didn't, I think it's worth putting one again here:

"I don't think we'll have to worry about another African-American president in four year's time, because after what's going to happen in the next four years under Obama, we'll never elect an African-American again."

Shanti's right.  It is scary.  We think this is such a victory and such a positive sign for our culture.  But there are still plenty of Americans who have just as much ignorance, prejudice and ugliness in their hearts as ever.  Even if Obama's foreign policy is perfect, and he mends bridges all over the place.  Our everyday citizens may undo his work.  Who wants to deal with a prejudiced and superior culture?


________________________________________________________

OK. I think I've had my say.  No more Obama on here, at least not for a while. 

We're hoping to go to Thailand today!  If not today, then tomorrow.  I've pre-posted a bunch of posts, so no worries, they will continue in our absence.  TTFN!

Obama's Victory - Local Perspective II

I thought I'd share some article summaries from yesterday's newspaper so you can get an idea how Obama's victory is portrayed here.  One thing is clear.  The world has a lot of hope placed on Obama's presidency.  With such high expectations, it's hard to imagine anything but disappointment resulting.  Let's hope not.  Read on...

Cover: 
CHANGE HAS COME
"He's already changed America by becoming the first black man to win the White House.  His challenge is to change the course of its government and guide it through hard times an past the financial crisis he inherits as he takes office.  And deliver on his promise of a new dawn for the world."

Page two:
PM: World hopes for positive change
Malaysia's prime minister, Datuk Seri Abdulla Ahmad Badawi talks about the expectations the world has for this new leader and the hope that he will address issues in Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, and Palestine.  "He also hoped that Obama would be fair in dealings with Islamic countries and groups."  He also spoke about hopes for improved relations between the US and Malaysia specifically.  He feels that Obama's ties in Indonesia and Malaysia (he has a Malaysian brother-in-law) will be a positive influence in the relationship.  Further, "Although I don't share all his foreign policy prescriptions, I think he represents change in the YS and he is willing to engage in meaningful dialogue." 

KL looks forward to better relations
More hopes for improved relations with Malaysia.  "Malaysia welcomes his victory as a new beacon in the struggle for democracy."  Interestingly, Malaysians are also interested in the fact that we finally have a black president:  "...as the first African-American president, Obama's victory proved that Americans were able to look beyond race and religious beliefs in electing their leader."  Interesting.  Did they also get those email forwards about Obama being a Muslim? 

Page four:
'Obama Boleh' spirit abounds in KL
People have previously tried to explain the Malaysian concept of "boleh" in the past, but I still don't get it.  It's some kind of rah-rah-rah spirit though.  Like "Yay!  Go Obama!" or something to that effect.  Pictured are three "staunch Obama supporters" dressed in Obama-boleh tees (I so need one) while attending the election-watch/party at the US embassy.  WHY didn't I know that was going on?  We missed out on that too!?!?!?    And it sounds like it would have been so fun!  "It was the worst kept secret as to who most of those who attended supported, with Malaysians and their foreign friends loudly cheering and clapping jubilantly every time a result came in from an US state where Obama had won.  When it was finally clear he was victorious, the hall erupted into a delightful frenzy.  The packed hall at the Renaissance Hotel was decked out in blue, red, and white, with a festive feel to the occasion courtesy of balloons, banners, colourful hats and even life-size cut outs of both Obama and Republican candidate John McCain."

IT'S A LANDSLIDE VICTORY
A reuters article.  It's a basic summary of the victory, race issues, his background, his promises, etc..

Page 24:
Enter Obama, at a time of stark choices.
Discussion of the US's dire economic situation and that the "talk now is of a global recession." Someone is going to have to explain that one to me, because I know diddly about economics.  But how can there be a global recession?  If one country is in debt, doesn't that make another country rich?  The article seems to put a lot of weight in the US's position in the world even if we no longer  have the "privilege of having the largest, most dynamic economy, and one that acted as a world creditor."  I find it kind of funny that they refer to Bush as a "lame duck president."

Obama's story captures their imagination
Someone with a very Indian-looking name reports from Grant Park, Chicago, and beautifully describes the overwhelming emotion of Obama's victory as he actually experiences Obama's victory speech in person.  He must be American though because it's hard to imagine a Malaysian or other nationality get this excited about it:  "So stand up.  Holler.  Scream, at the top of your lungs.  Call your friends.  Call your families.  Wake up your children.  They're going to want to see this.  And don't forget where you are right now, right this minute, because years from now, people are going to ask you:  where were you when Barack Obama became president of the United States of America?  In this life of ours, it's is truly a rare thing when can genuinely claim to have witnessed history. I do not believe that it is possible to overstate the importance of what just happened and I am truly convinced that this will be the defining moment not just for American history, but for all our histories."  He also talks about race:  "I am under no illusion that Obama's victory means all is well with race relations in America.  It does, however, show progress."  He goes on to say that he liked McCain but didn't think it was the former, truer McCain that campaigned. 

On the emotions of the event:  "Obama is speaking now.  The people around me are weeping.  They're clapping.  I'm having a hard time comprehending what he's saying.  The strength of the feeling around me is just unbearable. I'm going to have to go home and read a transcript.  But somehow I feel reassured.  There is something about the sound of his voice that tells me everything is going to be all right.  It's irrational, I know.  But rationality is for another time.  Tonight I am not cool, collected, or objective, as I stand here, surrounded by these people, I find it impossibly hard to be.  As I stand here, in the only country in the world founded entirely on ideas, with no common ancestry, religion, or even ideology, I finally understand why for generations people have flocked to these strands."

Page 28:
Asia pins hopes on Obama
China hopes for stronger ties. Australia's prime minister is excited about the progress in American race relations. Pakistan's premier hopes Obama will promote peace and stability in Afghanistan. Afghanistan's president is all excited about the race thing too. India:  "Obama's youthful energy [is] in tunes with the dynamism of the emerging country. [India's  ruling party is] confident that that rapidly warming ties [will] grow stronger under Obama's leadership.  South Korea hopes for better relations and the Philippines hopes for "greater cooperation."  Indonesia hopes the change will "boost the fight against the global economic crisis."

New dawn of American leadership
An AFP article from Washington.  Summaries of Obama's foreign policy goals. Mentions of people around the globe celebrating his victory and their increased hope.

Page 29:
They rejoice for the man whose middle name is... HUSSEIN"
An AFP article from London.  Mostly discusses the celebrations around the world, including the US embassy party in London (aargh, apparently they are commonplace!  Did everyone know about these but us?)!  A 29-year-old Thai man says, "He had an Asian childhood, African parentage and has a Middle Eastern name.  He is a truly global president."    An American in London says, "It would be nice to have a president who is celebrated when he goes abroad and his effigy is not burned."

 Ex-classmates in Indonesia very proud of 'Barry'
Talks about the kids who currently go to Obama's old school in Indonesia, and his former classmates' pride in him.  They mention how he mastered the language and how smart he was.  "Even as a young boy, he was good at using persuasion to settle his little fights with other boys."  And... "He has been a global person since he was a little boy.  He lived in Indonesia, he understands and shares Asian culture."


Page 30:
'I'm excited... he's going to pull us from over here... If McCain had won, we'd be over here for years, and I mean years and years.'
Reuters.  US soldiers in Iraq share how happy they are at the news.

Iraq does not expect hasty change
Reuters.  Iraqi leaders aren't getting their hopes up too much.

Page 31:
McCain diehards fear the worst
Oh what a sad portrait to paint of us to other countries.  "I just don't think America is quite ready for an African-American president." And the big doozy... "I don't think we'll have to worry about another African-American president in four year's time, because after what's going to happen in the next four years under Obama, we'll never elect an African-American again."  Sigh.

Page 50:
Obama win buoys sentiment
Hopes that his election will bring "a fresh stimulus" to various Asian economies.

Page 5 of the People section:
Obama's strongwoman
Basically behind every great man is a great woman and this one is so great because of her fashion sense and because she knows her place.  Hmmmm....

No longer an outsider?

For my entire life, I've lived as an outsider.  I grew up in foreign cultures, not even sure if I knew what my native culture was.  Each way I turned, I was different.  Moving into adulthood in Colorado I felt more different than ever.  Every day I lose a little of what once made me feel European, but I have always felt ideologically and in other ways out of sync with local culture.  It's probably no coincidence that I am now on the other side of the globe.

Honestly I feel an outsider in every relationship, when I get down to it.  I'm sure this is universal on some level, but I am forever feeling like I am not surrounded by like-minded people.  That has changed a little over the past couple of years with some of the friendships I have that have flourished.  But I have long ached and felt alone.  And I felt at odds with the world and especially with Colorado and its conservatism.

And it got worse.  Many of you know that I lost my job in 2001 because of some conflict I had with my racist coworkers.  I came to learn there was an undercurrent of racism in Colorado that I had to ignore or I couldn't make it through my life there.

Bush's re-election was it for me.  It was more than I could handle.  I wanted to give up my citizenship; it was that serious.  By then we knew what he was about.  We knew he tricked us into war.  But his religion factored in for many.  And it seemed to factor in for no one but me that his re-election would inflame the world's dislike (hatred) for us.  I know I am supposed to accept that everyone has different beliefs.  It's a nice idea in theory, but in practice it's really hard.  I've had to shut off a part of myself, and will myself not to think about it.

So today, when the US actually told the world that they wanted Obama as their representative and leader, I became truly overwhelmed with emotion.  It was so unexpected.  I thought I mostly didn't care.  But when he won, when I saw Jesse Jackson cry, when I heard McCain's lovely concession speech, I began to cry too.  And the absolute, non-sugar icing on that almond-flour cake is that Colorado, the state I felt so at odds with all these years, voted democrat!  I can't believe it!  Maybe they are my people after all!  Maybe we aren't so different.  Maybe they aren't all ultra Christian, ultra conservative.  Maybe they don't all believe the ridiculous equation:  Middle-Eastern=terrorism/evil, Islam=Middle-Eastern, Obama=Islam, therefore Obama=terrorism/evil.  And maybe that undercurrent of racism isn't as widespread as I thought.   

George and I shared our experiences when he got home from work.  He, too, was emotional at the moment of Obama's victory.  It's unbelievable that we could feel so much from a politician being elected into office (of any kind) but as George put it, it's almost as if a great weight of oppression has been lifted off of us.  That's what it's like to find that there are so many like-minded people out there when you thought there were so few.  We thought we were in the minority, constantly swimming against the current, constantly having to explain ourselves and often having to conceal our real thoughts on many sensitive subjects when the other side felt no such need.  We didn't know how tired we were of all of the double think.

Now... I... feel... like dancing!  Like running up to the top of the hill and laughing!  And I'm aching to be with others who share my celebratory mood.

That's what I get for being here.  We missed out on the Democratic National Convention in Denver, we missed out on celebrating with friends at Obama's victory.  And we also missed a lot of the experience of watching it happen.  The internet was so choppy that at best I got a few words in between long pauses, and at worst, I got nothing.  I missed most of Obama's speech when it was live.  But I'm all caught up now.

Anyway, I just wanted to say...  For, perhaps, the first time since I was a little girl, I am proud of my country.  And I am happy to be truly proud of Colorado.  And when we return to Colorado after our stay here is done, for the first time in my life, I may actually feel like I'm coming home.

Gosh what does that say about me that that's all because my guy won?

Penang -- Week 27 -- Lost in Translation

MONDAY - TUESDAY, September 15th - 16th
Monday it's family shopping day this week.  Regin and I hop in a cab and go and meet George at the mall down by work.  We can walk to Gurney Plaza by the apartment, and it's a nicer mall, but Queensbay, down by Agilent, has more of the cool stores. 

Our cabbie is not our regular guy.  This one is a practically a Penang tour guide and points out every school and police living quarters and every other mundane sight you could imagine.  He also refers to our dear own Mr. Prez., G. W., as "King of the World" whose successor, he predicts, will be Obama.  I'm not sure whether I should encourage the disdain towards our current head jefe, so though I'm generally always up for G. W. bashing, I keep quiet and let him go back to rambling on about the places that policemen live and why he's so proud to be a Malaysian.  In case you're curious, the answer apparently has largely to do with the fact that there is mutual tolerance and respect between the followers of all the various religions.  He believes any man's religion to be sacred and untouchable. 

People talk a lot about the harmony between the various culture groups here.  I'm not sure I buy it.  Outwardly, sure.  But there are undertones of discordance.  Thing is, in this culture, you don't speak out against the group.  The peace of the group comes first.  So that makes it difficult, if not implicitly forbidden, for anyone to express any real intercultural frustrations. Though, even if it weren't taboo, I'm not sure if anyone would even be able to say anything.

Tuesday a couple of our most vital air-conditioning units have stopped working, and we're melting in little puddles all over the apartment.  So some guys are in to fix the things.  First of all they show up at an unexpected time.  George had asked them to confirm with him and they didn't.  He had told them I would be home, so that was good enough for them.  I had no warning.  The place was the most embarrassing wreck that an overtired mother of an active toddler couldn't scramble enough to hide.  I wouldn't even let our maid see it (or me) like this.  I try to refuse them, but they look at me with the familiar blank stare that speakers of a different language give when you are obviously saying something in Martian.  They call our mutual contact and hand the phone to me.  She insists I let them in.  Ugh.

Before I know it, they are tearing down units and taking them away.  They're out on my balcony (laundry room) removing a unit there, and no one can tell me why.  I never said anything about that one.  All they can manage is something not quite so advanced or clear as "need to take" and when I keep insisting on receiving an answer to my, "WHY?!!!??" I get more blank stares.  I'm on the phone again with the apartment representative who tells me to let them take the units, they are broken and need to be fixed/replaced.  She won't listen when I try to tell her over and over that there is an additional unit they are taking that no one complained about. 

I give up and indicate that there is something wrong with another unit.  The head guy takes a look.  He doesn't say anything to me and then he climbs out on the ledge outside my bathroom window and starts disassembling more stuff.  I have no idea if the unit I just asked about is fixed or if my problem is being ignored.  So I try to ask.  This is, after all, our most intensely used air con unit in the apartment, without it we might as well be baking in the sun all day.  The head guy says something like, "OK." 
"Can use?" I ask. 
"Can."
I indicate with my hands that one of the lights keeps flashing.  When I press him to tell me what that means, he says, "cannot talk."  And flat out ignores me the rest of the time he's there.  Doesn't even let me know he's finished and leaving!  And he leaves greasy white (paint or what I don't know) footprints all over my dark red bath tub and two on my black scales before he leaves. 

Jerk.  I know he did that on purpose.  All his little subordinates were crammed in that bathroom with him.  He seriously had to weigh himself with all of them there before he left?  No.  He knew he was leaving me little, impossible to remove reminders of his visit.  This is infuriating!  And most of this is because not one of these guys, air con boss or air con minions, speaks any English.  I want to be angry and say that this is proof that we should have been given Malay lessons, but these guys probably don't even speak much Malay.  They all looked ethnically Chinese.  And as I've already found out, the relationship between the Chinese here and the Malay language is not all that dissimilar to that high school French that you forgot as soon as the memory of school-enforced learning faded away into "real life."

Malaysian really don't necessarily know how to speak Malay!  Do you know, there is this story in the news about an ethnic Indian Malaysian (pregnant) girl who gave birth in prison because when she was stopped by police and asked for her identification (which she didn't have on her) her Malay was so broken that they were certain she was a foreigner, and therefore an illegal alien! It wasn't until a doctor check up for the baby that someone heard and understood her story.  And this is not some child of illegal immigrants, we're talking someone who is as Malaysian as the Malay-Malaysians are, whose family has been here for generations.  And she ended up being imprisoned for 11 months before the truth was discovered!

It's a wonder that any real discourse of any kind can go on here.  Or does it even?  I mean, most of the Chinese youth seem to speak broken English to each other, and we hear broken English being spoken between parents and children as well.  They're articulacy in English is so limited, I have to wonder how much depth their discussions can possibly have.    And if their minds aren't exercised in critical thinking and rhetorical discourse, how much intellect is fostered?  Maybe they speak a much higher level of Hokkien and can argue till the end about the connotation and denotation of various semantic choices, but then why do they seem to always speak amongst themselves and raise their children in their weaker language? 

And what about the discourse that should be going on between culture groups?  Does the language barrier make it impossible for it to even happen?  I mean, imagine if you were limited to very rudimentary language when trying to discuss the marginalization of various ethnic groups in the US!  Of course there are plenty here who are more articulate in English, but not good enough for George and I to exercise our debate muscles with them a whole lot.  And it's not that they understand each other better than I understand them (although that too is true), I have overheard locals not understanding each other's English.  And yet they shop in English, gossip in English, and discipline their children in English.  And they see no reason to do it any other way.  Some of them are absolutely baffled when someone we know wants her half-Chinese kids to learn Chinese and can't comprehend why we might be working so hard to make sure that Regin retains his father's language.

But what I want to know is, how to receive important maintenance instructions from the air con installers, or get any help from our night security guard without having a full-time, live-in translator in my employ?  Anyone know where I can pick up a C-3PO in Penang?

My favorite things about Islamic nations

Ok, sorry for the delay, but as you could maybe tell from my last post, I needed a break.  Phew.  I'm well rested from blogging, so now back to work!  I'm working on some posts right now, but I'm having some hard drive space issues which is making it difficult for me to deal with the photos to put up here.  But I should have a post up sometime today or tomorrow latest.

Tomorrow is our anniversary.  We'd hoped to make our Thailand trip for our anniversary, but now it's looking HIGHLY unlikely.  We're hoping to leave this weekend or next week, who knows.  It may just have to wait altogether.  But, George has the next two days off of work.  Muslim holiday this time.  Hari Raya (or Eid ), the end of Ramadan.  It's the muslim holiday, which would make it the holiday in the rest of Malaysia.  It's not as enormous here since we're in a predominantly ethnic-Chinese area.  But hooray for yet another religion giving George yet more days off!  This must be why Malaysians are so tolerant of all the major religions here; the more religions, the more days off.  Do you think our tolerance of non-Christian religions in the States would rise if we got lots more public holidays like Malaysia?  Something to think about.

We've been invited to a Hari Raya celebration Thursday.  If we can go, I'd be excited.  I've missed an Indian baby naming ceremony already, but I am eager to take part in these celebrations with locals I know.  Such a great opportunity!

By the way, by far my favorite thing about living in a muslim country (so far) other than the perspective it gives me, is the prayer call.  At first I thought it would drive me mad to hear it several times every day, especially since we have two mosques in our immediate vicinity.  And to tell you the truth, not every guy who does the prayer call has the voice for it.  But for the most part, when I'm still enough to even realize I'm hearing it, it's haunting and beautiful and makes me feel like I'm living in an epic like Lawrence of Arabia or The English Patient.  And my favorite-favorite part (that much better than my favorite part alone) is that Regin notices it far more than I do, and he sings along every time he does.  "OOOooooooooooooh!"

Alone in my blogging room.

I'm in a strange sort of mood this morning.  I've been semi cut off from posting/writing my travel log since it's pretty image heavy these days and our internet is going through a major slow spell.  (Actually we think it's being throttled due to all of our big downloads of movie rentals and TV shows.  Just watch it be back to normal at the beginning of the next billing cycle!)  I could write the log and post the photos later, but honestly, I just don't feel like it right now.  I'm not sure if I'm a little down, or just tired of plugging away at the same old stuff.  Today I have been thinking about what I do here, and why, and what it does for me.  Or doesn't do.

Thanks to this blog, you all get a daily look (internet permitting) inside my brain.  You see my excitements, my disappointments, my frustrations, and you learn about all the crazy things that rattle around in this noggin and otherwise don't come out.  Most of you probably know more about me and how I think through reading my words here than you ever have known or will know of me face to face.  Many of you have said how connected to me it makes you feel, and how grateful you are for that.  But sometimes I wonder. Other than a dumping site for my brain's content overflow, what do I get from this?

It's like I'm in a room with a two-way mirror.  All of you are piling into the viewing room on the other side of the mirror.  You see everything I do while in there.  I can control what I show you, but your viewing position allows you to examine the intricacies and find my short-comings, if you care to.  On the other hand, you can also smile when you see me smile, you can look at me and wave hello.  But all I see, when I look back, is myself.

Occasionally some of you comment on my experience by yelling through the glass.  I can hear you, but it's a small bit of contact, and allows me no real vision past the glass.  Some people have declined to enter the viewing room altogether, which is fine by me, but then they wonder why they don't also get a look in.

I think even my husband benefits from this.  Some days, George and I have very little contact.  He's gone all day as usual, and is very tired when he gets home.  By the time Regin is asleep, so is he.  Such is parenting.  But, no matter, he can always check out my viewing room during slow periods at work.

But while it may get more and more crowded in that viewing room, on the other side of the glass there is only me.

You are given the opportunity to keep up to date on everything that goes on in my life while I am away, but I'm falling very behind on yours.  A couple of you also have blogs I can look at, and I receive some updates via Facebook.  But when I look at those updates it's strange to see how much of your lives are just going on and things happening without me.  I don't have daily accounts to look at, so photos of trips and get togethers are sometimes surprising:  Oh!  I didn't know they were going away for the weekend with friends.  Sometimes it almost feels like we just weren't invited!  Ha!  So silly I know.

But I think this is what you get when you put maybe a little too much of yourself out there.  There's bound to be a lack of reciprocity.  And even if I had them, I'm not sure I could keep up with that many detailed daily blogs.  I'm surprised by those of you who can keep up with mine.

I could stop blogging, but then the connections I've been maintaining with you all will become even more tenuous.  I don't think I will stop blogging anyway.  I started it as an experiment but it's become an almost sick compulsion.  And now that I've gotten to the stage where I tell you everything, what will I do when I go back home and I no longer have an excuse to? 

It's funny.  I initially condemned blogs, particularly the daily journal kind, as self-indulgent attempts to stand out in an ever increasing sea of people.  The web connects us with everyone on the other side of the globe, but in doing so, makes our world bigger rather than smaller, and we become less and less significant and connected with those around us.  Now, I'm fully absorbed into the blogosphere I didn't understand.  I'm here with the rest of the bloggers:  compelled to write and jumping up and down, waving my arms, screaming, "I'm here!  Look at me!  I matter!"  And yet, when I'm looking at myself from this side of that two-way mirror, I'm thinking, "I don't."  And even though I imagine myself to be a modern-day Isak Dinesen/Karen Blixen blogging my "Out of Malaysia" (with hopefully a little less of her cultural superiority), I'm nothing more than just another lonely blogger sitting in my room, pulling words out of emptiness and hoping they mean something.

I'm not feeling sorry for myself.  It's not that.  I am just as comfortable with solitude as I am at a crowded party.  Sometimes, I just feel like I need to break away from this crap and spend more of my time on real life.  I suppose that's why tech-free vacations are becoming so popular.  But my addiction (to blog, to Facebook, and to reading blogs/Facebook) may just be too strong.

New Taste and Tiny Tot Fashion

I'm in total fashion mode.

I guess I'm a little more inspired here with fashion. Yeah, I've mentioned that they dress here the same way as they do in the States (sort of), but the truth is, some of them dress way better. Way better than Coloradans anyway. Between that and my weight-loss and need for a new wardrobe, I'm a little fashion obsessed. I swear, sometimes I think I totally should have studied fashion.

When George told me that he wasn't exactly averse to a fashion upgrade/update I got even more excited.  I love shopping for clothes for other people.

I'm going through some sort of a taste shift too.  When we first moved here, I was eager for decor ideas. I picked up every magazine I could find. No Domino, sadly, but I found and IMMEDIATELY fell in love with Vogue Living, the Australian edition. Oh my gosh. It's like interior design as true art. And it's so artsy that it actually satisfied an immense craving I had for seeing art.

Then something else happened.

A couple of weeks ago, I found an imported copy of Lucky magazine. I was so excited. I bought it and was careful not to open it until I was fully ready to sit and savor and be completely absorbed in its awesomeness. And when I finally cracked it open... I was so disappointed.

First of all I couldn't believe how much it SCREAMED "American." I mean, that was so weird to me given that I'd thought that things weren't that different here. And it wasn't just American, but blah, middle-American. Same tired hairstyles, same boring clothes, same sexualized ads. It just wasn't fashiony. So I thought, maybe it's time I look for a new magazine. I never really cared for Vogue, but I've read that the American Vogue really stinks, and others are so much better.

I tried Australian Vogue, thinking it would be awesome like Australian Vogue Living. Nah. Not much better than the Vogue I'm used to. I tried British Vogue, and I've found it! I'm totally hooked. I have been flicking through the same (September) issue over and over.

I've also been checking out some new fashion blogs and websites. I was so inspired at first.  (Can I please have this girl's clothes -- and face and body -- for a day?)  Then after seeing Lookbook.nu, I was a little discouraged. All these (young) people out there are so creative with their clothes (and photography), and I still look like I style myself by the Old Navy ads. What is wrong with me? Aren't I supposed to be this creative person and fashion fiend? Why am I not showing it?

I wonder if it's because I'm here that I'm feeling this now.

George says that he's a little self-conscious being all-out stylish in Colorado, because people just don't do that there and he'd really stand out. I guess I have probably kept it down a notch myself. Well, not anymore! I am hereby making a new resolution to live my life with style. Style at home, style in my clothes.  And not just style, but my style. I can't believe I haven't been expressing myself truly in my clothes. And it's such a silly thing and easy way to let yourself out. I think that's why I obsess over costume opportunities (Halloween, Mardi Gras, opening nights of movies like Harry Potter and Star Wars): I am aching to brake out of my fashion box.

So with that in mind, I did a little shopping yesterday. I don't have my stuff to show off yet, but here is what I got for Regin:

We already had the pants and shoes, but the shirt is new. It's embroidered with some very arty little fishes which I totally loved. Details:

My fashion philosophy is that clothes should express, be sleek, grown up, but also creative, arty, and FUN. When it comes to children, I believe that they have their own fashion. Although it can be cute as heck, I don't believe in dressing them like mini adults. So, it's going to be hard, but I'm going to try and keep that in mind from now on when I shop for Regin. No more buying a bunch of stuff just because that's what's available. And this was my first step. In all the mall yesterday, this (and another shirt with cows instead of fish) was the only thing I found that worked with my criteria. Poor Regin. He's going to have a very small wardrobe for a while!

I know that for most of you who are reading this, clothing is little more than the barrier between your nakedness and the world, and even if you can't ever get the kick out of it I do, I think everyone should at least consider how they project themselves. Is the image you're creating the image you want people to see? Because no matter what you or your personality says, your clothes will always be doing some SERIOUS talking.

A couple of fashion-viewing staples, in case you're interested are:
The Sartorialist
Altamira NYC

I have been following the Sart for AGES now.  Love his photos.

Penang -- Week 23 -- Death and stuff

MONDAY - THURSDAY, August 18th - 21st
Shanti is back. We haven't seen her since Wednesday last week since her father-in-law passed away. She's talking to me a lot about all the stress, burdens, and customs she is going through right now. Her husband is the oldest son, so he's in charge of making sure everything is paid for, though his other brother is supposed to contribute. (Whenever monetary obligations enter the story I always feel like I'm being asked for money/more hours.) They will not be allowed to eat meat or celebrate anything for some time. One of the sons may or may not have to shave his head, I'm confused on that one.  I think the younger one has to shave for Dad and the older one will have to shave for Mom.  The body will be cremated (minus the bones) the ashes are scattered in the sea (they're not allowed to keep them, according their religion, like we can in urns) and the bones are put in a small vault or something.

There had been plans for a huge celebration weekend at the end of the month for the deceased, who had just turned 80, and Shanti and her husband, who were to celebrate a wedding anniversary, and someone else's birthday. Now those plans are all canceled. Next weekend, Shanti's husband has his graduation ceremony for his master's degree. Apparently he's one of the students to be honored for achievement or excellence. Sad that he won't be able to enjoy it much. Also interesting that he's an academic and his wife is a maid, no?  Especially in a place where there is a pretty heavy stigma surrounding the housecleaning profession.

Shanti is talking to me about this stuff all day. It's fascinating, and I feel for her. She becomes almost emotional at one point (though it's unclear whether it's out of sadness or stress), but it irks me that she often stands around either chatting with me or on the phone while I am paying her by the hour to clean and/or watch Regin. I finally had to cut her off in the middle of a sentence to go get Regin who was threatening to jump out of his high chair.

Monday night George has a meeting with the US. Thankfully this doesn't happen too often for him. Our friend Carmen seems to regularly have to meet over the phone/internet with people in the States at odd hours. George ends up staying in this meeting (and therefore totally hogging the internet) until 3am! So I go to bed and get up again at 3 to get something I'm working on done.  No worries, this is what I get for my last-minute "brilliant" ideas.

We lose power for a while on Tuesday. We're sitting around waiting for it to magically come back on, like it always does in the States, and the heat is building up and up, and we have all the windows open, when George decides to call the apartment management to see if it's just us. It is. Some fuse blown or something.

Thursday (my mom's birthday) is great. I feel awesome to have gotten a gift I'm excited about and gotten it to my mom on time, plus Shanti is making up some hours and since I didn't want her cleaning for me two days in a row, I told her: no cleaning, only watching Regin! Yeeeeaaaahhhh!

-------

By the way, George is 'blogging' his experience now on Facebook by posting his iPhone photos with comments on his profile there. If you want his perspective, I guess you better go there to get it!

When politics matters

I wouldn't say that I have been avoiding news about American politics lately.  I guess it would be more accurate to say that I am indifferent about it all these days.  Or I'm trying to be.  Haha.  Trying to be indifferent.  It's a little oxymoronic, no?  If I start to think about the last election, I still get a little angry.  And I know that I'm supposed to let everyone have their differing opinions, even if they are wrong, but it's a struggle.  And the only way I can stop holding it against people is to pretend that it all really doesn't even exist.  That, and honestly, I'm truly of the belief that all sides are corrupt, the system is broken, and voting for one corrupt side over the other makes no difference (though it made a huge difference last time, because of the message we were sending the world, but few people got that.)  I also think our system won't ever work until it stops becoming about two parties; other candidates need to be actual, viable candidates that people aren't "wasting their votes" on.

It's getting harder to avoid all of the American election bickering now.  A few days ago I was blissfully unaware of who Sarah Palin was, and now I know all about her due to my various daily blog reads.  I have little to say on the subject myself, but I thought I'd point any of you who are interested to my cousin's post on the topic.  She's a writer and someone who has lived many years in Alaska, so she has some insight.  But the reason it resonated with me is because it touches on a something I find to be much more significant:  what does our response to this, and who we chose to represent us, say about us as people and as a country?

Penang -- Week 22 -- Hungry Ghosts and Traumatizing Ants

WEDNESDAY - THURSDAY, August 13th & 14th

I am so frustrated that we keep missing festivals and events here.  That's part of what is amazing about Penang is all of the cultural events.  What are we doing here if we keep missing them all, and why isn't anyone from George's work letting us know about them?  I called George at work to yell about my frustration because I just found out that there is a Hungry Ghost festival and it looks like it may have already happened.  Turns out, it's the whole month.  That's a relief!  Now we still have time to go see one or more of the nightly Chinese operas that are all over town.  

The Hungry Ghost Festival is sort of the Buddhist equivalent of Halloween or Day of the Dead.  There are lots of superstitions about staying out past midnight and such, and there is some ancestor worship involved.  Apparently they burn paper maché stand ins for material goods to send on to their deceased loved ones - e.g. money, cell phones, cars, and houses.  George asked his coworkers if the cell phones would be useful to dead people in the afterlife. What kind of cell-phone service would they get there?

This sounds like an awesome and interesting tradition and I am so excited to see some Chinese opera performed in the streets!  I found a schedule of operas, so now it's a matter of figuring out where these places are.

In other news, I am starting to paint again!  I am working on that painting of the Faroes that anyone who has been to my house has seen.  I started it in 2001 or 2002 (yikes!) and never finished it.  Now it's getting kind of close to complete.  

There was blank canvas in the bottom right corner, I just didn't want to finish those boats!  And now that I'm trying to, I know why! What a pain!  So much detail and my skewed/flattened perspective is making it hard to paint all those lines and angles.  Anyway, I have paint on my hands again and I love it.

The bamboo blinds in our laundry room broke.  This big old roll of blinds just broke off and dropped to the ground (inside the balcony, don't worry, no one outside was in danger).  I am glad it didn't fall on me!  That thing is huge!  The maintence guy came by to look at it and he wants to close in the room with sliding-glass windows. 

I have mixed feelings about it.  He says I can still open the windows fully for drying laundry, but having an al fresco laundry room was part of my unique experience -- even if I don't love it, I'm not sure I want it taken away.  

Sorry, can't say the same for the geckos or ants.  I don't think I'll get sentimental if someone comes over to rid me of them.  I would kick my heels with glee.  In fact, they upset me so much that -- even though I killed my back saving the lives of hundreds of tadpoles as a kid (I was that obsessed with animals and believed so strongly in the value of all life) -- I have become sadistic and delight in the fact that hundreds of ants can be swept away with the food they're swarming around.  I love to watch them be shoved around by my mighty broom!  (Insert audio clip of evil laugh here.)

Penang -- Week 22 -- So Long, Friend!

TUESDAY, August 12th

Rachel, my linguist friend from play group, came by to say goodbye.  They're all pretty much packed up and ready to head to Sabah, a region of Malaysia on the island of Borneo, where they plan to stay indefinitely while they do their work there.  

It's somewhat sad to say goodbye, but this is what I'm going to have to get used to.  The next several months will be filled with more goodbyes to friendships cut too short.  But I think there is something beautiful, almost poetic, about the short-term friend.  

With such a friend there is only the unmarred beauty of a few weeks or months worth of outings spent together; enough time to develop a mutual admiration and some memorable laughs shared.  Goodbyes are not the wretched, tearing apart of old, dear friends, but rather a parting of ways -- slightly bitter with the wish that you'd had time to get to know each other better yet also sweet with truly selfless hopes for the future you will not share.  

I especially love the extra-short term friends that drift in and out of your life while you're on vacation or on a drunken night out on the town.  Those people you know only for a few short hours, with whom you share so little and yet just enough laughs and stories to fall in love just a little bit before it's time to say 'so long.'

Fear not dear long-term friends.  You are, of course, the best kind of all for all those obvious reasons to do with support through difficult times, and the comfort that comes with our common histories.  But mostly because I know that you never really go away.  As many times as we may say goodbye, I know there will always be hello's to come.

Saying goodbye to Rachel is made a little sadder because it also means it's Regin's first friend that's leaving his life.  Despite their age difference (Abe is about 9 or 10 months, I think, and Regin is 16 months -- a big difference at this age) they get a long so well when they are together.  Abe is relentless in trying to interact with Regin, and Regin is fascinated by the smiling, stomach-crawling little boy.  He's so fascinated that after one visit together recently, Regin started crawling again off and on for a few days!  

Here are some photos from their last (15-minute) play date:

Penang -- Week 22 -- Not His Fault This Time

Week 22

WEEKEND, August 9th - 11th

Babywearing group again.  I finally did a good job of managing my hypoglycemia during the afternoon so I had a FANTASTIC time.  Plus, I made a new friend and we might hang out outside of the group.  Her name is Shereen.  She is Malay/muslim and she has a son who is about Regin's age.  Goodness, her son is a funny kid!  He has some intimidating eyes man!  He was after my almonds at one point and he was seriously staring me down!  

Shereen and I talked a long time at the group.  Mostly about hypoglycemia.  After talking with me she thinks there is a strong possibility she has it too.  I think so too.  She may even have a more severe case than me by the sounds of it.  Poor girl.  I'm passing on all my info to her, but I only hope her doctors don't dismiss it.  That's my fear whenever I hear that someone is going to investigate the possibility that they have it.

After that, we're driving around and I'm practicing some more taking pictures with that 50mm focal length as George is driving, and then just as we turn into our street, we're hit by another car on the driver's (and Regin's) side of the car!  Finally (as if such a thing could really be a relief) an accident that is not George's fault.  We're so close to home that Regin and I don't stick around for the rental car company to arrive and sort it all out.  But George tells me that basically some money was exchanged to avoid the obligatory trip to the police station.

I'm going to go back and take some serious photos of this building.  It has trees growing out of the second/third floor!

Here umbrellas are used just as much, if not more, to shield from the sun as from the rain.  Many people have special sun umbrellas that have a metallic silver coating on top to reflect the light off of the umbrella.  I haven't tried it to see how much difference it makes, but it looks fun.

Post accident.  George and the guilty driver.

Penang -- Week 21 -- Friends Come and Go

MONDAY - THURSDAY, August 4th - August 8th

This week is a blur for me.  By the end of the week I have no memory that anything interesting happened.  All I know is that I had a couple of days where I felt sick again (terrible sore throat & fatigue keeps coming and disappearing with no real cold setting in) and I had to cancel on an afternoon with Carmen and play group with the girls.  It's Rachel's last play group.  She, hubby, and little Abe are off to Sabbah to work their linguistic magic with the locals there.  I will miss her.  I really loved chatting with her and I find their work so fascinating.

Such is life when you are living overseas and associating at all with other expats.  No one stays in your life for too long.  After my childhood in Europe, it took me a really long time to learn that friends can be around for more than a couple of years and that relationships should be maintained to last longer than that.  Now, it's a little bit of a shock to the system that short relationships are once again the way.  Eric and his family left already too.  Did I mention that?  I didn't see them that often, but they are very nice people, and George enjoyed having Eric as his car pool buddy.  And they got up to some antics before Eric left.  I'm not sure if George will tell you about them as he's still working on his accident/police station story from weeks and weeks ago now.

I made a new friend this week.  Sort of.  Well, I finally made contact with an online friend.  The artist girl.  We had a lovely evening at this swanky little food court (contradiction in terms right?) high up in Gurney Plaza, overlooking the mud bank and sea.  We chatted about all sorts of things.  She went to college in Canada, and she tells me she misses Taco Bell from her trips to the States.  It's funny.  When we were in England, all the American teens used to brag about how often we ate at Taco Bell on our trips to the States.  I told her that she had to try Chipotle.  So much better.  We're both painters but we end up talking most about photography.  It's the art both of us seem to be working on most right now.  She has a Nikon D60, I have a Nikon D80, and we're both looking to get new lenses.  She wants to get into wedding photography, but the similarities end there. I'll let that stay Teddi and Keith's thing I think.  I just don't like weddings that much (unless it's someone I know, and then I'd rather not be working).  That's part of why the wedding videography business never materialized.  That and editing all that wedding footage was more than I can bare.

Photos:

The lens I'm after is a 50mm prime (non-zoom) lens.  So I'm preparing myself by playing with that fixed focal length on my zoom lens.  So far I'm digging it for closer up stuff.