meeting people

i have been thinking about what travel is for me. i am in a place that i really like, and have come to multiple times over the past few years. there is a certain comfort to the place and the pace of life here. there is both a history and a future that is clearly visible on the streets. i am here to relax, eat, drink and sleep. travel is about meeting people, places are more about the people you interact with than the locations themselves.

sunday afternoon i walked into a tailor shop hoping to get a new jacket. i had been to this shop a few years ago, recommended by the hotel i was staying in i had gone in for a suit; and came out 4 days later with 3. those earlier suits are wonderful, they are not only high quality at a great price, but they remind me of the fittings. i remember complete conversations, with a tailor who speaks little or no english. i made a friend that week, the experience made the trip and it was one of the reasons i am back now.

a few months ago i needed a jacket for a business trip. i started hunting in KL for a sports jacket. in contrast to buying suits here, doing almost anything in KL is an experience in frustration, inter-mixed with delay and miscommunication and ending in either expensive disappointment or complete failure. i have lived in KL for almost 5 years, i have no tailors who are friends and find it cheaper, easier and much more fun to fly to communist country to buy clothes. so many things are just harder than they need to be in my new home, and that frustration builds up.

i do have a favorite cafe in KL, i go there and the staff call me abang. i feel welcome and they know what i want. they took the time to figure out what i like and to smile and talk to me. but this is far from the norm in KL. the malaysian mindset is one of transactional encounters, with scant interest in building friendships over the longer term. this might be centered in retail space where staff are not owners and are not planning to be there for very long; but i think it goes deeper than that.

early monday morning the train to the mountains pulled into its final stop and we disembarked into the darkness. there was confusion with the pickup which taught that viet-english of "one minute" in no way means 60 seconds, or anything even close. the eventual pickup was followed by a slow climb up the valley, 30 km of switch back curves with piles of rock and heaps of sand blocking lanes of travel. if the roads where not scary enough, the mute driver was yawning and shaking his head to stay awake. i really wanted to know the viet-english for slow down and stop passing on curves.

checking into the hotel was made very easy with a helpful receptionist who spoke good english. she was dressed in a local costume with a red turbin and drop earrings with pearls hanging. she was pretty and punctuated sentences with a large smile, but there was something familiar about her. i noticed how closely she would watch the people she spoke to, gauging their reactions and adjusting her approach. i recognized i was watching a lionese, stalking along the edge of a waterhole, looking for signs of weakness to be exploited.

the next day i was leaving the hotel to walk to the village a few km away. the promise was that the level of aggressive selling experienced in town would be lower in the village. the suggestion came after i had complained about being unable to walk the streets without being followed by calls of "buy from me, buy from me". i was told that i had to expect this, i was white, i clearly had money and too nice.

i had a laptop in my bag and asked to leave it in the lobby safe. the same receptionist asked, "is this for me?". i replied, "do you want it?". she said, "no, i want you" with the same cool smile. the words were said in barely hushed tones, and again i sensed the prowling lioness. i felt like the aging water buffalo, momentarily separated from the herd. i retreated to safety and went hiking down remote mountainous trails towards a raging waterfall at the bottom of the valley. somehow walking into the wilderness added to the comfort.

when i was checking out of the hotel the receptionist again brought up the aggressive selling in town and again explained that i needed to understand the people here had grown up poor and were just trying to make a better life for themselves. i said i understood, i had also grown up poor and knew the desire to push for a better life. this is when she told me that if she told me of your childhood i would cry with her, and preceded to paint the picture of the 5 person family living in a small house, roof open to the elements, one bed, one blanket that was too small to cover them all from the winter cold. i paid my bill and moved away. i felt sympathy, but not for the story, for the need that drives the predator.

as i travel and meet people, i have noticed there are three basic groups. survivors, victims and predators. survivors and victims are common people who are living their lives, and i believe some move between these groups over time. predators are the outliers, they are the ones we need to watch for as we move towards the water hole. they hide themselves behind a smile with no real warmth, or the practiced tales of their victim or survivor personal history. i have met this same person a few times over the years, and did not recognize what i was seeing at first. it takes me a few data points to identify a trend, but once i see the curve i am good at projecting the next event.

beautiful women who show quick interest, who have an aggressive approach and stories to explain why the aggression should be understood are now one of those curves. i got in the overly expensive private bus, driven by the same mute driver, down the same winding curves with rubble on the road. this time, the mountain roads were covered with thick clouds and 3 foot visibility. the same behavior of passing other vehicles on curves was now a few orders of magnitude more dangerous than the drive up. i was glad to be on my way, i had a fitting with my tailor the next day and i was looking forward to the city.

i had gone to the tailor this time to get another sports coat. i will be leaving with two new suits, two sports coats and two shirts. buying in pairs is a thing for me, but it is not an indulgence, all of this is only slightly more than the price i paid for the single sports coat i bought a few months ago in KL (or less than the price of one suit off the rack in the US). the tailor does great work, and better than that when she walked into the shop as i was picking materials she smiled and laughed. she remembered me from two years ago, she came over and gave me a hug. it was the hug of a friend, i knew i was not at risk.

meeting people is good, the more you meet the better at it you can become. safety comes from awareness and if you are aware you can make good choices. a few years ago i made a choice to buy a new suit, that choice came with a friendship of sorts. travel for me is meeting people, and staying safe. maybe i am getting older, or that i am just craving the quietness that safety brings me. but for me, as i meet people i keep thinking:

safety first.