Bugs Anyone?

The air conditioning was turned up to an arctic blast on the bus. This was fine with me as the temperature outside was hot and unmercifully humid. I spent most of the day switching from one bus to another in towns that all began to run together in my memory. But then, the bus stopped by a brown and shallow river and soon I found myself staring at a long and narrow wooden boat, obviously made by hand, with a small outboard motor perched on one end. A lanky man with chocolate skin and a cigarette hanging from his mouth welcomed me with a nod, threw my bag in the bow, ushered me into the boat, and we headed upstream. For three hours, we dodged rocks and rapids, sometimes slowing to a crawl, other times barreling ahead like we were plowing through some unseen wall.
There are no roads that are passable by bus into the rainforest. There are, of course, a few steep and narrow dirt roads that run here and there, but the boats are the quickest and easiest way to enter Taman Negara, Malaysia's largest national park. The advertisers claim that the world's oldest primary rainforest can be found here, at an age of 170 million years, which means that thousands upon thousands of species of birds, insects, trees, and animals are all jumbled together here and somehow find a way to coexist.
I just wanted to keep my bags from getting wet. I had brought enough with me, so I thought, to be prepared for pretty much anything that I would encounter. Bug spray, long pants to keep off of the jungle leeches, sun screen, medicine, and of course, my camera. With a tour guide, I headed out into the jungle on my first night to see what we could find. He was extremely knowledgable and paused every few minutes to point his light at a pair of eyes up in the trees or into a hole in the ground. I saw all kinds of insects and, luckily, some kind of sloth or monkey way up in the trees. It moved like its limbs were made from rubber and easily stayed intertwined with the upper canopy branches. Its eyes shown bright green against our flashlights and it quickly disappeared before I could attempt a picture. Toward the end of our night walk, I lagged behind and let the guide go back to camp. I turned off my flashlight and just stood in the middle of the woods for a few minutes, trying to push everything else out of my head. "Open all of your senses" one of my Malay friends and told me before coming. I did exactly that. I smelt the fresh rain on the leaves, saw the trees silhouetted against the bright stars, felt the intense closeness and heat of the jungle, and heard a piercing orchestra of insects spread all over the forest. I did not put anything in my mouth, four out of five senses is enough. Now as far as the orchestra goes, Imagine a hot and humid August night when the cicadas, whippoorwills, and peep frogs come out and sing at night. Now triple the volume. That's close to what this place sounded like that night. Absolutely incredible.
The next day was by far the coolest. In addition to a wonderful hike with a stunning view of the rainforest valley and a wet and bumpy rapids ride, I had the privilege of going on a solo canopy walk. What is a canopy walk you say? The managers of the park have strung narrow rope bridges from treetop to treetop for almost half a mile zigzagging across a steep hill. This means that you can dangle almost fifty feet above the forest floor and, if you are lucky, see some amazing birds and animals. Although I did see a giant squirrel (this thing was about as big as an obese cat), that was all. I have to admit, walking so high up on nothing but a rope bridge is plenty of excitement for me. I half expected Indiana Jones or King Kong to barrel around the corner and leave me hanging for life, but no such luck. I did hear some Gibbon monkeys in the distance though.
You know, when I was a freshman at UMBC, all I wanted to to was pass my classes. I was scared to death that I wouldn't be able to cut it, I would lose my scholarship, and I would have to wait tables for the rest of my life. Now, I'm on the other side of the planet writing about rainforests, swimming in the South China Sea, and learning a language I didn't even knew existed until a few months ago. It all feels like some kind of strange dream and at any moment I will wake up in Westhill (my college apartment) late for class. It feels like I shouldn't be here, like I don't belong, and that everything that's happening to me is simply too good to be true. The people here are so friendly, the country beautiful, and the entire experience wonderful in many ways and wonderfully challenging in others. I find myself stretched in directions that I simply couldn't understand when I was in America. What is most incredible is watching Malaysia, particularly this region, change and mature from a rural agricultural area to a modern and developed nation. Its amazing to think that this country is only fifty years old and has come so remarkably far. When the U.S. was fifty years old, we had not yet even settled all fifty states. Thomas Jefferson was alive, and we were still rebuilding Washington D.C. from the British invasion of the War of 1812. Malaysia has risen from obscurity and colonialism to one of the most prosperous nations in the world with booming electronics and biotech industries and a racial society composed of three separate and distinct cultures, each with their own religion, language, and customs, and each living with the others in relative harmony. And to think that I was consumed by organic chemistry just a short while ago.

Singapore

After living in the quiet of rural Malaysia, I don't know if any of us were ready for Singapore. Like any American city, a Starbucks or a McDonald's could be found every two blocks, traffic was heavy, the crowds were huge, and you could buy pretty much anything you wanted, as long as you had the money. I know my meager bank account took a serious hit just from just three days.

What we weren't ready for was such an awesome display of art, culture, vibrance, and dance. I seriously have not experienced anything like what we saw that weekend in all my time in the U.S. Parades and celebrations might abound back home, but they do not possess the combined spirit of so many different kinds of people in their displays. Each spectacle was a showcase of thousands of years of tradition and a blend of many many different cultures. We arrived just a day before the Chingay Parade (translated as the Parade of Dreams) that was started as a part of the Chinese New Year but has become a symbol of the city's economic and cultural success. It's kind of like a corporate Diversity Day, but instead of a bunch of white collar white people pretending to be tolerant and accepting, the city blazes with color, lights, dancing, and a giant parade. No one had to tell me which day it was scheduled to begin. The drums started early in the morning with a Chinese lion dance in the hotel lobby. When I stepped outside, the streets were lined with barriers, bandstands, lighting towers, people, and of course, police. As afternoon grew into evening, the crowds became thicker and the performers started showing up a block or two away from the main road half dressed in brilliantly colored costumes and makeup from head to toe. No one was too busy with their preparations, however, to pose for pictures and I found myself flying through camera batteries.

When the parade finally began, I felt like a party had erupted in the middle of the city. Each float that came was representative of a different nation and came with its own set of dancers and special music. Shows from the Malays, Chinese, Indians, Burmese, Koreans, Arabs, Americans, Vietnamese, Spanish, Japanese, and Angolans (Africa) followed each other and made me feel like I was in some kind of surreal international Disneyland. The Chinese came with a wood and paper dragon held up on poles that spanned a writhing and coiling 150 feet. The Burmese came with giant elephant costumes, the Angolans dressed as fire breathing roosters, and the Malays balanced flags over fifty feet on their mouths. To make things even more interesting, drinking was allowed in the streets, as long of course as you didn't litter ($35USD fine). Surprisingly, no one appeared to have "had too much" and the party lasted until well past midnight. If you ever have a chance to travel to Singapore, it will be well worth your while to schedule your trip to include the Chingay parade. Make sure your hotel is somewhere close to Orchard Street, and I guarantee your money will be well worth it.

After the celebration, the other Americans in my program and I went to a nightclub called the Ministry of Sound and proceeded to live it up like a Friday night after finals. This place was on par with any club that I've been to anywhere else and featured four different dance floors on two levels. The music ranged from hip-hop to techno and there were a surprising number of other Americans scattered on the dance floor. I wasn't able to hear exactly why they were in Singapore, but I think one group of bald guys were from the marines. They certainly looked like I didn't want to make them angry, but they were happy enough to see another American that I doubt anything of the kind would have happened. One thing that was strikingly different from American clubs was the fact that hardly anyone was actually dancing. The bars were packed with people, but the dance floors themselves were mostly fog and beams of light with few people letting loose. Except, of course, for us crazy Americans. We were sure to live it up as much as possible since there wouldn't be another chance for quite sometime.

Now that I'm back in the quiet routine of home, I am pleased to discover that I have next week off. WIthout any reason to stick around Chukai and my school, I think I will travel to a Malaysian national park called Taman Negara and see what is advertised as the world's oldest rainforest. It is rumored that trees over six feet in diameter can be found there, rope bridges straight from an Indiana Jones movie, and hopefully some friendly jungle animals. We'll see, check back in a week.