I'm a Pawn Star Now!

  Do I seem like the kind of lady who'd go to a pawn shop with bars on every door and window? A place where there's a surveillance camera running day and night? I never thought I was, but as of yesterday, I am!

Actually, I've been quite curious about pawn shops since I started watching an American reality TV show called "Pawn Stars." It's a huge hit and it's lots of fun to watch. The gist of it is that there are four guys, a grandfather, his son, and his grandson--and a "village idiot" called Chumley. They own and work in a pawn shop in Las Vegas which, thanks to the TV show, is now the best-known one on the planet. The show has done a lot to demystify the pawn shop business for ordinary Americans who wouldn't normally even thnk of going into one.

Another thing that has humanized pawn shops, at least in the States, is the autobiography recently written by one of the stars of the show. It's called "License to Pawn"  and the author (Rick Harrison) is the middle guy in the grandfather-father-son combination, that is to say, the father. "License to Pawn" gives fascinating insights into the world of pawning, buying and selling and it made the whole business seem, well, more approachable. I won't say "less sordid," because the author does tell exciting stories about the more seamy, less savory side of his business to make the book more readable. And by the way, it IS an interesting book, even if you haven't seen the TV show!

As I said before, I've never been in a pawn shop in my entire life and I certainly don't expect to ever have that experience in Malaysia. Why? Well, one reason is that they only deal in gold and gold jewelry (and I don't have much of that!) At least that's what it said in an interesting and very clear academic paper I just read on the Islamic pawn system in Malaysia. Surprisingly, such a system does legally exist, despite Shari'ah laws against usury (making an excessive profit on a loan). Evidently it's justified by the Islamic emphasis on helping the needy. There are those who might debate whether pawn shops actually do help the poor, but considering that the legal interest rate in Malaysia on a pawn shop loan is only 2 to 2.5%, maybe it's more humane than in the States. Incidentally, the paper also said that gold is the easiest thing for pawn shops to manage because it's small and easy to store. Plus, most Malaysians have some, even women, since they're often given gold jewelry when they marry and that gold jewelry remains their personal property.

On the other hand, evidently it's easy for a pawn shop owner to cheat unsuspecting customers when they bring in gold or gold jewelry. If it isn't weighed or measured properly and fairly when it comes into the shop, an unscrupulous owner could (and often do, apparently) make a profit by shaving small amounts of gold off or removing a few links from a gold chain. See how much I know about pawning in Malaysia now? You learn something new every day!

But I digress! This was supposed to be about my adventure in a pawn shop yesterday. The purpose was to have an old coin appraised, but the shop said they didn't have the expertise to do it and referred me to a rare coin dealer (who happened to be closed for the day, naturally.) But while we were in the pawn shop, my lady friend and I, she suggested that I get a new wedding ring that actually fits me. (I've been wearing my poor husband's ring because my own hasn't fitted ever since I jammed my ring finger against a wall a few months back.)

So from the depths of my handbag I produced a Ziplock snack bag and poured my odd collection of ill-fitting wedding rings out on the glass counter. There was my father's wedding ring, my original one that no longer fits and never will, a desperation hunk of junk that cost me US $4.95 and a wedding ring that doesn't belong in my life any more.

A few minutes later I pranced out of that pawn shop WITHOUT those unwanted rings from my dim and distant past and WITH a shiny new wedding band that actually fits. Oh, and with a nice little bonus bundle of cash because of the price difference between the two! Not bad for my first trip into a pawn shop, wouldn't you agree?

My work there is done!

Well, sighs of relief all around! I've left Illinois and moved on to an even hotter place! Now I'm down in Missouri, where the temps today are likely to be around 98 degrees Farenheit. (I think that's right around 37 degrees Celcius.) What a pain!

They haven't had any rain here for two months now, and all are suffering, from birds in the back yards, to farmers and their crops & livestock, to outdoor activity places like ball parks and county fairs, where it's too hot to be enjoyable. Air-conditioned places like movie theaters and public libraries are doing booming business, as you'd imagine.

I was sad to leave my family behind and move on to the next leg of this Stateside trip. well, maybe not toooo sad, truth be told. I think on that last last day up in Illinois I suffered from heat stroke or heat prostration right there inside the house. Or maybe it was simple dehydration. Whatever it was, I didn't feel normal for two days thereafter.

It happened, i think, because we were all working terribly hard trying to put the house back together after the flooring guy and his assistant had finished their work. Of course after laying the new wood flooring in two rooms and carpeting in most of the others, they put the big furniture back in place. But the small stuff--oh, boy! Anyway, it's done now and the place looks and feels great. Mom and Dad are still in shock over the blitz that happened in their normally-quite-peaceful home, but they'll soon get used to it. And I'm thrilled that I was able to see it all come to fruition.

Down here at my friend Theresa's place, I'd expected to be busy, too, and I did come to help her with a big business commitment. But I didn't expect to go straight from the airport and plunge headlong into her own redecorating project. But this is a whole different kind of redecorating because Theresa is a professional seamstress who makes her living from producing beautiful things. So, she's got a game plan in place already and she's making the curtains and reupholstering the chair we bought yesterday. More on that in another post. But shame on me if I don't get pictures into the next few blogs, now that I don't have to scurry down to Burger King to use their free Wi-Fi every time I want to communicate with folks!

To drive or not to drive. . . . .

. . . . .that is the question. Well, actually, it's my 90-year-old mother's question. She's got a birthday coming up soon and, at her age, that means taking the driver's test annually. She's never had an accident (knock on wood and fingers crossed) and up until now she's felt confident (!?!??!) and has wanted to drive. In this country, the good ole USA, you almost HAVE TO drive, especially if you live in a "country city" like Mom and Dad do. They NEED to drive to get to doctor appointmentS, of which they have many. They NEED to drive to church and social functions like Dad's Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) meetings. Of course they need to drive to the grocery store and pharmacy.

Well, I say "they," but I really mean "Mom" because Dad, at almost 94, doesn't see well enough to drive. Though today, he tells me, he plans to go out in the mid-90-degree heat, climb up on a rickety ladder, and paint the shutters on the outside of their house. I know you must be thinking, perhaps even shouting, "You should stop him from doing that. It's dangerous!" Well, I know that--of coure I do! But how am I supposed to stop him? Sit on him? Tie him to a chair? Hide his ladder? I can't do that. And he won't hear of calling in a carpenter and having it done by professionals--oh, no! Not a chance! All I can do is go out and hold the ladder, I suppose. But I need to drive Mom into town.

Why? Because she wants to sign up for senior citizen driving test lessons. They coach "elderlies" (as my Japanese students used to call them) in how to pass the driver's test-- what to do and what not to do. For example, in the behind-the-wheel part of the test, after fastening your own seat belt, you should look over and be sure that the driving test examiner is also wearing his or hers. Tricky stuff like that is the way they try to fail testees quickly and easily--IF they want to.

See, sometimes success or failure on the test is not solely based on the applicant's knowledge or ability to drive. It can also depend on whether your examiner believes that old people should be driving at all. Some testers think that seniors don't belong behind the wheel and they will do all they can to fail the applicant. And if they want to, they certainly can! On the other hand, Mom's favorite tester says, "I try to pass senior citizen applicants whenever I can. All they want to do is putter off to church and the supermarket."
And this is true of my mom as well.

So, please, please pass her just this one last time! And anyone on the roads within a five-mile radius of my parents' church or pharmacy, do have pity on the old lady in the silver Chevy driving at two miles UNDER the speed limit. That'll be my Mom, (I hope!)

Tornado? Hurricane? Typhoon?

I don't know what's about to happen outside this Burger King where I sit early on this Sunday morning. But something rather dramatic, weather wise-, is about to happen. The sky is MUCH darker than when I arrived here a bit before 6:00 a.m. (Jet lag has got me pretty bad right now.) Something's "fixin' to" happen out there and I think this is as good a place as any to ride out this storm. (Senior coffee is only 35 cents here if you bring your own cup, which of course I do! I am my father's daughter, doncha know!)

I know I must sound a bit melodramatic here, but hey, it just got so dark, the Burger King's automatic nighttime lights just went on. There's an air of excitement building here among the early morning staff (5 people) and the early-bird customer (which is ME!)

This spate of really weird weather has broken records as far as weather history is concerned. First there was the sizzling-hot weather that was going on when I first arrived. It made Penang look balmy and temperate by comparison and broke long-standing records. Then, a couple of nights ago there was a middle-of-the-night storm that caused record-breaking flooding in parts of Chicago. The flooding happened while people were sleeping and the water came up so suddenly, people woke up from their night's sleep and stepped out of bed into ankle-deep water in their bedrooms. One lady on TV said she thought she was dreaming when she woke up and saw her son's pants floating past her bed.

You have to feel sorry for the Kane County Fair folks and their livestock. The fairgrounds are just a stone's throw from where I sit now. Those poor folks have had nothing but weird, bad weather to contend with since it opened on Friday. (It's Sunday morning now.) They're all sloshing around in mud wearing boots, trying to take care of their animals and keep them clean, happy and show-worthy. My Mom and I used to do flower arranging for the fair, so I remember very well that getting things set up even in perfectly fine weather was a challenge, but in this weather, it would be no fun at all.

By the way, wthm no modesty whatsoever, let me add that Mom and I used to just clean up in the prize department of the Flower Arrangement Division of the Kane County Fair. We got a little bit of prize money for a win, but we did it for the joy of it, and so we could triumphantly count our blue, red and yellow ribbons afterward. What fun that was! Great childhood memories of working together with my sweet mom.

Anyway, back to weather . . . I worry about these sudden storms because the Aged Parental Units (now almost 94 and 91years old) have lots of very big, ancient trees all around the house. One, in particular, is rotten inside and is just looking to keel over onto the roof. Dad looked into having it taken down, but it was going to cost well over US $1,000, which was about double what you'd expect. (Well, what WE'D expect, anyway!) But I keep telling Dad it would cost a lot more to repair the roof after this tree crashes down into it. So, like everything else, they'll probably get it cut down just after I've left, so I'll miss all the excitement. And you have to admit, it'd be exciting to see them cut down a tree of that size and age. I love watching mechanical stuff like that and especially structure demolishment. Building, not so much. . . .but taking stuff down, that I love! Do you think it's some expressed desire hidden in me to destroy things?

Hot, hot, hot!!!!!

How do I post a picture of hot, sizzling hot? I'm posting this from Illinois, in the USA. I know that folks in the Middle East (and I do have one reader there) would laugh at me complaining about the heat, but, as they always say in Arizona, it's a DRY heat.

On the other hand, this heat is hot and muggy, so the almost 100-degree temps feel more like 110 to 115. All I know is that when I went out this morning to bring in the newspaper, it was warm on the bottom because it had lain on the black asphalt driveway all night, which never did cool down.

I think I might go out at the peak of the heat today and see if I can actually fry an egg on that black driveway. !wish me luck (except that with those temps, I'll probably be frying, too!)

My elderly parents do have air conditioning, but do you think they'll use it? Only at night. Why at night? I'll never know! It has something to do with the fact that six years ago, when the air conditioner was installed, someone programmed it to start up at certain pre-determined temperatures. Well, between then and now, then aged parental units have lost the
instruction manual that tells how to change the settings. (In all fairness, it really IS complicated and hard to do.) so now I guess they need to get the 12-year-old tech-savvy neighbor boy in to figure it all out. These days, the younger they are, the more they know about how to deal with technology! Anyway, I keep telling Dad that those temperature settings from six years ago were done before global warming (or at least El Nino / La Nina) were influencing weather and climate. It's time to change 'em!

But today it's going to be so very hot! If Dad doesn't get the air con working when we really need it most, Mom & I are going to take off for the public library, where it's properly air conditioned and there's free Wi-fi.

In Chicago there are many folks with no air conditioning and right now there are many kids out of school for summer vacation. Yesterday all the public beaches were open, but nobody was allowed to swim. Why? Because there was fog and the lifeguards couldn't see the people out in the water. So, they said,"You can be at the beach, but you can't go into the water." That's like putting someone out in the desert and telling them, "Here's a bottle of water. You can hold it; you can touch your forehead with it, but you can't drink it." Bummer! The TV news showed pictures of people who had ventured into the water at those Chicago beaches being lead away in HANDCUFFS, if you can believe that! What's America coming to?

Well, the next blog post will have photos if I ever figure out how to do it from an iPad.

Oh, and I promise, I'll never, EVER complain about the heat in Penang again!

BECKY (from the road)

Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs!

     Are there more signs here than in Japan, or is it just my imagination?  I think there are, or maybe I just didn't notice the Japanese ones as much because I couldn't read most of them.  If I recall correctly, Japan seemed to have more "verbal signage" than here.  There were announcements about escalator safety, train platform safety, bus riding safety, and more.  (The Japanese are a very cautious people overall!) 


 


In my own country, signs tend to be more brusque and to the point: "Out of Order," for example.  Here the signs seem to be more apologetic, like this one about a restroom being renovated.


      The signs here that seem to be the most serious are those
about what's "Halal" and "Non-Halal."  They're everywhere and they're important!  But when it comes to religion, I guess things often are.


    But the signs I find most inexplicable are these two outside a food outlet at a nearby mall.  Malaysia is a country that censors like crazy.  The number of "bleeps" and "pixilations" in TV shows is downright irritating.  Whole chunks of dialog are removed from TV movies.  And yet, the censors must have been looking the other way (or have been totally clueless) when they let these two ads slip through.

   Well, I just hope this blog post prolonged YOUR satisfaction and that EVERY INCH was a delight to read!

The Critters of Penang

      What's this little critter?  It's a civet cat, but not the one that lives with his family in the ceilings at my husband's workplace.  That bunch scampers around both day and night, enjoying all the free food that gets scattered about.
       Periodically the maintenance man traps them and releases them somewhere else, but, knowing a good thing when they see it, they return!   Or maybe they send their relatives to take their place.  There's a lot of joking about whether they could provide the exotic "kopi luwak," -- the most expensive coffee in the world.  But those pricey coffee beans pass through the digestive tracts of a different kind of civet cat, alas!


       Pulau Tikus means "Isle of Mice"  (or "Rats').  Some say it's named for a small island off the coast near here that's shaped like a rodent.  But considering how many rats I've seen scuttling around  behind the hawker food markets, I'd say it's because they're so common here.  People say "our" rats are so smart they have PhDs!  (They can steal cheese out of a trap without losing their tails or their lives.) 

    Even the highest of the high-rise  "luxury super condos" aren't free of local critters.  The other day I was visiting one when suddenly a monitor lizard (or was it a Komodo Dragon?) scuttled in front of me, dove into the pool and did a quick lap to the other side.   I gather they come up from the nearby beach.  Guess they prefer high-rise swimming pools to sea water.  Those monitor lizards go to college, too.  Over at USM (Universiti Sains Malaysia -  Malaysian Science University) one caused a non-fatal accident when an Iranian exchange student mixed it up with a monitor lizard that crossed a busy street in front of him.  Final score:  Monitor lizard- 0; Iranian student, 1.


      All this closeness to nature is wonderful in theory, but the other day, not so good!  I was by the pool, just happily reading a (borrowed) book when suddenly a twittering bird passed overhead.  Then, "SPLAT"!    Bird, 1;  Becky, 0!  

About that Mr Penang 2011 Post. . . .

     First, I just want to thank the folks (probably mostly Malaysian bodybuilders and their family members) for  reading my blog post about the recent  Mr Penang 2011 contest held at Gurney Plaza.  It was very gratifying to have so many of you check it out.  You could even say it went "locally viral"! 


    On the other hand, I think I owe an apology to the bodybuilders who joined that contest.  First of all, I didn't stick around to see the best part, and I regret that.  But I had things to do (lunch being one of them), and I knew when I got back after the lunch break, all the seats would be taken.   So, I blogged without having seen the best of it.  Stupid me!   I also messed up on the part about Senior and Master's bodybuilders, posting an incorrect photo as I did.  But my excuse is that I couldn't understand what was being said on the stage.  (I couldn't hear it even if it had been in English.)  But what I in my post said about the older fellows lookin' good to me still holds true.


    If they hold the 2012 contest at Gurney Plaza again, in my opinion the stage should be wider and be set up in the opposite direction from how it was this year.  I think the stage should be where the pumping-and-oiling up area was, so the seating area would be wider and the VIPs should occupy only the first couple rows so that more ordinary people could see and sit.  (Just my opinion.)  Anyway, it was a fun show that attracted a lot of people and you all should be very proud of that.


     Next, I want to tell you that  I'll be traveling soon.  There'll only be a couple more posts going up on this blog before it shuts down for summer vacation.  So, please check out the final two, especially the one about signs, which is kind of interesting in a salacious sort of way.  After that, a deathly silence will settle on this blog (unless I can figure out how to post remotely, which isn't easy for a technophobe like me.)  But please do drop back in soon after I return to Penang on my birthday, August 17th.   Until then, I'm really going to miss you! 

This Little Piggy Went to Market

       I've always thought one of the best ways to understand a country or culture is to visit its food markets.  What you find there says a lot about what's important to the ordinary people who shop there.  Grocery stores are also good places to get interesting souvenirs when you're on a trip (though often the folks back home aren't quite as delighted by it  as you were when you enjoyed it first-hand.)  
       Looking at this picture, can you tell what's important to Malaysians (as well as Filipinos, Japanese and others, of course.)  Right!  Instant noodles!  American supermarkets have walls and walls of different kinds of pizzas on display, but here in Penang, in ordinary-people supermarkets, it's NOODLES!  Oh, and chicken!  Fresh chicken, frozen chicken, fried chicken, recently-killed chicken.  

     And speaking of recently-alive food items, I know that fish is supposed to be fresh.  All those years in Japan drilled that into me, although I was a Midwestern gal who thought fish came in nice rectangular waxed-paper-wrapped boxes labelled "Mrs. Paul's Fish Stix."  It was a big surprise to me to learn that fish actually came with fins and eyeballs!  But back in Japan, the fish was either swimming in a tank in the shop, waiting to die, or it was tidily packaged up with a little bit of plastic grass to make it look natural.  So, when I rounded the corner of the new Tesco Supermarket and encountered THIS collection of fish -- well, let's just say that we had steak for dinner that night.  This fish was entirely too fresh for me!

        The "real-people" supermarket (as opposed to the expat one) also had some other interesting items, which I secretly photographed.    Oh, yummy!  Bird's nest flavoured drink!  Left that one behind.  How about some nice breakfast cereal?   No, thanks.  

And luckily, I have no need for these offerings above, either!

Poop and Apom -- A Morning in Pulau Tikus

     It was a rainy morning, so I took Hubby to work on the motorbike.  And what a lovely trip it was!  There's almost no traffic at that early hour, and it was so cool I almost wished I'd been wearing a jacket, and that rarely happens here. The rain had stopped and the air, which has been quite hazy recently, was delightfully cool and fresh.

       In early morning you see "the uniformed ones" heading toward their workplaces.  Like a giant magnet, the Adventist Hospital draws all the white-clad care givers from all directions.  Here and there you see the distinctive pink flowered uniforms of Gleneagles Medical Center staffers.  There's a river of young folks wearing dark blue uniforms and carrying their lunches in shiny metal tiffins.  They're all streaming toward Gurney Plaza Shopping Mall, where they'll keep it nice and clean. 

          Speaking of keeping things clean, I constantly marvel at the patience and thoroughness of the MPPP (local Penang City Council) street sweepers.  They are out there every single morning, equipped with two-wheeled carts and  brooms made of twigs.  Often they actually have to  work in the street where's there's early-morning rush hour traffic  (going one way, toward George Town).  Yet they work with zenlike serenity, getting every single scrap, leaf, and plastic bag, paying no attention to the traffic just inches away. How do they manage to do it day after day, knowing what a thankless task it is, knowing that hours later new trash will appear?  If I had a lot of money, I'd give every one of those "street saints" an iPod loaded up with whatever music they like, just to entertain them while they make the streets and sidewalks more pleasant for us.  This morning I was particularly happy because one of them now recognizes me and greeted me with a smile. 

      The morning hawker stands are bustling with breakfast-eaters and lunch-getters.  My favorite food at that hour is a sort of sweet pancake called "apom manis."  They're more like a crepe, actually, with crispy, lacy edges and a custardlike center. My favorite apom maker (shown here) sometimes puts tiny diced-up bits of apple in the batter and they settle in the middle.  Delicious!  And cheap, too.  You get a "set" of six served up on a banana leaf, for a ridiculously cheap RM3  (one US dollar).    The cook started helping his father in this exact same patch of ground some 17 years ago and now his own son helps him out (when he's not in Chinese school, though they are Indian).

     Yup, it was a perfect morning in Pulau Tikus until I was almost home.  Then, suddenly, SPLAT!   Suddenly I was wearing bird poop on my favorite outfit!  It even went into my pocket.  I tried to complain to the gate guard at our complex, but he wouldn't hear of it.  "Good luck," he insisted.  "Bird poop bring good luck.  But lizard--no good.  Lizard poop, bad luck, lah!"  It's all in your attitude, isn't it?  

Mr. Penang 2011

        There's always something happening at the nearby Gurney Plaza shopping center, and this past weekend, it was the Mr. Penang Bodybuilding compe-tition.  You may question why an older lady like myself would be eager to watch it. My interest is because, back in the day, I used to do a bit of weightlifting myself and on Guam I even judged a few local competitions.  And then there was that dalliance with Mr. Mexico. . . .but that's a story for another day!
   So I went along at 10:00, the announced start time. Silly me.  Nothing in Malaysia seems to start when it's supposed to. Big difference from Japan!  But I did get a good seat since I arrived so much before the actual start time.  At least it started out as a good seat!  By the time everybody got assembled, the good seats were still there, but there were walls of heavily muscled guys standing between us and the stage.  Boo, hiss!
     That problem got solved, however, by a Chinese granny sitting to my left who made it all really fun.  I have no idea why she was watching so intently (but people must have thought the same about me.)  Anyway, when those muscular young whippersnappers stood up in front of us, she'd just poke 'em in the butt with her umbrella and move them off to the side.  The 75-year-old grandpa on my right kept elbowing me saying, "Number 4!"  This was evidently his grandson.  He (the young lad, not the gentleman sitting next to me!)  did have some good muscles on his long and lanky body, especially his abs.  He'd clearly worked hard to get his body into the condition it was in and Grandpa was plenty proud of him!
     If I said I didn't even take a peek at those heavily-muscled, scantily-clad bodybuilders would you believe me? Well, I did look  . . . but I didn't drool!  At first I marveled at how, for such a multi-cultural society, the contestants all seemed to have the same beautifully bronzed skin tone. Then I noticed several oddly white faces perched atop heavily bronzed bodies and realized that the body oil they all used to highlight their musculature was also a dye.  These fellows are examples of some who'd opted not to have the tint put onto their faces.
    I didn't stick around to watch the whole contest, but I was most impressed by the Masters (or Seniors) division.  They may not be young, but there's something to be said for being mature and experienced -- at least I think so, being both myself!

Armenian Street Festival

    This month is the George Town Festival, a celebration of the third anniversary of Penang-and-Malacca (as a pair) having been named a World Heritage Site.  I'm going to miss a lot of the happenings due to travel from this Saturday.  (Boo-hoo!)  So, I'm trying to take in as much as I can before I go.  One thing was this little street festival that went on last Saturday.  These "Malaysian pancakes" were really tasty.  The bottom part is thin and crispy, thinner than a crepe.  There was a strange combination of things inside, like custard,  chopped peanuts and, oddly, some kernel corn.  It was surprisingly good, even later on when it wasn't crispy any more.  Cheap, too, only RM4
(US $1.30) for seven. 
       And speaking of cheap, how about free?

         This booth featured Muslim calligraphers.  The man in the green shirt went to Jordan for training and he  teaches Islamic calligraphy to others, including the young, as you can see here.  For free, they would render any name(s) you requested in lovely, flowing Arabic script.  At least I assume it was Arabic! 
   
 My poor camera was totally confounded by this pair of styrofoam figures wearing traditional Malaysian dress.  Why?  Because it has a "smile" feature.  If you don't want to use its timer,you can just jump into the picture and smile.  When the camera "sees" the smile, it takes the picture.  Clever, huh?  Well, the poor thing saw the smile on this cardboard face, kept trying to take the picture.  
     And that's the power of a smile--it can even move equipment into action!

Waxing enthusiastic about batik

      On Saturday I went to dabble in the workshop of a Malaysian fabric artist called Rozanna.  Her boutique and adjacent shop (both old shop houses, now restored) is located in Armenian Street, which is one of the more historic and interesting streets in Penang. (Check the link for some truly artistic scenes of it taken by someone with real talent and a decent camera -- unlike  me!)
     Our expert and very patient instructor is pictured here.  Below, I'll post two photos of batik work.  Can figure out which one is mine and which one took Rozanna a week to do & is priced at over US $500  (RM1,700)?  Could you guess!  My, how clever you are!    

      Anyway, we participants all started by trying to master the tool that holds the hot wax 
and acts like a sort of paint brush.  It looks easy, but wow, it isn't!   There are all kinds of variables, such as how big the tube is that lets the wax out and how hot the wax is when you apply it.  If the tube is too big or the wax is too hot, it comes out too quickly and then you get wide lines and drops of wax where you don't want them.  (That's a clue to help you figure out which batik was made by me!)

     After we practiced a bit, we were given a square of cotton stretched on a wooden frame.  (A-ha!  Another clue!)  We drew our designs onto the cotton, and mine turned out OK (considering that it was blatant plagiarism of two images I'd googled).  The trick is getting the wax onto the fabric thickly enough that little cells are created that contain the dye you put onto it later.  If there's a break in the wax line or if the line of wax isn't thick and deep enough. . . .well, then, it bleeds out of the cell and onto the surrounding fabric.  (OK, since you've guessed by now, I'll point out that I made that mistake down at the bottom of the bamboo, where the rainbow effect occurs.)  I'd have made that same mistake over and over again, except that Rozanna came along and deftly saved the day for me (and all the others who'd made the same mistake).  

   The next challenge was mixing the colors to  fill in the individual cells. Again, I had a little trouble getting the greens the same in each cell, but I missed it a few times.  Getting the background color evenly distributed is another challenge, one I failed miserably at.  Oh, well, I think the dark and light pink are kind of pretty all uneven and blotchy like that, don't you?  And those artsy little bubbles at the bottom?  They're to hide the fact that I dropped wax all over the place when I started. 
     Anyway, I now have a one-of-a-kind, handmade piece of original batik.  D'you think I should post it on eBay and see if anybody will buy it?

Tea for Two. . . No, actually for eight

      Last Saturday there was a Chinese tea tasting event at a lovingly-restored heritage tea house downtown.  Naturally, we went!  The tea tasting host (at left) was not very happy about having a group of eight people around his table.  Evidently, four is best because the cups can be easily retrieved between pourings.  (Look at me, tossing around tea tasting jargon as if I know anything about it!)  
      Before I tell you what else I learned about Chinese tea,  let me quickly point out that I still know almost nothing about it.  Like wine and Japanese tea, you could study it all your life and still not know all there is to know.  But I did pick up some interesting information that I'd like to share. 
        One thing I learned is that Chinese tea, like wine, has vintages, good years and not-so-good years.  Again, like wine, you have to know what variety and year you want when you go to buy it--or listen to the expert in the tea shop who's selling it to you.  Evidently there are only two types of green tea that are common in China because it has a shelf life of only six months or so (compared to a few years, like other types of tea.)
         Second,  Chinese tea drinking/tasting seems to be much more sociable than the Japanese tea ceremony, which is just that--ceremonial, and very quiet!  In the Chinese system, you show your appreciation for having been poured a cup by tapping your first two fingers on the table in a V shape.  We were told that this comes from ancient times when one of the emperors went out among his people incognito, of course drinking tea and serving it.  His courtiers wanted to be humble in the presence of their emperor; they wanted to bow and thank him effusively for serving them tea (instead of the other way around).  But he knew if they did that, his identity would be revealed.  So, he taught them to tap on the table with their knuckles instead and that evolved into the silent gesture of appreciation that is now used -- this lightly tapping two fingers on the table.  Believe it?  It doesn't matter.  It's a grand story, whether it's actually true or not!

       The server, a former tour guide turned tea aficionado, told us about tea pots, too.  They're never washed (only rinsed out) because they might pick up the flavor of the dishwater and because they get "seasoned" as they're used.  The black pots take hotter water, which is appropriate for certain types of tea but not others.  And serious tea tasting pots aren't glazed or decorated with blue-and-white figures.  They come in earthy colors that derive from the kind of clay used to make them.  There's one little tiny type of teapot that's used to brew "rock tea," which is the "espresso of the tea world."  The cups for that tea are correspondingly small--just little, bitty things, almost like thimbles.
       We learned much, much more during our visit.  For example, the foods served with  Chinese tea shouldn't be spicy or sour because they would overpower the tea.  We saw that the tea is poured from the pot into a "fairness beaker" and then into the cups.  The middle container is called that because it equalizes the flavor so that everybody's tea is the same strength.  If the tea is poured directly from the pot into the cups, the early-poured ones would be too mild and the final ones would be too strong.  (The Japanese do the same thing by pouring a little tea at a time, into each cup, going around in a circle,hitting each cup 2-3 times to balance out the strength.)
      Well, this is just a drop (of tea) in the bucket--no, the pot--of what there is to learn about Chinese tea.  I know I'll never be an expert, but if I keep at it, there's a chance I'll develop at least an appreciation of what is a very depthy subject!

In the Bag--- NOT!

Me, out shopping--ha, ha!

    Without any modesty whatsoever, let me mention that, back in Japan, I was recycling plastic bags and taking my own shopping bags to the supermarket looooong before anybody thought it was cool.  So, when we hit Penang, I was ready, willing and able to get on board their "No Plastic Bag" bandwagon.  


      I was pleasantly surprised at the degree of compliance  in Penang.  (Can't speak for all of Malaysia.)   I understand that the "No Plastic Bag Campaign" began right here back in 2010 with the initial target being only Mondays.  Then,  it  was gradually extend-ed so that by the time we got here last summer, it was Mondays through Thursdays. Then it expanded to Saturdays (but not Sundays) and stores reported reduced sales on Saturdays and booming sales on Sundays.  Could the lack of free plastic bags have caused such a profound change in shopping habits?  Apparently so.


         Since last January, it's been extended to every day of the week and there are serious penalties for retail outlets that don't comply.  This causes usually sweet and smiling clerks to become almost vicious if you approach the cash register and appear to be empty-handed.  They frown and before they even start checking you out, they growl, "No plastic bag, OK?"  But once they see me, with my fistful of thermal bags, eco-bags and rubber-banded plastic bags, they relax and become the charming folks they normally are.   If you don't have your own bag with you, of course they'll sell you one for just pennies, with the money going to charity to alleviate extreme poverty.  But they don't want to!

 Tragic, and ugly!

    
     I think Penang was the first of the Malaysian states to inaugurate a "No Plastic Bag" campaign and they're very, very serious about reducing their use.  And well they should!  Scenes like this are not uncommon and the beaches can be pretty trashy, too. 

Take-away hawker food--in a bag!

    You might ask, "Well, if stores aren't giving out plastic bags when people shop, where are they all coming from?"  My best guess is the ubiquitous take-away hawker food and drink.  Food is invariably packed up in a plastic bag, either pink or green, and you seldom see a Malaysian at lunchtime without one.   You also see them in the morning, as people stop to buy hawker food to get them through the day.

Coffee in a bag

      
      Take-away coffee is served up in a plastic bag, too, and there's quite an art to getting your straw poked into the top in such a way that the coffee doesn't spill out.  


     Unfortunately, many of these thin plastic bags don't get thrown away properly.  They litter the streets and beaches, despite the efforts of street cleaners to clear them away every morning.   It must seem like a thankless, never-ending task to them.


       I read that there was another campaign afoot here in George Town called "100 Steps to Cleanliness".  It's supposed to provide a plastic rubbish disposal bin every 100 steps.  There's a slim chance of that ever happening, but what a wonderful thing it would be if it did!

???????? and More ?????

The Daytime Guards at our Condo Complex

     They say we Americans will tell you anything, even if you don't want to know.  Hence the expression "TMI"  (Too Much Information).  If you fly cross-country with an American, by the end of the journey you'll likely acquire enough information--mostly unsolicited--to commit identity theft if you were so inclined.

     However,  most Americans do at least try to steer clear of potentially sensitive subjects like religion, politics or money, until they get to  know you somewhat.  The French, I am told, don't mind discussing politics or anything else intellectual, but they don't welcome questions of a personal nature about where they live, their occupation, etc.  Japanese people can get a bit sensitive about which universities they or their offspring attend(ed).  If the school is too low-ranking, they're embarrassed and if it's too highly ranked, they also get embarrassed.  So, you quickly learn not to ask, "So, where does your son/daughter go to school?" in Japan.

    These Malaysians, on the other hand, will ask you anything.  There are no forbidden topics, as far as I can tell.  You expect the usual questions--where are you from, are you on holiday, how long will you stay in Penang?  Legitimate questions, all.  But then they move on to "Where do you stay?"  Even among foreigners, this question is designed to ferret out information about your socio-economic level.  However, within a day of our having arrived here, I was asked "Do you rent or buy?"  Now THIS was starting to feel intrusive and I didn't want to answer.  But the next question was "How much do you pay?"  Horrors!  I'd never ask anyone this!  But here it's routine and apparently it's OK not to answer. 

     But it doesn't stop there.  Oh, no!  It's not uncommon to be asked what your own salary is or that of your spouse. When given a gift, a Malaysian will cheerfully enquire what it cost.  And then there are the "Why on earth do you care?" questions.  Recently a man in our elevator (excuse me--"lift") saw my bags and demanded, "Where you go shop, ah?" The fellow pictured above with the whiplash collar  saw me enter carrying a  new floor lamp.  He wanted to know  "How much you pay for that light?"  "Too much!" is now my standard answer.  Just yesterday as I returned through the gate, with no preliminaries at all, he asked me, "Do you have any health problems?  Diabetes? High blood pressure?"  Now WHY would he want to know that?  

      Our barber (yes, my hubby and I go to the same local Indian barber) asks so many questions we're uncomfortable going there. But he's open 7 days a week, 8 a.m. to 9 p.m., so we go anyway.  Convenience over privacy!  

        When you fill out their application forms, the local phone company, asks this question:

"What holiday do you observe?   A)  Hari Raya (Muslim)   B)  Deepavali (Hindu)  C)  Wesak (Buddhist)   D)  Christmas (Christian)  E) Chinese New Year?   (Italic explanations added by me.)   I thought they were aiming to find out "What religion are you?"  But later someone suggested that they just want to know so they can offer you discounts for your holiday phone calling.

         Even the local expat ladies have a question they keep asking me:  "Why do you have two Deluxe Scrabble boards?" I dunno why;  I just usually have two of everything!

      So now it's time for my question:  How many times will I have to call before they start delivering my newspaper that I subscribed to last month?

        

        

Have I Landed on Mars?

3 of the 4 towers of The Cove

         I come from a relatively humble (read that "normal") middle-class American background.  We had one bathroom and one phone for a family of four.  Still do, except that the family is now only two, the nest having emptied out quite some time ago.  Please keep that in mind when reading  the comments to follow.
     I've been told by a totally partial (NOT impartial!) source that "Penang is a place where ordinary people can live like royalty relatively cheaply."  These days I get occasional glimpses into the homes and lifestyles of my new acquaintances. (It's still too early to call any but one of them a "friend.")  The things they say, the things they do, the way they live their daily lives continually amazes me.  I guess I hadn't  been exposed to "the other half" much in my life before Penang.  In Japan of course there were wealthy people, but I didn't know them.  Or, more likely, I knew them but they never let on that they were well-off.  But here, it's a whole 'nother story.
    Take, for example, The Cove.  (Check out this link, just in case you want a little get-away vacation!  Ha-ha!)    An acquaintance's husband once declared, "I don't want to look down on birds; I want to look up at them!"   Well, in most of the units of The Cove (one unit per floor), the birds down below are such tiny specks, they're almost invisible. Unnatural!  It's hard to have sympathy for people who can't decide which of the three verandas to use when they have the ladies over for tea.

          My friend lives in a "super condo."  This is the view from her veranda.  (She thinks the floor she lives on is too low and she thinks she might want to move to a higher floor in the same condo.)  The standard units in this condo are from 3,669 to 4,873 square feet. (Just as a point of reference, our "unit" is 1,440 sq. ft and it's all I can do to keep it clean and tidy!)  There are two units per floor, but you can't access your neighbors' unit unless you go downstairs and convince the guard man that you have a legitimate reason to go there.  If he thinks you do, he'll step into the elevator, swipe his special security passcard, and away you go!  There's a separate elevator for tradesmen so they don't have access to your entryway / vestibule.  Good thing, I guess, as those are so spacious, they actually require furnishings.  (More than I have in my whole living room in one case.)
     Please don't think I'm writing this out of envy or sour grapes!  We're delighted with our normal-sized, down-to-earth abode here.  It's surrounded by trees with chirping birds, national-anthem-singing elementary school kids and a little village just beyond the gate.  There's a "lifestyle shopping mall" opening up on one end of our lane, cheek-to-jowl with the regular mall that I visit almost daily.  The other end of our lane has a famous hawker food market, a bus stop and a man who sells durian and other fruit from his truck.  What more could anyone ask?

Cluck, cluck, cluck!

The daily roasting chicken at Matsuya "Super", Japan

       In this photo you see "the" roasting chicken at a supermarket back in Japan.  I say "the" chicken because, at the Matsuya store back in Nagano City, Japan, every day there were two chickens put out for sale -- the big  one and the small one. (And the "big" one was actually only "biggish.") If you were lucky and went to the supermarket  at the right time, you could maybe score "the chicken."  If you really gambled and waited 'til almost closing time, you might even get that chicken at a marked-down price.  That would make it, not  RM (Malaysian ringgit) 26, but rather RM 20.   Big savings, huh?!
      Contrast that to the situation in this Muslim country where Chicken Is King.  With the Muslims not eating pork and the Indians not eating beef, chicken is the meat of choice around here.  (Except for the expats, who want organic chicken,  free-range chicken, or antibiotic chicken, or whatever it is that floats their boats.)  So here, if you want chicken, you can have chicken, in one of a thousand different ways, and almost all of them delicious!

Daily offering of chickens at Cold Storage, Penang

        At the nearest Cold Storage supermarket (which, according to their history to be found at this link literally changed the history of Singapore by allowing colonial masters to "acclimatise" to living in the tropics) . . . .  anyway at our local Cold Storage there are chickens a-plenty.  The ones to the left are regular chickens; the green-packaged ones on the right are "antibiotic residue free chickens."  At first I was buying these very chickens (at RM 11.99, about US $3.98) and roasting them myself, as I always had to do back in Japan.  Then, duh!  I found the already-cooked ones in three different flavors,  for only one ringgit more. AND you can buy either a whole, a quarter or a half.  They'll even chop the thing up for you.  No more roasting chickens for me!  These Penangite chicks aren't quite as succulent as the broiled chickens you can get at supermarkets in the States, but they're still quick and delicious and probably a bit less fattening than those American ones, too. 

Chicken Satay -- Cheap and Delicious!

       Speaking of chicken, if you ask me, there's no better way to eat it than as satay, which is to say grilled on a skewer with peanut sauce and some cucumber and pounded rice on the side.  Um-um, good!