On The Road Again

After my last big trip, which took me out of Malaysia for a month to Canada and the Dominican Republic (and, very, very briefly the US, and even Sweden and India), I figured I wouldn't be going anywhere for the rest of this year, or probably even next year, considering all the vacation time (and money) I used up. But now it looks like I'll be leaving Malaysia again, for a different kind of trip. One week from today, if all goes according to plan, I'll be flying to China!

Basically, I'll be going to a college in the southern city of Guangzhou with another lecturer from my department to set up their new English department. Most of the staff have already been hired, but there's no English program, and that's where we come in. I'll be there for at least six weeks, maybe two months. It should indeed be interesting.

The downside of all this is that I'll miss Leen (and Smokey) like crazy. Plus I'll have to miss her STF ten-year reunion shindig on the 20th, not to mention a couple of family functions. The upside is that Leen might be able to visit me, or perhaps we can meet in Hong Kong or Macau for a weekend.

But that adventure will begin next week. In the meantime, I've got tons of work to do here, which will have to wait till Monday because this weekend I'm heading up to the Cameron Highlands. Well, I might come to the office tomorrow so I can start marking exams, since we're not leaving for the highlands until the wee hours of Sunday morning (I'm talking 3AM here). Interesting times ahead!

Juan Cole takes a look at the 'War on Terror'

It ain't pretty. The truth seldom is.

Whew!

I wrote a long post about this, but the computer I was working on suddenly lost Internet connectivity and I lost my post. How charming.

Anyway, an Air France Airbus A340-300 carrying 297 passengers and 12 crew members skidded off the runway at Pearson Airport in Toronto yesterday afternoon and erupted in a fiery, twisted mess at the edge of a ravine. Things looked bad. Everyone thought the death toll would be huge, even the newscasters muttering prayers that someone--anyone--might have survived.

And you know what? Everyone survived.

Now that's cool. Alhamdulillah.

De Agony of De Feet

As my Hapkido slavedriver instructor brought out the little yoga mats and told me it was time for stretching, I muttered, "God help me." He closed his eyes and smiled a cherubic little smile as he sat opposite me on the floor, pushing my legs open with his and grabbing my arms to pull my torso forward.

"No one can help you now," he said with a soft chuckle.

The next few minutes were sheer agony. It's not that I can't handle pain, it's just that my brain knows that pain is my body's way of saying 'that's it, dude, better back off now.' But there I was, stretched to the limit and beyond, with Oh Sok pulling me forward and Ms. Salsa--who's only attending the class because she think's Oh Sok is cute--pushing me forward. He stretched the hell out of her too, poor thing. There was the oh-my-dear-lord-I'm-doing-the-splits stretch, then the you-must-be-insane-I-can't-bring-my-head-down-to-my-knees stretch, and oh yes, I can't forget the difficult-to-describe-in-only-a-few-words-but-trust-me-it-made-me-want-to-cry stretch. Bear in mind that I'm now over 30 and probably have the flexibility of the average 45-year-old for whatever reason, maybe because I didn't eat all my vegetables when I was a wee lad. Now imagine me sitting on the floor, legs stretched out in front of me, with a Korean guy sitting on my shoulders, my head straining towards my knees. Feel my pain.

Then came the kicking. Lots and lots of kicking. Low kicks. Medium kicks. High kicks. Fast kicks. Hard kicks. Faster kicks. Harder kicks. "Still think he's cute?" I asked Ms. Salsa when Oh Sok stepped away for a moment.

"No way," she said.

Nor do I. But you know, my kicking is getting a hell of a lot better. Now I just have to work on my getting out of bed the next day without whimpering in agony. Heh. Give it time.

Monitor This

A Malaysian blogger recently asked a very interesting question: "Is the sanctity of Malayness fardu kifayah?" I find it especially interesting because of a forum article she links to: "Perkahwinan campur orang Melyau wajar dipantau", which translates as "Malay mixed marriages should be monitored". Here's some of what Anisah (the blogger) had to say about the Utusan article:

A reader of Utusan Malaysia wrote to the the Forum section quoting an article published by the same broadsheet on 21st June 2005. The quoted article is about the former Mufti of the Federal Territory, Tan Sri Abdul Kadir Talib and his wife, Sohari Abdel Moneim, an Egyptian woman of Turkish ancestry. He was proud and pleased that Abdul Kadir successfully "taught" his wife to live like a Malay, speak Malay, wear Malay dress and cook Malay food. They have six children who were all given beautiful Islamic names.

That reader contrasted that with the increasing incidents of young Malays marrying non-Malays, i.e. entering into mixed marriages. Baki Minuddin, that's how he signed his article, was of the opinion that such mixed-marriages should be monitored! (Do exclaim here if you need to, otherwise you could hold your breath, more to come).

Baki wrote: (translated) "Although our country practises a liberal policy, this country is still an Islamic country. This is not a human rights issue. This is an issue of fardu kifayah. We need to concern ourselves with the actions of those who belong to our race and our religion."
(Author's note: Fardu kifayah is an Islamic duty that every Muslim is beholden to every other Muslim, which includes but is not limited to provisions for the poor, graves for the dead, protection of the sanctity of Islam and Muslims, etc.)

With his last phrase, "our race and our religion", all in one breath, it is logical to conclude that Baki is of the opinion that protecting the sanctity of Islam and Malayness is an Islamic duty. Gosh! Inasmuch as I am for the perpetuation of culture, I cannot equate the sanctity of religion (Islam) with the perpetuation of cultural identity! Not until kingdom come, never!

Right on, Anisah! For someone to try to use religion to justify their sick racism is absolutely pathetic. As a 'Mat Salleh' married to a Malay, I have had plenty of exposure to such thinking. In fact, it's not just because I'm a Mat Salleh married to a Malay, but because I'm a Mat Salleh man married to a Malay woman. I don't feel like ranting about this right now. I do, however, have the sudden urge to go ahead with getting those T-shirts printed up.

Tee Heeee

Sorry, that's what happens when I realize I actually have enough time to sit down and write a post, but then realize my brain is fried and I can't come up with a decent title. Maafkan saya.

Leen and I didn't do much over the weekend. We didn't go to the jazz festival at all because we just wanted to relax at home. Saturday night we ended up watching DVDs, and boy did they suck. Leen was hell-bent on seeing Miss Congeniality 2, and I just had to increase the suckitude exponentially by choosing a really crappy movie called Coronado. I could have selected some more cerebral picks, but I chose that one because it looked mindlessly entertaining, just what I thought I wanted. It wasn't very entertaining; in fact I slept through most of it. It wasn't mindless either, as it did make me think, as in, "Damn this is a bad movie. I can't stop thinking about how bad it is." The thing is, it was trying to be a good movie, trying really hard in fact. But anyway, it sucked.

Yesterday at 2PM we were finishing up some laundry (woohoo, exciting stuff) when suddenly the air was pierced by shrill screams. Remember the annoying screaming girl from Michael Jackson's Thriller video? Yeah, like that. Only it didn't sound exactly the same.

"What the hell is that?" I asked.

"I dunno," Leen replied. Sounds like a monkey."

"Wha..? No way, that's not a monkey. Well maybe. No, no, not a monkey. Besides, it's coming from that way, and the monkeys are on the other side."

"So? Monkeys have legs, you know. They can walk."

"I still don't think it's a monkey. Maybe a dog? I'd better go take a look."

I rushed outside and found half the neighbourhood joining me on the street. The screams were coming from a teenage girl three doors down. She was flapping her arms, screaming like....well, like a monkey, while a bunch of neighbours did the same thing, only with less screaming and more pointing. After a few minutes I found out what was going on: she'd been sitting in her car, and two guys in another car (they'd obviously followed her home) came up alongside and asked for directions. When she rolled down her passenger-side window to talk to them, one of them reached in and grabbed her handbag. The car sped off, and the girl was left sitting there, stunned as a bag of hammers. As I handed the girl my phone so she could cancel her credit cards, I wondered what was more ridiculous: that this kind of thing could happen in broad daylight in a quiet little neighbourhood, or that none of the half-dozen or so neighbours who witnessed the whole thing unfold actually took note of the plate number. Oh my goodness.

Today was a regular Monday. Busy. But even Mondays here in MACVAYSIA are interesting. I was sitting in my office when one of my students from last semester came in. He handed me his phone and said, "Mr. Jordan, your wife wants to speak with you."

"My..wife? Riiight (takes phone from student). Hello?"

"Hi baby. You forgot your phone today."

So I had. "Uh..yeah. I didn't realize that until I was halfway to work. But..how did you....?"

She scares me sometimes. That's my baby.

Anyway, anywho, anywhich...I'm off to my Hapkido class. Pray for me. Or at least pity me, while I pray I won't have to do the splits again.

Cue Suckitude

Yes, the suckitude has arrived. I'm busy, damn busy. Look at that, it's been almost a week since my last post. Frank's wife Aida's been bugging me to put up pics of last week's night out at the Sunrise Jazz and Rhythm Fest, and it looks like by the time I get those pics up we'll have already spent another Saturday evening there. Actually, I've got the pics right here, on a CD, courtesy of Frank, but this Blogger Images thingy isn't working like it should. When I click 'Upload', the pic disappears into cyberspace. Well I'm not sure where the pics are going, but I know they haven't been ending up in my post like I wanted them to. So, you'll just have to wait for pics from that lovely evening (gobs of 'em, I tell ya). You'll also have to wait for pics from a drama my students put on today. Hilarious.

So, like I said, I've been busy lately at work. Exams, dealing with cheaters, little projects here and there (and everywhere), administrative stuff, etc. Oh, the fun.

I've also been busy at play, if you can call it play. First, my semi-regular sessions with Rizal, trying to get as much information as I can about his tsunami experience for my book. I've managed to jot down quite a bit so far. Whether I will get enough to fill out a decent book remains to be seen. I've already started writing bits and pieces and putting stuff together in my head. Since this is my first attempt at writing a book, I'm not sure how things will go once I've finished, nor am I completely sure what I should do beyond my simple plan: write the book, then find a publisher. Another option is to write a chapter or two and submit a book proposal before the book is even finished. I'm not sure about that one. We'll see how everything works out. One thing's for sure: I'm going to write this book.

Then there's Hapkido. The training is difficult, but I'm improving. Oh Sok is really putting me through my paces. The stretching alone is enough to give me nightmares. Then there's all the punching and kicking, which has really done a number on my hands and feet. Hapkido's kicks are devastating because of the art's close association with Tae Kwon Do, which really emphasizes kicking. The punching techniques we've been doing, it turns out, aren't from either traditional Hapkido or Tae Kwon Do. They're techniques adapted for more practical use, akin to some of the more 'modern' styles of Hapkido. Oh Sok is a very demanding teacher; if it weren't for the candid chats we usually have outside of the gym, I'd think he was a machine. In South Korea, police officers carry guns but do their best not to take them out because, according to Oh Sok, a police officer who shoots a criminal--regardless of the necessity of it--has to pay the criminal's medical bills (or funeral bills). As a result, many police officers there become damn good at unarmed combat, and from the sounds of it they get plenty of practice . Oh Sok talks about brawling with Korean gangsters as casually as I would talk about dealing with unruly students. He spent time in the Korean army, then became a police officer and has spent the past few years honing his skills in the streets. He has the scars to prove it, scars that also serve as a kind of record of the fighting he's done off the streets, in the ring, in Tae Kwon Do contests and professional K1 kickboxing matches. You wouldn't know this when you meet him though, because he's very friendly and soft-spoken. He's a really nice guy, actually, and we're becoming good friends. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Other than that, not much is happening. Work. My book. My training. That's it. Yeehaah.

It's all good.

Ahhh, That's Better

Had a pleasant weekend; now I feel somewhat recharged. Friday night Leen and I went to 1 Utama and watched The Island, which was entertaining despite its silliness. I also bought a couple of books friday night: The Creative Writer's Guide to Style (at MPH) and a novel, Tash Aw's The Harmony Silk Factory (at a nice little bookstore in Damansara Uptown that's open till a bit past midnight). We spent a bit of time at the night market in Uptown, where Leen found a much cheaper knockoff of her favourite perfume, Island Kiss by Escada. It doesn't smell exactly the same, but hey, it's a knockoff.

We rolled out of bed around noon on Saturday just because we could. Did some laundry, did some cleaning. Eventually we headed for Cheras. I returned my brand-spanking-new rimless glasses to Metro Eyewear because both lenses had defects I had only noticed that morning. I attribute that to what I call the MacLeod Black Cloud, bad luck I inherited from me Ma. Basically, anything I buy will have something wrong with it and will have to be repaired or returned. That's how it works. If you don't believe me, go for a walk or a drive with me Ma, and watch the streetlights go out along the way. Or better yet, hang around me Ma after she's just purchased something with electronic or mechanical parts, and listen for the swearing. Anyway, from there it was off to Frank and Aida's place. We hung out there for a bit playing with the digital camera Frank had borrowed from the school, then we piled into our cars and made the short drive to Michelle and Jason's place.

Michelle and Jason are Canadian. Michelle has been teaching in my uni's nursing program; Jason's just sort of tagging along and doing some tutoring at the school. I did my bit for the nursing program once too, volunteering to lie on a bed in the Critical Skills Unit so they could practice on me. Hey, someone's gotta do it, right? But I digress. We spent a short time at Michelle and Jason's apartment, where I chuckled at a poorly researched Rough Guide to Malaysia, Singapore and Brunei. Then we all set out for Mont Kiara.

We had to pay RM6.00 for parking (ouch), but entrance to the Sunrise Jazz and Rhythm Fest was free, so it's all good. We settled down at a table at Basque Lane (a nice little place) and were treated to some fantastic music. Some Indian guy who seemed able to channel Lionel Ritchie was tearing up the stage with some amazing singing. While listening to him we ordered tapas that were way too expensive but definitely yummy. Then we listened to a great set by Noryn Aziz and Soulfingerz. Noryn has a beautiful, powerful voice and really worked the crowd during her set. We moved our full bellies to the ground in front of the stage to get a better look. On our way out after the show, we stopped to chat with Noryn and some of the others. Michelle really loved the show and was hugging Noryn. They talked for a bit, then Noryn came over to us, smiled, said hello to Leen, and asked her, "Are you Malaysian?" She was probably unsure because she knew by that time that Michelle, who looks a bit Asian because she's half Filipina, is Canadian; perhaps she assumed the same of Leen.

But it wasn't just that. Leen is often mistaken for various Native American nationalities. Leen grinned and said, "Yes, I'm Malaysian."

"What did you think she was?" I asked, naughty boy that I am.

Noryn's response was, "Uh..I don't know. Brazilian maybe?" Aha, another one. Leen's usually mistaken for Innuit (that's Eskimo for all you non-Canadians), like the time a drunk Innuit guy started singing to her in his language one day in a park in Halifax. It took a few minutes to convince him Leen wasn't from his part of the Arctic. Then there was our trip to the Dominican Republic. You wouldn't believe how often people tried starting conversations with her in Spanish. Most members of the band at my brother's wedding reception in Punta Cana were convinced Leen was a native of Mexico or elsewhere in Central America.

But I digress again. I'm good at that.

We spoke for a bit with a couple of Noryn's friends, two guys who have their own band called Quest Le Funkt. Nice guys to talk to; I'm looking forward to hearing some of their stuff. We all parted ways and Leen and I drove back to the home base in Kajang. When we got home it was already quite late, but hey, it was Saturday night. We stayed up to the wee hours watching Sin City, which is so Frank Miller that I forgot I was watching a movie and not reading one of his graphic novels (it even showed most of the cops wearing riot gear). Interesting, entertaining. When it was done I woke Leen up and we stumbled off to bed.

Yesterday we crawled out of bed at about 1:30PM. Now that's sleeping in. We watched Motorcycle Diaries, a great Spanish-language film about Che Guevara, then I got down to the business of marking. A couple of times I gnawed through my restraints and read a few pages of The Harmony Silk Factory, which I think I'm going to enjoy because A) Tash Aw was raised here in Malaysia and the story is set here, and B) the writing is quite good. Leen made sure the red pen didn't leave my hand for too long, though. If not for her, I wouldn't have been able to finish the marking last night. Thanks, darling!

So that was my weekend. And this is my Monday. Bring it on.