Malaysia, Truly Asia

For a long while, the Malaysian Tourism Board ran an aggressive TV ad campaign in the region (I'm not sure if it made it to the States) with the tagline Malaysia, Truly Asia. It tried to show Malaysia as this place in Asia where history and modernity collide, where people of different races and religions live in harmony and most importantly, where one can shop till one drops. I've never really seen this Malaysia but only from a lack of effort. EatingAsia, a blog by an American couple that I've written about in the past, puts ordinary Malaysians like me to shame in their pursuit of all things authentic in Malaysia. They've done it again with a fantastic, mouth-watering and aw-shucks post about a market on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur. Read it here.

I'm Alive!

After work on Tuesday, I raced home, loaded my ipod with as many This American Life podcasts as it could hold and then piled into my dad's car with my parents as we headed for the tranquil but crappy town of Taiping, three hours north of Kuala Lumpur, for Chinese New Year. Unlike the Chinese in China, there was no snow to keep me from my relatives and their questions of girlfriends and future plans. For three full days, I entertained questions ranging from how much money I make at my job to when I plan to settle down with a nice girl. And for three full days, I plotted my escape route, first, an excuse that I had an appointment to keep in KL but later, when my brother showed up to spend the night, I hightailed it out of Taiping with him the next day (Friday) and heaved a sigh of relief once we saw the Twin Towers looming in the horizon, signaling our return to civilization and departure from nosy questions.

Tossing the yee sang with the family. Tradition has it that the higher the toss, the better the outlook for the new year.

Welcoming the fourth generation, little Janice Chung.

Getting our luck prognosis for the year by gambling.

Whee! Back in KL with the drag queens.

Deja vu

There is a street I drive through every day on my way home from work. It is a street flanked by two rows of pre-WWII shop houses and bisected by an elevated subway track. It is also a street that takes me at least 20 minutes to drive through despite being 100 meters long (330 feet) -- this is what happens when you combine inconsiderate drivers with bad city planning. Every day, I sit in traffic on this street and the only thing that keeps me sane is the flashback I get of Philadelphia, New York and DC and how comfortable I felt being surrounded by disgruntled life in a city that seemed as if it was filled to bursting. It is a street I have always wanted to show you but couldn't, that is, until I got my first camera phone last week. Watch out, KL!

And for you Planet Unicorn watchers, there's now ambrosia in cookies! My ambrosia salad tastes like chocolate. Mmmmm....

Eureka!

I've finally realized why I don't write in this blog as much anymore -- I've been 'integrated'. The novelty of being back in KL has worn off so I don't feel the need to write that you-have-to-see-it-to-believe-it-this-is- crazy post about quirky Malaysia. Now, instead of running home to write about my parents' friends asking me how much I earn or cars parked on sidewalks, I shrug and think "well, this is too ordinary to write in my blog" so I don't.

Whiny Will

I really would like to write a positive blog post, something that has that cheerleader rah-rah, i-can-do-it feel but it's hard to be upbeat when in the span of a week, I've broken my new pair of contact lenses, found two nails in my flat tire and scraped the side of my car as I navigated around a difficult corner. To make matters worse, I think I've lost Language too -- it took me five minutes to type this first paragraph.
They say what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger but I'm not going to make any cliche statements like that anytime soon. Yes, I'm still alive but every time I get out of the car, I make sure that my tires remain nail-free. I probably could win an award for being Malaysia's slowest driver but only because I never want to hear that sickening, hollow thud of car against concrete again.
Perhaps the only thing I can say about all this is that I'm learning about myself and discovering the things that I am certain about (not many) and things that I would like to be certain about. This week, I re-learned to say no and to insist on getting my way. I've become certain that there are people that I can count on when I'm in a jam but I would like to be certain about my own abilities in handling tough situations.
Sometimes, I think it's hard to live in a place where everyone is ultra-confident because failure has never obstructed their progress or if it has, it's only made them more resolute about success. What I need to happen in KL is a big cry club where I can feel like it's all right to have bad days or to make mistakes. What I need is really a good Oprah episode and lots of ice cream.

Home fires

I've fired the first shot in a new round of conflict with my parents -- I told them I was thinking of moving out. A friend of a friend is moving into his new condo somewhere on the other side of KL and asked me if I wanted to live with him (he knew I was passively looking for a place). Today, I drove the entire length of KL to see the new digs and I'm still not sure where I stand on this but I don't know if my thoughts or feelings count here. My dad is already against the idea on practical grounds -- "Why pay someone rent when you can own?" -- so he's undertaking an apartment search on my behalf. What I'm afraid of is that my parents will sell our current house when they retire in the country next year. Ideally, I would love to live here in the house I grew up in, where the pencil marks measuring my vertical progression are still visible on the door frames and the neighbors have remained unchanged in 25 years but I know one thing for certain and that is I cannot live with my parents.

The KL Skyline

Beer for Malaysian Queers

Walking down a busy street packed with bars, clubs and tourists, looking for La Queen, a popular gay club in KL, I realize my gross underestimation of the gay scene here. Instead of a dark back alley with a nondescript entrance, the club stands three storeys tall on the corner of a busy intersection, a rainbow flag draped conspicuously over the front door. After hesitatingly paying the 30 ringgit cover charge, I climb the stairs to the main dance floor. At 11:30, it is nearly at full capacity with boys dressed in their twillight best, gal pals in tow. I stand on the sidelines for a while but soon realizing my awkwardness, I decide to explore the place a bit. The level above the dancefloor contains its own bar and balcony and above that, another alcove and loungey room with beds (!) and couches. I see the requisite glass birdcage that hangs from every gay club I've been to and upon closer inspection, I realize that it's a glass birdcage WITH a shower. In between the spurts from the fog machine, I realize how much La Queen reminded me of Pure in Philadelphia or G-A-Y in London, a serious party venue with plenty of eye candy and loads of fun.

Since I still don't have any pictures to show you, I'm doing the next best thing: Steal someone else's photo from Flickr.

This is a photo of one the bars along Jalan P. Ramlee, a street close to the twin towers where revellers pack the street every weekend.

Here's what I've been up to: Idling

When I tell people that I'm not employed inevitably the question "What do you do with your time?" creeps into the conversation. It's a hard question since it's one that I cannot answer immediately. What do I do with my time, anyway? Must I have something to do with my idle time?It has been five weeks since I've been back and I'm sitting at the computer as I did on the first day of my break, unemployed, lazy and unmotivated. I suppose I've been keeping myself busy with a few job applications, going to the gym, exploring different parts of KL, helping my parents with chores around the house, blogging, spending an inordinate amount of time on the internet and taking more than a few naps. Sometimes, I lie on my bed quite content to be underutilised and thinking I could live like this for a long time.

Capturing KL

If only I had a camera with me during those rare glimpses of Kuala Lumpur culture. I remember watching two boys riding their bike through the flood waters, thrilled by the prospects of playing in muddy waters. Or the other day in a basement car park where sections closest to the escalators were reserved for single women drivers (this, I think, is testament both of the chivalry of KL society as well as the high incidence of crime). Sometimes, I want to take a picture of the jaggedy skyline with as many cranes as there are skyscrapers, it seems as if development of the city has only begun. Someday, when I'm less forgetful, I'll put pictures up on this blog that will show you how I see this city in most of its unique glory.