A Week in A Hotel

This blog had an average of 3 visits a day for the past week. So for those of you who visit, let me tell you about my week :-)

I’ve had a pretty great week. That is to say, it was exciting and eventful, which is about as good as it gets :-)

My mom had a series of meetings in a hotel, so my sister and I went there to share her room. It was convenient for me to be at the hotel, because I was taking skating lessons, and the rink was just beside the hotel. The lessons were fun, but quite taxing on the joints, especially since I think I sprained both my ankles and both my knees the last time I went skiing (because I absolutely HAD to take the chairlift to the top of the ski slope – I’d have regretted if I hadn’t, but I’ve since acquired the wisdom that comes with age and injury).

Anyway, I met so many people! The first was Dinesh, a young boy who worked at the rink – he told me that he was working to save up money for college next year. He wanted to be a megatronics engineer, just like his brother. His dad was an engineer too. The benefit of working at the rink was that your tuition fees for the college (run by the same management) would be half of what a non-employee would pay. He also had a great interest in ice-hockey, but the full attire (complete with protective headgear) would cost RM 20 000, which was why the only people who could play were rich kids and foreigners. Dinesh came from Teluk Intan, where he’d gone to St Anthony school solely for the sake of their marching band, where he played the trumpet. He also played piano.

Looking back on that conversation, I started to consider the paradox – I’m quite shy, and don’t care for meeting new people – and yet, once I’ve met them, I find that there’s so much of someone to know. So on the one hand, I can truthfully say, “I don’t care for meeting new people” and on the other, “I like getting to know new people” would be true as well. But I can just as easily say goodbye, and not think of them again unless our paths happen to cross in future (by which time, I’ve generally forgotten them completely).

Another person I met was Suzette. I was walking past the hotel lounge when I noticed that they had people singing on the stage. So my friend and I walked right up to the front, me leading the way, and took a seat right in front of the stage (everyone else seemed to prefer to be farther back, so at least we didn’t have to fight for the seat). I videotaped the girl singing, and later she came to talk to me and ask if she could have a copy of the video. She was pretty and soft and warm, as many Filipinos are, and her voice was as good as Celine Dion’s (she performed almost all her songs). I liked her – so I asked if she wouldn’t mind learning and performing my signature song (because even the hitch says he can’t stand my singing). She was very nice about it, and I visited her in the lounge the next day too. I didn’t really like her partner, though – and he didn’t perform my song request, ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ (Billy Ray Cyrus), even after I’d given such thought to deciding to request a song. Coincidentally, I’d seen him in the gym, but hadn’t really liked the look of him there either, so when he mentioned seeing me in the gym, I didn’t respond so well, replying with “I didn’t look around,” which was true. I’d seen him, but not because of looking at him.

And then there was Y. I won’t put his name here in case he’s a reading person, which I highly doubt. There was not all that much wrong with him that understanding our culture (and our views on money) would not have corrected.

The lesson learnt – Don’t go out with a foreigner except on your own terms.

The thing is, my sister and I were in the gym, warming down. I was stretching (which I do by standing with my legs apart and bending forward to try to touch the floor with my elbows). I bent over and then, from between my legs, I noticed a man standing at the entrance to the studio. He was just a few paces behind me, and I felt it very odd that he should be standing there like that. He had a drink in his hand. I turned around to see what he wanted, and then he stepped into the room and asked my sister and I, “Can you do a split?”

Since we were in a dance studio, the question seemed appropriate enough, so I attempted to doa split (where you’re sitting on the floor and your legs are as far apart as they can be) to show him – then when it was done and I was on the floor, I suddenly wondered if it was a trick in order to look down my cleavage (just like the one where a guy asks you if you can touch your elbows together behind your back), so I got up quickly. We made some small talk, and then he said he wouldn’t keep us any longer, so he left and we left the gym too. We got into the lift at the same time – and then there was some more awkward conversation (because his English didn’t seem to be very fluent), at the end of which he turned to go. He walked away, and then turned back and suddenly asked if we could have dinner sometime. My sis and I had already discussed asking him if he wanted to join us for baseball the next day, since he’d been staying in the hotel alone for 6 months and not seen anything but the inside of his hotel, the KL Tower and the Twin Towers, so I proposed this as an alternative, and he accepted.

He couldn’t make it the next day though, because he suddenly had work, but we met again in the gym. I went there on purpose to let a girlfriend, P (who was visiting me for a few days) be introduced to him (since he was easy enough on the eyes), but they didn’t hit it off too well. She felt that he looked too shaggy, with his great mane of hair cut slightly in the old Beatles style. Also, she had a hunch that the fringe of hair over his forehead was to hide the early signs of balding. Plus she felt that if one were to go for a foreign look, he was just average since all of them looked like that anyway. Besides that, having met some german exchange students before, she was prejudiced against the whole race, saying that they tended to be extremely serious, studious types, unlike the Americans, who had a better grasp of the concept of having fun. ;-)

My little sister was more impressed by him (especially by his chest and arms, I think), and wanted to look at him some more, so I decided to let him come along for dinner with us (especially since it was the third time he was asking). P and I discussed a few of the things we might talk about, in case the flow of conversation ran dry. We decided to keep the topic of ‘sausages’ til the end, in case all else failed (we knew Germany was famous for sausages). We also considered the advisability of going out with a stranger, but since we would just be walking from the hotel to the mall next door, and there were three of us girls against one of him, we decided that it was safe enough to go for dinner with him, and that it was highly unlikely that he would try to kill us with a fork.

I let him choose the time of dinner, but he seemed unwilling and said we could decide the next day, so in the end I was the one who decided. 8.45 pm, because we were busy shopping before that. He came at 9 pm – just after I’d smsed to say “Are you going to be very late? If yes, we’ll go back to the hotel room first”. The girls were getting pissed off by then, especially P, who can’t abide tardiness. Bad first impression.

He’d chosen his clothes well, at any rate. He was wearing a light blue shirt which was stretched pleasingly over his chest and biceps. P and I slowed down, in order to let my sister go ahead with him. They chatted well enough on a number of inconsequential topics (like what time he had dinner every day, or what time he went to bed), while P and I, walking behind them, discussed what to do if he turned dangerous. She suggested that my stilettos would come in handy, getting so animated that she exclaimed, “And then we can stab him with it, or hit him on the head!”, then quickly shushed herself for fear he might hear us.

He’d asked what we wanted to eat. Girls here never know, or say ‘anything’ – so I told him to suggest something (also, all the girls I know tend to expect the guy to decide. If he couldn't decide, it wouldn't be any different from eating with a girl). He seemed a little taken aback when I said “lead the way”, but he rallied himself and bravely suggested, “Errmmm, let’s go to…” So we went.

And when we arrived, I realized my mistake. My heart sank when I saw the menu, but in pride, I didn’t let him know, and neither did the rest of them. We just sat there quietly, scrutinizing the menu, trying to decide what to order. He asked if the food was ok, we said yes, we were just trying to decide what to have. In the end I decided to take a gamble – perhaps he would pay, having brought us there. If not… I put aside the thought.

We should have known, especially after he’d said that Malaysian food was so cheap. Cheap for him was Euro dollars multiplied by 4.5 (he told us that - 1 Euro = RM 4.5). The cheapest drink there cost RM 10. And the food double and triple that. We spoke of shopping, and I mentioned that my top cost RM 10 too – he said it was so cheap, to which I replied, “Cheaper than the food!” and everyone agreed.

Perhaps it’s the power of the Euro, or perhaps it’s culture. We were of the opinion that if you could get a chicken chop for a fifth of the price, why pay more? The prices in that place were not exorbitant, but to our standards they just weren’t worth it. On average, after we split the bill, we’d each of us eaten a simple meal that cost almost RM 40. That was about 6 times as much as a good meal you could get anywhere else. But I forgot…. He didn’t know! He was used to European prices, and made his money in European dollars. He’d probably never even been to the famous hawker stalls in KL – which are mostly tucked away in obscure coffee shops in the heart of the city - which would not have earned their popularity if they'd charged prices like these. I guess I’d like to bring him there, just to open his eyes. Food doesn't have to cost a whole wardrobe. It was us who were being silly, letting a foreigner take us around KL. The locals should show the tourists around, not the other way around ;-)

2 days later, I’m still considering the price of the meal (I treated my sister and friend to it, because I didn’t want them to worry about it). Here, this is what it cost…

How expensive it is to go out with foreigners! P went home convinced that her 'culture difference' hypothesis was proven right in this case. A culture of paying so much for food, for one. We hastened to assure her that it was normal in KL (not normal for me, but I didn't want her to feel bad about me paying).

Now THIS (pic below) is what food should cost. This is my favourite food in KL, from a stall that's been there for more than 20 years. It's reasonably priced - and still a win-win situation, since the owners now bring their beefballs to the restaurant in a Mercedes.

Chinese New Year's Eve Fireworks - 2

Drafted but forgot to post this ages ago...

Picture fireworks being let off all around, til at 12 midnight, suddenly everyone lets their biggest and best fireworks off, and for 30 minutes non-stop, the sky above the whole city of Beijing is alight.




(Actually, even after the 30 minutes of non-stop fireworks over the city, the fireworks went on... but we were tired by then, because one can't just keep watching fireworks and doing nothing... but it was very pleasant to go to bed with the curtains open, and fall asleep watching fireworks)










Everywhere, all around, fireworks... it's very cheering, invigorating... and the happy people... my mom was wishing my grandparents could see it - if nothing else could cheer old people up, I think being in the midst of fireworks would. Joy, exhilaration.... I can just picture my granddad laughing as happily as the other old people here as they light their sparklers.... chuckling in excitement as he hurries away after lighting the fuse of a crate of fireworks... the video below shows some old women playing with sparklers.... you could feel their excitement, and it shows (although you only get a brief glimpse of their face cos i had to take the video while walking past :-))




Watch that window on the right, with fireworks shooting out of it .... (but I forget which one of the videos below it is. I intentionally took very short clips, usually not more than a minute, so that if your connection is as slow as mine, it won't take too long to load)

4-5-9

Phew...
I don't know where to start.. so many things! And I'm acutely conscious of the fact that I don't write as well as my aged Bible Knowledge tuition teacher (I found one of her letters while cleaning up, and was impressed by the elegance of her words).

Perhaps, to keep my thoughts organized, I should compose this the way Malaysia's ex-ex prime minister writes his blog - in numbers.

1. I'm home. Have passed, by the grace of God.

2. I've applied for a job to train to be a specialist. I don't know if I'll get it, and I hardly dare think about it. Am setting aside half an hour a day to pray about that - that if it's God's will, I'll get it, and if not - well, I know he'll have better plans for me.

3. I won the prize for 'best student' in one of my postings. I really wanted to win because the prize was RM 500 and I'd just gambled away RM 500 in roulette. I prayed hard, and asked everyone I knew to pray, and I studied all I could, but in the end, they didn't ask me any academic questions during the interview in which they chose who to award the prize to. they just asked me about myself, my experiences in uni (which were really very simple), and whether winning that prize was important to me (to which I could answer very honestly, "Yes", and when they asked why, I said it was because in uni, I never won anything except for sports (which is true), and that this was the first time I'd even been invited for an interview of this sort (I scrutinized the signature on the letter I'd received inviting me for the interview - it was genuine, and not a xeroxed copy!). And I added, "I tried very hard - I read through EVERYTHING..." at which they laughed and asked if I was disappointed that they hadn't asked me anything much (I even read through 3 months of back news, because this interview is famous for being non-medical related - it seems they want to see if we're up-to-date and globally aware - but fortunately, they didn't have time to ask me about that). Anyway, my answer was that I wasn't disappointed, because even if they'd asked me academic stuff, I was a B student - the other 9 ppl sitting out there were mostly A students. And then they told me they were all B students too, and that one didn't have to be an A student to succeed in life. And then it was 2 weeks before I found out I won - it was during the final dinner to celebrate graduating, and they announced my name... and it was wonderful. (And it was no loss to the other students who'd been shortlisted for the interview but had not been chosen, because all of them got other subject prizes, including the Dean's prize for getting the highest marks in the batch - so I'm so thankful to God that I got at least one academic prize (and it really WAS the only academic prize I had - the other one I got was sports) - although yes, during that dinner, I was also reminded of the many who got no prizes at all....)

4. And that's why I applied to the eye department, because the head of department gave me my prize, so at least he'd have to recognize me when I approached him for the job.

5. I've been clearing my room because I've got friends coming to stay on Wednesday. I hardly recognized the floor yesterday when I'd finally finished - haven't seen it for so long :-)

6. I found many things while clearing - many notes, old love letters - but words lose their power when we find that there are no actions to back them up. I decided to put all my ex's things in a box and seal it. The end of an age.

7. I was reminded of old friends, old students. The reward of teaching is in producing good students, and/or the gratitude of students who remember you. I taught Household Economy for about a month, and when I left, a few of the students gave me cards and presents. I only remember about half of them - for the rest, I can't put a face to the name, but I treasure the cards. I can't say I really taught them much - am not sure if I knew what I was teaching myself. I can teach exam-orientated stuff, but real living skills; I think I wasn't mature enough for that yet.

8. I found an old bracelet that a friend had made for me. She'd strung some beads together on a piece of elastic to spell out my name (I guess she must know me more than I thought - I love stuff with my name). I emptied the package into my hand - the beads were all loose - just single beads. I tested the elastic - it came apart in my hands. It reminded me of time - we keep all our most precious things, and time works its way on them, and in the end there's nothing left. I've bought hundreds of ringgit of beautiful cloth - just because it's beautiful. But there's nowhere to keep them, and I wrap them up and never see them, and in the end no one ever enjoys them. Much better to use the money to feed the poor, because someone will enjoy that food, and you yourself will enjoy watching them eat - and without enjoyment, life isn't worth the living. It's like that story of the rich fool - we just hoard and hoard, and in the end, we've wasted our life hoarding and got no return for the investment we put in. The beads falling apart reminded me of life, too - someday the life holding us together will become stiff like the elastic string, and break just as easily - and then the beads in my hand will remind me of the life that she was. I'll restring the beads and remember my friend, and meet up before it's too late.

9. We've got termites at home, and I've got ringworm. The exterminators are here, and I'm putting antifungal cream (I started last week but then got lazy, and now the circle of ringworm is growing and sending out satellite towns, so I'm reminded to follow the prescription ;-)).

And that's all for now...:-)

updating soon

Got so much to tell you all.
But no time now, sorry. But since it’s weekend, possibly no one will be online :- )
Am busy clearing my room floor – unpacking now that I’m home.
And joining a political forum and a songwriters forum.
Many good things have been happening and will be happening soon. Will write again as soon as I have time to sit down without writing lyrics :- )

just a thought

A question just occurred to me (because I was unconsciously thinking of the answer) -

"When you go into the bedroom of someone of the opposite sex, what's the first thing you check out?"

(You'll have to tell yourself the answer, though, cos comments are still disallowed ;-) so it's just something to think about :-)).


My answer is "His books."

I guess it depends on your priorities :-)

Listening

I realize that no matter how loud you speak, you can never make someone listen.

You can shout them down and make yourself heard, but then they'll only close their minds to you. I do that myself when people talk me down; just fall silent (which pleases them, because they think they've 'won'), and mentally close my ears.

I spoke to three people today - only one listened. That one was my mom.

I was thinking about why people listen, and I guess there are only 2 reasons:

1) They listen because they want to hear WHAT you have to say

2) They listen because they want to hear what YOU have to say

In short, it's either the content of your conversation, or the fact that it's you talking, that would induce someone to listen.

I don't think I need to be listened to just for the sake of it, so I don't bother to be a fount of interesting facts. But someone to listen because they care about me - now that is something that has been missing for a long time from anyone except my family. No wonder my dad reminded me that no matter what happens, family comes first. Everyone in my family listens to each other - except perhaps my dad to my mom. That's marriage, probably ;-) I hope I won't fall for it when my time comes.

Of course, people try to be polite, and they don't usually intentionally tell you, "I'm not listening to what you're saying because I'm not interested." More often, they do it by interrupting you mid-sentence with a relevant observation, to give you the idea that they were listening, but really just to stop you speaking (like the girl today who asked me how my exam had gone, and then when I started telling her, she cut me short, saying, "God knows what's best for us", which may well be true, but was an inappropriate answer for a question I hadn't even asked).

Or perhaps, you could be just beginning to tell them about an incident where you were moved by seeing a woman bent double because of scoliosis, and they'd cut you off after the first sentence to tell you all about a documentary they'd seen regarding scoliosis. It may seem hard to pinpoint the problem here - after all, aren't you both sort of having a conversation? What strikes me, though, is that YOU were the one troubled by what you saw, and that's why you brought up the topic, because you NEEDED to express your feelings - while THEIR act of talking about that documentary is just empty talk - they didn't need to say it, and it didn't help you either, because you never got to say the things on your mind.

I think some people are just that way. They've never learnt to listen, and it's so difficult to teach them. It gets in the way of their relationships, because in spite of the loving words, the emotional support is lacking - and if they don't listen, they never understand the person underneath, so no wonder misunderstandings happen!

I realize now that my ex never listened. He would keep silent when I spoke, but his mind was far away. I took a nap just now - I dreamt of being in a room, where people were taking turns to sing. And he went up and took the mike, and he'd prepared a powerpoint presentation. He sang one of our songs, "Tong Hua" (Fairy Tale), but it left me unmoved. I wondered if I was supposed to say something, since the singing and the powerpoint was obviously an apology. I videotaped the whole performance, but his singing didn't even sound as good as it used to.

I don't want to speak to him anymore. Nor to anyone who doesn't listen fully, or always says thoughtlessly, to cut you off, "Ok, now I'm going to... (and then gives you a list of his plans for the day, which unfortunately, have to start right at that moment)"

Tired.

But glad, because exams will be over so soon! And then I can go home, where I'm happiest.

Chinese New Year's Eve Fireworks - 1

Was meaning to write something new, but found that this firework post drafted almost 2 months ago is already full of words... :-)


.......


Chinese New Year in China is like nowhere else in the world. I'd forgotten.... but looking at the videos and pics now, I remember.


As twilight faded on the eve of Chinese New Year, the fireworks started. Sitting in the van on the way back to the hotel, we were all very excited. We kept hearing the sounds of whizzing followed by explosions, but weren't sure from which direction they came, and so we kept turning our heads, looking first to one side, and then the other, sometimes catching a glimpse of fireworks being let off behind a distant building, sometimes seeing them directly in front of us, through the wide windsceen of the van. We took out our cameras, video cameras... in preparation, hoping perhaps we'd be quick enough to catch some of the fireworks going off



The driver and tour guide appeared unmoved, and commented that as the night progressed, we'd see even more fireworks, and that it would be very noisy, because all the car alarms would go off, and no one would sleep all night.



So that night after dinner, we set out from the hotel to take a walk ....









Even in front of the hotel, the celebrations had started. Not yet the big one, which would come at midnight - these fireworks now were just an expression of the people's merriment that at last, the old year was over; the year of the rat, which had burrowed deep into people's pockets, deep into the center of the earth, causing all manner of catastrophes. But now it would be over soon, and it was time to usher in the new year.









Little children (a little child per family) were brought by their parents to light sparklers. This one below is a poor family - they have a few small, floor-level fireworks, and for this night of pleasure, they have been saving up for months, and even spent a little more than is wise - because after all, does not the saying go, "If you try to save at the new year, you will not see very much new money through the coming year"? So tonight, side-by-side with better-off neighbours lighting their huge bursting fireworks, this family celebrates in its own small way, and the parents console themselves that next time, when things get better, they will be able to afford even bigger fireworks, and let off some big celebrations of their own.









The explosions never stop. You could stand still at the middle of the long stretch of road and watch the fireworks to your left and right, or walk on and stand right underneath them, feeling the heat of the falling sparks.

The government has made adequate preparations. All along the length of the esplanade is red tape, which cordons off the supply of fire extinguishers, and policeman stand at guard ready to extinguish the residual flames after a carton of fireworks has been emptied of its treasure.

And then we go back to the hotel, 10 minutes before midnight, and wait. We try a few different floors, running from one end of the hotel to the other (there are windows at both ends), searching for a good spot. It's almost twelve and we've decided that it'd be best to go back to our own floor (floor 15, I think), so we quickly rush there, because the fireworks have already started, all being let off at once and yet all going off at different times, a sudden explosion of sound and light and joy....

(you can watch the video below) .... to be continued in the next firework post, because there are lots of videos...! :-)