What's on the Playlist?

This morning I went to the gym. The gym is collection of second-hand treadmills, weight machines, exercise bicycles, and free weights dotting the gym floor like land mines in an old war zone. The building is a covered, open-wall warehouse type structure with 6 fut-sol  pitches (courts? fields? what ARE they called if they are inside and on a concrete floor?!)as the main function of the facility. The weights are almost an afterthought.

Today there were five of us "exercising". One man was strolling on the treadmill in his bare feet and blue jeans at a snail's pace of 2 km/hr or about just over a mile in 60 minutes.  Apparently he couldn't read the sign on the door in both English and Chinese reminding exercisers to "wear shoes." Three younger men had, what appeared to be opposite fitness goals from  "treadmill man" as they were  intense body builders, trying to bulk up and use all the free weights in the gym...at the same time. They appeared to have drunk their early morning protein drinks because they had the energy to grunt and lift, lift and grunt, bang, bounce, drop the weights and scare the birds away.

I, the lone female, on the other hand was trying to run at faster pace than usual. Truth be told, I decided to have a  short distance goal with a fast time goal, because I just wanted to exit the sweat, smell and grunts ASAP. I'd just gotten into my groove...tuned out "grunting man" and ignored all the bacterial implications of "treadmill man"... when the song on the loudspeaker grabbed my attention.

In all honesty it wasn't the pace of the beat or intensity of the bass that distracted from my minimal goal.Quite the opposite. In fact, before I could even "name that tune", I could hear the handsome male vocalist's voice, picture his wholesome Christian good looks on the CD cover, and remember at least  three of my 8th grade classes marching reverently down the aisle at church with parents and grandparents grabbing tissues to wipe away tears of pride and joy at the occasion of their graduation. I had just started humming the refrain of this very popular song when my attention was again taken by "grunting man". Maybe I really didn't want to exercise and was making mental excuses but I stopped  humming just in time to see him lifting the Olympic bar plus 6 plates (3 on each side) and 2 collars (the clips to hold the weights on)  (wow..I just did the math and he lifted 325 lbs! No wonder he was grunting!).

It was like the barbell was singing to him...

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up... To more than I can be.

After this morning's workout, this song  takes on a whole new meaning. But, I'm still not sure I'll add it to my "Intense Exercise Tunes" playlist.

Adaptation to a new Land

While biking to the turtle hatchery on Sunday, the roar of a motorcycle whizzing by startled me from the hypnotizing whir of the pedals pulling the chain of my bicycle. I had a fleeting panic attack because I couldn't remember what side of the road I was supposed to ride on. I was riding behind my husband so I figured I must be OK.
Then I thought about how normal it felt to be riding on the left shoulder.

Then I was trying to imagine myself riding on the right shoulder, and I couldn't remember what it felt like. The left side now felt "normal". I couldn't remember riding on the right side of the road.

Then I started thinking about the human ability to adapt and what I've adapted to in just over three weeks here in Malaysia.

Here are some of my adaptations:

1)Flies covering food and tables at outdoor restaurants. Before: seeing the flies would prompt discussions about sanitation and e-coli. Now: seeing the colorful, spicy, delicious looking food makes my taste buds water while only briefly wondering if red hot chili peppers kill bacteria.
2) Dishing washing with buckets and hoses behind restaurants. Before: I didn't want to think about it or see it. Now:  I hope they use bleach but don't give it too much thought.
3) No hot water in the kitchen. Before:  I didn't know 21st century building and health codes permitted this. Now: the electric tea pot and Clorox bottle are my BKB (best kitchen buddies).
4) Housekeeping. :) No explanation needed.
5) Wringing out a tee shirt and two towels for each 45 minute exercise workout. Before: I gauged the intensity of the workout on the amount of sweat. Now: I consider sweating at the gym an inexpensive "day at the spa."
6) Biking at 5:00 am before the sun rises. Before: I preferred sleeping until at least 6:00. Now: I prefer the early am hot and humid weather to the mid-day sun drenched hot and humid. Pre sunrise I can hear the birds chirping and roosters crowing but can't see rubbish and trash lining the road side.
7) A fresh leg of beef dripping in the produce aisle in the morning and being carved in the afternoon with flies jumping between lettuce and leg. Before thinking: yuk and "sub-prime under aged beef".  Now thinking: "Beef!...it's what's for dinner."
8) Cooking decisions based upon what's for sale at the store. Before: wondering what to do with acres of dried fish and noodles. Now: seeing  one - 200 gram pack of feta cheese and saying "Greek salad for dinner!"
9) Gardening and nurseries: Before: leaving the yard care and gardening to my husband and snoozing through trips to the nursery. Now: eagerly planning trips to the nursery to purchase plants with exotic scents and leaves like jasmine, hibiscus, and Chinese money trees.
10) Living in Lumut: Upon arrival: disappointed to find the small, dirty industrial port town exactly as I'd expected. Now: happy with my adaptations to the increase in free time to learn new things, see new places and "create" a meaningful existence. I feel like a 17th explorer of new lands far and away with the advantages of internet and electricity for learning and communication.

Yes, I'm probably still in the "honey-moon" stage as it's called in the Stages of Cultural Adaptation (and yes, there is research to explain what happens when people move either across town or across the globe). In any event, it is amazing how we, as humans, do "adapt" to our environments. And, for now, I'll enjoy the "honey moon" while it lasts.

Eating Moon Cakes

Because the sales person told me it was the most popular, I selected the lotus flower moon cake for our first "moon cake" tasting experience. Here is a picture of the moon cake before we cut it open.

I was curious about the picture of the rabbit on the top so I googled the question, "Why is there a rabbit on a moon cake?" Lo and behold, I got an answer. Here's what Marie-Louise Latch wrote in China Now magazine in 1998,
 "The concept of a 'moon rabbit' was introduced to China with Indian Buddhist influence. Taoism adopted the rabbit in the moon along with many other concepts that originated in Buddhism: they called it the Jade Rabbit. It is said to stand under a magical cassia tree on the moon making pills of immortality.

Then we cut the moon cake open.

The filling was the consistency of a fig newton with a couple of lotus seeds sprinkled in. 

Another quick search on the internet explained how lotus seed paste is made:
1. Dried lotus seeds are stewed in water and mashed into a fine paste.
2. The paste is mixed with water and passed through a sieve.
3. The slurry is squeezed dry in a cheesecloth to make a crumbly paste.
4. The paste is mixed with sugar and oil to produce a sweet paste.
5. Because lotus seeds are expensive, sometimes they are mixed with white kidney beans as a filler.

We took our first bites.

The flavor was slightly sweet with and undertone of sunflower seeds and red kidney beans. The crust was biscuit or lightly-sweetened lard cookie tasting but not flaky like a pie. It wasn't as sweet (or chocolaty) as I like my desserts, but the firm yet chewy texture was sugary/dessert-like. To my palate the moon cake wasn't delicious but it wasn't awful either. I can eat a lotus seed moon cake but, as immortality is not one of my goals, I probably won't keep a large supply in the pantry. In fact, I'll probably enjoy the brownies I just made, before digging into the red bean and egg yolk moon cake sitting in the pretty box in our cupboard.

Buying Moon Cakes

Left to right: Lotus flower moon cake, yam and rice paste moon cake.

I've been eyeing the beautiful moon cake display at the entry to the grocery store for the past week. And, I've been telling myself I should buy a couple of the elaborately-designed, delicious-looking cakes eveytime I've come to the store. Unfortunately, my backpack has been too full of staples like rice, (a small bag is 10 kg) flour, sugar, and salt (see previous post) to stock our new kitchen. But today after just having installed a "box" on the back of our motorcycle, I was eager to fill it with something special so the purchase of moon cakes seemed like the right idea.

The lovely display had a poster advertising all the flavors of moon cakes that were offered so I took my time reading each name and description and then matching each description to the photo. The names made the cakes sound beautiful, peaceful, and lovely, but the ingredients did not stimulate my taste buds. Actually, I was trying to find a moon cake that had even one ingredient that I could venture to try for dessert. Here are some of the flavors I remember: lotus petal, salted duck egg, wisteria blossom flower, yam with rice paste, green tea mango, coconut and red bean paste, and sausage. My mind was thinking, Surely these cakes don't contain lotus flowers...They must be sweet and sugary a romantic name so someone can give a "lotus flower" moon cake to a loved one, just like we give heart-shaped chocolate to our loved ones on Valentine's Day.

By this time a handsome, young Chinese Malasian salesclerk greeted me and asked if I needed help.

"Can I buy a moon cake?"

"Can, Can," he replied.

Pointing to a picture of a moon cake I'd been reading about I decided to test my theory that lotus flower was the "name" only.  "Is this moon cake made from Lotus flowers or is that just the name?"

"Made from lotus flower," he replied with the confidence of a gourmet chef who uses on the finest ingredients. "Delicious."

So far this particular moon cake is not sounding edible, but in all honesty, I've never tasted lotus flower. I'm not even sure seen one in real life, only in Oriental paintings and sculptures at museums and art galleries. At this point I spy a moon cake that appears to be chocolate and is called "Ganache". It sounds much more palatable. I try a different tactic...

"Which flavors are the most popular?"

 Please, please, please say "ganache"as I hold my breath.

"Oh that's easy. Lotus flower and yam with rice paste."

I smile and try to hide a disappointed exhale.

"Ok, Well..... I'll try a.... Lotus flower moon cake and one yam with rice paste," I spit out before I can change my mind.

He smiles and gently selects one of each.

"Do you want a box?" he asks.

Well, I think, if they don't taste good, at least I'll have a lovely oriental box to decorate my house.

"I'd love one!" I gush with way too much enthusiasm.

After selecting a lovely pale green box with paintings of lotus flowers and butterflies on the sides, I  try to learn more about these delicacies.

"When should I eat these moon cakes?" I ask.

"Anytime or September 19th for the Mid-Autumn Festival."

"How should I eat them? With tea? For dessert? Anytime?"

"Anytime you can eat them." He gives me a broad smile.

"I'm looking forward to trying them! And thank you for your help. Can I take your picture?"

My moon cake salesperson

I haven't tasted them yet but I'll post the outcome in a separate blog. In the meantime, I've decided not to mention the names to my husband until after he tastes them. 

Talking to Strangers in the Check-Out Line

It's pretty easy to spot us foreigners at the grocery store. We buy the foods that we "recognize" like fresh salmon instead of dried little fishes, Dole bananas instead of the local red ones, Philadelphia Cream cheese instead of the rolled logs of white squishy stuff that say "cheese" in several languages on the package.

In fact, the woman standing in front of me, dressed in yoga pants, an exercise top, and flip flops  could have shopped from the exact same grocery list as me. She was buying mostly nutritious, healthy "American style" food although my competitive side quickly scanned my basket to make sure it lived up to the same high standards as her. (Yes, we both had splurged on the organic Japanese cucumbers..) When she placed the bag of "real" oatmeal on the conveyor belt rather than powdery instant stuff that is sitting unopened in my kitchen cabinet, I had my opening....

 "Excuse, me, but where did you find the "real" oatmeal?"

I mentally patted myself on the back for the great "lead-in. Besides,  1) I really wanted to know and 2) I really wanted to speak English to a stranger. I'm always curious how people end up living here in Lumut. To top things off, she was buying a yoga mat and I had just bought a new yoga mat from a nearby mall store and it was slung over my shoulder. So we already had the makings of a great friendship: we both like oatmeal and we both have yoga mats.

Sure enough, she turned, smiled, and replied "Hello, where are you from?" and gave directions to the bottom shelf of the cereal aisle. (Apparently, the Malaysian grocery stores keep the healthy food away from eye level, too.)

Our conversation was off and running at a pace that only women can comprehend.  In fact, we held up the rest of the line while we sorted out phone numbers, exercise information and problems with jogging (cat calls, profanity, etc.), and "Insanity" workout plans plus the accompanying diets to go with it which was her reason for the oatmeal purchase in the first place, rock climbing (oh, my son loves that!) blah, blah, blah.....

So, my "conversation" in the check-out line yielded another interesting person who has figured out how to be a "life coach" and a "business consultant" while living in interesting places throughout the world. Here's a link to her website that tells her life/business better than I can...

http://www.businessbackpacker.com

So today's afternoon just goes to show you...You should always talk to strangers in the check-out line!

My New Favorite - Malaysian White Coffee

Several days ago, after a 7:00 am trip to the farmer's market (The Thursday Wet Market, I think it's called) several women and I decided to have get-to-know-each-other coffee at  the local Starbucks. We were surprised to learn that Starbucks doesn't open here in Lumut until 10:00 am. - definitely not what we're used to.

After some quick discussion we all agreed it would be fun to try white coffee at a place several blocks away. As we pulled up to the cafe, I finally understood where all the people hang out between 7:00 and 10-11am ish when stores gradually open. They are chatting with friends over a leisure cup of coffee.

The photo-laden menus (yippee!), an order slip, and a pencil were waiting for us in the center of each table. We perused the pictures of the yummy looking coffee drinks and placed our orders. I wanted to start with the basic "white coffee" about which I'd heard so much. I decided to order mine "cold" because by now it was already sweltering hot on the shaded veranda.

The caramel-colored drink came in a tall glass filled with ice and a straw. I took one sip and delighted in buttery-coffee-creamy flavor. I found it difficult to just sip and enjoy because I was so hot and thirsty and it was so yummy -almost like coffee flavored ice cream. I slurped the final drops at the bottom and tried to forced myself to not chew the coffee-soaked iced cubes. I could have ordered another.

Over the weekend I had three more white coffees. But, this morning I decided I'd better do a little research before I get too "addicted." In other words, these coffees taste rich and sweet which means they're probably laden with fat and sugar calories.

Sure enough, here's what I learned. Malaysian White Coffee originated in the town of Ipoh which is about 75 kilometers east of here. The coffee beans are roasted in margarine. The brewed coffee is then mixed with sweetened condensed milk and can be drunk hot or cold. Malaysians drink lots of white coffee at work and there are instant coffee packets that are called 3 in 1s which contain coffee powder, sugar, and creamer and make it easy to whip up a cup or glass during the day.

I think that I've had now drunk both the roasted, fresh white coffee and the instant powdered coffee at different cafe/restaurants. I much prefer the fresh to the instant. In light of what I've learned, I've also decided to keep the "white coffee" as a "special occasion" treat rather than a daily habit.

A Frugal Man on a Bicycle

The sun was frying my brain while sitting on my bicycle waiting for the light to turn green. Thoughts were swimming through my head:

I should have ridden home earlier... It's too hot out here. ..Am I in the correct lane?(I'm still adjusting to British driving on the left)..Would it be faster to go straight or turn left?....I'm hungry... I still haven't found bread...

YOU'D BETTER BE CAREFUL, MISSY!

I was startled out of my befuddled conversation.

Be careful about what? Where am I? Is someone talking to me?

A Chinese man with grey, buzzed hair riding a red bicycle pulled up beside me. 

He repeated, "You'd better be careful! The drivers in Malaysia are animals. They are crazy. They give no respect!" Then, without taking a break he asked, "Where are you from?"

"America," I replied.

"I lived in New York City, Queens, for 30 years. I also lived in New Jersey, Florida, Massachusetts, and Maryland. I just returned to Malaysia 9 months ago. Malaysia is a good place but dangerous. You must lock your doors every night before you go to sleep. You be careful. Lots of muggers. They take your money."

"Ok. I'll be careful. Thanks for the advice."

The light turned to green.

"Come, I'll show you my house."

Forgetting how hot I was, I figured it would be interesting to see what 30 years of hard work in the USA will purchase in Malaysia. I had a fleeting thought that he could mug me but his age, his good spoken English, and the giant mole with two-inch long whiskers on the left center of his chin took away all common sense. My only thoughts were that a pair of scissors could easily take care of the 6 hairs positioned  like spider legs on his mole.

"OK," I replied a little too enthusiastically.

We biked along the same highway for several minutes chatting about America and Malaysia. When he mentioned his wife, I felt OK about the excursion but then I thought:

A wife?! He's got a wife?! Why hasn't she taken care of the spider legs on his face!

A few more turns of the pedals brought us up to his gate (all houses have locked gates in front and bars on all the windows) I was impressed. He has a large, organic garden where he grows vegetables for his family and a lovely British colonial style house with a bay window. He also mentioned he has a house in Ipoh and in Kuala Lumpur.

 He apologized that he is uneducated (at least in the traditional sense of a formal education) but he reads a lot. Judging from this house which he said cost about $350,000 he's certainly educated about the importance of hard work, money, and saving. Here was a man who had given a lifetime of hard to provide a better life for his children. He is an inspiration.

The Salt of MY Earth

I never knew buying salt could be so difficult. I'm not talking about buying gourmet sea salts or even reduced-sodium table salt. I'm just in need of some  plain old iodized table salt.

I'd been told to bring my favorite "spices" from home that, on any day when I'm feeling homesick,  would help me create familiar dishes and give me a break from the exotic flavors that accompany almost every meal we find in a restaurant. And I even listened. I packed a box of McCormick's finest which will be delivered when our shipment arrives. (Makes me think of the phrase, it's on a slow boat from China)

Unfortunately, I didn't include "salt" on that spice list. I just assumed everybody needs salt and salt is salt. Boy was I wrong.

For my first attempt at cooking breakfast, I found the salt shaker in the cupboard, and the first thing I noticed was the label: ENHANCED FLAVOR TABLE SALT.  And then in fine print were the words: CONTAINS MONOSODIUM GLUTENATE.

"Sweetie," I said, "Do you know this salt has MSG? We can't be eating this. Let's skip the salt today. Where's the pepper?"

He pointed me in the right direction and I read the label: ENHANCED BLACK PEPPER. But this bottle was trickier. The "MSG" was mentioned in very fine print on the ingredient label on the back.

The eggs were a little bland that morning. 

On the next trip to the store I sought out the spice aisle. The salt comes in giant 5 or 10 kg bags. (10 or 20 pound of salt.) Who could ever need that much salt unless he or she is the parent of a 5th grader whose homework assignment in to mummify a fish. (yes, I've been that parent.) Finally, I looked down to the bottom shelf I found several small 500 gram bags of salt. MSG was not listed on the ingredient label anywhere. Score!....I thought.

For my next meal I tried to prepare egg salad sandwiches with a trace of salt and pepper. My first bite told me that there was something wrong with this salt. It tasted and smelled like dead fish. Although it said there is no MSG and it had the requisite healthy iodine, the label said "Sea Salt." That must have been the problem. It came from a very fishy sea. I dumped the bad tasting 500 gram bag in the trash.

On the third trip to the store I brought Eric along. We both pulled out our reading glasses and examined all the fine print. We chose the salt with the following label: IODIZED ROCK SALT. SALT SO PURE, IT IS TASTY & HEALTHY. (no msg, no "sea" words,) Plus, the bag says it's "Imported" and "Quality assured." Could we believe what we read?

This evening, I tasted a little on my pinkie.

Drum roll, please.....

We're going to eat plain corn-on-the-cob tonight..

A Trip to Tesco

Rock Sugar

My first several trips to grocery stores here in Lumut have reinforced just how little I know about food. While walking up and down the long, superstore/Wal-Mart/Cosco length aisles in yesterday's trip to Tesco (a Chinese brand) I recognize less than 50% of the "edible"- debatable in my opinion - products for sale in the store.





Here are some things I'd never seen before:

Coconut Sugar

Coconut Sugar - Shaped like a brown tin can
Rock Sugar - looks like Hope Diamonds
Fresh Lychees - Chinese fruit that symbolizes romance and love
Aisles of dried fish and mushrooms
Aisles of Ramon-type noodles - The dried carrot flavor really caught my attention
Chicken and fish pieces tossed on top of ice and available self-serve like the produce section
Children touching every fish and chicken piece with their bare hands
Packages of whole cut-up chicken complete with the head and the feet
One tennis-court length aisle devoted only to Chinese infant formula

Here are some things that surprised me:

Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream
Haagen Das Ice Cream
Special K breakfast bars
A separate enclosed room called Halal Meat - It surprised me because it was filled with only pork products. If you do a quick Wiki search you'll understand why I wasn't sure if the name of this room  was an example of "irony", an "oxymoron", or "translation" problem.

And here is a picture of a Malay vegetable:

It smells nice and sweet like a flower and the root ends look like chives but I have no idea how it is used or prepared. The translated label "Fresh Vegetable" wrapped around the bunch is not helpful.

I know I need a personal guide for navigating the store and a teacher to show me how to use what I purchase. In the meantime - I'm hungry!

And it Comes with Housekeeping

With the bad comes the good and our new apartment is no exception. Sure, the drain in the kitchen floor backs up and floods the surface with dirty dish water. Sure, we can't leave any food or dishes on the counter or within seconds the crumbs are covered in tiny black ant hills. Sure, I have an "audience" from my backdoor neighbor who watches my every move when I'm struggling to figure out the organization of the kitchen. But, I also have "housekeeping" which comes every Monday and Thursday.

Yesterday was our "scheduled" housekeeping day but a note left on our dining room table said they would be on holiday (the last of their Ramadan celebration.) I was happy they would NOT come because I was in the midst of unpacking and organizing: luggage, shoes, papers, and bags of purchases from the mall were strewn across all the floors, up the stairs, and on the bed.  Piles of clothes had been stuffed on the wardrobe floor because I was trying to work out how I would fit into the space previously occupied by Eric alone.

Apparently, the housekeepers did not get the memo because about 1:00 pm the doorbell rang. By this time I'd completely forgotten about housekeeping and thought it might be some neighbors stopping by to say "hello." But quick introductions proved me wrong. I did a mental survey of the disaster inside and thought maybe I could postpone them until another day.

Me: Nice to meet you. (big smile) I thought today was a holiday.
Housekeeper #1: (hiding her cheerful giggling with her hand over her mouth).I forgot. Holiday 4 days. (more giggling)
Me: Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday? You can enjoy your holiday. You can come back on Thursday.
Housekeeper #2: We clean now. (smiling and giggling)
Me: OK.(I opened the front door)..... It's a mess.
Housekeeper #2: No problem.(She marched straight to the kitchen and saw my feeble attempt to clean aforementioned flooded floor.) What happened? (pointing accusingly at the floor but I felt like it was at me.)
Me:( I pointed to the drain and then the sink) Big problem.
Housekeeper #2: No problem. (She whipped out her cell phone and made a phone call to the handymen.)

They both got to work dusting, mopping, cleaning, changing the sheets, etc. and I actually got a lot of organizing finished because being distracted on FB (as I had been all morning) just didn't seem like a good idea with an audience. About two hours later, as they were winding down their work, Housekeeper #2, asked about my family and I asked about hers. They both were so happy to meet me. They told me they clean 7 houses and I'm the first person they've actually met who lives in one of the houses. When they learned that I'd been an English teacher they perked up and said maybe I could teach them English and I replied sure and that maybe they could teach me Malay. So, here's our first English lesson:

Me: How do I say thank you?
#1: Terima Kasih
Me: Terima Kasih.
#2: (pointing) kitchen - Dapur
Me: Dapur
#1: Dirty - kotor
me: kotor. Dapur kotor. (Dirty Kitchen)
#2: (hiding her giggle) Come! - Dafang!
Me: Dafang! Dapur kotor. (Come! Kitchen dirty.) How do I say, "please"?
#2: Tolong.
Me: Dafang! Dapur kotor! Tolong.

At this point they were both happy and smiling and giggling. Then #2 gave me her phone number and told me to call her if I have ANY problems. She said she will come.

Then they both said they had not met my husband. They ironed some shirts for him and cleaned but they never met him. They saw him one time riding his bike home but they hid because they don't wear their head scarves when they are cleaning (too hot) so they cannot see any men. Then #1 started laughing and told me what to say to Eric when he comes home from work.

#2: (with a mischievious yet playful grin) Mari Tidur. (Come to sleep)
#1: (She started giggling again and shook her finger at #1) Naughty. Naughty.
#2: (laughing a lot) Mari Tidur.
Me:( blushing a bit but laughing too.) Mari Tidur. OK. I understand.

After the giggling and laughter died down

 #1: (in a serious voice) Your husband is a good man. He no have girls here.
Me: (smiling) I know he's a good man. I'm lucky.

I practiced saying thank you again and told them they were my first friends. We hugged each other, they walked out the door and finished their day.

I'm happy the apartment comes with housekeeping for many reasons!

Thanks to the Girl Scouts

It's my first morning at our new apartment in Lumut, Malaysia and simple things like doing the dishes become "learning experiences". This morning in no exception. Take a look at our kitchen:

From all outward appearances, it looks like a modern kitchen: ceramic counter tops, modern cupboards, stainless steel sink, microwave oven, bright windows looking into my neighbor's kitchen, etc. What you can't tell from the picture are the following:

The counter tops are 31 inches tall. That's only 4 inches taller than the average chair height of 17 inches or 2 inches taller than the diameter of my bicycle tires. In other words, these counter tops are designed to be comfortable for extremely short people.

There is no oven. That will be a separate purchase at another time.

There is no hot water. The bathrooms each have little hot water heaters on the showers only, but there is nothing in the kitchen. So I boiled a liter of water in our tiny electric tea pot. Poured the water into the first basin. Added some dish detergent and cold tap water to make the temperature bearable. Then, I rinsed the dishes in the second sink with cold water and a touch of bleach (just like camping with the Girl Scouts.)

Biking in Singapore

What started out as kind of a joke has now become a bit of a goal...to bike in as many cities as I can. Hence, on Saturday Eric and I found a cute little bike shop with some colorful one-speed (almost like fixies) lime green bicycles. Our goal was to bike from Singapore to Sentosa Island because my guide book described it as a "great place to ride bikes."

From the map, I couldn't figure out exactly how to ride to Sentosa and the shop owner's directions weren't much better.

Owner: Just go straight and at the zebra stripes turn left. Then, just keep going straight. You can't miss it.

Knowing that I can have and have "missed" many things from vague directions like his, and also having no idea what "zebra stripes" are other than the black and white stripes on an African animal, I decided it would be better if he showed me on a map.

Me: Could you show me on the map, please?

After a few minutes of trying to locate his shop on the map, the man was able to draw a line on the roads we should take. Thank goodness he did. At the first intersection Eric and I had our  first "discussion" about zebra stripes. The intersection had 3 diagonal, yellow stripes crossing the road but they did not look anything like "zebra" stripes. Eric was sure we should ride to another intersection and I was sure these yellow lines were the aforementioned stripes albeit more for a tiger than a zebra. The map confirmed I was right.

The remaining 10 or so kilometers to the island were much less than "biker-friendly": three-lane highways, zero shoulders, construction, lots of traffic and trucks. The last part of the ride was like biking through the Lincoln Tunnel in NYC at rush hour. In other words there were tons of weekend gamblers and families anxious to get to the Disneyworld/Universal Studios/Las Vegas style resort island of Sentosa for their holiday entertainment. When the lane we were forced into because of the traffic ended up in the parking garage of Resorts International Casino with us sandwiched between giant coach buses spewing fumes from all directions, I wanted to cry.

Luckily a nice bell hop pointed to the winding circular driveway leading towards daylight and fresh air. We stand-up pedaedl our "fixies" up four levels of parking garage towards island paradise. Wiping sweat out of our eyes and adjusting to the bright sun-shine we finally found some slightly more "biker friendly" roads and explored the small island. We found a cove and marina filled with large yachts from around the world and a small board walk with families riding bikes and scooters. Finally, we understood what the guide books meant about Santosa being "biker friendly." There was a 2 km long boardwalk for a short stoll/ride where families were crusing on bikes or scooters.

I'm sure there are better rides in Singapore, but during our short stay, we definitely did not find them.

Indian Dessert in Singapore

Last night we had the pleasure of dining at a very nice Indian restaurant with friends. I always appreciate eating unfamiliar food with people who know what to order because a) I can't read the menu and b) even if I can read the menu, I don't know what the names of the food items mean. Last night was no exception. Our host took charge and ordered a large assortment of delectable vegetarian appetizers with difficult names to pronounce. Here are my descriptions: spinach and cheese wrapped in triangle-shaped dough and fried, minced broccoli and potato patties, spicy lentil paste (dal?), naan (spicy warm bread), hot and spicy fried calamari, raw purple onions, spicy warm chick peas. Each of the items was accompanied with its own little bowl of sauce that enhanced the flavor of that particular dish.

In addition to the appetizers, some of the main courses included grilled chicken, shredded chicken with a satay-type peanut/coconut sauce and braised lamb shanks. All were superb.

Because all the food was so delicious, I ate until I thought I could eat no more. Unfortunately, our host suggested we make room for some dessert. This dessert is an example of what defines the taste and presentation differences between North America and Asia. This dish contained pumpkin (I think) ice cream cut into cubes and served in bowl nesting in another bowl filled with dry ice and red liquid. Although the presentation was lovely, I have not yet "acquired" a taste for the substance inside.

Eric was a good sport and finished the bowl. But as we passed a Haagen Das vendor on our walk to the hotel, he insisted on stopping for a scoop of double Belgian chocolate.

Hong Kong First Impressions

I love walking off an airplane and into a new "culture". It dosen't matter if that new place is in the US or abroad. There's something about the stark reality that one in "not in Kansas anymore."

Hong Kong is a very modern airport with great signage, free WiFi, and classy stores. But I have to admit that even the glitz and technology was overshadowed by the number of "fever" stations manned by nurses wearing face masks. Did I miss something in the literature or in all of my health visits for travel to this part of the country? Is there a virus I should be aware of?

Fortunately, I did not have time to devote much more time to thinking about the "fever" stations because I needed to concentrate on recovering my bag and purchasing transport to my hotel. I  freaked out when the round trip airport express train was $180 but then I remembered that the local currency is Hong Kong Dollarsand they use the $ sign so with the exchange rate I could divide by about 6.5..(about 30USD for the round trip.)

The rest was sooo easy. The train was new, quiet, fast and comfortable. The subsequent shuttle was waiting when I exited the train station and my hotel was the first stop. During the drive I got my first glimpse of the beautiful, modern skyscrapers, the glitzy neon signs, and the double decker buses and trams.

To complete the journey a beautiful harpist was playing music in the lobby of the hotel when I arrived. Now, sitting in my room on the 40th floor overlooking Victoria Harbor, I'm trying to trick my body into thinking it's bedtime and hoping I can get a good night's sleep before  a full day of sightseeing tomorrow.

Because James Bond Went There.

Today I visited Macau. I didn't really know where Macau was but the most recent James Bond movie, Skyfall, had a scene set there and my oldest daughter said I should go. When I learned that Macau was only an hour by ferry boat away from Hong Kong, and "no special visa required" I thought I should go.

I arrived at the ferry ticket office about 9:15 and purchased a ticket for the 10:10 ferry. As luck would have it, I was able to get on the 9:30 ferry by riding "stand by" which was great except that I was seated between two heavy smokers who hadn't showered in weeks and probably hadn't slept either. The guy to my left closed the curtains before we even left the harbor (I was looking forward to the view but didn't know how to ask) and put his head down on the tray table and drooled a bucket full. His face was drenched when we started to disembark. The guy to my right wasn't much better with his head lolling around left and right and hanging in the aisle. I leaned appropriately to avoid him putting his smokey head on my shoulder. The vision of my ferry mates told me that I was on a boat headed towards a day of compulsive gambling and free cocktails. Even though my tour books assured me there was a lot more to see in Macau, from the looks of these guys I was beginning to doubt my decision to come.

A long hour of trying to breath through my mouth later, we arrived in Macau. Customs was quick and fast giving me more time out in the baking heat to visit this city. My tour book had the great suggestion of taking one of the many "free casino shuttles" to the center of town and embark on my sightseeing for free. I chose the shuttle bus to the Grand Lisboa because it was the first casino on Macau and owned by a billionaire Chinese man, and because I didn't want to ride to a casino I could see in Vegas like the Wynn, the Sands, the MGM, or the Rio. (I'm not making this up. They are all there.) Anyway, the shuttle worked great. It dropped me off in the basement Lisboa with the intent that I would walk through both the downstairs and upstairs casinos and maybe drop a few Hong Kong dollars. But I had other plans...power walk to see all the sights and then maybe spend my coins at the end of the day.

Here's a picture of the Grand Lisboa as soon as I walked outside.

After a few minutes of trying to get my bearings and find myself on a map, I headed in the direction of the old center of Macau. Several blocks later I came upon some elegant, beautiful pink, white, and yellow buildings with curly cues and wrought iron balconies. It almost looked like I was in Spain or Portugal. The town square  very European with a church, a fountain and town hall all surrounding the square. The only difference was that the signs were printed in three languages: Chinese (Mandarin or Cantonese..I'm not sure..maybe sometimes both), Portuguese, and English.

The street signs are in Chinese, Portuguese,and English. The Portuguese ruled Macau until 1999. 

To pay homage to the various cultures inhabiting Macau for the past 500 years, I visited at least 5 churches, one convent, one monastery and one Buddist temple. I found them all interesting but I was especially impressed by the number and the quality of the churches. I know it takes a lot of money for their upkeep and some of these were really old and in need of lots of repair. So...I'm wondering if the gambling money is trickling down. For example, this church was being renovated but all the church relics were housed on the second and third floor of an abandoned convent.  Pay particular attention to the sign posted on the third floor. Believe me, I was counting tourists but does "ten people" mean ten people the size of me? (I'm bigger than most of the people around me.) Or is the sign referring to smaller people? In that case would the floor hold only 5 people?

The most interesting part of the day was visiting the Mandarin's House. The owner of this house wrote lots of books and influenced Chairman Mao. But what I really enjoyed was seeing a Chinese house and the lattice work, gardens and furnishings. It helps me understand some of the books I've read that have a Chinese setting.

All in all, it was a great day but I think I like Hong Kong better. Macau was frentic, very crowded, smokey, and very hot. The churches became a respite from the heat and a very good place to sit down.

Hong Kong - Day 1

Thirteen hours later of touristing (tourist + ing to make up a verb) and I don't know which aches more, my feet or my head. Here are some highlights:

I rode the Chug Chug Ding a Ling (isn't that a great name?)double-decker trolley to the base on Hong Kong Park. The trolley was packed with people and I was afraid I was going to have to hang off the back but everyone packed tighter, so much so that at the following stop, even more people squeezed on.

I rode the Peak Tram to the top of Victoria Peak. This tram, in existence since the mid 1800s, is the steepest in the world. I know the driver stopped once on the steepest part of the hill just to let it roll backwards and scare us just a little. When I reached the top I was inspired by the bikers and joggers who had obviously made this particular hill climb their Sunday goal. I was so inspired by their effort that I decided to walk down. I think it was steeper than hiking down from Cloud's Nest in Yosemite but it was totally worth seeing the mansions build into the mountain and the tropical trees shading the walk.

Peak Tram

Hike down fromVictoria Peak

Sunday box picnics

I then wandered aimlessly through streets and up and down stairs trying to find the Man Mo Temple. En-route I noticed that every spare inch of sidewalk or highway that was located underneath trees or overpasses was covered by groups of women who were either sitting on cardboard boxes or  pieces of newspaper or large pieces of plastic. At first I thought they might be doing a "sit-in" or protest for something but they looked so happy eating their picnics, playing cards, napping, and talking that I decided this must be a Sunday outing kind of thing. One particular group of about 10 women had gotten really fancy and tied their boxes together with pieces of twine so they almost made a little private room among the thousands of other women hanging out. they hung a "Happy Birthday" sign and made a little table out of boxes for their potluck. I guess there is a shortage of parks and this is one way to "have a picnic."

I did eventually locate the Man Mo Temple, my first Buddist temple. It was packed with  people lighting incense and bringing offerings of fresh fruit and flowers. I was unprepared for the quantity of incense burning and the amount of smoke affecting my eyes and nose.

Man Mo Temple

A ride across Victoria Harbor on a Star Ferry was the next high light. I always like ferry rides and this was no exception. The view of the Hong Kong skyline is spectacular with beautiful, gleaming skyscrapers and high rise apartments.

I walked along the promenade, the equivalent of a beach boardwalk or river walk and saw Hong Kong's version of stars and hand prints of their famous actors and actresses. It reminded me a little of Los Angeles without the beautiful harbor in the background. I even saw Bruce Lee's star and hand print.

By now I was wiping sweat out of my eyes so it was time to find some air-conditioning. The Hong Kong Museum of History provided the needed respite. I spent two glorious hours trying to cram 3000 years of history into my brain. Considering I know very little Asian history this was no small feat. I'll probably never sort out the different dynasties but I did get really interested in the trade, the opium wars, the Japanese occupation during WWII, and the recent modern developments including with trade and architecture.

I wandered through the Peninsula Hotel, one of those famous, elegant old hotels where I'll stay after I win the lottery or bet on the correct horse at the Hong Kong Jockey Club.

Star Ferry and Hong Kong Skyline

Taking a ferry back across the harbor I followed a group of Chinese up an escalator to a Chinese restaurant that appeared to have mostly local diners. This was my first real meal in Hong Kong and I spent a lot of time observing how others used the dishes and utensils that were set on the table before I started to eat. For example, my place setting consisted of chopsticks resting on a porcelain stand, a square plate, and a small bowl with a ceramic spoon sitting in it. The dish that I ordered was placed in the center of the table. I served myself a small portion of the chicken dish into the small bowl. The small bowl was then set on the square plate. I ate with the chopsticks but I could also use the ceramic spoon for scooping/eating (at least I saw another Chinese person doing that). The bones and pieces of food that I did not want were set on the square plate.

I ended with a ride on the Chug Chug, enjoying neon lights and activity similar to Time Square. I couldn't believe how many people came out on Sunday night after dark but it makes sense because it was lots cooler.

The New Adventure Begins

The past week has been a flurry of activity trying to prepare for another year living outside the United States. I probably spent the past month purchasing too many biking supplies but justified the nifty packs, rechargeable lights, sturdy locks, pedals, and shoes by reminding myself that bikes will be our primary mode of transportation for the next few years. I hope I made all the requisite phone calls to banks, trips to the health department for vaccinations against diseases I've never heard of, and ate enough comfort food: pancakes, bacon, hamburgers, and  Mexican to tide me through until I return to US soil....And, even though I spent a lot of time with family and friends it never seems like enough. As a matter of fact, I've been running around so much lately that I haven't given much thought to where I'm going.

However, on this morning's  taxi ride to the airport, it really hit me that I'm headed off for another adventure. The driver's simple question where are you off to and my reply "Hong Kong, Singapore, and Malaysia..." set the excitement in motion.

 Hong Kong....Singapore....Malaysia....I never in a million years would have dreamed that I would be seeing any of these places. While chatting with the Tri-Cities taxi driver, I flashed back to many recent taxi rides in Istanbul ranging from the first ride where I couldn't speak a word of Turkish and had to hand the driver a printout of my hotel address to the last ride where I conversed with the driver in my broken Turkish and confidently gave him my destination, discussed our families, Turkey, and the weather.  Then I flashed forward to the nerves that will most certainly ensure as I try to navigate new cultures and languages when I hop off the plane.

The best part of this adventure is that I will be sharing it with my best friend and husband. When he asked me to marry him 29 years ago, he warned me by saying, "I'm in construction, the work is really unstable, and we'll have to move a lot." I enthusiastically replied, "Cool.!"

So, to this new adventure, I'm reminded of Dr. Seuss's wisdom:
You're off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting,
So... get on your way!”