I haven't updated this in a while, but my thoughts are still very much in Malaysia. I was just glancing through some YAGM stuff online, and found this quote by a volunteer serving currently. I feel that it is what is so powerful about serving a year abroad, and she so brilliantly summed it up in a single sentence.

"I rejoice in my place of confusion and weakness because I have never felt so blessed in all my life."

transition? giant leap!

It is unbelievable to me that two months ago I was in Malaysia. My life now is completely different-- it's only when I sit quiet for a moment that I find memories, missing, and subtle differences float to the forefront of my being.

When I was in Malaysia, I was terrified for my return to the US. One, because I'm a planner. And I had no control over my future, or any inkling of what was coming next. Two, because I was heavily warned that re-entry would be difficult. And so I was terrified for it, for many things and many changes.

I can't say if the transition was easy or difficult-- mainly because I didn't have a transition. I'm still waiting for the day where it all just hits me and I'm overwhelmed.

After coming home, my time was filled with visits and trips to see many meaningful people. Camp, college friend reunions, a family trip, a wedding... many good things. Throughout this time, however, I was very aware of the reality that faced me, and the necessity for me to find a job.

In my fifth week home, and really, my first week back at the job hunt, I received a job offer. Everything really fell together-- I hadn't even applied to the school, I didn't really have to interview. I would start the next week, move the following weekend.

My job is a 9-10 self-contained special ed. classroom. I have two paraprofessionals in my room, and my kids come in and out throughout the day. They are high functioning kids for the most part, they just have had a rough go with life (and school) so far. I never thought I'd be a high school teacher (and to be honest, I'm not even qualified), but here I am. I am learning every single day. And scrambling. And asking questions. And feeling overwhelmed. My kids push me. And get angry and lie. And come in early before school to have someone to talk to.

I get home late at night, a frazzled, second time around first year teacher, to my quiet two bedroom apartment, glance around at my new small town life, and then remember... was I really just in Malaysia?

I can't even begin to explain the contrast of teaching in Malaysia versus teaching in the US. Yikes.

I struggled for a while with the pace of life, it seemed so stressful to have a full to-do list for the day. And then, not even being able to get that list completed! I still often wish for a slower pace, though know it's not even feasible.

I still have a few funny moments sometimes, as I get used to states-side life again.
-- hearing teachers talking during a meeting and automatically assuming that they are translating the information into another language
-- looking at my toaster that has a cover, and feeling very pleased that the geckos won't get inside
-- thinking I see geckos darting around my house. often.
-- forgetting that tipping at a restaurant is expected
-- left-hand turns. every time.
-- calling a friend in another state, and thinking we were in different countries
-- being surprised my bedroom didn't have a fan. and then buying one, because I couldn't sleep without a breeze
-- hot water and potable water never cease to amaze me

I miss Malaysia most on Saturdays, when the sun is out, and I want to walk into town to go to the market. I miss it when I erase my board myself, and my students leave without even saying goodbye. I miss it when I crave rice every single week. I miss it when I see pictures, or forget malay phrases that I used to know. I miss it when I receive emails from the people I used to see every single day.

I was so worried about losing my identity that was created in Malaysia, and instead of losing it by reverting back to an old one, through my new job, I was given a new identity. I am now Ms. H, a funny first year teacher from the wrong state, who doesn't know the rules, who is learning to be all-knowing and organized, and fighting to be an advocate. Transition is a thing I include in my students' education plans.

I only hope that Malaysia isn't only a memory, and somehow, all these identities can combine.

And, if you're looking to hear about a SE Asia country, I'm always open to talking. And talking.

Until the next adventure...

final farewell photos

Brownie, the neighborhood puppy

My favorite church to attend

My place of work!

A farewell lunch with friends.

Nothing like fish and rice, eating it with your hands!

My final class, EN B Intensive!

Final family group party at Francis' house

Jumpa lagi...

hello my home country hello

I am back States side, safe and sound. The last couple weeks have been a whirlwind, from finishing up my time teaching and saying goodbye, to the world's longest flights, to gratefully greeting friends and family back home. I wanted to take the time today to record some of my initial thoughts of returning back home.

From the flight...

At about 2am, flying over the Pacific ocean, the flight attendant offers me dinner. It was not a normal eating time, in Malaysia OR the US, so I didn't really want any dinner. I asked if I could just have a roll and some crackers, instead of the whole meal. He says sure, but offers me a second roll. I didn't want it, but of course accepted it graciously. It was after the flight attendant was down the aisle that I realized I was able to, inoffensively, decline the food.

Flying into California, at about 9pm. I say to Kelsey, "Why is it light out? I thought we were supposed to be getting into California at night?" only to realize that it was indeed night time, and that in the States it gets dark past 6pm. And it was summer time!

The US airports were a shock in itself-- they were so rushed and loud. It seemed like everyone was shouting and rules were the utmost importance; so much for the courtesy of airports of the past (and SE Asia). Immediately I was shocked by the size of the people, as well as the quickness I could speak in English and have people comprehend me. I nervously counted and recounted my American money, unsure that I was using it correctly. I still have my bills sorted in different compartments in my wallet, just to keep it straight. Color coded money is such a good idea, Malaysia.

Now home, I find myself doing peculiar things all of the time. Most of the time I just laugh at myself. Things include:
-- Taking my shoes off immediately at the door. No matter where I am.
-- Washing down dishes before using them. You know, in case of cockroaches or geckos.
-- Trying to find the light switch and water heater switch outside the bathroom door. It's not there.
-- Amazed every time I receive hot water from the faucet. It's really amazing.
-- The toilet handle is on the other side of the toilet. I can never find it.
-- Expecting there to be a squat toilet in the third stall of public bathrooms. Haven't found one yet.
-- Carrying toilet paper with me wherever I go. Then I'm always amazed when the bathrooms have toilet paper.
-- Still being extremely cautious about the water I drink. Every time I brush my teeth, I realize that I can swallow the water. I asked my brother if the water from his sink was drinkable.
-- Jumping in the dark, thinking I saw a huge monitor lizard. Oh wait, it's Wisconsin.
-- Wrapping up in jeans and a sweater.
-- Using plastic bags for everything. And tying them up in knots, so they don't take up as much space in the collection of plastic bags (this is very Malaysian).
-- Wishing to respond to people in Malay all the time, especially question words. Kenapa?
-- Driving... yikes! Left hand turns still scare me like crazy.

I still find myself adjusting, my digestive system especially. So much for dairy products and sweets. I find myself keenly aware of issues such as energy use, race, materialism, and recycling/wasting. For a while, Malaysia just seemed like a surreal dream, and that I hadn't been away at all. Now, within the last week, I find myself missing people terribly, and just wishing for anyone to gab about Malaysia to for hours.

It has been busy since I've been back, and I think that has been doubly helpful and hurtful. I had some friends visit, went up north to the cottage with family and cousins, worked at camp for a few days, and went on a road trip out to CO to visit my brother. This following week I will see college friends while attending the wedding of two college friends. I'm anticipating more downtime, but those quiet moments filling with the ache of missing and the anxiety of job searching.

Looking forward to catching up with you all, thanks for reading throughout the year.

Much love,
Ellen

malaysia playlist

Nothing beats a foreign country playlist! Just for kicks and for a glimpse into pop culture, I thought you might like to "enjoy" (or peruse) the songs that I will forever identify with Malaysia. Thanks repetition.
Mine, however, has an interesting twist because I've added in a few songs from the seminary too. Starting from most current. If anything else comes to mind, I'll add it to the list!

1. Waka Waka, Shakira
2. Wavin' Flag, K'naan
3. Bad Romance, Lady Gaga
4. Nobody but You, Wonder Girls
5. Just Dance, Lady Gaga
6. Sebab Nama-mu Kudus
7. Mamarayou Oku Kinorohingan
8. The Prayer
9. Poker Face, Lady Gaga
10. Ku Mau Cinta Yesus Selamanya
11. You Raise Me Up
12. Sayang Kinabalu

an orchestra, two seas, and a sunset

This weekend I had the chance to work crew for an orchestra. I accompanied them for the weekend to Kudat for a concert at the Tip of Borneo. It was fun, funny, and beautiful.

This beach is named after a Rungus warrior

The tip of Borneo-- where the South China Sea meets the Sulu Seas

I love places where two things meet

Crew members

Beauty

little things that make my day

Despite the fact that I had to turn my calendar to July today (ahhh!), it has been a beautiful day so far.

7:15 I got to work this morning, and as I was in the office preparing for my class one of the office ladies asked me the meaning of a word. This sounds like a funny thing, but most days we just exchange a hello and get back to our work. It's also this type of thing that helps reinforce my place in the community and a role where others rely on me (instead of it always being me relying on others!).

7:20 On my way back to my office I ran into one of my former students. We just had a great conversation, chatting about it being July and how soon I had to go back, when could I come again, who would teach English, how she would miss me. It just made me smile. Talking with former students may be one of my new favorite things.

7:40 I begin my class, only to have one of my former students join. He is such a motivated student and works really hard (as evident by his independent joining of my class in his free time so he can practice his English). It was fun to have him back in class, and it's kind of flattering to have someone want to take your class for a second time!

9:30 Chapel time-- we had chapel in the old chapel, which is gorgeous. It's kind of like the chapel up at camp, where all the doors on the side open up to the outside. It's surrounded by jungle, and a cool breeze blows through it. Before chapel began, I talked with one of the librarians, trying to explain in Malay how I was feeling about today. She told me we'd have to take a photo together next week. :)

11:00 After chapel on Thursdays is tea fellowship. Here I caught up with some of the girls at STS, because we are planning to go for lunch next week. I'm really excited for it.

Like I said, little things. Tetapi sangat baik.

Outwit, Outplay, Outlast

This weekend Kelsey and I took a short trip to Pulau Tiga, the three-island park where the first season of the reality show Survivor: Borneo was filmed. While the memorabilia and things to see from the show (such as the tribal council area) were scare or non-existent, it was still a great trip. It was funny to learn that the place we stayed at actually existed before the show was filmed, and hosted the camera crew during the filming. I think overall they had to do some work to make the island seem more remote than it was, as it was only a 20 minute boat ride from the mainland.

The island was beautiful, there were amazing hiking trails and beaches, great snorkeling, and tons of things to do. There weren't many people there either, so it was just a peaceful way to spend the weekend. We both agreed we could have definitely spent more time there.

Survivor Island!

View of Pulau Tiga from Pulau Kalampunian

Something from the show!

One of the tribes was on this beach

Just what I always wanted, a really deadly snake

A morning hike

Of course, we had to go to the mud volcanoes.

I survived! Do I win $1,000,000?

Back to school

Summer's over! Okay, not really... but I do go back to school tomorrow (and it's the rainy season anyway. Again.). After enjoying a holiday break and becoming sufficiently ancy of being at home, I begin my second semester of teaching tomorrow (and embark on my last four weeks in Malaysia-- yikes!). My class will be an intensive English class, putting in three course credits in four short weeks; not dissimilar to May term at Wartburg. I'm sure by the time I get the hang of the routine, it'll be time for the final exam!

I spent my break well. Here's a few picture highlights-- I was lucky to be able to travel a bit around the beautiful state I live in, between some one-on-one tutorials, catching up on reading, and dinner dates with friends. The new map on the side of my blog should help you put a location to the places.

A visit to Tuaran, about 30 minutes bus ride from KK.

Tuaran is the placement site of one of the other volunteers, Jacob. Jacob works at a foster home for underprivileged children. Tuaran is super chill, a small town with a village feel. We had a great time visiting the pagoda in town, eating Tuaran mee, and taking the kids from his placement to the beach.

From Poring Hot Springs in Ranau.

We had a great hike through the jungle to this beautiful waterfall!

The Orangutan Sanctuary in Sandakan.

A three-day stay at a jungle camp on the Kinabatangan River outside of Sepilok.
We stayed in these open air huts in the jungle!
This was one of my favorite things I've done in Malaysia;
we went on many night treks and river safaris looking for wildlife.
Lots of crocs, monkeys, orangutans (in the wild!), and sweet birds.

The view from our front porch.

Also, I want to send out a giant thank you to everyone who has sent me mail this year! It has been fun and refreshing for my spirit. Here's your friendly reminder to not send anymore. :) Thanks!

DIY dumplings

If you've ever had Chinese dumplings before, you know they are fairly delicious (especially fried). Lucky for you (and me), my student Su Min taught me how to make said delicious dumplings. So scratch away about five hours of time, grab your expert friends, ingredients, and enjoy!

All the ingredients, finely chopped and lightly fried (the most time consuming part).

Corn, carrots, squid, beef mixed with soy sauce,

mee hoon noodles, mysterious white Chinese vegetable, and chives.

Of course, friends to help (and teach).

After kneading and refrigerating the dough (flour and water), create and stuff the dumplings!

Go for beautiful.

Steam, fry, make soy sauce, and eat!

Tonight I attended an engagement party of two former students from the seminary. I had no idea what to expect, especially after receiving quite the formal invitation, but had heard a variety of things-- that it should be interesting because the couple comes from two different tribes. Another friend told me to expect a formal discussion of the dowry in front of the crowd of witnesses. Instead, I attended a worship service in the back hall of the house, watching the couple sign a contract for their engagement, and exchange engagement rings right then. Of course, it was a big party with abundant food.

When coming to a new country, we naturally expect the country to be different than our own, but I don't think we always expect the changes that occur within ourselves. On the way to the party tonight, I rode with one of my students and his family. This was the first time I had met his family, and I'm always overjoyed to be able to place a whole other life with the students I only know within the classroom setting. What struck me tonight was the friendship I found in his wife, Esther. Shortly after meeting, say about a five minute car ride, we were already friends. She held me close to her side, wrapping her arm tightly around my waist to keep warm as we waited in line for food. We chatted in a mixture of English and Malay discussing the food, secretly stashing extra chocolates in our purses, and talking about her work and family. As we ate, we shared food off of our plates so we could try each flavor of the expensive desserts. It was on the way home, as she grasped my hand tightly for every funny joke, that I realized the potential oddity of our friendship. Through half the evening, I didn't even know her or her children's names. But here we were, holding hands and sharing knowing glances as the kids chattered nonsense in the backseat. And I don't find it the least bit odd.

I am confident that at the beginning of my time in Malaysia I could have never reached this level of mutual understanding and friendship-- I had too many barriers, preset societal expectations and codes from my own country, natural introverted tendencies, and didn't know enough about the people and the culture to even make conversation. At the same time, I am also keenly aware (and embarrassed) that such a fast welcoming would be hard for her to come by in my own country.

Why it this? Because it's polite? Because we are afraid of being open?

The program I'm with talks a lot about solidarity, and what it means to walk beside the people you are living with. I think tonight I finally understood-- Esther and I could relate, because we knew what foods were a treat to be having. We could relate, because I knew her 30min walk to work; I take it weekly too. We could relate, because she was willing to accept me in her family and I, likewise, was willing to reach back.

I fully intend on extending this same level of greeting in the future, no matter the social norm. Why settle for a handshake and a polite hello, when you can spend the entire evening in close proximity, friendship, and laughter?

Singapore Sights

A few weekends ago, we had our third and final volunteer retreat. We headed to the small city country of Singapore to enjoy a few short days of sights and fellowship.

Singapore is definitely different than any place I've experienced in Asia thus far. Past the normal exclamations about Singapore (the organization of the city, the cleanliness, the laws forbidding chewing gum), I found myself adding new ones, being thrown off by a nice bathroom or when someone struck up a conversation with me in English. Overall, I think our group was a bit overwhelmed in the vast differences in a country just a few hours plane ride from our own. I think that it may have been a good thing to have had this retreat last, to remind us, however difficult, of the Western lifestyle that we left behind and will be returning to.

Singapore has a considerable arts scene, and is a city that is being built up by the day. We stayed with hosts with the Presbyterian church, and as always, enjoyed time together and exploring a new place.

Singapore skyline at night.

If you look closely, you can see the merlion statue (mermaid + lion)

spitting water-- the mascot of Singapore.

The infamous Esplanade theater.

Some say it is more famous (and beautiful) than the Sydney Opera house, though I agree with the critics who claim it is modeled after a durian.

A street arts festival, showcasing a fire exhibit. It was really amazing.

We also had the chance to go to the Singapore Zoo.

It's world famous because it doesn't use cages for its animals.

Exhibit A.

I learned that White tigers now only exist in zoos.

A historical section of town, Emerald Hill, with Chinese baroque architecture.

climbing adventures

This past week we had the opportunity to climb Mt. Kinabalu, the highest mountain in SE Asia. It was a two-day climb, a total of 9 kilometers if you make it all the way to the summit. It was steep! A tough adventure, to say the least. But it was beautiful!

The mountain

Part of the trail

The impressive porters

11,000 feet-- where we stopped for the night

Brrrr! It was COLD!

In the clouds

The summit!

A Sunday Ride

Our Sunday plans often vary, but today we walked down to the Anglican church, then hit up the large Chinese market on the way home. After two hours of church, an hour at the market, and a sidetrack for an impromptu brunch of teh tarik and pau, we started making the sweaty trek home.

From downtown up to the seminary campus you have two options. Either a grueling 5 minute cardio up a steep and unlevel jungle hill, or a leisure 20 minute walk on the road. It’s always a toss-up; up the shortcut for more sweat? Or the scenic route with the unpredictable dogs and cars?

Every once in a while though, we run into a friend with a car. Today was one of those days.

As the car slowed down, creeping next to us, I felt my frustration rise. I was about ready to roll my eyes and say to Kels, “Really? Can’t they just let us walk home in peace?” when she looked in the car and found not young gawking Malay men full of catcalls, but the gardener from STS.

My relationship with the gardener is based on friendly greetings. Each day we exchange a smile and a selamat pagi. But he’s a quiet guy, I’m the quiet orangputih, and our work doesn’t exactly cross paths.

We slip into the car, unsure of where to begin the conversation. He’s with his wife, whom I've never met; a few small shopping bags slide on the back seat, some black jeans slipping out of one of the bags.

“Kamu pergi di geraja?” I fumble and ask, already knowing my question is incorrect.

I stumble through my Malay as we have our first official conversation. Did you go to church? Yes, and the morning market. PCS church? No, Anglican. You are Anglican? No, I’m Lutheran.

The wife speaks faster. Maybe my Malay is sufficient enough that she assumes I can speak… I surprise myself in being able to answer and understand most of it.

Did you learn Malay at STS?

I laugh, and reply, “Tidak belajar... Not learn.”

We silently pull into the drive. “Kamu tinggal di sana?” Yes, we live over there.

An exchange of termia kasihs and we were on our way, but I couldn't stop thinking about the brief exchange that had just occured.

He doesn’t know me well, and he could have easily not given us a ride. But in the few minutes it took to drive up the winding road to the seminary, I felt surrounded in the love and friendliness found in a small gesture of kindness, in the most unexpected of places.

The Sounds of Malaysia

Close your eyes and listen.

Hear

The constant whirring of the fan

The bright chirp of the birds outside

The rumble of a truck pulling into the driveway

The stale breeze rustling through the palms

The drone of the planes consistently taking off for foreign countries

Hear the clinking of chopsticks in a bowl, the mixture of languages.

The wind is blowing your way, the faint call to prayer echos from the city below.

In the morning, you wake to roosters, construction, car alarms, and shouts in Malay.

The rain blares, the water rushes through the make-shift gutters, the frogs form their chorus.

The incessant honking cues you—it’s time to do your shopping, before the truck pulls away and you have to walk into town.

Singing fills the hallways of the seminary. Top hits? You raise me up, The Prayer, Amazing Grace, and the Hallelujah Chorus.

The market sellers sing their products. Eventually, you buy the best products with your ears, not your eyes.

Walking through the mall and the stalls, the shopkeepers sing to themselves, keeping company. You catch their eyes, but they smile, unembarrassed, and continue their song.

On the street, you hear motorbikes, buses, phone conversations, and kids on the street, strategically avoiding the questions of “taxi?” and “hello, ma!”

In the evenings, when the construction has died down, you sit back and listen to the families below. Hidden from sight in a tangle of jungle vegetation, the sounds of clanging pots cooking dinner over a fire, children crying and playing, and beats of loud music from their shanty homes rise through the window.

As you lay down to sleep, the eerie calm is broken by cat fights and dogs howling. Every so often the morning call to prayer pierces through the night stillness, alerting you in the darkness. The roosters start early, cuing your internal clock-- it beats your alarm every time.

gotong royong

The new building from my apartment window

STS has been in the process of building a new education center, and the big day is finally here. This Saturday is the opening celebration for the building. I'm grateful for this for a variety of reasons, but mostly so I can sleep at night and have a limited amount of dust to clean up in my apartment.

Somehow, I'm not quite sure how, the building is almost ready. It's a huge building, including an auditorium, two floors of classrooms, a sports court, a two-floor library, and a whole floor of apartments to my knowledge.

Gotong Royong is a Malaysian concept, roughly translated into "mutual assistance." More directly, it often refers to the idea of "many hands make light work." These last two days have been a big gotong royong for the new building, so all the students, faculty, and staff have been cleaning.

Malaysians are thorough cleaners. I don't quite know how else to put it. We cleaned anything and everything. I've swept out parking garages, wiped down auditorium chairs, scraped cement off window frames, dug out sewers, and, my personal favorite, washed out the parking ramp. I felt pretty Malaysian yesterday with my face mask on and a towel draped over my head-- a look I hope to pull off when I clean in the States. Though I don't think I'll ever be so adjusted that I also wear long sleeves, pants, and socks to avoid the sun.

Through it all, the concept of gotong royong shown true. I've been loving every minute of community as we cleaned, and the laid back personalities led to lots of singing and practical jokes.

The rest of this week is filled with late-night choir rehearsals and cleaning my own apartment as we gear up for this weekend. Maybe I can convince everyone to do a gotong royong for me!

what's in a name

“When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). John 19: 14-16

Names are a powerful thing. This is evident in John, when Mary does not recognize Jesus until he calls her by name. This has always struck me—the power that is held in our name, and the identity it tightly carries.

Before coming to Malaysia I was introduced to a wonderful poem. One line really struck me--

Continue to call each other by the names I've given you, to help remember who you are.
You will get where you are going by remembering who you are.

Why would I need to keep hearing my name, to have people call me by my name?
How could I forget who I am?

We heard a lot in orientation about losing our identities within the culture. For example, we needed to be prepared that everything we had done in our lives up to this point may have no meaning in our new country. Try telling this to 50 recent college grads who have been building up their resumes for four years or more. Nevertheless, I tried to mentally prepare myself to shed the identities that had defined who I was.

When we first got to Malaysia, it seemed instead as if we were given an overarching identity to keep all of us orangputih straight. Hi, please meet Jacob, the only boy and trumpet player, this is Erika, the basketball player, this is Ellen, the ballet dancer. My whole life was boiled down to one talent that people could remember me by upon first meeting. Luckily, these identities eventually faded (and people forgot I could perform) as we got to know people and created our own communities.

Not much later on in my time here, I had another frustrating identity experience through a dinner conversation. The man sitting next to me wanted to know what my hobbies were, what I did for exercise.
“Do you jog?” he asked.
“No, I’m not really a runner,” I replied.
“Well, then you don’t exercise?”
“No, I do,” I assured him.
Knowing that I didn’t want to explain my occasional routine of Pilates or an elliptical machine back in the States, I just stated that I used to dance.
“Oh, so you’re not active,” he concluded.
We circled around in conversation as he continued to state that I did nothing, and I kept trying to describe that yes, I did many things. The problem was in the translation. Everything I had ever done (dance, theater, choir) didn’t have a meaningful translation here, and at the end of the meal, I had resigned to this man thinking I was lazy because I wasn’t a runner and didn’t play ping pong.

At orientation we also had made a list of everything we were, how we defined ourselves. On my note card I began to list-- daughter, sister, friend, problem solver, advice giver… and so on. This activity came to my mind again the other day as I thought of my new identity.

Like water seeping through the cracks in the pavement, I have slowly formed an identity here. I still remember the first day someone approached me for an English related task and the excitement I felt— I finally had a purpose, something I did, something someone saw me as! Over time, I have become an English teacher, a support system, a friend to sit next to, a listener here.

I think roles that give us an identity and a sense of purpose are an innate need. And while I'm eager to discuss my duties here, or my new-found hobbies, I’m still drawn to the identity that lies within my name.

Jesus called Mary by name. Before that point, she did not recognize him.

Being called by name is so personal. Just one word is filled with a breadth of emotions—in requests, excitement, sadness, anger, gratitude.

I remember back to my student teaching, it took me forever to not only answer to Miss Hilger, but to take it on as my own identity.

In Malaysia, my name is Teacher. Miss Ellen. Sama Ellen. Miss. Sayama. Laoshi. Chikgu. Jiejie.

The funny thing about names is they are rarely given to us by ourselves. Other people, through time, create the identity within us.

I realized today that I am afraid to lose these names. Afraid that after this year, I will never hear a subdued voice, inquiring, “Sama Ellen? Teacher?"

the funny nuances

After having been in Malaysia a while, I've gotten used to the things that seemed a bit peculiar at first-- things like wiping off all your silverware at a restaurant, drinking certain drinks for the perfect cure, or putting anything and everything in a small plastic bag (my favorite is when you order a fountain drink and it comes in a plastic bag). Though this week, I was surprised once again (though I really shouldn't have been), and wanted to jot it down.

In family group on Tuesdays, we always have fellowship and eat snacks at the end. This time somebody brought Mamee, which are noodles in a little packet, like Ramen. We weren't having noodles to eat though-- instead everyone just crunched up the noodles in the packet, added the seasoning, and ate them like chips. I still laugh when I think about it. Luckily, they were BBQ flavoured!

And another anecdote from my night class...

Today we were reviewing the present perfect tense, eliciting sentencing about a pilot. I had given each student a key word, and they were to use the word correctly in the tense to talk about the pilot. For example, "The pilot has worked for the airport since 2008," or "The pilot has flown to over 20 countries." And so on.

It's one student's turn, and he writes, "I have not yet written my thesis."

The class gives a collective, "huh? it's supposed to be about the pilot!"

"Ohhh, the subject is the pilot?"

He then proceeds to change his writing to read, "The pilot has not yet written his thesis."

At this point, we all were crying with laughter, because we didn't want to ride in that plane!

a record number of posts this week

Sometimes, it rains in Malaysia.

And on better times, there's a double rainbow.

I wish I had a sweet panoramic camera, because it literally filled the entire sky.

You can even see Mt. K in the background.

My backyard (just imagine the rainbow arching over it).