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.