too stressed

the past few days have been a discussion of the plan for today. after the driving adventures we have had on this relaxation quest, the fear of the coming trek had begun to leak onto the rest of the trip. we have asked those available, with little luck, and have used wikipedia and google maps to try to gauge the effort ahead. in the end a disconnected wire brought us back to the beginning and reset the course. how the wire got disconnected, is a case that will not be investigated. somethings are better left shrouded in assumption.

we are moved locations again today. leaving the flat shoreline for padi filled hills surrounding an art haven. this last step was a matter of saving the best for last. on previous trips i have never found my way to the little community in the hills, the promised heart of the arts, but i was looking forward to it. i have enjoyed the challenges of the previous moves, finding our way and negotiating the twists and turns. but i had to admit at times to being in full information overload.

the island roads are a mess. they seem to have been laid out with little or no planning. it is as though the entire road system grew organically, at a much earlier time. a time when there were no cars and the locations that people would eventually want to find were just distant places the path was never meant to connect someone to. the lack of a straight line is the most striking feature, it feels like you never go more than a mile without needing to take opposing 45 degree turns a few hundred meters apart. the right-left patterns to wind your way through a haphazard grid of paths between the buildings that surround the unplanned roads.

to add to the complexity of driving here, there are fully three traffic flows sharing the road. the first and heaviest is the motorcycle traffic. it both moves around and among larger vehicles when they are slowed for any reason, or stretches out to take the side of the road forcing the faster moving vehicles to cross the center lines to pass them. those larger and faster vehicles then make up the other two traffic flows.

i say there are two traffic flows, other than the constant swarm of motocycles, because cars and trucks mostly move at two different paces. the trucks being equally overloaded and underpowered, tend to meander only marginally faster than the motorcycles. this makes them the other hazard to be watched and passed by the passenger cars. cars being the most balanced in terms of power of the three types, spend most of their time either tucked into the flow of the trucks are wildly swerving from lane to lane, attempting to slip between the slower traffic to move forward. to get the image of what i am talking about we need to do an exercise.

imagine an ant colony on the move; a long line of insects moving at different paces, some carrying loads of leaves, with some crawling on, over or around others. note that some are stopped or moving backwards for no good reason. it appears to be complete chaos, but the colony appears to somehow be getting somewhere. now add other equally disorganized colonies also on the move, but they are moving across the path of first, a new messy line every few feet on the jungle floor. finally add some streetlights, signs of marginal utility, make the ants humans on economy-focused vehicles of different sizes and you have the picture. this is driving on bali.

now to that final picture add two foreigners with no idea where they are going, a jeep with a sensitive clutch and no music to calm the nerves, a GPS that points to major landmarks but nothing less, and a question on how challenging the roads are on the way to the art community in the hills. you might now understand the discussion on friday night. rather than continue the debate, i suggested a stop for coffee at my favorite grocery/deli on the island. a oasis of solitude i have written or coded in on prior trips; one that requires being frisked and having your bags checked for bombs by a guard with a machine gun. i left out those details, and hoped a good coffee would help calm the nerves.

with the jeep packed and ready for the next leg of our adventure, we found the GPS was not working. the power cord was broken, it had "come apart" overnight. a more suspicious person than i would have openly questioned how this had happened, but i was stopped as we drove towards the airport to replace the device or it's dubiously damaged power-cord. "do you want to see if we can return the car and get a driver? you are too stressed to drive here."

we had found our way. there were no fights, no strained words. there was little in the way of difficult silence. we had only been pulled over once, it was a check for papers not for speeding, and was let go when they saw my IC card. we had really never been totally lost, or without some form of direction, and after fixing the seat and getting full use of my legs the driving was much smoother. so, what was this "too stressed" all about? the explanation, genuine or not, did resonate with some truth. to boil it down, i am a type-A personality and in my self-driven focus on forward motion i was losing the spirit of the relaxed vacation get away.

to make a long story short, we returned the car, got a driver, went to the deli and then relaxed on the way into the hills. the driver knew the way to the resort and delivered us right to the lobby. it was the simple and easy approach. there was no stress over where we were going, there was no questions of direction and the crazy roads and weaving traffic was not an issue. i did feel a pang of regret that i didn't get to try and succeed. this was the easy way, i gave up the freedom of challenge to keep the peace and prove i was not a stressed out type-A. i proved i can take feedback and relax. there was no long discussion, the day was not impacted. this is a positive change once again; another chance to prove i have grown. but to be clear,

i watched as we drove, and know my own way for next time.

minimal shaving

one of the things i like about vacation is the ability to live exactly as you want. you can wear the clothes that feel good, wake when you want, and eat and drink whatever you want. but the thing i like the best is the ability get up and walk the beach immediately after rolling out of bed. throw on some shorts and start your day. it is the elimination of the daily routine that reminds you that you are on vacation. it is the freedom from the daily grind that tells you that you are free.

one of the core parts of my day is the daily shave. with the need to keep my agressive haircut in good form, i shave head and face every day. i do it everyday, a reminder to myself that i made a decision years ago, i changed things inside and out, things that may have only mattered to me. it all came with a central promise to myself, and everyday the process is a reminder. my routine is for me, no one is watching or telling me to do it. it may not matter to anyone; but it makes me happy so i keep it going it and remember.

but when i am on a trip, i tend to relax and delay my ritual until later in the day. i spend the day-time hours with stubble and then clean the day away with a shave and shower before dinner. there is something about being on the beach, holding a glass in your hand, and looking like hemingway's santiago that feels good in a different way. it also reminds me of my father, the man who taught me to shave, who when i see him now is rarely clean shaven. i look in the mirror and think about the old man, and the ritual that has changed over the years.

when i first began, my father brought me into the bathroom and gave me a soft brush and a cup for the shaving soap. he taught me how to wet my beard, apply the soap to my face and then to draw the razor over my skin. i was brought into the club, a clear sign of manhood and i felt as though i was taught the right way. something about wetting the brush and then swirling it against the soap in the cup just felt right. it was more thoughtful than pushing the button on a can. i started my adulthood by going old-school, feeling the brush on my skin before the cold razor.

i shaved like this all though high school. when college came, the brush was in my toiletry bag, but i also had a small can of cream. standing at the bank of sinks after showering, with a brush in my hand lost some of its appeal. i used a razor and shaving cream at the sink for the next 15 years. it was a standard practice, it lost the appeal of the original. it was now a chore that i needed to do. it might have felt good before a special event, but most days it was just a portion of the routine. until i moved my shaving into the shower.

i had read an article on shaving, the focus was that shaving cream was not important for anything more than to keep your skin wet for the razor. the article made it clear that water was the key element, soap or cream was an enabling technology. i decided to experiment with this by moving my shave under the shower head. the major upside was that shaving was now under the warm water spray, rather than standing at the sink during the winter. the reality that the sink remained clean with my new technique was an added marital benefit.

the next decade saw changes to the process. i went from shaving cream, to women's shaving cream i shared with my wife, to soap because it was there and my wife no longer was, to elimination of the soap all together for a razor and water only shave. this was the culmination of a transition the article had pointed to years ago. the legacy of my fathers teachings were hard to shake, but in the end simple was better.

when i had moved into the shower, i needed to bring a mirror with me, over the years that was dropped too; it became all about feeling my way to the clean shave. this was reinforced when i moved to asia and spent months shaving in the dark, no need for a mirror if the bathroom was dark anyway. those months were also without hot water, which i was told was normal for malaysia, but it was the line i could not cross. razor and hot water were the limits of my simplicity of the daily shave.

until this week, i have found a way to further simplify the package. my toiletry bag stays in my luggage, always ready to travel. before i left on holiday i checked the bag and found fresh razors ready to go. i had a nagging feeling i was missing something after my last trip, but checking made me feel better. until i reached my post travel-adventure shower and found the razors there, but the handle missing. i was without a key piece of shaving equipment, in a resort over an hour from the nearest city, no hope of finding a spare handle and no desire to go without shaving for 3 days.

so, i did what any former macgyver viewer would do; i found a way. my solution was pretty simple, i didn't have to break out the leatherman and duct-tape and attach the razor to a trimmed down toothbrush handle (i considered that and discarded the idea). but i now know that razor handles are not a requirement for a clean shave. in a pinch, you simply need to pinch the razor between your thumb and first two fingers. it takes a second to get the feel, but a clean, smooth shave is possible. again, simple is best.

i remember the old man every time i shave. i love that i was taught the right way to do it when i was young, but i also love that i have made this process my own over the years. slowly eliminating all the extras and getting to the bare requirements. i never set out to do this, but as the years pass you learn things. if you travel and take on new situations, you find what is important. you also find that you can control the time and place for yourself when you are relaxed and enjoying live.

what is better than a clean smooth shave? the ability to remember what got you here.

bourne holiday

i woke up this morning to bright sun and the sound of surf coming ashore. the rhythm of the waves added to the depth of relaxation that i have been missing so intensely. as i laid in bed i remembered that i was on vacation and that i had nothing to do, no where to go. the most stressful thing i planned to do after getting out of bed was to take a walk on the black sand beach before breakfast. vacations meant to allow you to get away and relax, and choosing a place without phones, internet or TV in the room is a good way to guarantee you actually do it.

but picking a resort like this comes with its challenges. when the resort is well off the beaten path, you take on finding your way there yourself. not that i have any issues finding my own way, i could have asked the resort to do a pickup at the airport, but what is the fun in that. better to get a car and drive out to the resort. it was in the general area of a landmark i had accidentally found on a previous trip, so how hard could it be to drive out and find the place?

leaving the arrival terminal, it was time to find a car. we were immediately swarmed by the touts offering taxi, car or driver options. there is still something unsettling about having a guy walk up to and offer to rent a car a few dollars cheaper than the rental companies. i kept saying "tak mau" until i identified the rental window with the least aggressive staff. the 40ish woman behind the counter seemed to care less if anyone talked to her; this may seem a strange selection criteria but relaxed apathy was the emotion of the day and i wanted to make sure i fostered that.

the default vehicle for rental was a asian mini-van, but they also had a jeep looking thing, which seemed like much more fun than a mini-mini-van. i had visions of driving the little jeep through rice fields on an adventure. the rental process was easy, they pre-programmed the GPS and set us off on our way. the moment to reconsider the plan was when i got into the jeep and found the seat was too far forward for me to sit without my knee jammed against the dashboard. the back was full of bags, and trying to fix the seat would have meant pulling the entire car apart. the rental guy was waving good bye, it was a moment of truth and the desire for adventure took over. how hard could it be to drive an old jeep with a standard transmission, one built 20 or so years ago, while jammed into a space equivalent to an overbooked redeye flight on an economy airline?

i had to admit how hard it was about 40 minutes into the drive. i had stalled the engine again, we were in massive traffic, indonesian-swarms of motorcycles were weaving their way around us, the cars in back where horning to express their displeasure with the clogged intersection. to add to the fun, i had just realized the GPS was programmed to the wrong location and had been taking us to the east side of the island, while our target was the west. all of this happened a few minutes after the random musing that travel was so much easier than it used to seem, off in a foreign land, driving rather than being driven. independence being the key to experiencing the real island, not the standard tourist version of the upscale beach resorts.

the next two and a half hours broke down into three basic phases, realizing we were screwed, planning on the fly to get us most of the way to the goal and bumping over potholes with random instructions telling us we were almost there. the GPS could not find the resort, its road or area, the jeep continued to stall as my knee ached from being pressed against the dashboard and people on the side of the road kept pointing down the potholed single lane paths and saying "just ahead". it felt just like being in the office, an entire project cycle compressed into a single ride through the backroads of bali.

the moment of truth, that moment when you are sure you are doomed but that you are too deeply involved to turn back, came when the road passed through jungle and careened down to a river crossing only to go steeply back upwards on the other side. the last hill we had climbed had been marginally steep, and the keys had fallen out of the ignition and landed on the floor, stalling the engine. this hill was dark with jungle cover, steeper and longer than any hill we had come to so far. i had one hand on the keys, another on the shifter, my knee was screaming in pain and the road just kept going upwards. as we climbed, the RPM feel and i realized i was going to need to downshift to make it to the top of the hill. stuck on a jungle path just wider than the jeep, crazy steep with no way to back down if the engine stalled with the downshift. why did i want to drive again? what is it that allows me to find stress like this, even on a drive to a beach side resort?

with self-imposed fear pressing inwards, i downshifted and rode the clutch to the top of the hill. as the road flattened out, the jungle opened and the road passed through a kampung with smiling people who pointed the way to the resort on the beach. it was hidden safely between rice fields and the surf. as i parked the jeep, the realization that we made it melted into me, the pressure released and i allowed myself to breath. there was no need to drive; there was no stress, no phone, no email for the next few days. there was just beach and books and relaxation. there was a morning of waking up to the sound of surf and taking a walk before a long slow breakfast with sweet coffee.

i am listening to the waves, and i am glad the adventure is behind me... for now. the jeep is sitting there, a reminder that future drives await.

crisis averted

i am sitting in my favorite KL coffee shop, eating a grilled blueberry muffin, drinking a very well made 4 shot cappuccino; with a little dollop of whipped cream; because the life is better that way. i am getting on a plane tomorrow to one of my favorite places in the world, a week long holiday that comes right when i need it; a break from the craziness at a time when the teams have direction and should not need me looking over their shoulders. life is clearly good, more so because my morning started with the elimination of a looming crisis.

the crisis would not have been carried in the news. it would not have been as devastating as the japanese tsunami, or as disruptive as the iceland volcano, but for me it is something i am glad is not happening this year. it could happen in the future and when it does i am going to need to roll with it and accept, but for now it is something on the back burner of fear.

living on the opposite side of the planet comes with issues. small things like buying a bottle of ibuprofen to help manage the stress headaches comes with worry of import inspectors. buying sneakers involves internet orders, assisted shipping and month long delivery schedules. these are small things that most americans do by dropping into a mall on the way to somewhere else. i am somewhere else, and dropping into the mall is not an option. planning and logistics have become second nature, which is not easy for a "code, test, debug -- repeat" engineer.

the crisis that was averted was the delivery much more important to me than ibuprofen. it is actually the drug that i really need more than any other, it's the one i hold my breath for all year. it comes with even more negotiation and stress than any other. normally the planning begins in march, but i know i have been avoiding the conversation. avoiding not because i didn't want to ensure success, but because i was afraid of failure.

the planning began a few weeks ago, but no details were exchanged. at that point, i found that i could get 2/3 of my order immediately, with the hope of the final portion before the end of the year. this was a new option, previously it was one delivery a year. i like the idea of the order being split, but there were more details that needed to be resolved.

i woke up yesterday morning and made three international calls. the first was to guy that had no dates he could confirm and was in a rush to move onto the next thing he was doing. he asked me to call back today, and confirm plans with his chief of operations. the second was not answered, this is the hardest connection to make, but only involved the second order so it was not crucial for me to resolve the issues i needed to discuss. the final call was not really about the logistics, it was more of a general touch base that evolved into a discussion of dates and timing.

and that is where the rub was. it looked as though we would be under deep time pressures this year. it was strongly possible that the delivery could take place but that i would need to ship back much sooner than i hoped. when you go to the effort to plan your year around getting something, you do not want to send it back as soon as it comes. the discussion of timing was not clear and i decided to wait a day before worrying about it. but, worry i did. my life is pretty much about anticipation of looming crisis, and this was just one more thing to try to breath my way through.

when i woke up this morning, i was thinking about my favorite drugs and if i could get them or not. i miss having them, i miss the thrill of experiencing them, the way they open me up and let me laugh. they are the thing i miss the most when i am here, and they are what makes me want to go back to the US more than anything else. i like asia, but asia does not have anything like this and i know i need to go back if i am going to have more of it than i have now.

one final call this morning. they are going to do an early shipping date, and the abrupt return i was worried about is not a requirement. so rather than the less than two weeks i thought i would have, i will actually have close to 5. as i heard this, i let out a huge sigh of relief. one more year will pass and again i will have my kids here in KL with me. the junkie desire i have been feeling build is going to be satisfied, i felt my stress headache melt away.

so i am here for today, i am going to a quiet island tomorrow, i have everything i need in life and the time to enjoy those things. i have a series of new logistics to work out, and i am sure there will be bumps along the way, but at this point i don't care at all. my kids are coming to spend time with me.

they are my biggest high of the year, and their time is best thing i could ask for.

completely built-up

living in malaysia can be the most frustrating moments of my life. if you know me at all, you know that frustration is pretty much a constant for me, and i have the ability to deal with frustration well beyond the norm. but, dealing with complete stupidity is the thing that sets me off, and living within the rigged systems of this country are constantly annoying.


in the US i own a volvo XC-70, the full-size all-wheel drive model of my lab-owner/soccer-dad social class. i love the car, and miss driving it while i am here. the hyundai i am driving now is a big step up from the proton perdana i used to drive. the upgrade was done by the rental company because they could not keep up with the constant maintenance the local car required to keep it running. both are well short of the leather seats and handling of the volvo sitting lonely in the US.


they are also short of the VW or mini-cooper i planned to purchase when i first moved here. i planned to buy a cheap car that was fun to drive, maybe a convertible because of the heat. those were quickly dashed, and not just because there are almost no convertibles here. i learned cars that cost USD 20K in the US, cost USD 60K+ here. why would i buy what to me was a cheap car, but pay 50% more than the top of the line sportswagon i was leaving behind? i wouldn't, and anyone who does has just failed an intelligence test.


but people do buy overly expensive cars here. i used to assume it was just people benefiting from datuk-driven corruption, but there are simply too many nice cars on the road to explain all of them. i next assumed the owners are paying off import officials to get reasonably-priced foreign cars in. this one has not been proven true or false, but it is clearly in the realm of possibility. lastly i learned that people take loans for 7 or more years to pay for their cars. americans upgrade cars on average every 4 years, and the higher end market is closer to every 3, so buying any car and paying for it over 7 years is a strange idea.


but when you consider the cost of buying a car here, in relative terms to average salary, you can understand why people need long financing. having grown up in an open economy, where prices are kept low through competition, rather then high through political means and layers of skimming, i am simply not able to participate in the system. so i sit on the side and grumble.


a few weeks ago i was in BSC looking at a slightly less price-elevated macbook air. as i was walking through the mall i saw a volvo V50 on display. i walked over and sat in the car, thinking about returning the to US and buying this as a smaller version of the car that was paid off years ago. but as i sat in the car i noticed a bleak interior. everything was cheap plastic, and the accessories were either missing or of lower quality than i expected. the car had no soul, no personality. this was not the volvo product i had been craving, just a welfare version with the same shape.


i got out of the car and asked the sales girl standing near by about the car. she didn't speak english, so she shyly called over "her senior". selling cars in the premium expat mall in town, i would expect english, but i know finding those skills is getting harder and harder as generation M comes of age. the slightly better skilled senior came over and explained the car was CKD, which he happily explained as "completely knocked down", a car assembled in country with the cheapest parts available shipped in. i asked about cars produced entirely outside, he told me those would be CBU or "completely built-up", and also explained those would cost more.


okay, so maybe CKD was a practical way to purchase a car. i assumed the cost would be a rational number, so i asked. what he quoted was more than twice the cost of a fully equipped version of the car in the US. here comes the frustation. i sighed and asked if i could get a sunroof, remembering my plans of driving a convertible. he laughed and said, "malaysians don't know how to install a sunroof". so what if i buy CBU? no, CBU comes with none of the options i would want because it would make the car too expensive for the market, and its impossible to order it with anything that would make the car fun or give it a personality.


the frustration was now on multiple levels. yes the corruption of the country has been going on for much to long and must change for the overall economy to improve, rather than slip backwards into happy dysfunction. the tarrifs must be removed, so the people can buy items at world prices. if this mean inefficient companies that cannot compete or produce quality products are effected, that is what capitalism is all about. malaysians need to demand these changes, and it shocks me that they do not already. but the most important thing is that malaysians need to look at the reality of the situations around them and stop using good sounding words for less acceptable reality.


it could be saying "the best and the brightest" for recent graduates who are not able to pass an interview in the foreign-owned companies that must be attracted and retained to continue to grow. it could also be ordering an "airport limo" and being picked up by a proton waja. but, it is definitely that "completely built up" should not be applied to a stripped down shadow of the real product. malaysias need to understand that there are better options out there, and that they are being ripped off every time they make a purchase today. the reason i am frustrated is that i see so much ability to improve, and so much more organized denial stopping it.


the first step to change is admitting you have an issue. please admit it so we can begin to change the names of things around here and i can be less frustrated;


only then will malaysia be completely built-up.

being good

a few weeks ago i woke up in a hotel room and wondered how i had gotten there. as i laid in bed and felt the soft sheets around me i knew i was not home, but i did not remember where i was. i was alone, i was happy and i had a simple night before, spending the night at a friends wedding then returning to the room to read a book in the bath. it might sound boring, but it was the night i wanted to have if i was being good.

being good is something that is subjective. those two little words can mean completely different things. i am sure the asians sitting around me as i type this have as many views on what it means as there are people in the room. the malay guy with the shaved head, intense stare and tattoos might disagree with the malay girl at the register whose name means abstinence. then again, maybe they completely agree but i doubt they would both admit it.

that afternoon i was waiting for my car at jockey parking after lunch. there was a little malay boy standing near me. he was with his mother who was waiting for her car. as we waited, he noticed me and looked at his mother. he pointed to my tattoo, and she shooshed him a bit embarrassed that i had seen the exchange. they were clearly upper-class, and i assumed were exposed to the more cosmopolitan sides of KL. i assumed this based on location, dress and the fact that this kid was openly cheeky, not the average shy (if not functionally mute) malay kid.

this is when the kid dropped his water bottle on the ground and kicked it towards me. mom was horrified, and apologized as i picked it up and handed it back to her. i told her it was not an issue, and said hi to the kid. she handed him the bottle and he stepped closer to allow his little arm to hurl the bottle directly at me. this was the moment i knew i liked him.

we had a few more minutes of mom trying to suppress this kids clearly natural behavior. he threw the bottle, kicked it and laughed the entire time. the fact that i was smiling and laughing at him might have added fuel to the fire, but i think he was capable of this without my encouragement. my car came first, as i got in i heard the mom say the still strange, "say good bye to uncle". as i turned i saw him watching me from behind his mothers legs. i waved and said, "be good". i saw him smile with that same twinkle in his eye my grandmother used to talk about. i wondered if he understood exactly how i meant the advice.

as i drove home i was thinking about this kid and what he will mean to the country. he and the other kids in malaysia are the future. the country is changing, becoming much less shy, at least here in KL. the children are the next generation to come into power, if they do not all leave as part of the talent diaspora, they will be the ones demanding the ability to be themselves. is the country ready for the future behavior of this less than shy generation.

when i got home i walked into the elevator and on the next floor up a chinese family came in. they had a kid of about the same age with them. he had a french school shirt on, so i said, "bonjour monsieur" to him. he smiled and laughed at me. we had a short conversation until we got to their floor, as they got out he waved to me and i said "be good". this was not the same encouragement as before because i didn't see any of the natural readiness to challenge in him, but it may have been more subtle advice. as the doors closed i heard him say to his parents, "that is a nice man". i wondered how many people agree with that.

when it comes to being good, i know i do not agree with the people around me. being good includes being yourself and using your skills. if you have the ability to think or be different then being good is exercising those abilities. in this case, less is not more. working hard to allow yourself to be as good as you can is easier and more fun than working to suppress your natural self.

as i think back on when i came to believe this i keep hearing coach toppa say, "look good, feel good, be good". being good for that group meant going out and beating another team into submission. it meant competition and success, it did not mean gentle or shy discussion. toppa taught us that "three, three, tackle to tackle" anything was allowed. this is a box around the ball where the substance of the game happens, its where most people ignore because its messy and active, but this is the box that i learned to be good within.

here is too hoping these kids find a way to get out of their box, and to be good while they are within it.