backpacker parents

while i was in college, and after i graduated, i wanted to backpack in europe. but the reality of the situation was that that was for the rich kids and i needed to work to afford to stay in school. there was no eurail pass for me, i had no fort lauderdale or cancun during spring break, i went home and worked to help pay for the semester that was half over. graduation day came and i stayed at work to do a double shift rather than crossing the stage with my classmates. working double shifts all through college was the way i had afforded to get this far, it seemed like the right thing to now that i had 10 years of debt to pay off once i graduated.

i was asked about my previous travels this week. had i done the backpacking in europe? why do i travel with a backpack now, when i can afford to pay for the five star hotel? today the cost of the holiday is more time than money. i plan trips on weeks that have holidays embedded within them, the time away from the office is much more of a challenge than the cost of the trip. the desire to carry a backpack and stay in "local" accommodations rather than yet another hilton is why this is vacation, i need to get away from the business travel environment.

but i am not the standard backpacker. i seem to have done this backwards, i delayed the backpacking until my back actually hurts from carrying the bag. travel in my 20s was restrained by the desire to pay off the loans needed to fund the parts of education i could not cover with double shifts. travel in my 30s was restrained by commitments including not taking days away because they were non-billable. travel in my 40s, well this has almost become a survival act. the reaction to an always on lifestyle and the need to be anonymous.

as i have been considering this, i have noticed the number of backpackers who are all around me this week. there is a certain flavor to the type, they are dominantly white, educated, literate and in their mid to late 20s. there are some in their thirties, but the over 40 crowd is limited. many have long histories of travel, the longest i have heard was 18 months of travel over 4 continents, with another 8 months to go before landing back in new york for a wedding. how does someone take 26 months out of their life and travel the world? i am asking that hoping how to figure it out for myself more than as a rhetorical question. where is the funding coming from? is it too late for me to be adopted by these parents?

when my older son was 10 or so, he asked me about eurail and suggested we do it together. i thought this was a great idea, one i honestly would not have come up with myself. i looked at tickets, considered the route through europe and presented the plan to his mother. the conversation ended abruptly, the trip was never taken, an opportunity was lost, one i wish i could go back and reclaim. i wonder how life would have been different if we had taken this trip. how would i be different?

as i look at the backpackers around me, i see them in the future. i see the house, and the volvo. i see the business they are running and the clients they need to keep happy. i see the children they are raising. i wonder if their spouse will also be a backpacker, or if they will be someone who orders roomservice and has never worn the same shorts for a week or shared a room with semi-strangers in a hostel.

i wonder when they will tell the children the stories of their backpacking past. i was almost 20 when i found out my father had gone to work in the caribbean for over a year. he never really told me the story other to say he had a great time. that is a side of my father i never knew existed, and i am sorry i will never know him at that time. will these parents be different? will they have pictures, blogs and facebook friends who drop in and tell the kids the story of a crazy night in thialand that mom has never mentioned? or will those memories be quietly tucked away under the adulthood that mom and dad take on? will the kids be given lectures on safety as they are carpooled from soccer to dance? will dad remember cambodia when he considers snooping in his daughters diary?

i talked to my younger son on the drive to the airport this week. i told him i was going to the mountains and hoped to piss over the border. i could hear him smiling as he laughed and called out to his mother to tell her about my plans. i could hear her adult reply to my childish plan. that made me smile.

backpacking is the 21th century version of hippy-culture. it's about the freedom to not shave, not get up in the morning, not go to bed at night if you don't want to. it doesn't matter if you smell a bit, if you have a stupid idea that you carry out or if you drink a bit too much.

what matters is that you find the time somewhere in your life to take an overnight train into the mountains, to look over the border and to know if you do want to let go, you can take a picture and share it with your children as a part of who you really are.

we are our past, and if we are really lucky, we are also our long scruffy futures.

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.

relaxing travels

i started saturday morning at 3 AM, forced awake by an alarm set to stun me out of well earned sleep. i stumbled around in the dark, afraid of the blaring lights that would replace the night with the flip of the switch. i had started another holiday, time away from work and the standard pace of life that i bury myself within. what sounded like a great idea when originally planned, was forcing me up, when i would much rather snuggle into bed and let the weekend slowly creep past. i laced my boots, shouldered my backpack and headed for the door. pushing the grumpiness away, i tried to relax and draw in the comfort of a promised relaxing vacation.

driving to the airport i called my son in the US and found him preparing for a 10-boy sleep over. how he ever convinced his mother that having 10 boys over for a lack-of-sleep over is beyond me. allowing a small horde of laughing tweens to commandeer your home is right up there with running away and joining the circus. it sounds like fun and adventure, but when you get right down to it living with monkey poop all around you has its limits of enjoyment. then again, there i was hours before sun-up being slowly driven to a discount airport so i could fly to a communist country, board a train and go into the mountains. who was i to judge?

i need this holiday. the timing was set months ago to allow me to juggle three projects. the planning has appeared to work out, the first seems fully stabilized, another that is in test but is coasting down its planned slope, and the last is running ahead of the curve a bit like a runaway train. the past few months have been a roller-coaster ride; and it is clear i need to get off and take a break from the "fun".

a roller-coaster is probably the wrong metaphor here, it has been more like bungie jumping must have been before the sport had a name. in a moment of boredom someone started a sentence with "what if we..." and for some reason thought it would be fun to actually to try it. we then cobbled our gear together and found a high ledge and at the last moment called home to warn the parents what we had decided to try. there was tension and some coercion to force us to let go before we were completely ready, but we survived the first thrilling fall before hearing the onlookers say, "dude, that was awesome, do it again".

this is what i needed to get away from, the desire to sieze the day with white knuckles from fear of death secondary to unrestrained free-fall. it does feel amazing when the stress is replaced by the reality that you did let go, you accelerated toward a short sharp shock, and then just as you were sure you had overstepped, you where snapped back and the curve reverses itself to one of upwards safety. it clears the mind, but there can be a hangover, and taking a rest from the party is a good cure for that.

so here i am, walking a neighborhood i mapped in my head on previous visits. i know where to go for a morning ca phe sua da with banana pancakes, or to get a very good croissant to eat while strolling along the lake. i am ready to move around the city on foot, cyclo or motorcycle. i am looking forward to sitting on a corner for hours, drinking bai hoi and eating pho ba for less than the price of a single coffee at starbucks. i am also going to eat at my favorite italian restaurant in asia, go to mass in french, and if i am really lucky get my name on a wall of fame for drinking 10 shots of "rocket fuel" the rice wine served straight or with infusions of your choice from lemon to snake. why in god's name would i want to drink rocket fuel, not once but ten times in row? well, it will get me a t-shirt as well as the bragging rights of success. it will also probably give me a serious headache, so this will have to wait until after the train to the mountains.

maybe that is why i needed this vacation. i needed to have a challenge that would not matter if i failed to do it. i mean, who cares if i stop at 9, or push to 10 and then fall off my stool. i really do want to get to ten for the t-shirt, but the shirts are only 5 USD and i could always buy one rather than drinking my way to ownership... but that really isn't the way to get the t-shirt is it?

just like all the other stupid things i do, it's the doing that is most important. owning the shirt means that i also own the experience. i can wear it not because i can afford to buy it, but because i stepped my ass up to the bar and ordered the drinks while someone was keeping count. if no one cared to watch, if it didn't matter to anyone at all, why would the doing matter. i don't want to wear a shirt if i didn't earn the damn thing. and, i don't want to celebrate something that is easy enough for anyone to do it. it might sound stupid, but it's true that there are too few challenges in life, you need to be proud of the ones you have survived.

if you are really lucky you can look around the table after your jump and with a steady voice say:

been there, done that, got the t-shirt.

balik kampung

i woke up this morning at 9 AM, but it was dark out, my bed was cramped and uneven and there were people all around me asleep in the dark. this happens to me every few months, i find myself waking up in a strange place with no idea of where in the world i am. i have gotten so used to it that the events have become almost a ritual. they are nearly the same each time, but not quite. the people i wake up with are never the same, even the bed changes. why do i let this happen to me? because i need to go home.

i woke up on a plane headed to paris for a 12 hour transit and then on to the US. when i boarded the plane i was in 1C, but as i was standing and waiting, an attractive indian woman who i have seen in my second favorite KL cafe, asked me to change seats with her. my seat mate was a friend of hers and if i moved they could work together during the flight. the pitch was just believable enough that i agreed before i could think the consequences through. her seat was 5C, which is a row added behind the business galley that shares a wall with economy.

i probably would have moved either way, but i should have taken the time to do the math. if i had not moved i would have been using the full-size head near the cockpit. i realized this while i was using the the chick-coup sized head near my new seat. bathrooms that allow you to change to your pajamas with room left over are a luxury that i have learned to enjoy and search out on long flights.

sitting in front would also have left me isolated from the crying child sitting immediately behind me in the first economy row. i am pretty sure the baby was the reason the woman wanted to move in the first place. she, the baby not the lady, was crying when i took took the new seat, and i figured it out immediately that i had been conned. but babies cry, and being cramped on a flight is almost enough to get me to emotionally flare, so i try to not let the crying bother me. rather than going and asking for my seat back i thought it was better that i was there, rather than someone who would be upset by it the entire flight. who wants the negative vibes of tear induced frustration flowing around the plane.

so here i am sitting in a lounge in paris. it's a rainy day, so the idea of taking the train down to the city has been altered. i am going to read, write, do work email and maybe code for the next few hours. it took me three terminal changes to find my gate, three seat changes to find power points that worked, but i have surprisingly free network access and a mostly comfortable leather seat. i have also just bumped into another pseudo-star on a business trip. i was sitting two seats away from a highly recognizable actor from the bond movies of my youth. i didn't know who it was before he stood up, i was focused on his indian companion, but at 7 feet tall he stood out in the crowd.

why am i spending this much time, money and effort to move myself halfway around the world? why is my back aching, my body clock completely out of alignment and my schedule blown for 2 full days? to attend meetings on planning for next year and kick off projects, of course. also to see my kids, get some music, sleep in my own bed, drive a car i like, go to my favorite chinese/sushi place and have other comforts i miss while on the other side of the world.

this is why anyone would go home isn't it?

one hamburger

have you ever tried to explain to an american why they don't understand the world? americans who leave the US find their vision of the world, and the place that america holds within it, is very different from those of the people they meet. growing up in the US you are taught that the world is a dangerous place; but that with truth, justice and the american way things will improve. after being outside the US, you realize that you don't even know what the american way is. that's the issue, american's are are not good at seeing there is another way to do anything.

i have been living outside the US for almost 5 years now. when i decided to leave, the seasons were changing at the same time i needed to move to the other side of the world. i was moving to a place where the change in season is more subdued than the summer to winter change of my home. the subtle nature of the seasons is something strange to an american (outside of southern california). americans don't do subtle, we expect things being hard, fast and direct. it takes experiencing another place and culture to realize there are more than one way to do things.

in malaysia there is one political party that has ruled the country for 50 years. this one party is actually made up of three political parties separated largely by language. in the US there are two political parties, with an occasional alternative party thrown in once a decade or so. in the US the parties are not broken down by ethnicity, language, region or even political belief, 40% of the electorate is considered independent and moves between these parties with the ease of trying on a new t-shirt.

malaysia has begun to change, there is almost a second party, and there are almost open elections. but there remains 3 major ethnic groups that make up distinct voting blocks. the US has only one electorate. the people do not see themselves as 3, 4 or 37 groups, because americans do not embrace the subtle differences. they are a single people not matter where their grandparents lived and what color their skin is. at home they speak what ever language they choose, but in public 96% of them speak english "well" or "very well". there is no official language at the federal level in the US, but the country still finds a way to educate and communicate among it's people. in the rest of the world there are "official languages", and ethnically separated schools that hobble a student from ever learning it well enough to participate in government.

so there is the core difference, amercians have one language. it is properly called american, but they call it english while they refuse to pronounce or spell it as taught in england. this one language means they can understand and disagree with each other with clarity. because of that there is little confusion, you then do not have the ability to say that what you said is not what you said. we can leave clinton and his "what is is" comments aside, we all know bill was officially european the day he stated classes in oxford. this lack of wiggle room from translation, or can we say directness, is the heart of the american mind-set.

i was trying to explain this to someone who lives in the US, but grew up in eastern europe. the thing i pointed out was that americans have only one set of plugs. there are plugs with an added point for grounding, but they all have the standard, orderly, two flat points. amercians would be shocked to go to the mall, buy a gadget, take it home and not be able to plug it into the wall. this is the issue with americans, no need for adaptors. again they expect no translation. living in the US is easy, you just open the box and plug in.

this ease is throughout the entire culture, americans have an entirely native meal, aptly named the happy meal. sure there are other burgers, but McD's is the clear winner when it comes to consumption. natives will remind you that hamburgers are the canonical american meal. that is clearly the case; it is a sandwich (named for the english city) made of beef and named after hamburg (the german city where it was created). by the way, americans eat their burgers with fries (not chips, that word is used for what you know as crisps), or pommes frite as they are called in belgium where the dish was created; not france as americans will tell you. so the classic american meal is mix of european dishes topped with ketchup a chinese sauce that went to UK from malaysia. (seriously look it up)

if you try to explain any of this to an american, or the fact that scampi is the italian word for shrimp so they are ordering "shrimp shrimp" for dinner, that jelly donuts are not american but german, and that ordering a diet coke with the super-sized meal under the golden arches while wearing running shoes you never use to run, are all things that the rest of the world makes fun of them for, the american will act as though you are not speaking american. they will seem confused and remind you that this is america and you should find a way to fit in. you need to adapt and become an american. go to school, learn the language and plug into the culture. they will be direct and assure you it's the american way and that doing it that way is best for you.

american's don't understand because they are always right. it's hard being always right, but if you practice and learn to speak their language, anyone can do it. you might find it hard without the ability to pretend you don't understand, but you get used to it. you also get used to taking the best from all over the world and believing that if it's good it must have come from the US. we may not know the correct name, or origin, of anything but we know its ours and that we made it the best by making it american.

we are not subtle, but at least we don't need to translate that.

choosing overachievement

we all have choices to make everyday. they can be big or small, some effect our lives, most just happen without us even noticing. humans are tuned to make choices quickly, sometimes so fast that the choice is made before we even realize we need to choose. this is a good thing when the choice is flee or fight, and the cause is a yet unseen predator. malcom gladwell wrote about this in blink, where he tried to get people to trust their instincts and just let choices happen. his point was that we get in trouble when we over-think the situations in front of us. i have been thinking about why someone would choose to be an over-achiever.

having found myself squarely on one side of the personality bell-curve, i don't really see it as a choice for achievement. it feels like "choosing" other things which there is really no choice in, like your sexuality. meaning for most people it is just a fact of who they are. the deeper personality traits they have are the driving force on achievement. does someone need to have control over their situation? are they willing to put in more than those around them to have a higher return on their investment? are they willing to "do what it takes" rather than simply "try to do it".

having never felt overly motivated, i grew up thinking i was a slacker. i was a crossing-guard (think outdoor proctor) in the 5th grade, and had no idea that other kids saw this as immediate access to the teachers pet group. i played sports almost every season, and was a life-guard as soon as i turned 16. i got my job on the beach by assisting on a save while there to interview; literally jumping in when asked. i selected my college because someone told me i couldn't get accepted; and if i did i would fail out. i became a developer because a consultant lied to me and i wanted to make a point. all of these things just happened, i never went out looking for them, they were just part of my day and i went with it. every single one were steps that led me to where i am right now.

i have also noticed that most of my good luck happens immediately following a failure of some sort. a few years ago i probably could have climbed into a bottle an drowned myself without anyone being surprised. instead i asked for a job i didn't know i wanted. i allowed the emotional response to make me move, but for the direction to be positive rather than destructive. but it wasn't a choice, i never sat down and thought about it, it just happened the way it felt like it should.

so why did gladwell get to write a book on this subject? because people have been conditioned to think things through after a round of requirements gathering and analysis. the idea is that if you are not careful you will make mistakes. but look at all the people out there who did just that, they were careful and they planned. they made decisions that made sense, and they thought were the things they wanted. look at them now, they are miserable and they make the people around them miserable in the process.

good thing they had a list and made sure the dotted the i's and crossed the t's. the issue is people don't know, or more likely accept, who they really are. their inability to be honest blocks their ability to choose in a rational way. so they choose in an irrational way. they choose in a way that can not work, because it's based on a hope rather than reality. they hope they, or someone next to them, are someone they are not. or they hope no one else will not find out what they already know.

not everyone is built for over-achievement, and trying to act like they are is a great way to be miserable. but there is a corollary, not everyone is built for under-achievement either, and it is just as bad to try to believe that you are a bohemian slacker with average prospects when you are anything but. what you need to do is admit who and what you are, and then just go with it.

life is about accepting who you are. if you are over thinking it, try to blink.

in threes

i woke up early this morning and tried to decide what to do. i went to sleep with a fever and slept in a pool of sweat. i woke up sore, tired and hungry as the sun came up. i wanted to both start the day and go back to sleep. as i laid pondering the options, i sensed a feeling of dread. there was something wrong with the force. i hate when i connect with my yoda side, because it is normally a precursor to something bad that is about to happen. it's a bit past noon and i am well on my way to knowing why i wanted to stay in bed today.

the phone rang a few hours later. i had slept and woken back up. i was laying there trying to decide how to structure my day. i have an appointment later today that i wanted to cancel. i needed food and had no idea which of the limited choices to indulge. i listened to the conversation, by the third word i knew it was one of those calls you do not want to receive on a rainy sunday morning. actually, the feeling of dread lifted a bit when it turned out that the car accident that was being discussed was without personal injury. a mercedes coupe was broken, and a friend needed a ride, but the thoughts of hospitals and tubes were washed away.

i wasn't needed for this errand of rescue. this was a pick-up and drop-off. the first event was not over, but it was not a crisis.

that is when the second event came in the form of an email. the email was titled "tears" and included the words, "i took my life at 5 AM this morning". i looked at the time it was sent, midnight, just after i had fallen asleep. it was from someone who successfully accomplishes almost everything she tries. at that moment i believed i had found the dread of the day, my friend has been dealing with the crumbling of one commitment and had decided to commit to another direction. as i sat and looked at the words, i remembered my grandfather who took the ultimate control of his life, making a final statement, by controlling the time and place of his death.

i continued reading the words and found that the statement was made, but thankfully the act was not successful. the issue with friends who are overachievers is that you know they accomplish the things they set out to do. there was no regret, there was cold and hard analysis of the situation. there is clearly a desire to finish the project. overachievers learn from their mistakes, they get better at execution and they hit their goals. all thoughts that again remind me of my equally achieving grandfather.

the second event is not over, but the crisis is probably not going to be today. today is for the feelings of sorrow that someone i care about would want to select this as their next project.

the dread of the day has not abated. being a superstitious rationalist i am all too aware of the rule of three, and being a surfer i know that the last wave in the set is normally the largest. i am standing back and waiting for the last wave now. i am hoping the wave is not a tsunami, because i have no idea where the evacuation zone is. i would like to believe the wave is not coming, but as a long time rider of the waves i can still feel the set rolling in. now i know why my arms ached this morning,

my inner-yoda was telling me to paddle.

//*******************************************

people build walls to stop waves from washing them away don't they? like the walls in new orleans that collapsed and flooded the city. reminding us why walls need to be maintained.

********************************************//

comfortably upset

living on the other side of the world, especially in a place that goes out of it's way to make people believe that everything must follow rules that make no sense, can get frustrating. the worst of those times are when you don't feel well and you crave the comforts that you left in the patriot homeland. it makes you focus on the things you wish you had, but can not get.

i have gotten used to not having access to certain things. not big things, little things, things that a pampered amercian would have at all times, things like medicines that work, services that serve and comforts that provide comfort.

panadol doesn't work for me, it does less than nothing, and taking 8 pills for a headache and having it pulse away is just no fun at all. so i stock up on pink jelly-coated tablets when i am in the US and hope the number of headaches between each trip, multiplied by 3 or 4 tablets needed to combat each, is less than the stock count of pills i carry back to the land of strange and ineffective drugs.

the fact that i have headaches and have a solution doesn't change the fact that i have other needs like stomachaches, which are called oddly gastric here. this of course also means that i need a solution for acid reflux, again i have to import and manage my own supply of pepcid AC because the bottles of chalky white liquid and the pills the pharmacist will offer also do nothing to stop the acid that chews my stomach and wakes me up while i sleep. the list continues, but the solutions begin to run out.

it might be possible that i am difficult, or that i simply like products which work for me; even if i need to carry them from the other side of the world. but there are limits to the things i can bring here. my favorite wine, beer, whiskey, swim shorts, bicycle, pizza, pasta, yogurt, classic DVD and head bands are a few of the items i can not get here, and have almost no acceptable replacement. the fact that i can't get them is something i am normally okay with. the reason i can't get them is beyond me. a country that says it is trying to become a high income economy sometimes tries to have high quality items and good service as the backbone of the system. crappy service, bad products and lack of access is the hallmark of a dysfunctional system.

as my day progressed today, my stomach started to grumble and pressure built in uncomfortable ways. i began to think the best thing for me was to go home, lay on the couch and eat some comfort food. i didn't need much more than time to recover from this, but i wanted to feel comfortable and happy as i laid down with a grumbly tummy and waited for it to pass. the bump in my plan was that i had no food in the fridge and no desire to eat the standard dinner choices, sadly indian, thai, vietmanese and chinese foods are just not comfort food for an irish american with an upset intestinal track.

room service is a company that delivers dinners to expats all over KL. they have a strangely shaped catalog that collects the menus of the restaurants you can order from. i read the menu front to back, and found a single restaurant to order from. there was pizza with false sausage i almost ordered, there was chicken in strange sauce that i could have ordered, but i went with german/swiss pork and whipped potatoes with a gravy that tastes like ketchup. if you don't know it potatoes are like children, they should never be whipped and gravy should never, ever, ever taste like ketchup; even if it is a german kitchen.

there was no comfort from the dinner. it was just not what was needed to settle me down and allow me to feel better. so i am laying on the couch, watching an 11-year old television show about american politics, and thinking about the lack of access to quality items that help improve life and comfort. i am looking forward to the day that KL has all of the quality and comfort that the rest of the world enjoys.

until then, i have a headache, i need to go take a couple pills.

private walls

i have always known that i have some pretty serious walls. i started building them the summer of 1974, just as the nixon administration was falling apart. well, maybe there were elements of the walls before that, but august 1974 was the first time i mixed the cement and filled the cracks to ensure my walls would be strong and lasting. as the years have passed i have been told that my walls are limiting and i should work to take them down. last weekend i realized just how much i need walls and why they make me so comfortable.

the summer has been filled with stress and pressure. my kids came for their 5th trip to asia, most of the stress of this trip is the time and effort to organize the logistics of flights and schedules for a family full of over committed and under organized people. even those not actually flying have needs that must be taken into account. it makes the spring a season of delicate balance, as the flowers are blooming back in the US the opportunities to discuss and debate come to life.

i had the added fun of spending most of the spring on yoyo flights between here and china. other than the weekend climb of the great wall or the afternoon walk through the forbidden city, there were few things i would want to do in beijing again. the fact that the two elements i enjoyed were a 4,000 mi long wall known as "the long fortress", and a city built of a series of walls enclosing ever smaller areas ending in the final space that was to protect one man from those closest to him, should not be overlooked as indicators of my inner self.

after the flights, after the kids, after the crazy push to finish a crazy project, it was time to get away and regroup. this sounded like a good thing and there were enough reasons to make it seem acceptable. but getting away came with another cycle of organizational logistics, location + flights + resort + leave time all come into play. the final location was the second choice of island, in the third choice of country. it was the place that flights were available to, and where a room could be found. the resort selected was done as a whim, almost randomly selected based on a photo and the hope that there would be space to spread out.

the room was exactly what i had hoped it would be, and spreading out is exactly what it allowed. a quiet resort, tucked into a tranquil area with nothing near by and nothing to do but relax. but best of all, a room surrounded by walls that allowed sunlight to bounce off the private pool and stream in the open french doors to the room within. add to this room service, a pile of books and a broken WiFi system and the ability to keep the world at bay for a long-long weekend was nearly complete.

so what i have learned about myself during this time is that although i live in a high tower with low walls all around, although my tower overlooks rolling jungle hills and distant city scape, what i really need are the private walls that surround me and allow me to disconnect from the constant needs of communication and connection. i don't need this everyday, but after the stress of successful projects and parenting, diving into a pool and not worrying about who is watching, who is going to question or comment, who is going to have an uninvited opinion, is very relaxing indeed.

walls are there for privacy, for comfort and for protection. i have built up walls in the past few years, repairing those that i had allowed to fall into disrepair while i was being told they were not needed. but having them again reminds me of why i put them up in the first place. and now that they are back i am much like the campaign slogan from nixon's successful presidential run in 1968:

"the new nixon: tanned, rested and ready"

awaiting acceptance

six months ago i had my boss’ boss in my office. we were discussing our ability to be agile and to work on things that mattered. i threw out an idea that was almost immediately shot down. the idea went against the main thrust of where we were going and could not be “monetized”. it was considered fringe and a distraction; but i was given the opening to write a proposal for later consideration. this was the beginning of the real work, which has consumed too much of my time for the past six months.

during my review this year i agreed with my boss that when i have too much time on my hands i tend to find things to keep myself interested. the downside to this is that those things can be outside of the main stream. doing the same thing everyone else is doing is comfortable for many, but when you go out looking for a challenge finding a new path to take is much more interesting. making it an uphill climb may not be the goal, but finding new trails on the flat ground is what leads people into swamps. malaria, leeches and condor-sized mosquitoes all take away from the enjoyment of the trip for me, so i have become conditioned to head for the hills.

i didn’t do this trip alone. the original catalyst came from two of my staff who came to me and said they were bored. when we decided to really push forward i asked for volunteers and ended up with those same two and one other willing to come along on the ride. the departure was marked by a commitment ceremony of sorts. i told them it was going to be hard, and that no one was going to be able to quit half way, they all agreed but i was sure they had no idea what they were signing up for. the trouble with age and history is that you know just how hard things can be, you know the trail will be rough and that accidents will happen. you know just how painful success can be.

americans have the donner party tragedy as part of our shared memory. pilgrims set out on a journey and mistakes happen along the trial. they are slowed by events which could have been controlled and are trapped in the mountains by winter snow drifts. as the days pass and the realization that survival is not a guarantee takes hold they resort to cannibalism to survive. human nature held true, survival wins out, even if sacrifices need to be made. people who do not push the boundaries, who do not take risks or attempt things which scare others, may never find the need to confront this, but those that do are stronger for it because they know how far they will go to survive or succeed.

we are not winning a war or bringing astronauts on a crippled spacecraft home. this effort will not result in medals or a ron howard movie about us, but what we did matters. soon after starting this, it transitioned from something that was okay if we worked on it in our own time, to something that needed to be done in 60 days. attention had been focused and a goal was set, even it the goal was unachievable. another team was assigned the mission, but we decided as a team to keep going on our own path. as we had discussed things can happen along the way.

to cut a long story short, things did and the pressure to succeed became ours. we had all the focus and needed to hit the dates and deliver. which is what we did, we hit every single date agreed to. the team pushed while i disconnected to take care of a project i started 11 years ago; one that needed to come first. they got us there, and together we stabilized with a hard push at the end. it was not easy, try to picture the scene at the end of “black hawk down” soldiers running through chaos and smoke, exhausted and bruised. that was how we finished, on our feet because that was all we had left. we crossed the line together, no one was left behind, no one broke and left his or her post, and no one was eaten. it was not easy, but its over and now we can regroup.

almost. this project is a new format for us. normally when we finish testing, it gets signed off, and it goes into production. but this time we have a new hurdle, the application needs to be approved by others. while that approval is pending we sit and wait. we have no control, and we cannot influence the decision, we simply need to wait for others to accept us or not. but this is one more lesson for the team:

even when you are hit your goals, you still need the acceptance of others.

squared away

when i first came to malaysia i began talking to locals about where to live. the advice focused a few of the expat areas. ampang was suggested if had children, bangsar if i liked clubs and mont kiara if i wanted an upscale and quiet area. the last alternative was to live in the high-tech backwater at the bottom of the multi-media super corridor. but a town with empty roads, no starbucks and almost no people held less than zero appeal.

i quickly decided ampang was the wrong side of the tracks for me. having an international school handy was not an issue if the kids were going to be in the us for school. the zoo wasn’t something i needed to see, and the hills were having landslides. ampang looked too slow, an area that had seen its day and then watched it slip away.

the next stop was bangsar. i was staying in central area hotels and found banana leaf next to the pasar malam in telawi to be a nice way to spend sunday nights. the clubs have never been a draw for me, but there were interesting restaurants, two starbucks and a mc donalds within walking distance. the place held promise, but the condos were high on the hill and a bit beyond walking distance. there were row house bungalows, but why would i need that much space? i was moving with two hockey bags of possessions a house would have been totally empty.

this was when a friend of a friend offered to drive me around and show me some of the other areas. we went from place to place, and finally ended up in front of a neon red and yellow sign that read hartamas square. in that moment i knew i was in the right area. i knew this was a place i would like to live; no clubs, slower life, and hawker stands near by for a vast selection of dinner choices.

why am i talking about this? i mean who cares why i selected where to live and what does it have to do with now? well, because before you even notice it, things change. i have been here long enough to find places that i really liked, make friends there, find meals i would order over and over as comfort foods and then see them close without telling me first.

at new years room service told me that TSB was closing. i went in and asked and sure enough, the space had been sold and the restaurant was closing. a few weeks ago planter jim’s also closed. i was walking to the bank and saw the gutted space that was once my favorite provider of green curry and mango sticky rice. last week i saw that devis in hartamas was closed, they either had a fire or they decided to do renovations. either way, there is currently nowhere local for me to stop at 4 am for a post-deployment teh tarik.

but the largest shock came this week. the kids and i wanted to do a fast dinner, we could not agree on a tau pow place, and we wanted to spend some time together before my meetings. so we drove down to hartamas and found the neon turned off. there were trucks being loaded with all things mobile. the lights were off, and it was clear they were not coming back on. another comfort zone has disappeared right before my eyes. the neighborhood is changing, and i am wondering if its part of a larger movement that i should be responsive to.

both bangsar and hartamas have recently exploded with reflexology spas, this has come with a closure of many of the best restaurants. other places, like our favorite burrito place in jaya one has recently been painted in bright green and white, but the quality of the food has dipped below the already lowered level of acceptance for mexican food in asia. (i have found great mexican food in australia, indonesia and vietnam, but never in malaysia)

i have begun to wonder if like ampang before it, my neighborhood changed while i wasn’t paying enough attention. or has malaysia in general decided that quality and improved life style does not matter. hartamas square is being knocked down to build yet another row of shop lots or a taller building of offices. but where does one go to have a relaxed and open-air dinner in the middle of expat land? my first hope, as with devi’s, is that the owners were going to put some capital back in and clean things up to improve the space. the trend appears to be to simply knock good things down and build more of the same.

malaysia talks about two things they need to continue to improve and compete. those things are driving innovation and improving life styles to match the growth in the economic opportunities. how does this square up with the expansion of semi-d housing complexes and cookie cutter high-rise apartments that remain empty when completed? innovation and improvement means creating things that are new and not simply copying the same old thing.

hartamas, devis, TSB and jim’s were all places that were different and had character. they welcomed the patrons and gave them something interesting and different. they are all closed now and their neighborhoods suffer for the loss.

if there is an interesting place out there that is high quality, unique in its service, welcoming, comes with choice… but… is not in a mall, has easy parking and has staff who know how to smile and laugh, will you tell me about it?

if you can’t think of something that fits this criteria… consider the deeper meaning.

saying nothing

i am not sure if you have noticed, but i have been very quiet lately. i have not been writing. i have not wanted to write, or when i did want to i did not have anything i was willing to say out loud. this blog began as a safe and quiet place for me to put thoughts; over time it has morphed into something else. this private space has become my most public and enduring method of sharing ideas, and that has changed the thoughts i am willing to share. then again, all forms of sharing have changed for me over the past few years.

when i first started writing i created a few rules:

• no names would ever be used, this is about me and my ideas, never about friends
• i would not discuss anything work related
• i would not write a diary or food blog
• i would not comments on the actions of others, most importantly family

i started this looking for an outlet for the ideas what i questioned and wanted to understand better. the context would be close to mathematician who writes equations on whiteboards to build logical models of a complex world. i attempting to do the same and needed a place to put the formulas.

at the same time, i was building an openly public side in both work and life. i was attempting to connect with people who shared very few commonalities. coming to malaysia limited my access to middle aged, irish catholic, liberal arts majors who have the ability to quote complete scenes from movies that feature dan aykroyd. building anything new comes with making mistakes, and being in a brand new environment adds to the opportunity to make even more. the one i made most often was believing that i could be open with people.

i found that openness is not always a good thing. even, or most especially, with those close enough to be trusted. opening the veil allows others to see inside. the lesson learned was that those openings could be shared with others. unless you are ready to share something with everyone, you need to keep yourself shielded by opaque covers. the downside to this is the realization that the burqa obstructs the wearers vision even more than the vision of the eyes trying to be kept out.

this brings me back to my writing. i started this as semi-private way to discuss semi-private thoughts in a semi-anonymous way. these were the thoughts i would previously have shared with loved ones in the privacy of home. but, living far away limited the access to this safe outlet. the last time i had felt this type of need was in college, when i carried notebooks with the same kind of writing. those notebooks were labeled “reflections on malthus”, and also focused on the fast learning of strange ideas i was collecting by spending more than 20K USD per year. money spent to be forced to read, write and think, something i was now doing for free.

craving to have someone listen to you, while you are far away and disconnected, is a strange feeling. but the ability to control the conversation and complete a thought before someone tells you that you’re “being silly” is a powerful drug for someone in recovery. even more so when you realize the reason you are in recovery is that you had burst a seam from the pressure of not exercising this freedom in the first place.

so why have i not been writing? as usual, it’s basically a mix of three things:

1. i have been too busy to exercise in any form
2. i have not had subjects bubbling to the surface, waiting to be discussed
3. i have not felt comfortable with the semi-privacy i have built

someone wise once said, “if you don’t have anything worth saying, don’t say anything at all”. that didn’t make much sense to me then, but lately it has been spot on. when i came close to saying anything, i found i second-guessed myself. normally when i am unsure of the way to go, i crash forward just to see if i was right. lately it has been the mute on the other side of my conscience that has been telling me that “less is more”.

but, this week is different. i am on the beach with the kids, i have a list of titles i want to share, i am close to breaking two of the 4 rules i built when i started. i miss the process of sharing thoughts, and am reminded that veils are like locks on doors; they only keep the honest man out.

saying nothing does not stop the ideas from coming. if is for me to decide for myself that i am “being silly”; and its for others to decide if they want to listen.

phase two

when i first started this blog, i wanted to talk about the new things i was experiencing with each new day in a foreign land. i have now been in malaysia for almost five years. i still experience new things, but most of my days come without surprise. i have been there, i have done that, i have gotten the t-shirt. maybe i need to find a new focus for myself or my writing.

some of these feelings of change may be related to changes in how i feel about the state of the state. when i first came to asia, i had high levels of guilt for getting out of dodge. i had left a party because i was shown the door, but leaving was a purely selfish act. i did it to get away and put the mess behind me. i did it to stop from making an even bigger mess; but that is another story.

as i left the country, i talked to friends on the phone while standing in the airport. i spoke to others while waiting to board the plane, but the last conversation i had was with myself as the plane began to take off. it was a rainy day that matched my mood; cold, windy and gloomy. i had spent all day dreading and second guessing this take off. the moment was now here and i needed someone to tell me it was okay to go forward rather than back. i was worried i was making the final mistake of a series and that this one would seal the future.

all of the actions and decisions leading up to the moment had brought me to this conversation with myself. i had allowed those i cared most about to close the door on me, and now i was hopping on a plane and heading for a far off land. i felt as though i was abandoning those i had promised to never leave. i worried that i was making the worst mistake of my life. but i knew i had been unhappy for a long time; that happens when those around you are unhappy and you blame yourself. i knew i needed a change of time and space, and i needed to be able to recover from the past few years.

i sat back in my seat and watched the rain stream down the window. it drew lines that i could almost feel; it clouded my vision and carried my eyes downwards. the plane was climbing off the runway now, there was no chance to turn back, the streaks were blown back off the window by the rushing air and i imagined the past mistakes being blown away with them. the future was the now; i had been saying for years that one day i would be happy, and i had no excuse to not do that now.

as i realized that i was committed to this change of location. i was going to live alone, travel, learn new things and meet new people. i missed the people i was leaving. i felt a hole in my chest from the space they used to fill, but that space would need to grow over and be filled with something else. i knew i needed to embrace this, because there was really no other choice any more.

i instantly felt better, but with lingering guilt for choosing happiness. this was the instant the plane burst out of the clouds that had covered my day. sunlight broke over the wings and bright blue sky filled the air. as we continued to climb, the fluffy white clouds stretched as far as the eye could see. the next 30 hours would be spent flying to the other side of the world, but the path looked soft and comforting as i looked into the future.

that was the moment i began to accept the changes that had been forced on me. that was also the pivot moment for me accepting that many other changes would also need to take place. some i have liked, others not. some things have been tried, and reversed because they were wrong to try in the first place. others have been tried and will never be forgotten because they were wonderful and i was blessed that i was given the chance in the first place.

that gapping hole in my chest has healed over. i have built up the scar tissue needed to cover it over. it would be cliché to say that asia has changed me. the truth is that i think i have figured myself out in the past 4 ½ years. i am more comfortable with who i am. i have found the ability to be completely independent and lost the guilt of youth. i have also lost the guilt i felt for coming here. i needed to leave the party, and i am glad i did.

it was good to find a quiet place to find myself.

public enemy

i started the day with a drive to breakfast. i was meeting someone, and had let them choose the location. the place is one i like very much, but which has also been bothering me lately that it is semi-halal. this means they do not server pork, but are happy to serve alcohol. i parked the car next to my favorite pork place, and considered trying to change locations. instead i decided on changing the equation.

as i was driving over i was surfing my music collection. i heard a song a week ago and listened to it over and over, but for days i have not been able to remember the song or the artist. i have an aching desire to hear a song i cannot identify. i feel the song, i have emotional clues, but i cannot put my finger on the button. as i surfed i came to a group i know did not sing the song, but i could not resist selecting them anyway.

public enemy is a sound that is clearly not malaysian. they were the original black-power hip hop group, now known as one of the top 50 influential groups of all time. pe brought us chuck d and flavor flav who broke onto the white american cultural scene when featured in spike lee’s “do the right thing”. “fight the power”, “bring the noise” and “don’t believe the hype” were the perfect mood enhancer as i drove. it was a mood to flex my amercian nature, and lyrics like:

“turn up the radio
they claim that i'm a criminal
by now i wonder how
some people never know
the enemy could be their friend”

were just what i needed.

so i dropped into my pork restaurant, i got a takeaway and carried it to my semi-halal breakfast location. as i walked in i stopped and talked to the waiter who calls me “brother. i told him i was bringing in my own sausage to see if it would be an issue. he just smiled and said “okay”. i walked to the table and sat with my treasure in a bag on the table.

we ordered and were served, pancakes and coffee, which for the first time in 4 years now had the correct meat to accompany them. bacon provided the salty taste needed to cut the bitter of the espresso and the sweet of the pancakes. i felt satisfied and happy with my ability to solve the nagging issue of merging american standards into malaysian expat breakfast locations. i had gone the extra step to allow my morning to satisfy. the world was a happy place.

until i noticed that my partner was not eating the sausage i have seen her enjoy in the past. i asked why and got an evasive answer. i asked more directly, “are you not eating because you think it’s wrong to bring pork to a semi-halal place?”. this time i got the truthful, “yes, i guess so”.

some details that might help paint this picture:

• the bacon was in a container, and wrapped in a bag, no one could see the meat without standing over the table
• i was eating with my fingers, directly from the container to not contaminate the dishes or silverware.
• i had told the staff, and if they had told me not to bring it in, i would not have because i consider them friends.
• i believe the food restriction is generically dumb , and specifically does not cover a challenged catholic
• the place is only semi-halal, if malays can drink here then i should be able to eat pork

the next hour of debate over my openly flaunting the rules was what most political debates are, unsatisfying. i openly confessed to breaking the rules, and although i tried to equate myself to mahatma ghandi, i came off feeling more self-centered than the political reformer i was attempting to imitate.

the breakfast ended with us going our own ways. the day would be one of reflection. somehow was i transported back to the early 1980s, in church and being told why things i knew were right were not and that i should know better. i was not breaking a law, i was trying to be respectful, but i simply wanted to eat what i wanted to eat. i was again told that my issue is that i want to do things i want to do, again with the clear implication that i should not.

i had become my own version of a public enemy. i was considered dangerous and controversial; for trying to have a meal that i considered complete. no one around us complained, the staff did not object, but acting in a manner to demand freedom was very unsettling for someone who does not get upset about most things.

in malaysia, political corruption is tolerated, pirate dvds are openly sold, human trafficking is hardly noticed; but smuggling pork into a semi-halal breakfast spot is the breaking point. not criminal, but something i should be embarrassed about. how does this conditioning happen? how can this country be fixed if no one demands freedom? how can corruption be eliminated if we don’t stop walking on egg shells, and say when things are unfair.

fight the power.

/***********************************************

the song i could not remember is “i can’t get no, satisfaction” the version by the spin doctors.

its a bonus track on “you’ve got to believe in something” both album and song title could clearly be used in a blog of the future.

************************************************/

missing scotty

i have been spending a lot of time in china. this is not time that i am particularly enjoying, or that i want to spend, but work is work and off i go. the role is managing a group of people, who i cannot have a direct conversation with. i have an interpreter to help, but have started to figure out that there is more than language in the way. this is one more step in the process of becoming an expat manager, realizing that all people are the same, but that there are differences which cannot be forgotten.

the office i am visiting is different than the others in the company. it was acquired and has not been brought into the cultural fold of the larger entity. we have locations all over the world, others in asia, but this one is the most foreign. there is a level of isolation that is driven by more than language. the feeling of distance, or possibly highly indirect style, is everywhere in china. as conversations are taking place i find myself questioning what the person on the other side is really saying. the words convey a message, but i sense i am missing the actual meaning.

this is larger than the team i am meeting with, it has come up in almost every interaction. i have noticed selective communication in taxis, restaurants and the hotel. after years of living in malaysia and becoming accustomed to a less than western approach, i am truly shocked at just how indirect an entire city of people can apparently be. i began to wonder how deeply seeded this was. what could be fundamentally different to explain what i was seeing?

the obvious answers were living under communism, religious or language differences or the impact of historical feudalism and dynastic emperors. there were plenty of socio-ecomomic, political and historical areas to consider. i felt as though i might never really get an answer that would provide the clarity i wanted. but then it happened, during a conversation i tried to use a cultural example to explain a point and i realized that chinese engineers lack a key element of knowledge that all the other engineers i have ever worked with have had.

i have been in situations where language was an issue. i have worked in former communist countries and interacted with people still living under communist regimes. i have traveled in historically feudal societies, and have never felt the way i do in china. all software engineers i have worked with have had one item of similarity no matter where they came from. all had been introduced to engineering by montgomery scott, aka scotty.

while talking to someone in china i wanted to use the recurring theme of kirk calling down to the engine room during a crisis and asking how long a critical reconfiguration would take. scotty would reply with something like, “it will take 8 hours captain”. kirk would command, “you have one mr. scott” and hang up without listening to further argument. scotty of course is the classic technical person professional, competent and a bit conservative. kirk is the classic business manager, dealing with stressful situations which the technology guys do not fully understand.

scotty is one of the reasons technical people run head long into hero mode. they were brought up on years of scotty proving that he could do 8 hours of work in one hour when the chips were down. he could perform under the highest pressure and quietly save the ship from destruction. technology guys eat this up, they want to play with their engines and do the impossible. with age and experience this might get washed away, but more likely technical managers just get better at anticipating dangers and managing up.

what does this have to do with china? when i said, “remember on star trek, when kirk would call down to scotty?” i was saw a confused stare and was told by the interpreter that the government does not allow chinese to watch star trek. my head was spinning with the concept of a part of the world, or worse a group of software engineers, who have not watched generations of enterprise crews accomplish the impossible. how can any software shop that does not expect a captain to leave the bridge and lose his life while patching the deflector array stay motivated to follow into crisis.

i asked if this upsets the chinese people. the reply was “we have become accustomed to the pain”, which is exactly what i mean about being told one thing that clearly means another. americans might reply “yell yes, and i am not going to take it any more”. malaysian’s might reply, “yes, but there is nothing we can do to change it”. the answer in china does not even admit the anger, it shades the truth.

as i reflect on this, i remember spock in “the wrath of khan” when he tells kirk that “the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few”. i also remember the federation has done away with private property and capitalism, while it understands self-sacrifice for the greater good. these are clearly ideas closer to communism than the decadent western ideals of enlightenment.

this all leaves me wondering what the leadership in china is so afraid of. why do they want to keep the federation away from the people?

let your engineers be scotty.

smooth journey

all relationships have bumps along the way. people have issues over all kinds of things: sex, money, children, religion are the big four. sometimes, it seems relationships are vehicles for issues more than solutions. you end up disagreeing about the most inane points of rhetoric, without really knowing why you would care as much as the conversation makes it seem. but, what if none of the items above are an issue? what can you find to disagree about if there is nothing else?

i was driving home from work recently and watched the high-end luxury sedan in front me do what i saw as a very strange thing. as we approached a speed bump, it slowed to a crawl and turned it’s wheels to traverse the bump on an angle. the road up the hill is two lanes, and to an american in a rush to attend a conference call, the maneuver appeared to be nothing more than attempting the block the road so as not to be passed. i barely notice this bump as i pass it every day, it is just not enough to slow me down.

i have seen other malaysian drivers do this slow diagonal approach to speed bumps, and made a note to ask someone about it when i got a chance. as the other car moved to the left and i cleared the very small obstruction, i moved right and accelerated. i bumped over the next two speed bumps and pulled into my complex without another thought. leaving cautiously crawling vehicles in my wake a normal event.

a week or so later i was driving with someone. the mood in the car was strained for no good reason, and i was attempting to navigate the emotional obstacles while allowing the navigational obstacles to pass quickly beneath the car. in the uncomfortable silence i noticed the car ahead approach another speed bump in the slow diagonal move. i decided to ask the forgotten question about this; and found that bumps can be constructed out of almost nothing.

my companion told me that the maneuver was taught as a way to protect the vehicle from damage. i understood that large speed bumps can do damage if taken to aggresively, but decided to use the discussion as a metaphor for social differences. my basic premise was that americans are taught to access the danger of obstacles and surmount them as quickly and directly as possible. i provocatively questioned if asians were conditioned to see all obstacles as requiring a slow and indirect approach.

as the conversation unfolded, i again used a passing acceleration to leave the car in front of me far behind. new bumps approached and were taken quickly and directly, a not to subtle reinforcement of my point. we quickly climbed over jalan bukit pantai, the decent faster than the initial climb. as the car bumped over the next yellow striped lump my answer to the social differences came with a simple answer, “we are more interested in a smooth journey”.

the generically western, or is it my personal, focus of ignoring the latent danger of others need for a smooth journey was brought into immediate focus. the benefit of approaching obstacles with caution, and being willing to take them less than straight on was ringing in my ears as we raced forward. i appreciated the dual meaning of the answer, impressed with the use of metaphor.

i probably should have taken the warning and slowed the car. i could have admitted that a smooth journey had merit. i could have tried a new approach to see if it would bring less damage. instead i watched the next bump coming, i said, “sometimes getting to your destination quickly is more important”.

the car hasn’t stopped working, but do you hear that rattle? those bumps might have shaken something lose.

defending tudung

when an american moves to a muslim country they are confronted with many differences in social culture. the lack of pork and alcohol, the inclusion of sharia law into the court system are large for americans who are taught that "pork fat rules", going out with friends includes buying a round of drinks and that society works because of a separation of church and state. in the US everyone is entitled to the same freedoms, the first of which is exercise of their religious beliefs. moving to a culture where the majority are ruled with one set of laws and the minorities another is unsettling.

when i first came to malaysia, one of the first pieces of advice i had was given was to not shake hands with women if they were wearing a tudung. i was told that women in tudung were more conservative and would not touch a man's hand. people were surprised that i came to this country and began to drive immediately. they thought moving from left-hand drive to right would be difficult for me; it took me about an hour to make the transition. but, they assumed not sticking my hand out towards someone would be easy; it took me many months to make that transition.

about a year after coming here, a women i knew began to wear tudung because she had gotten married and her husband "requested" she appear more proper. my impression was that her bright and shiny glow was filtered by this new screen between her and the world. her full expressions were now only visible in private, in public she was more shielded. it was explained as a choice she made, but it was clearly a choice based on "request" more than desire.

there were other women i met in tudung, and later met outside of it. some were women who wore tudung in certain settings and not others. i came to realize the social pressures to be covered were not just from husbands, but also that families, bosses and peers who also had expectations of proper behavior. for some the pressure to conform required them to be covered in one setting but allowed them to be open away from those pressures. i was amazed at the amount of angst someone could go through simply in choosing to let their hair down.

i received an email this week, it had a picture of a little girl in the next car. she was in a pretty pink tudung and looked happy to have the morning sun on her face. the subject line of the email was "poor child", an indictment of the parents who would force a child this young to become separated from the world. rather than questioning the wearing of tudung, the image of the child almost hanging out the window of a car in traffic, had me wondering why she was not in a seat belt.

last week, an expat friend of mine made a comment about tudung, it was in the form of a question, "why would anyone want to do this?". i surprised myself by answering in defense of the tudung. i have asked the question many times, some women have shyly looked at me and said "i have to". other, smart and capable women have given me deeper answers; thoughtful and considered. it was clear they were making a choice for themselves. as a libertarian i am ready to respect and defend someone for making a choice, even if it differs from the one i would make.

in the past 4 years i have learned to see beyond the veil. moving from the view that tudung was a misogynistic form of control, to one that respects the choice a woman can make to declare to the world that she wishes to keep more of herself private. this change of view is one that i am honestly surprised by, and one that would not have happened if women did not choose to answer my questions openly.

malay women used to begin to wear tudung as they aged, they would be 40ish when they put the it on. the trend over the past 25 years has been to begin wearing it younger and younger. it should be possible for the 40 year old women to make a choice; but a small child has no choice. good parents make choices for their children, they set expectations and impose limits. i do not allow my children to rollerblade without helmet and wrist guards. i question why some parents would teach their daughters that scarfs come before seat belts.

protecting my children from high speed crashes comes close to first in my priorities of parenting, allowing them the room for self expression and choice closely follows. for malaysians i can only hope that choice of coverage is given to each as an individual. as i have learned, women who have real choice are those who can later explain why it is important to them. enforcement of rules without allowing choice leads those who can to rebellion, even if that rebellion is in the form of quiet hypocrisy. for those who can't think, following rules is not a victory, because thought is required for choice.

i have changed since moving here. i still believe in the evil tirade of pork, beer and secularism, but i can now defend something i used to see as oppressive.

but, only when being closed was an open choice.