Life is a little wierd don't you think?

Life here seems very ‘normal’ to me now.  It really has been a long time since I left home.. and even longer since that first experience in Mexico.

After I graduated from teacher’s college in 1992, I headed to Mexico.  It was on that trip, almost 20 years ago now, that I saw my first real palm tree.  I was 36 years old.

Maybe the crazy thing was that I thought myself 'old'. 

I felt China to be a place in a book: the only real evidence that it even existed was some coins I had been given, sometime/somewhere. 

I spent 36 years living in a place where driving on the left side of the road could put you in jail.. or at least in a whole lot of trouble. 

A place where there were four seasons. 

But as it turns out, China is quite real and quite modern, there are many countires where the right side of the road isn't right, but left, and even places where it is summer all year around.

Yup..the whole world is a real place.. or unreal.. really. 

Maybe it is just me but it seems that in Canada people may look different on the outside, but inside, we are very much a like.. we are.. Canadian. 

In Malaysia it seems, people look similar on the outside, but inside.. well, we are all quite different. 

There are the bike people, the motor bike people and the car people.  Car people go to the best schools.. Motor bike people go where they can, and bike people work hard just to get through the day. 

There are the Chinese people, who own most of the businesses, the Indians who do most of the work, and the Malays who run the government: they all carry a Malaysian passport and may have lived here for generations.  

There are the Christians, who celebrate birthdays and Christmas, the Hindus who burn incense in all sizes and shapes, and Muslims who get called to prayer every few hours but who usually just cup their hands and get on with things.

I waved at a family heading out on their motor bike as I went for a walk with my camera yesterday, along the banana orchard behind my Taman.  They were happy and smiling.. a little girl on the front with her brightly coloured dress and head scarf clinging on to the handle bars which were tightly controlled by her father: he had a helmet on.  Behind him was mom, with her long flowered gown and headress flowing, and her high-heeled sandled feet almost dragging on the pavement.  There was a baby between them and a boy on the back, still in his school uniform.

A baby fell off a bike in KL last weekend and was killed.  I am amazed it doesn’t happen more often. 

A toothless gramma goes by.. she has a wizened face, few teeth, and a helmet, almost sitting comfortably on her head..

I thought of Debbie in her leathers on her Harley: a helmet with a face cover.. gloves.. and an attitude.  She would be delighted to see all the motor bike mamas here.. they are a little different than the ones at home.  

It is summer all year around.. why not ride a bike?

As they drove off I spotted a dead iguana on the road.. well, not exactly an iguana.. just it’s splayed body: the flattened leather remains, dried in the sun.  It was a big one.. a few feet long anyway.  I have seen them alive on the road, but they seem to get away before I can get my camera ready.  They aren’t all that fast.. I am just that slow.  It takes me a while to think about taking a picture.. I just stare in wonder. 

But the cars are faster. 

Ya.. here it is dead iguanas, snakes and frogs.. in Australia road kill consists of cows (I still can’t get over that one.. they aren’t exactly fast moving.. go around!!) and kangaroos.  I don’t remember road kill in Oman.. I do remember the big spiders in Mexico.. so big I .. swerved?!  In Canada.. deer.  Skunks are even worse though…

Judy Lee said there was a herd of elephants on the road when she drove across country last week.. good to know they are about.  Wouldn’t want to hit one though. 

There was a party at the neighbors the other day.. they put up a big tent, blocked the street and played loud music all day and into the night, but it is ok, they have everyone over to eat.  It happens in our neighborhood fairly regulary.  Weddings, engagement parties, religous celebrations.. 

During Ramadan there was still a lot of food around.. a huge Ramadan market was held downtown everyday of the month.  It opened about four, in time for people to buy their food and make it home to lay out for their family before evening prayers.  They had food from all over the country.. and a snake charmer.

Did I mention the snake charmer?  A fellow sitting on the ground under a tent.. playing his flute for some sort of flat headed snake.

In Canada we have lots of religions and cultures.. but it just seems people don’t get so excited about it as they do here: or at least we are not as loud.

I went to a Hara Raya party last Friday.  Hara Raya just means Happy Eid.. I get it.  But Eid is over!  I have been invited to a number of these events.. so I asked what the heck they are doing.. aren’t we finished yet?

“First there is the Holy month of Ramadan.. we fast for the month.”

OK.. I get that.. they did that in Oman.. fast all day.. eat all night.  Although I must admit, the nights here were quiet.  People seemed to settle in by ten.. they had their dates, said their prayers.. and then ate a substantial amount and went to bed. 

“Then there is Hara Raya.” 

OK.. they did the Eid thing in Oman too.  Three days.. they ate, they visited family, they donated to the poor.. But I spent those three days in Langkawi?!

“We Malays think if we fast for a month, we must eat for a month.. and so we do!”

So that’s it.  They take turns during the month having the party.  There are tents put up all over the place.  People take turns inviting everyone they know to their house.. to eat.  This will go on most of the month of September. 

Last Friday was a two-tent deal at a Homestay on the paddy fields.  They played music.. LOUD music..: and asked me to sing but I declined as all that was being served was fruit juice and Milo.  It takes something a little stronger than that to get me on stage!  There was some interesting food.. Fish really is popular, but there was lots of chicken too.. and custard (universal!) and.. chocolate cake.  The dark sauce beside the cake looked interesting so I took a little and poured it on my cake. 

Chilli sauce and chocolate cake are not a Malay thing. As I made my way to the water cooler they caught me and I had to explain myself over the PA system. 

No one thought it was very funny.. the room was quiet and everyone looked at me.. rather solemnly: the men with their traditional little black hats and little skirts, or batik shirts, women in their evening gowns.. as if they weren’t quite sure what to do..

..until one of the teacher’s repeated the explanation in Malay.  Then they laughed and laughed.    

I know how they feel.. I never know what’s going on. I am never sure if I laugh in the right spot, or if I should look sad or.

And can never remember any words in Malay.  Languages are not my thing.  I am sure it is what makes me such a good English teacher.  I know what it feels like to struggle to be understood. 

And it’s not just the language..

Did I mention the fellow that speared his body, his skinny bare back actually, with big hooks: right into the skin.. attached ropes and was pulling some sort of wooden cart down the road when I was trying to get to Carrefour?  I was just trying to do some shopping.. it is some Hindu thing they do. 

Did you see the pictures of the field of incense?  They are as big as a tree.. maybe they are trees? 

The temples are amazing!  Hindu temples are everywhere.. and they are so detailed. Monkeys love Hindu temples.. 

The Mosques litter the countryside.. walking distance for everyone I think!  They are attached to every school.. and they are differentiated into sects, or maybe by ethnicity, by color.  Although, sometimes it is hard to see what color they actually are, through all the black mildew/mold that covers things here in this humid country.  

I wonder if the workshippers ever go into the wrong Mosque.. what would happen then?

What would happen to a Morman if he accidently ended up in a Catholic Church.. would God be pissed? 

There is always fireworks: or at least loud popping noises.. always something to celebrate as loudly as possible.

I am saving some coins to bring home to Abby.. my granddaughter.  I want to provide her with evidence of life outside of Alberta.  I am sure she won’t be quite the slow learner her grandmother was .. but I hope she is.  

Life in Canada is pretty great...

But then, so is the rest of the world!