Anything and everything...the last day
Trip Start
Feb 07, 2007
1
39
50
Trip End
May 15, 2007
Today we woke up at eight to go to breakfast so we could be in the Union by 8:45 for our 9:00 tour to the Cheshire Home, which we thought was an orphanage visit. We arrived in the Union at 8:48, but there was no one there. We went down to check Purser's Square, and when no one was there either we checked the green sheet and discovered that the tour had met at 8:20 to allow time to take the tender and meet the guide on the pier at nine. Hearing that, I was pissed. I was pissed at myself for not checking the green sheet again, was pissed that it was one of the two service visits I got during the sales periods of the ten or so I applied for and I missed it because I was late, and pissed that we'd left KL and Langkawi just to now spend the day in Penang. I refused to be so easily defeated, so I insisted that we catch the tender and get a taxi to at least try to meet up with the tour. None of the taxi drivers knew where the Cheshire Home was, but after a few minus an SAS guide walked by and was able to make a phone call and give the taxi driver directions. We drove about fifteen minutes through town before arriving at a more residential area, kind of like the older residential areas in Vegas with wider streets and big yards, but still fairly near the action, and we discovered we weren't visiting an orphanage at all, but a home for the handicapped. Becca was a little disappointed because she wanted to play with the kids, but I said hi to Grandma and thanked her for her hand in my service visit. I think she would have been pleased to know that I spent some of my time in Malaysia in a home for the handicapped. It also worked out that we were late because the six of us got a more private tour of the home, rather than traipsing through it with thirty other SAS kids. Instead, they remained in the main room of the home with the residents, a big room with rows of tables and chairs and a kitchen at the back. Twenty-five or thirty disabled people had gathered around the tables with coloring books while SAS kids sat and colored with them, or talked to them. A few others were sitting at basic looms, their wheelchairs rolled right up to it, and were weaving cotton strips through to produce rugs. They saw us come in late and walk past them with our guide, and they all smiled and waved like children, excited to have visitors. All of them are physically handicapped in some ways, others have mental disabilities as well, but all had their own ways of expressing excitement. Some would reach out for you, others would grab your hand or touch your arm, some would come up to you, and most would smile. Some big toothy grins, others toothless grins, but all with wrinkles at the sides of their mouths and in the creases of their eyes. Finally, I felt like I was doing something more than being a tourist in Malaysia. It's so easy to fall into tourist mode on these trips, but I don't want to just be a tourist. I want to discover, I want to contribute, I want to make an impact and be impacted by people. This home visit was my time to connect with people on this trip, and I was loving every minute of it. We walked past the room where visitors could buy crafts that the residents had made, past gardens and to the rooms where they slept in rolling beds. Our guide also took us to the physiotherapy room, where we had to take off our shoes before we entered. I hadn't taken out my camera at this point because I didn't want to be rude, but the Indian woman who is in charge of physical therapy told us we were more than welcome to take pictures. I took a picture of a young man lying on a mat, exercising his legs that were resting in stirrups. His was one of the big toothless grins, and he flashed it each time one of us looked at him. Inside that weak little body and mind he couldn't quite get control of was a sweet little flirt, like the kind of child you just know is going to grow up to be a ladies' man. I wanted to hug him, sit and talk with him, color with him, but he was exercising so we had to leave after a few minutes. I was okay with that, because I felt a little bit like an intruder, like I did at the hospitals in Cape Town, because this was the daily life of these people, exercising at regular times each day every day except for Saturday when they had hydrotherapy and Sundays when they rested. At least out in the open of the big room we could communicate with them and not just stare. The men on the bicycles and the man sitting in front of the wheel on the wall working out his arms didn't express as much pleasure as my young friend on the floor, because they were busy and we were staring. So I was pleased to conclude the tour past the outdoor pool and back into the main room so we could start talking with the residents. At first it was a little bit awkward, trying to butt into a conversation that other SAS kids were already having, but they'd get up and move around so we'd just sit down in their places. Lauren and I spent most of our time talking to a twenty-four year old who has lived at the home for six years. He sits in a wheelchair and has minor brain damage and I'm not exactly sure what the condition is, but he has trouble speaking, slurring and stuttering and sometimes speaking too quickly, other times more slowly. He also can't see very well, so when he tries to read he gets his eyes right up to the paper or book so he can decipher the words. We never even exchanged names, but he had a real fascination with money and China. He asked about the costs of everything we talked about. We told him we'd gone to KL, and he asked how much the plane ticket was, the hotel, the ticket so we could go to the top of the tower, food, and the train. He asked the same questions when we told him we'd gone to Langkawi as well. He even asked how much the cab ride was from our ship to the home. He then told us how he only makes 10 to 30 ringits per month, removing rubber from plastic tubing. Depending on how much tubing comes in determines how much work he does and thus how much he gets paid. But he likes to save his money and then go on big shopping sprees. He also really wants to go to China, so Lauren and I agreed that after our visit to China on SAS we'd plan a second trip and meet him there. We talked about favorite food and drinks (he's a big chocolate milk fan, and he liked my story of how my Dad used to make me chocolate milk on the weekend when I was a kid), and his favorite days are the days the home celebrates birthdays because he gets to eat cake. He asked what I had for breakfast, and what I wanted to eat for lunch. Becca came around after a little while carrying the little plastic parachuting guy, the one with the plastic chute attached to the guy by strings and you're supposed to drop it from above to let the chute open so he floats down, but we weren't very high so we pushed it around the table to each other instead. He told us we were crazy (just like my Dad did) when we told him that we'd done that, we'd used a parachute when we'd gone to South Africa. You would have liked him, Dad- he thinks a plane is only for riding in. After chatting for awhile, Lauren and I collected Katie and we went to the craft store to look around. Mostly women but a couple of men were seated around tables, sewing or doing bead work, and it was explained to us that they produce all of the goods in the store and part of the profit on sales goes to them, like commission. I thought this was a great idea, letting them use their skills to produce something they could be proud of and empower them when visitors would purchase the things they'd made. Rugs, jewelry, beaded Bonzai trees, bookmarks with old Malaysian stamps, stuffed clowns and Santa Clauses, and wire figurines of guitars, horses, and spiders were just some of the things that the residents had made. I sat down next to a woman beading one of the Bonzai trees. Noneeda was her name and she showed me how she tied beads together with the gold wire to look like flowers, and tied many of these flowers to the stem to make the flowering tree. She sat in her wheelchair, working with the wire and wire cutters over the table. She kept pinching and cutting herself, and I told her I did the same thing when I took an art class my freshman year and had to produce a wire sculpture of a starfish. She giggled when I told her, excited that we had something in common. She gave me one of those big smiles I'd seen so frequently over the past hour and a half, and a high-pitched "Really?" came out of her mouth when I talked to her about the project I'd done. I asked her if she was the only one who made the beaded trees and she said she was. Lauren bought one of them from the shelf and when she showed Noneeda the one she'd picked, she clasped her hands together and thanked her three times, again in the high-pitched tone of excitement. It was just so amazing, seeing their pleasure when we'd buy something of theirs, and the humility. She didn't expect me to purchase something as well just because I'd been sitting with her, but when I did (of course I had to, because I'd been talking to her so even though I have no idea what to do with my Bonzai beaded tree it was still 25 ringits well spent just to see her reaction of glee just one more time) she lit up once again. She let me take several pictures with her, us holding the craft she'd made, before doing our final loop around the shop and preparing to leave. This trip, this was my morning that made my whole Malaysia trip complete. If I'd done only that trip and nothing else, just seeing the looks on her face and the sound of her voice, talking to the 24-year old, and doing their daily exercises with them was enough to satisfy me. The Indian woman from physiotherapy emerged and gathered everyone in front of her, and they commenced their series of basic exercises for the entire body, from neck rolls to leg raises to work out every muscle. Lauren and I looked at all of the SAS kids gathered around waiting for our cue to leave, then at all of the residents watching us watch them exercise, and we decided hey, why not join in? So we did. We twisted our trunks, tapped our toes on the floor, flexed our wrists, and raised our shoulders to our ears right along with them. We were visitors in their home, so rather than watch them we thought we'd participate, all exercise together until it was time to go. We got about ten minutes into it before we it was time to leave, and we all waved goodbye to each other as us SAS kids went back to the bus. We didn't want to go all the way back to the pier so we'd talked to the tour guide who said he'd drop us off at a shopping center in town, which he did. I was impressed by that, his going out of the way to accommodate us when we could have just paid for a taxi to come get us and take us where we wanted to go. We didn't quite end up at the shopping center that apparently has a tower with a revolving restaurant at the top, so we found a Thai place in the mall we were at before catching a taxi to a different shopping center. I am not a shopper. And I am not a shopper when I need to shop, let alone when I'm in Malaysia and there are other things I want to do besides shop. I know I should have separated instead of following everyone around all day, but they wouldn't let me go off by myself and no one else was fed up with shopping, so I stuck with them. I suppose it made sense that I shouldn't go off by myself, but I spent half the day pissed off because seriously, how many malls can you go through? How much can you possibly shop? I had what I needed. I'd gotten my good luck charm I've been collecting from each port, fabric for my quilt, and stamps to paste into my journal. I don't need clothes from every country, or want to browse. So while they weaved in and out of every possible store, I wandered off and watched the people in the first mall. It was set up much like the mall in India, with the stores set up around a central floor, and each floor had shops that would branch off every which way. We kept getting so confused though because every floor had a sign that said "5th Level" right by the elevator, regardless of whether or not we were actually on the fifth floor. And then there was a Ground floor, and then the 1st floor, which we didn't catch onto right away. After getting lost for awhile, also trying to find a tattoo parlor for Rebecca, we made it to the first one, which solidified my sour mood. Apparently people have had great experiences with the people in Malaysia, being helpful and friendly, but I have to say I struggled a little bit. Or maybe it was just tattoo artists and taxi drivers in Malaysia. Or maybe it was just me. Which, you know, is it them when every single one you meet gets on your nerves, or is it you? And going back and reading the Malaysia preport packet, I was warned about losing face. And I think I lost it everywhere I went that day. I was really tired from all of the traveling, and impatient because I just didn't want to be doing what I was doing, so any time I had control over my situation I wasn't going to lose it. Becca wanted a tattoo of a phrase that a woman we had met in the elevator in the KL tower who was from Bombay had translated for her. But the artist kept telling us it was something different. I understand he was trying to make sure that what she was getting herself inked with was correct, but he then started telling her to not get that phrase at all but instead get "You make my heart crazy for you" in Hindi. At that point, I lost a little faith and started intervening. When there's a group of six people and I'm just a bystander, I don't usually pipe up because is one more argumentative voice really going to help things? But like I said, I was cranky. So I asked Rebecca. Who are you going to trust, the Indian tattoo artist living in Malaysia who was clearly high, or the woman we met who was actually from India, and explained all of the grammatical aspects of the phrase? The artist said Becca's translation said "forget" and not "forgive" but couldn't tell us how to make it say "forgive", but then he changed his mind and said it could mean both, and then a few minutes later decided that this character meant forgive and this one next to it forget. Then he told Becca to scratch the whole thing and get something about hearts going crazy, at which point she said she'd think about it and we walked out. Perhaps I wasn't being fair, but it seemed more likely that they were going to take advantage of the pushy Americans before giving us what we really wanted. And I think that, looking back on it now, a little patience in the beginning would have helped us save face, and not end up in a situation where we felt like we were being taken advantage of. But at the time, the concept of saving face didn't occur to me, and still didn't when we tried to get a taxi after a few more hours in the mall to take us to a Chinese cemetery we'd seen so we could witness the rituals of All Soul's Day. Apparently, family members take pictures of modern-day things like laptops or the homes they live in, whatever is important to them or that they would have liked their ancestors to see, and they burn the pictures so that in the flames the essence of the things can go up to the heavens for their ancestors to enjoy. All afternoon, that was the only thing I wanted to do. And our cab driver told us the only cemetery was twenty minutes away. But I knew for a fact that there was one closer to our ship that we were ten minutes from, because we'd passed one on our island orientation tour. Yet, he insisted that the only one was twenty minutes away. So again, I started raising my voice, which also meant I put myself in a position of losing their respect. The driver we were talking to called his other buddies over, who also said only one cemetery. He wanted sixty ringits, and we refused, saying we knew that there was a closer one and wouldn't pay him to take us to his. And then, he changed his mind and told us that no, the cemetery was only ten minutes away. I was about to give up but it was All Soul's Day and I was really curious, so I asked him to just take us to a Buddhist temple instead, where the rituals are also performed. We got in the taxi after agreeing on fifty, and as soon as the doors shut he said "Okay, so sixty. Twenty for drive there, twenty for me to wait, twenty for drive back." He was relentless. If I would have remained calm and collected, would it have been so complicated? I don't know. He took us to a Buddhist temple that had the reclining Buddha, and we walked around for about ten minutes, taking pictures and lighting candles, until Becca told us she saw a man lighting something on fire. Matt and I ran around the corner and saw two fire pits, each with men lighting what looked like fake money on fire. Matt asked the man who had his wife with him what he was doing, and he explained to us that the piles of paper represented things of significance in his life and that in burning it he was offering it to his Grandma and Grandfather who had passed away years before. We watched as the flames grew with every stack of paper he threw into it, as he waved the smoke from his eyes and his wife handed him each new stack. I was satisfied, pleased to have been lucky enough to be in Malaysia on a national holiday and get to witness the cultural activities associated with it. Our cab driver took us back to the ship, all the while expressing his disapproval of Malaysia. He said that because he was Chinese, he was at the bottom of the food chain. Malays receive a kind of Affirmative Action in every social aspect- getting into schools, into the work force, just like the States, and next on the list, although not quite as privileged as the Malays, were the Indians, and lastly the Chinese, even though they comprise the majority of the population. He told us never to come back to Penang, and most amusing was his claim that the sculpture that had just been erected at the center of one of the roundabout streets was stupid. I liked the sculpture personally, being shaped like an egg (which I'll admit looked a little silly) but it had a fountain of water in the middle of the egg, and with it being in the middle of the roundabout it felt like Columbus Circle in Manhattan. After being dropped off at our ship by our anti-Pinging driver and paying him the originally agreed upon fifty ring it, we stopped at a restaurant to eat dinner before getting back on the ship. We each had one last Tiger beer and snacked on Spring Rolls before waiting in line to board the tender. The line took an hour and a half to get through, and we barely made it on the ship in time, but we had five minutes. Compared to the fifteen minutes in India, we keep getting more and more bold. However, having to take the tender from the pier to the ship did slow down the process a lot, so the administration was more lenient when it came to handing out dock time in the next port as punishment. So, it all worked out. And the day also worked out, despite my struggles with the amount of shopping. But all I was immensely pleased with the Cheshire Home visit, and got to see activities for All Soul's Day, so I left Malaysia with an overall feeling of contentment with the last day's activities. I liked Malaysia, and really loved Kuala Lumpur, but honestly, I was okay with leaving because that means we're on our way to Vietnam, one of the ports I am most excited for on this trip. I enjoyed my time there, and had some great experiences, but let's bring on the next port
