laid back Australians...not

Well, I still consider myself a newbie as we have been in Malaysia 8 months. From a writers point of view I consider this a blessing as I still fully absorb everything that surrounds me. I notice how the area (Taman Tun Dr Ismael)  we live is changing. Concrete buildings are rapidly rising, shop fronts change, traffic comes to a standstill while the MRT noisily snakes it's way around us. My neighbour has a new baby and we are invited to a Chinese family for Chinese New Year.
We spend an hour each way getting to the suburb on the outskirts of KL to find a large terrace house with a food truck outside of it.
I enjoy trying everything that is piled high. Fried tofu, tiny crab, squid, beef, broccoli, fish balls. All cooked on sticks served with delicious sauces. I have to concentrate on the noisy chatter to be able to decipher new accents. Clouds and heavy rain descend and clear quickly. I am asked how I find Malaysia and I explain the myriad of places we have visited. Wide eyed they are hopefully impressed. I am still a guest in this country and I hope a good one at that!
They joke about thinking Australians were all laid back and did no work, when they heard they were getting two Australians in the office. Their minds soon change when they see the long hours the
Australian expats are prepared to work.

Collecting places and things

Renting a furnished apartment and having 3 households of furniture (a long story!) in Australia means that I don't need any more stuff.  This was until my will power melted (yes, it was hot) in Siem Riep, Cambodia.
This in the coolest and driest part of the year. I better not go there in the hottest time!
We arrive finding our hotel shuttle is nowhere in sight so hail a taxi and for the next 10 minutes find our way to our hotel. Trip advisor has again hit the nail on the head with our luxury find for $A80 per night.
The hotel apologises profusely for not fetching us and and says we are old and need to rest! There would be complementary high tea waiting for us at 5 pm. Initially I am irritated for being called old, but I decide to run with it. After all, the high tea proves promising. Maybe a more mature age is an advantage.

The next day, we are told to sit at reception (we are old) and a taxi appears. Many beautiful temples later, we are dropped off at our hotel with promises for our next day.
Languidly we lie at the pool, have our cocktails and plan our evening. The ramorg (tuk tuk) enthusiastically waves and off we set  in to old market town where I find $3 per meter cotton material and buy 11 different materials. I am planning to make another quilt.
We marvel at our cheap lobster and relish in the chicken and fish amok served in a banana leaf.
Interspersed in our trip are sad reminders of Cambodia's past and I remember in high school watching  the drama unfold of the killing fields. Our driver does not let us be sad for long while we travel quickly through narrow streets, worn buildings, packed small shops and noisy food vendors.

THE calendar

Well, I am never going to make it as an expat if I don't become friends with my calendar!  Weeks fly past and I have neglected any readers of my blog. I think they have given up on me but now that I have resurrected my forgotton password, hopefully that will change.
Christmas saw me in Australia on our large property (compared to our 3 bedroom codo) slaving away. Our holiday place (see Bavarian Hut blog) has now become our Australian home when we meet up as a family. Our tenant looks after the chosen loved ones (my dogs) and I think he is rather happy to see us knowing that we will be leaving soon.
Reality strikes on my return when I try to book a week ahead to go away for a long weekend. Cheeky people have got in before me and being a competitive person I vow to get ahead of them. I have an in built reluctance to refer to my calender but realise that I will have to change my ways.
Obsessively we book short breaks to half a dozen places. I become more knowledgeable with everything geographic although my pronouciation of Asian places is sometimes unrecognisable. Fortunately I meet a helpful long term expat who tries to decipher which countries and places we might enjoy.
We listen to her advice and book to go to Siem Riep in Cambodia. We are on a roll and further book trips to Langkawi island, Penang, Australia and then Perhentian island.
In between our trips,we adapt to the heat, dust and noise which is KL.

Can...can...cannot

Being a fifty something year old means that I feel entitled to grumble and mumble sometimes. I notice the long hours my husband puts in at work, the haze, the traffic, our condo building which seems to empty early in the morning. Language differences crop up when I try to organise a car wash.

My regular trips to Bangsar (expat land) are beginning to irritate, as I wait for another taxi. My never ending search for something useful to do and adapting to the forward planning needed to get across the city.

We drive up to Ipoh and view the limestone cave temples. Just as we are leaving, I hear the high pitched sound of a gang of motorcycles approaching. Having received warnings about bag snatchers, I hurriedly cling to my bag and run to put a fence between myself and newcomers. They circle and look menacingly at me. I stare back and after split second they leave going back from whence they came. 

Lying on our beds back at the hotel, we try to ignore the hammering which continues above us for an hour before complaining to reception. Tired, we traipse across the steamy road to try the open air 'food court.' All manner of foods is served here and we enjoy our first bit of R&R in Ipoh feeling very like the newcomers we are.

Later that day we frequent a popular western pub on the other side of town while we plan our escape home. Arriving at breakfast the next morning to squealing children, food fights, queues of people waiting for food, we realise we have made the right decision.

Me and my coconut

Ever since my older daughter told me that coconuts have anti ageing qualities, I have felt drawn to them. Whether or not this is true is not important. When I see a coconut, I just have to have it.

I remember times when we lived in Dar es Salem, how coconuts were retrieved by a brave person who would scurry up vertically. The sights and sounds of my childhood. Prayer calling, spicy food, fresh seafood...and coconuts.

Finding a quiet restaurant overlooking the ocean, I settle again for a coconut to drink while I take photographs of Bruce and the said coconuts. The caption under the photograph of Bruce will read 'Me and my coconut' and I laugh thinking this is not a respectful (unintended) way to describe my husband. Now you know why I seldom caption my photographs. Apparently being tactful is too hard and keeping quiet is a characteristic I am still learning.

Plentiful Phuket

'A conference in Phuket,' I say blissfully planning our sojourn.

Bruce books our flights, while I get onto trip advisor. The resort we are staying at looks luxurious and stretches out to the hillside on the side of Patong Beach.
On the flight I am fascinated to watch the islands below us rising up from the sea, dense green jungle contrasting against the crystal blue sea. White sands and frothy seas outline paradise.

'Phuket is very hilly,' I say in between the bumps of the aircraft. Bruce smiles and repeats what Hugh Grant says in one of his movies. 'Hilly' he says, in a high pitched voice and we both laugh at each other.
At the resort we have a plentiful lunch and crash on the bed to get ourselves ready for the evening's activities.
Refreshed we catch a shuttle to the shopping centre and then onto Bangla Road. I am unprepared for the craziness of the scenes. Blaring neon taxis, beautiful ladyboys, touting, bars, restaurants and little shops line the pavements. Delicate Thai cooking smells permeate everywhere as the heat and dust take hold. Stray dogs take a dislike to each other as we buy a fresh coconut to eat on the beach.
I find it difficult to believe I had watched a Tsunami ravage the coastline years ago, not realising that I would visit one day. It is a sobering thought as we head back by open air taxi to our hotel. I am a bit disappointed that we have picked a taxi that has no blaring music or neon lights.

The importance of a calender

In expat life, I am growing to appreciate the importance of a calendar. Months and years must be mapped out so that important holidays back home in Australia are not missed.
We book our flights for Christmas as we juggle work commitments, conferences away, touring and holidays in Australia with our family.  I am also looking forward to showing my two daughters and son in law around KL when they visit next year. Accommodation is booked for a resort on the East coast as bookings fill up. I am adapting to life being organised so far in advance. I am not a natural at this, generally not being a person who likes routine, I prefer to be surprised by the day and any chores to be as unplanned as possible!
I continue being a FB fiend, enjoying my daily link ups, so important for the expat. I admire my photographs and try to make as few comments as I can. I am not the most tactful person and sometimes my honesty is not appreciated.

Cheeky foreigners

Stepping out into the hotel dining room, there is a feast of wonders. Western and local offerings that prove hard to resist. The novelty of being in Asia has not worn off and the chicken porridge with all the condiments proves a popular dish. I opt for steam buns and noodles and Bruce looks on in amusement, used to me enjoying Western breakfasts.

We walk around Melacca in the steamy heat, bumping into people and admiring the trishaws, each adorned with individual designs. National day sees us lining the streets with colourful parades marching past. Happily exhausted we walk up to an old fort on a hilltop and admire the view. Below us we see a majestic Malay building and we walk down to the back of it.

We are puzzled that the building is deserted and wait to see if the building is accessible for tourists. I answer comes soon when we see signs of visitors with cameras who enter the building. With anticipation we follow and find ourselves inside a palace, a replica of one that was burnt down. Fascinated we wonder around taking note of the Portuguese, Dutch and British history of Melacca  to present day.

We exit having been educated about Malay customs and culture and walk in the opposite direction from whence we came. Perplexed we see a long line of visitors waiting to pay to go into the building. Not being able to speak the local language we fervently make a quick exit.

We are not game to try and explain to the guards at the entrance gate how we obtained access, never mind that we had already visited the palace. Imagining we might be arrested, we quickly walk away down a side street making sure no one is following.

I really need to get my act together if I am to keep my nose clean!

Travel abounds

Our vow to travel around Malaysia is taking shape as we plan our weekends. Ipoh is first on our list as we tell our colleagues where we are going. A short while after our announcement, we hear that some young people from Bruce's' office are going too - all 10 of them to the same place. Communal holidays, lovely, I say to myself.

We wake up to heavy rains and with trepidation start our journey. In the haze, heavy rains and traffic we last 30 minutes before we return home defeated. When we are feeling braver we will continue. 'Where are you boss,' one of the young things text. We are not ready to admit defeat to anyone else, not yet anyway, and make a feeble excuse.

Six weeks pass before we venture out again and fervently hope that our trip to Melacca will be more successful. Bruce has just had a stint visiting our nearest hospital and is still in pain. He insists we still go and I spend the night before preparing myself for my first drive out of KL.

We have a practise run down to our local shops. I decide to drive in the same manner as I have been shown which is a cross between the local taxi drivers, experienced expats and what I have observed on my rounds. Bruce shows how impressed he is with a low and then hearty chuckle before saying, 'You drive like a Malaysian.' I am unsure whether to take this as a complement or to be offended.

Encouraged we leave early with 'Waze' being our new best friend. We make record time to Melacca and negotiate the narrow and congested streets before leaving our car at the hotel. We are check in early before taking a walk around the pretty and historical town that is Melacca.
Tomorrow is nog a dag. (Tomorrow is another day!)

Crazy Friendly Malaysians

Early one Sunday morning, I hear sounds from the park across from our condominium.  Grabbing a cup of tea, I look down and see billows of smoke hovering above the trees. The mechanical sounds remind me of fogging which is done regularly to curb Dengue Fever outbreaks.
Marquees are set up and at 7 am pronto, there is the explosive sound of a very friendly person announcing over the loudspeaker that 'we should come down to family fun day and to help ourselves to breakfast, before exploring the games on offer.' Music blares forth to the sounds of Queen 'We will rock you.' This is going to be a fun day.

It is Father's Day in Australia as we hurriedly talk to our daughter before heading off to the park.  As we approach, we are cornered by a super friendly gentleman who tells us that breakfast is served and to help ourselves. There is Nasi lemak and chicken burgers and while we help ourselves, I try to find someone to pay for our goods. When I ask, the waiters look a little confused and unfazed we sit down happily munching our breakfasts assuming this is a sponsored day out.

'Gosh, these Malaysians are generous,' I enthusiastically comment and Bruce nods while he munches away. We get up and walk towards the assortment of games and again one of the organisors comments that we need to try the burgers but to register first.
We are unsure of what to register for but line up and give our names dutifully. We are looked at curiously as they cannot find our names and add to their list 'Bruce and Susan.'  Despite not being on the original list, we are given gifts of beautiful thermos water bottles to take home which has a sponsor written on them so we are not too concerned.
 Although I have a twinge of discomfort at us being here, we continue to enjoy the games and line up for a chicken burger and then ice creams.

we are rounded up with everyone else we sit and listen to speeches. Cameras are in all directions while our photographs are taken. Professional photographers line the stage.
We are thanked for our supportive roles in taking care of our 'family members' when we realise we have gate crashed a function. Mortified and trying to make a dignified exit, we duck around the back of the marquees scurrying away. Heading home we laugh wondering how long before our photos will be in the newspapers. You see we have crashed a function for family members of a newspaper we know is widely read by expats!

Weighty issues

My enthusiastic attempts to learn and experience about the delights of Malaysian food have back fired. No scale needed when I try to fasten my pants.
The pastes, fresh produce and proximity to the supermarket has its risks.

I need to embrace the proximity of the gym, 3 swimming pools, squash court, table tennis all within our condominium building. I have shops nearby which I can walk to, so long as I don't fall down a hole in the road, trip over concrete or fall down an open drain. I am not the most agile person on land anyway. Then there is the traffic to negotiate which as a pedestrian can be more interesting than driving a car. I look and feel very awkward rushing forward to cross the clear road and then having to brake to a holt when a motorbike comes from nowhere. I am just glad that my daughters cannot see my efforts.

My spirit and willingness to make mistakes continues and I wonder when the reality of being so faraway will set. I may as we'll enjoy the ride for the moment anyway. Tomorrow will take care of itself, lah.

Not doing craft

For three weeks in a row I have attended a craft group. That, I feel is true commitment.  The ladies  are friendly, quirky (like me) and help me with the significant challenges of getting around this vibrant city. Besides they serve great lunches at each other's homes.

I soon realise I will have to find a new craft. The knitting supply store is miles away and my scraps of wool with my one size knitting needles is proving challenging. I decide that complicated patterns are not what I require as I try to absorb any new pieces of information through our constant chatter.

I meet people from all over the world who have lived in a great many places.  They laugh at the Australian with a strange accent who doesn't actually 'do' much craft. In my usual fashion I try to glean as much as I can by listening to several conversations at once. My mother used to call this habit 'picking up stompies' (picking up small pieces of information like used cigarette butts)  I am easily restless so I like to move chairs, conversations (and countries) frequently.

Energetic pursuits

I revel in having the time to do some swimming training. I decide that the worst of the sun will have passed by 5 pm so three to four times a week I swim 4 kms mostly doing backstroke. One day, weeks after arriving, I notice sun damage from my activities and vow that with all the samosas I am eating I will have to exchange swimming for gym.
It is suggested to me that I will meet other expats in the air conditioned comfort while exercising and watching cable TV. It sounds good but I soon realise that not many people use the gym. I go at different times and finally catch someone to talk to. Fortunately she is pinned to her machine with earphones which she patiently takes out to have a lively chat with this new expat.
She explains that she too is on a "dependant visa" but if people ask she says she is studying. She explains her struggles to get a work visa while her partner works weekends and long hours. Apparently peoples' attitude change when they realise she is not gainfully employed.

My writing keeps me fairly busy but not as much as I would like.
I return to an expat organisation looking for ideas. Volunteering seems like a good idea and I seek to explore options. I visit the hospital across the road and they invite me to a function they are having to mark breast feeding week. I feel strange, new and my efforts to find out what time I need to arrive prove  difficult. I contact an organisation called Orphan Care but they do not return my emails.

Undeterred I try Mahjong and realise that I have a bad attitude to the rules of the game and the other members could well do without my opinions which so far I have managed to keep to myself. How long I can keep myself in check is not guaranteed.  I exit gracefully to try my hand at something else.
What will it be next week? Surely at some stage, I will have to keep to something...

All things different

Every day is a new experience reminding me of where I am. Waking up to the purr of the air conditioner, the sun rising strongly up between the KLCC skyscrapers, the sound of roosters crowing in the distance, smoky horizons and the regularity of sounds of prayer calling in the mosques which is never far away.
In the lifts, there is a delightful 'notice on hanging cloths' to explain to residents not to hang their washing outside on the verandas. This makes me smile.  I am learning a useful phrase, honest, amusing and most annoying. 'No, cannot,' when there is something for which I ask, however nicely. No broken promises and no time wasted in getting that answer in a round about way. Still I am unused to such honesty and I take a deep breath to absorb this information. My self deprecating sense of humour sometimes gets me smiles and laughter as well as unexpected help.
My attempts to speak Bahasa Malaysia have failed miserably and people seem to understand better when I speak English!
At the wet markets the soy milk lady chastises me as she does her other regular customers. 'Have a good day' I say. 'Every day is a good day' she says gruffly, the corners of her mouth upturning very slightly.
The heat of the day rises and consumes as I tread the uneven pavements. In the second week at the Ramadan markets, I stand on a used kebab stick drawing blood and a look of worry from my partner. I am a fairly clumsy person (on land anyway) and slip on sandals seem inappropriate here.
I decide to go and buy sensible closed shoes.
I am becoming used to the sights and sounds of building construction wherever I look. Half finished condominiumms and office blocks soar into the air. Construction workers perilously lean over with no barriers. Rail links are being built everywhere and this all adds to the dust and traffic chaos that is KL.
Although we have bought a car, I am hedging my bets more on the taxi drivers. 'Waze' is going to have to be my new friend if I want more independence!

Glorious soup and some favourites

For the most delicious soup ( if you like mussels)

Fry an onion until golden with fresh ginger, garlic  and chilli to taste. Add milk and/or water (or fish stock)with a packet of mushroom soup stirred in and simmer adding baby carries and potatoes until just cooked. Add mussels and a good white wine and simmer for a minute while adding plenty of black pepper. Serve with crusty bread and listen to the silence. ( with a few slurps for good measure)
This is a meal in itself and doesn't need anything else as it is very filling.  My favourite type of fast food eaten in the coolness of the air conditioning. We do now live in the tropics.:)

Hot or cold pan fried salmon
Two pieces of fresh salmon (bought at the wet markets) marinated in a sprinkling
 of chilli powder, turmeric, cumin,fennel and black pepper for an hour or two.
Pan fry the salmon skin side first and after a few minutes when the salmon is cooked sprinkle fresh lime or lemon juice over the fish as it comes out of the pan.
Serve with a creamy potato and egg salad topped with fresh coriander. Simple, fresh, fast food, just the way we like it. Serve with a Riesling or Gewürztraminer

Iced tea with a twist
Your favourite brew, strong or weak as you prefer.
Lychee juice for sweetness and according to your taste. You could add any other juice you would like instead.  Have the confidence to experiment with your taste buds. Remember variety is the spice of life.
Add fresh mint, lemon or limes cut up or whatever you wish.
Keep in the refrigerator and liberally use. In KL we live on bottled water so cannot drink out of the tap. This makes a refreshing change and is not too sweet like the prepackaged bought iced tea.

Spiced out

Whether we eat in or out, we opt for spicy food and it is not long before we find ourselves eating highly spiced and curried food 7 days a week. I have always loved curry and spicy food  from my days growing up in Dar es Salaam and Durban.
When we sit in a local restaurant for lunch, we find ourselves having to ask for sliced up chillies. The elderly Chinese lady has decided we will not need it and tries to whip it away off the table, but we are too quick for her.
I start longing for roast pork and order one especially. That night, we find joy in everything roasted and the crisp crackling which comes out the oven. I still prefer anything animal in a polystyrene container! Seeing heads/feet on chicken and intestines/ hooves and heads/carcasses strung up, reminds me a little too much of lives lost!

Ramadan

More than a month has passed since we arrived and it has been slow, steady progress. I still have so much to learn. We still have teething problems, like our internet which seems to have a mind of its own and connects with us when 'it' feels like it. More telephone calls to the provider, insisting that it must be fixed. I still have not the slightest clue about how to go about getting our medical employee benefits and every time we ask for the information it is somehow not given or we are directed to a website that is not helpful.

Ramadan has come and bazaars which sell food pop up everywhere. Smoke and heat permeate while exotic flavours titillate my senses. I start very slowly trying different stalls, and soon I have my favourites. The vendors start smiling when I appear. A foreigner who likes chillies and spices is a novelty. I take home lamb Bryani, beef rendang,and samosas revelling in not having to cook at home.
Creme Caramel from the markets is our favourite dessert. We become caught up in the anticipation for the end of Ramadan when it is marked by the Hari Raya long weekend.

Creative cooking

I feel a sense of triumph when I find the wet markets. Fresh fish stalls line the corridors as shop keepers beckon to show me their wares. I recognise sea bass, sole, skate, salmon and squid as fresh fish is filleted as orders come in. The whole sea bass I choose is prepared and I am given spices to marinate the fish in. In our apartment we cut the head and tail and put a variety of spices in a large pot of water to make fish stock.
In the cavity of the fish, we put curry leaves and limes and spread the mixture of herbs (chillies, mustard seeds, black pepper, garlic) and knobs of butter liberally over the fish and bake it in a parcel of tin foil. The fish is tender and juicy, as we add pickled cucumber salad, butter lettuce and home made chilli sauce to the plate. We pan fry fine chips remembering earlier advice that 'I shouldn't worry about the oil because we are in Malaysia.'

You win some you, you lose some la!

I have figured out how to use a taxi successfully. Without the app on my phone, it proves very difficult, firstly to converse because of language differences, and secondly often the meter is not used and you can be charged pretty well anything and thirdly locating taxis in a city of about 6 million can seem impossible.
The Myteksi app is invaluable but I am still getting used to the mad traffic in KL. The motorbikes which buzz in and out sometimes within centimetres of the car and the virtually non existent travel distance between cars, the road and building construction which is everywhere, the heat and the dust.
Inside the taxi there can be challenges too with seat belts that often don't fasten and taxi drivers who like me, have no clue where I live!
I have tried to speak Malay a little but people seem to understand my English better, even though it is a foreign language. Also I am a person who likes to use my hands when speaking and pointing with one's forefinger is considered rude. Using my thumb to point seems aukward to me.  I have a long way to go, terima kasih to all those who are teaching me. By the time I learn, two years will be up and we will have to leave.

Two steps forward,one step back

Our new apartment proves to be very comfortable and is larger than I imagined. We have signed a contract for a year with the opportunity to renew the lease. The 3 bedroom apartment is modern and spacious with veranda and is fully furnished. The Petronas Towers light up in the distance. My excitement turns to dismay when I find there is no hot water in the kitchen. Undeterred I contact the rental agent who explains that in Malaysian homes this is normal. I hope she does not hear my gasp as I contemplate this new information. Obviously I need to adapt quickly. Washing up by boiling hot water in a kettle is proving rather tedious. Time for a new strategy. Armed with bottles of bleach, I try  new methods of removing tea stains from cups. Guiltily I know this is not a good solution as I worry about the planet with the chemicals I am adding. Defeated and complaining, I decide we either have to  go out to eat or my significant other can do some work in the kitchen! After all he brought me here. Hot tears of frustration stain my face. I will allow myself thirty minutes of self pity and then educate myself on how to live like a Malaysian. If millions of people have the ability to cope, then I will too.