Merry Christmas

Christmas was different this year. There was no Santa, no cookies, no TV specials, and most notably, no family. Instead, the other English teachers and I went down to Chinatown and made ourselves a Christmas that will certainly be worth remembering. We went to a small café not too far from our hotel and they apparently knew we were coming. Balloons were strung from the rafters and trees and three large platters of food were waiting for us. To wash down the fried noodles, chicken wings, and dim sum we were given pints of beer which made the thin Santa hats lying on our table look completely appropriate for the occasion. A Chinese choir came out of nowhere and even though we didn’t understand the words, we understood the tune and sang right along with them. After they finished, they lined up to give each of us a handshake, a more than genuine smile, and a “Merry Christmas.” The owners set up a karaoke machine and even though their selection of English language music was a bit limited, we all grabbed the microphone and sang like we were at home. This was my first Christmas away from home, and as strange as it is to not have a stocking or presents, it was enjoyable nonetheless.
On the other hand, adjusting to life as an outsider is not always a party. I get stared at everywhere I go. Men, women, and children alike act as if they have never seen a white person before. And in some cases, it’s true. Westerners are not at all common in these parts, and apparently, especially those who are blond and blue-eyed. What’s more disturbing isn’t necessarily the attention to which I’m not exactly accustomed, but the fact that every car that goes by is filled with people craning their necks to catch a glimpse of a table full of Americans makes me feel like an attraction rather than a person. Some are bold enough to come up, introduce themselves, and start practicing their English, which more often than not is in need of some practice. This happens at least once a day, and instinctively, I feel that they must be talking to me because they want something or they’re trying to sell me a cell phone. But here, it’s just not like that. They seem to be, in fact, simply curious.
I recently found out that I will be stationed in a school in the district of Kemaman about one hundred miles south of Kuala Terengganu where I have been living for the past three weeks. To put things in perspective, Terengganu is a state roughly about the size of Georgia, Kemaman is a district about the size of a County, and Kuala Terengganu is about the size of New London, CT. There, I will be assisting in the teaching of English and (I hope) math, science, and a sport of some kind. When I signed up for this post, I was told that we are expected to become a part of the community, not just another teacher and after waiting for what feels like a lifetime, I’m more than ready to start. I hope that if I’m posted to a community small enough I will be able to make people stop staring at me because I’m different and instead smile at me because they know that I’m there to help and learn. I get the feeling that most people look at me as a traveler or a tourist and once I’m able to actually able to communicate with them, in whatever language, they’ll realize that I’m pretty much the same as they are, just with different skin.
The best time that I’ve had in this country so far happened just two days ago. I was in the market looking for Christmas presents when I saw a couple of children playing ping-pong on a rough table with a plank for a net. I used to play quite a bit when I was in high school and college, so I decided to ask one of the boys if I could join. The kids, both looking around fifteen or so, looked at each other smiled. I don’t know if they understood English, but they understood that I wanted to play. One handed me his paddle and the other said, “OK”. We worked out the score in broken English and hand gestures and played a fierce game of ping pong, if such a thing exists. He beat me 18-21, but at least he didn’t crush me mercilessly. A small crowd had gathered, maybe twenty people or so, and a young man maybe in his thirties stepped up to table and raised a paddle. We played and he won, but I still managed to squeak out an admirable score. The whole affair had become quite a spectacle and gathered a large enough crowd so that the third and final game actually had an audience that cheered now and then when someone scored. Everyone seemed to have a good time and whenever I go back to the market, I recognize faces and they recognize mine with a familiar nod. If I could make a daily habit out of something like that, I will be a rich man. Oh, and I lost the third game too, but at 19-21, I should have had him.

Not in Kansas

Six days ago, I flew into a small town on the eastern coast of peninsular Malaysia called Kuala Terengganu. While the Malaysian capital, Kuala Lumpur, was a surreal blend of fashion, shopping malls, modernism, and urban life, Kuala Terengganu is, in fact, not. The city is split in half by a shallow and murky river that pours into the South China Sea. The monsoon rains have done a wonderful job of keeping the riverbanks high, but wherever storm drains empty into the river, plastic bags and bottles bob into the river, reminding me that I’m now in a place that is in a struggle between development, responsibility, and purity. Not only in an industrial sense, either. Many Malaysians desire to be considered one of the developed gems of Southeast Asia, and in fact have a series of aggressive government programs to be considered a developed, rather than a developing, country according to specific criteria set by the United Nations. Those programs include developing a sustainable healthcare system, attracting foreign investment, and most relevant to me, improving English proficiency of the entire population. According to what I’ve been told by state officials, many Malaysians want to become major players on the world economic stage and the best way to communicate in that arena is through English; after all, the U.S. buys over half of Malaysia’s exports.

Kuala Terengganu shows this strain despite itself. Old and decrepit buildings stand right next to brand new cars, businesses, and parks. There are at least five different construction sites within a mile of my hotel to prepare for a Malaysian version of the Olympics next year. Here, there are beautiful museums flanked by lush tropical greenery as well as open sewers. The main industries around here are fishing and petroleum. All day, fishing boats can be seen slowly going up and down the river and their catch is displayed, fresh and wriggling, at the open air market not too far from my hotel. This market is exactly what I pictured Aladdin running around in when he was young. Rows and rows of spices, fabric, clothing, local delicacies, and fresh fish fill the tents as the attendants patiently await customers. There is less city hustle and bustle than in the national capital, but people still crowd by the piles of food and cloth. This place seems to be a local community center, as children play in between stalls and small groups of friends roam around together, talking and laughing. And even though goods are bought bartered and sold here in the same way they have for centuries, almost everyone has a cell phone and a motorbike. Women with only their feet, hands, and faces visible sweat in the hot equatorial sun and chat away on their phones, sometimes while riding their scooter!

The people here, on the other hand, have been warm, friendly, patient, and extremely generous. Our hotel feeds us excellent local food five times a day, and every tour or museum visit is always accompanied by a catered lunch with some related officials or directors who are extremely polite and welcoming. I feel like I’m being treated like royalty and I can’t wait to start returning some of that kindness through my classroom. I want to start teaching, but I’m afraid that I would do more harm than good until I’m taught a little more about the language, culture, and teaching methods.

First Wave

After around thirty hours in the air, I’m finally in Malaysia for the first time in my life. I met twelve strangers from all over the U.S. I assume I will get to know very personally in the next year or so who are also teaching English out here. They all have brilliant research projects to talk about, stories about their travels that make me feel like I’ve been living in a box for the last twenty-two years, and on top of it all, they are good, decent, and fun people. With everything they are and everything they’ve told me, I’m surprised that anyone will talk to me, let alone go out to dinner or grab a beer with me. There isn’t a whiff of arrogance or selfishness in the group, and instead I feel everyone is really eager to learn about our new home and excited for the challenges the will come with living in a completely different society.
We all landed in Kuala Lumpur early on December 1st and immediately fell into friendship. Part of me feels like I’m watching a reality television show that could end at any minute; there’s this eerie feeling like I’m not really on the other side of the world, none of this is real, and any morning I will wake up back home from some extended dream. But it is most definitely real and I am here, so I’m not going to waste anymore time in question. We’ve been all over the city and have seen things so different from what I know that I can’t help but wonder what else I have missed out on elsewhere on the globe. What is most striking about our new city is the collision of tradition and modernity that, from what I have read about, is an issue with the country as a whole. These pictures show the world’s largest set of twin towers, beautiful gardens, hip internet cafés, parks that are home to some of the world’s most endangered species, and ornate eight-story shopping malls within miles of the desperate poor. Malaysians seem to struggle with the exact composition of their collective identity; graceful and seductive models advertise dresses and jewelry while the government legislates against form-fitting female clothing. Since the country is prodominently Muslim and Malaysian history is rife with European colonial dominance of one form or another, it seems as though many look to tradition and religion to instruct society as a whole instead of their past. They seek to live in the world as a modern, savvy, marketable people while at the same time honoring the Islamic traditions that bind together their society in an intimate way that just doesn’t happen in the U.S. It is, like me, foreign.
Anyway, the city is awesome. Crime is pretty low with the exception of a purse snatching or drug charge here and there, and there are so many cheap and delicious places to eat that I think I’m going to sneak back here every weekend just to try something new. I head for the beaches and the smaller city of Kuala Terengganu in a few days, so I’ll be sure to live it up here in the meantime. I’ve also had the honor of spending a day in the U.S. Embassy and meeting the ambassador to Malaysia, Christopher LaFleur, who is extremely interested in our educational efforts and incredibly amiable. There is apparently quite a desire for Malaysians to speak better English and that need has made programs like ours quite important both politically and economically and throughout our time here, we will not only have access to the best the U.S. government has to offer, but also the national and local Malaysian government. We have received quite a few briefings from various Malaysian and American officials, and each one makes me realize how lucky I am to be here right now. We are going to a beautiful and exotic place where we will be, from what I’ve heard, welcomed with open arms into a very close-knit community. To be honest, I haven’t been so excited about starting a new job in all of my life.
Keep in touch and your emails are more than welcome.