Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Jetlagged but in the company of beautiful women
I got back to KL around noon yesterday, but made the mistake of thinking I just HAD to nap at 6 pm. Four hours later, I awoke and I haven't been able to sleep since! It is now 9:30 am, but I had a productive night, making a list of things to do and then starting to cross off those that I could in the middle of the night.
Miss Universe is currently serving as my background noise. Who to cheer for--USA, Malaysia, or Egypt?! (I think this may be one of the first time Egypt has had a representative, other than that, I only saw Turkey and Israel from the region). Ohp, now that they’ve narrowed the playing field, looks like it’s the USA versus about 10 Hispanic women, Angola, Australia, India and Switzerland.
Home
My time in the US (the 15th-30th) went by too quickly. During that time, I traveled 35 hours back, 36 hours roundtrip in the car from Iowa to Connecticut and back, and then 37 hours back to KL. Whew. I don’t really advise that! What did I do during those 108 hours (which breaks down to 4.5 days of travel)? I don’t really know. Usually I just stare off into space, people watch, or doze.
The US felt very, very cold compared to Malaysia. Fortunately, the weather gods took it easy on me and made yesterday one of the most pleasant days I remember in Malaysia—no instant-o-matic sweat when I stepped outside, but a cool breeze instead.
A few people noticed that I add the word “yeah” to the end of sentences, something I’ve picked up here. I was aware that I was doing it so much. My sister said it was making me sound ditzy; I think it was just making me sound Malaysian.
During my brief time in Iowa, I met with a professor at the University of Iowa about law school and only became more confused about my future…I figured that instate tuition would be a lot cheaper than it is—the average student graduating from Iowa Law has $55,000 worth of debt and any other school would be a whole lot more. Considering that I want to do public interest/human rights work, I won’t be making diddily squat, making that sum all the more painful.
Law school versus masters in international law and human rights?! Gimme your two cents.
Breaking news: USA contestant actually says that women want peace, in their lives, in their family, in their work. O-my-god.
On my way to Malaysia in the fall, on my Chicago-LA segment, I sat next to a cute young man who turned out to be Somali-American. His father is John Miskell, one of the leading humanitarian specialists (and avid bird watchers) in Somalia, who stayed throughout even the most violent periods when most other people left. John’s wife is a Somali woman, who now lives in the US. The family only sees John every once in awhile, as he is based in Africa and they live in the US. I thought that this encounter was good luck, an omen of some kind.
Well, on my flight from Chicago-LA this time, the occupation of my neighbor is even more coincidental. He noticed the book I was reading (The Selfish Alturist, about relief work in times of war and famine) and struck up a conversation. Turns out he worked for ADRA (an independent branch of the Seventh Day Adventists Church) in Naxcivan, an independent enclave near Azerbaijan and Armenia, for 10 years doing relief work. He was on his way back to CA to graduate with his PhD. His field of study: missionary work and relief work/development…basically, the Christian equivalent of my own research here in Malaysia. I mentioned to him my confusion over my future and when outlining the possible things I could do in Africa next year, he stressed that it is important to be strong (both physically and mentally) and prepared to work in a refugee camp and that perhaps I should ease myself into that, saying it could burn me out if I’m not properly ready. I realize that such work would be draining, perhaps disheartening, and that I have a lifetime to do such work, since that is the field I am most interested in…He preached to me a little, name-dropping a certain someone upstairs, telling me that I would receive lots of rewards for this kind of work—and he was talking money.
Miss Universe: you’re a shoo-in for the finals if you’re from the host country, India, or the US. It’s the same every year!
A blog entry I started before I left Malaysia:
Keys
My first night back in KL from my last trip (Laos, that is) I went to Hard Rock Café for an evening of dancing. At one point, the DJ held up some lost keys found and I made a mental note to check my bag for my keys once I went back to the table where my friend was. But, I forgot. And, they were my keys. It wasn’t till I got home after 4 am that I discovered it, but luckily my roommate was awake.
Fast forward two days and I’m out dancing again. My friend loses his keys.
Fast forward three days and I’m on the train. Two girls next to me get off, doors close, guy across from me asks if those keys I hadn’t noticed beside me were mine. Nope, the key-swallowing black hole surrounding me was still in full force.
Tricked
A., a dreaded Malay I met through L. (see archives), invited me to go to see a gig his friend was playing in.
“What kind of music?”
“He’s in a reggae band.”
Okay, that I can handle. I go with him, only to discover, that although his friend was indeed in a reggae band, for this particular gig he was playing in a metal band. I don’t think he tricked me intentionally, but I only lasted 20 minutes before high-tailing it out of there. It was a mostly young crowd, maybe late teens to early 20s. The performing bands each played a few numbers in a big hall at the edge of a park. I was surprised to see a number of people with dreads—surprised because I don’t normally associate metal with dreads. Is that just a Malaysian thing or also in the US? I feel like I know the majority of the Malaysian population with dreads. No girls who were there were wearing veils.
I met a new dreaded friend of A.’s and was telling him how I’d been tricked to going to this gig and how I hated metal, especially the vocals. 10 minutes later, a friend of his (who hadn’t heard me say that) let it be known that this guy was the vocalist in a metal band. Ah, that foot in my mouth certainly tasted good.
And one of my closest friends, I., is a bassist in a metal band, but he knows I hate his music.
Sheep
Clipped from the Cambodia Daily: “Watch Out Pamplona—Sheep Run Too."
“A small New Zealand town reached for some the glamour and danger of the Spanish bull-run city of Pamplona on Saturday—by running 2,000 sheep through the middle of town.”
Only…sheep don’t chase people, people have to chase sheep. It’s called herding. A lack of forethought on part of the planners.
I got back to KL around noon yesterday, but made the mistake of thinking I just HAD to nap at 6 pm. Four hours later, I awoke and I haven't been able to sleep since! It is now 9:30 am, but I had a productive night, making a list of things to do and then starting to cross off those that I could in the middle of the night.
Miss Universe is currently serving as my background noise. Who to cheer for--USA, Malaysia, or Egypt?! (I think this may be one of the first time Egypt has had a representative, other than that, I only saw Turkey and Israel from the region). Ohp, now that they’ve narrowed the playing field, looks like it’s the USA versus about 10 Hispanic women, Angola, Australia, India and Switzerland.
Home
My time in the US (the 15th-30th) went by too quickly. During that time, I traveled 35 hours back, 36 hours roundtrip in the car from Iowa to Connecticut and back, and then 37 hours back to KL. Whew. I don’t really advise that! What did I do during those 108 hours (which breaks down to 4.5 days of travel)? I don’t really know. Usually I just stare off into space, people watch, or doze.
The US felt very, very cold compared to Malaysia. Fortunately, the weather gods took it easy on me and made yesterday one of the most pleasant days I remember in Malaysia—no instant-o-matic sweat when I stepped outside, but a cool breeze instead.
A few people noticed that I add the word “yeah” to the end of sentences, something I’ve picked up here. I was aware that I was doing it so much. My sister said it was making me sound ditzy; I think it was just making me sound Malaysian.
During my brief time in Iowa, I met with a professor at the University of Iowa about law school and only became more confused about my future…I figured that instate tuition would be a lot cheaper than it is—the average student graduating from Iowa Law has $55,000 worth of debt and any other school would be a whole lot more. Considering that I want to do public interest/human rights work, I won’t be making diddily squat, making that sum all the more painful.
Law school versus masters in international law and human rights?! Gimme your two cents.
Breaking news: USA contestant actually says that women want peace, in their lives, in their family, in their work. O-my-god.
On my way to Malaysia in the fall, on my Chicago-LA segment, I sat next to a cute young man who turned out to be Somali-American. His father is John Miskell, one of the leading humanitarian specialists (and avid bird watchers) in Somalia, who stayed throughout even the most violent periods when most other people left. John’s wife is a Somali woman, who now lives in the US. The family only sees John every once in awhile, as he is based in Africa and they live in the US. I thought that this encounter was good luck, an omen of some kind.
Well, on my flight from Chicago-LA this time, the occupation of my neighbor is even more coincidental. He noticed the book I was reading (The Selfish Alturist, about relief work in times of war and famine) and struck up a conversation. Turns out he worked for ADRA (an independent branch of the Seventh Day Adventists Church) in Naxcivan, an independent enclave near Azerbaijan and Armenia, for 10 years doing relief work. He was on his way back to CA to graduate with his PhD. His field of study: missionary work and relief work/development…basically, the Christian equivalent of my own research here in Malaysia. I mentioned to him my confusion over my future and when outlining the possible things I could do in Africa next year, he stressed that it is important to be strong (both physically and mentally) and prepared to work in a refugee camp and that perhaps I should ease myself into that, saying it could burn me out if I’m not properly ready. I realize that such work would be draining, perhaps disheartening, and that I have a lifetime to do such work, since that is the field I am most interested in…He preached to me a little, name-dropping a certain someone upstairs, telling me that I would receive lots of rewards for this kind of work—and he was talking money.
Miss Universe: you’re a shoo-in for the finals if you’re from the host country, India, or the US. It’s the same every year!
A blog entry I started before I left Malaysia:
Keys
My first night back in KL from my last trip (Laos, that is) I went to Hard Rock Café for an evening of dancing. At one point, the DJ held up some lost keys found and I made a mental note to check my bag for my keys once I went back to the table where my friend was. But, I forgot. And, they were my keys. It wasn’t till I got home after 4 am that I discovered it, but luckily my roommate was awake.
Fast forward two days and I’m out dancing again. My friend loses his keys.
Fast forward three days and I’m on the train. Two girls next to me get off, doors close, guy across from me asks if those keys I hadn’t noticed beside me were mine. Nope, the key-swallowing black hole surrounding me was still in full force.
Tricked
A., a dreaded Malay I met through L. (see archives), invited me to go to see a gig his friend was playing in.
“What kind of music?”
“He’s in a reggae band.”
Okay, that I can handle. I go with him, only to discover, that although his friend was indeed in a reggae band, for this particular gig he was playing in a metal band. I don’t think he tricked me intentionally, but I only lasted 20 minutes before high-tailing it out of there. It was a mostly young crowd, maybe late teens to early 20s. The performing bands each played a few numbers in a big hall at the edge of a park. I was surprised to see a number of people with dreads—surprised because I don’t normally associate metal with dreads. Is that just a Malaysian thing or also in the US? I feel like I know the majority of the Malaysian population with dreads. No girls who were there were wearing veils.
I met a new dreaded friend of A.’s and was telling him how I’d been tricked to going to this gig and how I hated metal, especially the vocals. 10 minutes later, a friend of his (who hadn’t heard me say that) let it be known that this guy was the vocalist in a metal band. Ah, that foot in my mouth certainly tasted good.
And one of my closest friends, I., is a bassist in a metal band, but he knows I hate his music.
Sheep
Clipped from the Cambodia Daily: “Watch Out Pamplona—Sheep Run Too."
“A small New Zealand town reached for some the glamour and danger of the Spanish bull-run city of Pamplona on Saturday—by running 2,000 sheep through the middle of town.”
Only…sheep don’t chase people, people have to chase sheep. It’s called herding. A lack of forethought on part of the planners.
