Malaysia-Not in Kansas Anymore

Dear Readers,

We began our trip to Malacca, Malaysia (the country Singapore was suppose to be a part of. They split in 1964) by going by taxi to the bus hub near our old haunt, Raffles Hospital. We got on our bus early, about 8:30 am. The bus was good, spacious, and the seats inclined. I was impressed. We even got a bottle of water for the ride. All was good till we reached the Singapore checkpoint. Since I have a new passport, there's nothing stamped in it. We had to wait in the passport line while all the other natives sailed through the "auto" line. The bus driver was annoyed when we got held up-they wanted to see my old passport (which was back at the aprtment). That wasn't going to happen so we comprised on my Permanent Resident card (Green card). They let me through finally and our bus was waiting for the next hurdle. A short time later we arrive at the Malaysia checkpoint where we have to get off and dragged our suitcase into the terminal where we wait once again in a passport line. I am scared now because I know the new passport is a sticky point. But as it turned out, he didn't give it a second glance. Stamped it-yeah, no longer blank, and I was gone. Now he gave Steve the third degree-where you going, where you living, what's your favorite color? I had to laugh. Then we dragged our suitcase back out of the terminal and got back on the bus (they didn't even check the suitcase. What was the point of that?) Anyway, we were in Malaysia and guess what, it looked exactly like Singapore! The highway was completely modern and I swore I was in Virginia. Until I saw the oil palm trees for the next three hours. That's all I saw. We stopped at a rest stop? near Malacca. It was a hawker stand with something that passed as a restroom included. Now let me tell you about the bathrooms. The Asians are fond of squatting. Their idea of a toilet is a hole. You have to squat someway over this hole without falling out of the stall or getting stuck in that position or peeing on your clothes. I always feel like I am outside in the woods somewhere. Sanitary? Not on your life.

Our "five minute" stop turned into a half hour lunch break for the driver. We were suppose to get to our hotel by 12:30 so we could catch the 2:00 historic tour. We finally arrived at 1:40 with a sandwich I bought at the hotel for lunch. We split a Pepsie. The hotel was the Holiday Inn, brand new, and very nice. Our room overlooked the ocean (Straits of Malacca) and a new modern looking Mosque to remind me I was an American with a grudge. No complaints there. The guide was there and we got into a van and were off. Right off the bat we came to a high hill with a huge amount of steps to climb in 105 degree heat. Here were the remains of the Portuguese, then Dutch fort with the first catholic church on top of the hill. Not much was left because the English bombed it back in the 1700's. It was amazing to me how the Portuguese got there in the early 1500's and set up camp. Their descendants are still there and still catholic.

Anyhow, sweating like a pig, I climbed the steps and gazed at the statue of St. Francis of Xaiver or something. He was the first missionary and his statue is missing part of an arm because when he died, they wanted to ship him back to India but the climate wouldn't cooperate. Instead they chopped off his arm and sent that pickled back to India. The Dutch turned it into a Protestant Church when they kicked out the Portuguese. Then the English turned the catholic churches into Anglican churches later. That's how it works. By the way, Malacca means sour fruit in Malay. I found that to be fitting.

We briefly looked at old churches, Hindu Temples, poked into mosques, and observed Buddhist/Chinese temples there. We toured the mock Portuguese ship in the canal. We were dropped off to shop, still sweating, and the place reminded me alot of Bali with the narrow roads and cracked sidewalks. Then came dinner at a Malay famous restaurant wich reminded me of Cambodia. Like always I ordered a coke and had to pay extra. I was horrified when they brought me ice. Later I found out that the water in Malaysia is safe. In fact, Singapore imports their water from there. All this time I have been drinking Malay water.

I don't know what we ate. Of course there was rice. There were shrimp floating in curry, chicken dipped in this or that, some brown stuff we couldn't tell, and cooked cabbage. The dessert was a dish of coconut milk which I refused to touch and most definitely insulted my host. See, coconut milk used in everything in Asia. It also acts as a laxative. So no thanks. We went back to the hotel and had a piece of cake.

The TV remote wouldn't work because the batteries were dead. We gave up and went to bed. The next day we went out on our own to the new mall across the street to look around. Sweating once again, we ended up back in the historic area where we shopped some more, took a canal boat ride, and noticed the graffiti. They must watch alot of rap videos. Anyway, our time was short and after a lunch at McDonalds, we caught a ride back with Steve's fellow worker from the plant who is Malay and was in Malacca for a wedding. He offered to give us a ride because it would be shorter. But he decided to show us around Malacca first. He took us to another fort that we had to climb then to a catholic church that has a cross people take pieces from for healing (not much left) and then a Buddhist cemetery. His friend explained that Moslem Malays are buried standing up with only a wrapping around the body. I noticed there were no names on the little stones. If you are Malay (not of Portuguese, Euroasian, Indian, or Chinese decent) then you are legally Muslim. You can be prosecuted by law if you practice another religion. No kidding. This is true in Indonesia as well. There is no converting. Religion, especially Islam, is a serious matter. The friend of Steve's driving was Buddhist (he was of Chinese descent) and his wife (also Chinese) was Catholic. I was in the back seat with the wife and two girls (2 and 4) for the next five hours.

Now to get back into Singapore, you drove into a checkpoint and handed through the window, your passport. The lady called out everyone's name and we waved back. That was it. They didn't check the luggage, the car, or anything. I found that odd. Couldn't we have been carrying drugs, a bomb, or at the very least a carton of illegal ciggarettes? We weren't of course, but still. How do they expect to keep the chewing gum out if they don't check?

So that was it. We returned home about 7:00 pm. Healthy and tired.

You mean that's smoke?

Dear Readers,

Singapore is on fire. Or rather Sumatra is. Somewhere in Indonesia on an island they are burning rainforest for all their worth. Why? To plant crops in the very ineffective mode of agriculture called slash and burn. It has been the way of doing things for centuries and in Sumatra, they think it's still 1000 A.D. So the smoke from these fires has blanketed Singapore and Malaysia for days now, blocking out the sun and causing the eyes to burn. It's very blah outside, gray and New York City like. Ha! I have never experienced smog before because I live on a farm in the U.S. It's common here in Asia but I never thought it would infer with my life as a sloth at the pool. What a tough life.

Now that my friend Tammy is back, it's time to get into trouble around the island. We try to go somewhere interesting every week and often find ourselves lost. You see, I am the navigator and it's like the blind leading the blind. I have a map (it means nothing to me) and Tammy isn't much help. So yesterday we decided to visit this mall called Great City that my other friend Annette often talks about. We had to take a taxi because there wasn't a MRT stop any where close. No problem. The mall was new, modern, and best of all we found a Kenny Rogers Chicken place. I'd never heard of it but Tammy knew all about it. So we has chicken for lunch and it was very good. I was delighted to find out the mall had a movie theatre as ours has closed down for nine months. Then came the tricky part. Annette had told me about Quilt and Friends in this Tan Boon Liat Building within walking distance. I knew it was on Mt. Zion street and it was near the Concorde Hotel. So we asked someone, they sent us in one direction. Then we asked another person, they sent us in the opposite direction. This went on for an hour and a half before we realized that the Holiday Inn has taken over the Concorde Hotel. We found a man who told us, yeah, the building next door really was the building he was looking for. Looking for the quilt shop? he asked. Yeah, what gave us away? His friend's sister worked there. Are you sure that ratty old building next door that looked like an government housing block was where we were suppose to go? The one with -was that underwear? hanging out from the top floor? Yeah. Well, we walked on, all around this place trying to find the way in. It was another mile before we actually came to the gate. The building was a warehouse. Up on the sixth floor I could see the place I was looking for. We looked at each other. Did we really want to venture into such a creepy place? Sketchy guys all around. Even sketchier guys in the elevator. We weren't allowed to punch the buttons ourselves. That was sketchy guy's job. Well, we finally got there and it was a real shop. I am trying to make the red chinese latern quilt for Tammy and we bought some white and red material. I got a card with an address-I will be taking a taxi next time! This shop is run by a little old Swiss lady and yes, she was real nice like Annette claimed. They told us to take a bus back to Orchard but we have no experience with that. We went back to the Holiday Inn and got a taxi. Poor Tammy was worn out!

Tammy told me some bad news. She and her husband Greg take lots of medication and have it shipped over through his company. The customs here seized their medicine and said they can't do that any more without a license. See, they aren't selling the stuff. They are taking the stuff. That didn't cut any ice with them. You don't mess with the customs people-they make life very hard. I am worried now about my medication which is just mailed in a box through the regular mail. Will I have to have a license to get an antacid? Does seem silly. I will wait and see how Tammy resolves this before I panic. Hope we don't end up in jail.

Well, we're off to Malaysia. Hope we can see the sights through the smoke.

Life in Singapore

Donna cops out.

Dear Readers,

I recently noticed that my $10 purse was on the brink of death. The shoulder straps are always the first to go. So, where to go. I am not a designer purse person. I don't know one brand from another therefore I don't think someone's name on a purse means anything I should pay attention to. I was looking for a purse that was small, had shoulder straps, but I could carry a small umbrella in. I have been soaked too many times in surprise storms here in Singapore. I don't want to be caught unaware. Where I live there are a hundred high end purse stores. Because my knees are giving me trouble, I didn't want to have to travel very far to find a purse so I found myself wandering through my favorite department store that sells designer purses. And there it was. A new arrival. A Hilly on a pedestal. Blue. My favorite colour. Many salegirls were following me around because I looked like a white tourist-their favorite mark. They get a commission. I was disappointed I couldn't give all of them a sale but alas, I needed only one purse. You can see the purse above. At the same time I went to 7 Eleven to buy a cell phone that operates off a pay card (Sims). If you buy one, the government has to know who you are and you have to give them a copy of your passport to purchase one.

They are afraid that terorists are buying them to operate in Singapore. They do this in Indonesia (they have found hugh amounts of them in the terorist headquarters). So I am now registered with the government as an owner of a cell phone. I can never remember the 10 digit phone number. I have to carry the number written down in a small notebook (which also fits in this blue purse!)

I was told to buy a cell phone by my new friend Annette who is from Blacksburg VA. She and I were taking quilt lessons from Ira, the quilt lady nearby. She insulted Annette once too often and now she has defected to another quilt shop run by a nice Swiss lady. There she found a whole group of Ira defectors taking classes. She had asked me to come over to the dark side. I am still thinking it over. I am sure that when Ira sees my latest problems with my current quilt, she will give me an ear full. Rightly so. Is that a reason not to put up with her verbal abuse? She is a mother figure to me. My mother always gives me an ear full. I feel at home there.

I am going to the new quilt shop next week to check it out. It's always good to know where an alternate supply of material is. The other picture is me in my newest little black dress. I wore it out to Jumbo Seafood Restaurant at Dempsey Hill. This was a nice Chinese place where the walls were filled with live fish and lobsters and shrimp in tanks. Every once in awhile I would see a net come down and another fish would disappear. Fred the lobster would reappear in a cute dish of rice and vegetables at the table next door. It was quite a magic trick!

More from Asia later!