Last laksa and durians

For my last supper here I had one last bowl of Siam Laksa, which is as close to heaven as one can get, at least before one develops the taste for the devine durian, which I have done with a vengeance! I even love the smell, and we went over to visit Chandra's nephew and family where they had tupperware containers full of variations of durians from a friend's farm; they were all different in taste and texture, and ALL were heavenly, sweet creaminess on a seed, or as I remembered it from a few years ago, creme brule on a seed! Oh, yum. The other photo is one of their little girls who has a rambutan in her mouth and is about to dig into a piece of durian; SHE gets it!

I am sad to leave my friends but happy to come home to the my very own children, Shadow, the Wissahickon, my wonderful neighbors and good friends. One last image I have added that I have tried to put into the blog several times; I don't know whether it ever got here, but because I am mad for the blue tint, here it is.

A little patriotic dance...

Malaysian administrative building in Butterworth - an appropriate place for my Fourth of July Patriotic Dance routine. Bet you never knew I had one! Book me early for next July 4th .

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Happy Fourth of July from Penang!

The light and shade on this doorway had me rivetted for a good 15 minutes and many variations on this photo. Something is glorious about the bluey overtone on the wall and the way the shadow comes down almost like a curtain.

The camera I had to buy in Kathmandu two years ago after dropping mine in the mud on a night's trekking adventure is broken, and these are the last few photos that bear any resemblance to their subjects. It's sad because the camera has been a good friend, helping me capture the shadows and textures of my travels. Sometimes I wonder if losing it or breaking it are signs that I should be doing other things like writing or painting or sewing.

It is difficult to believe that it is the Fourth of July here but still July 3 in the U.S. Seems like the story of my life - I'm ready for the party, but it isn't until tomorrow! These photos are from the other day as I was walking around Georgetown around the heritage areas; because it isn't usually as sunny outside, the shadows don't compel me as much as they did this day. Today, too, comes with the depth of bright sunlight and darker shade - a glorious day for an early run followed by soft, sweet papaya, yogurt and coffee. DOES life get any better? I will admit that the things I miss most are family, Shadow and friends. IS there anything else?

Georgetown Textures

Tiles in front of one of the many houses parked behind a motorcycle. Ha. And the wonderfully bulbous cupulas and red roofs on this mosque are the Kapitan Mosque in Georgetown. Once I got into Georgetown, I just wandered around, lugging and trying to use my sick, sick camera that can no longer take decent photographs; thank goodness for the Paint program on my computer so that I could adjust the brightness and save some of my efforts!

I love the pots of plants and the things stashed at the front doors of all the houses, some of which had magical images I just had to capture; some were just pulling me with their texture and colors.

And then there was Amelie, a little coffee shop that looked dear but totally out of place.

Ah, Penang...

Yesterday I trekked into the Penang National Park, and my guide first showed me this old dock and the fishing boats that are no longer being made because they catch too many little fishies, as well as all the big ones; there are now only 50 of these boats left, and I rather loved them.

The first little fellow we saw as we trekked up and over the ridges and hills in the forests was this long tailed macaque who reminded me of my father before he died! There is something so gently old but almost delicate about him, his front left foot, pointing out just a touch, as if to show that he hs one dancing fool!

At the end of the trek, we got to the place where they were working to save sea turtles' eggs and little turtles, putting them back into the sea when they were strong enough to go. Sadly, only about 1 in 100 make it...

When we took the boat back along the shore, we saw this big old water monitor lizard, just dipping and diving as one of his friends sprawled out on a rock to sun himself.

Once I got back to land, I received a call from Chandra who came and fetched me, took me to the Spice Garden where Pearly fed me the most heavenly bowl of laksa I have ever tasted, loaded with fish, mints, veggies and yummy, rich, thick, spicy broth.

Ahhhhh, and don't ANYbody try to touch it!

Outta there!

This was across the track from the station in Srimangal, where I couldn't leave fast enough, and I was thrilled when I arrived in crowded, loud Dhaka and over the carpet of humanity, I saw Mr. Hussein's wave

Sick in Srimangal

After a many houred train ride on a narrow seat, next to a sick man, I, writhing with headache and body aches, tried to sleep to Srimangal where the tea plantations are in Bangladesh; the countryside is brilliantly lush and green, and the small city is a smaller bustled version of Dhaka. I got to my hotel though and begged just to sleep, which is did until the next morning, when my guide picked me up at 8:3o to go trekking in the forest. This leech is just a precursor of things to come; I am still riddled with several black leech marks on my legs - a highly exotic and attractive asset, I might add. The photo of this tumble-down bridge didn't bring confidence to my already sick body, but we trudged along, and I was so happy to be outside and walking that I keep up a good clip until we heard these high pitched whoop in the woods. My guide said it was the Gibbons setting up their territorial boundaries and was I ready to go off trail. Sure, I was game; after all, I'd borrowed a pair of Saad's black socks to wear with my red sandals. When we went "off trail," we really went into the densest tropical forest I've ever experienced with hills, gullies and spiders the size of my fist; however, I can show no more photos because the blogger isn't working. Sigh

I am trying to upload a photo of one of the Gibbons monkeys, which probably won't impress, but they have no tails and yet swing with more physical prowess than I could imagine, flying through the tops of the trees with such acrobatic ease that my heart thudded into my sandals when one went swooping at such speeds and heights. None of my photos actually catches the spirit of the things, so I shall skip it and do more later.

s

tops

Where were we?

The blogger was down ALL day yesterday, and I'm not sure what I have and have not shared, but a few nights ago I went on a walk around the National Assembly (Parliament building) and the sidewalks were full of people, chatting, walking, playing and hawking. It was the night version in a low key way of the daily hubbub, a word I've always wanted to use legitimately, and THIS is the city that smacks of "hubbub"!

When we had dinner, Saad's sister, a lawyer, and her husband came, and even later, maybe after 9 or 9:30, his brother arrived. Here is Saad's mom, Shamim, as we were chatting after dinner

In the morning when we leave the house, these women are sitting on the sidewalk, chatting, making baskets or other things, and they stay until school is over because the traffic is so bad that going back home after dropping their children off for school would take such a long time that they just stay!

Because I'm doing some investigation into the use of the Bangla language - Bangladesh means land of Bangla, which is their language - I am photographing signs that give me pause, and I noticed this No Parking sign at the end of a driveway. The sign has no Bangla on it, which assumes that the drivers will know English, but the bizarre thing is that the "drivers" in this household are Bengalis who do not speak English! The man who has been driving me all over the place speaks a little English, but we mostly nod and laugh, thinking we understand each other; one day recently he asked it I would like to see where his mother-in-law lived, and I was totally game. We went into a teeny, short door in the side of a fence, walked through a "courtyard" the size of a bathroom, down a line of rooms, all with flip flops outside the doors, and into one room to say hello to his brother-in-law who seemed just to be arising from bed, which took up most of the room, giving maybe three feet of floor space on one side, the other jammed against the wall. This is the family house. Note that things are stacked and folded neatly, there is a television, things are hung up, but this is the family home. When we went back out into the courtyard, the woman who had been squatting in a dark room, peeling and cutting a vegetable asked if we would like tea. They brought one chair and a small table, urged me to sit, brought the sticky, sweet conconction, and one woman began to fan me. I yearned to get her to stop, but I knew that it would be miscontrued; this is what they do for a guest. I took photos, we laughed when I struggled to find a Bangla word for "delicious," and they all finally just said, "very good," which settled the whole matter, and we all tumbled into laughter.

When we returned to the house, the ladies were still sitting in wait for their children, and when they invited me to sit down, I did, discovering then that each of them had wares to sell; I bought some junky earrings in the interest of international relations, and we became friends.

One day late...

I am behind a day in my blogging so will have to try to piece together again where and what from yesterday. This is Doiub, the deaf Imam who drives everywhere with me and argues with the driver about where to turn and which way to go. We left by 8:00 to get down to Old Dhaka, and the traffic was unusually clear; I took this rickshaw driver's picture from inside the backseat of the car, and he gave me a rather pleasing grin!

We first went to the Sadarghat Boat Terminal on the Buriganga River in Old Dhaka, passing, as we walked along, some late risers like this gentleman, and some stalls that looked ready for anything plastic. Once we paid our dues, we walked out onto the long docks over the grubby, trash infested river, which I shall leave for the imagination, and looked at the big boats that people use as commuter boats and some of the smaller boats in the harbor. The docks were crowded with people, selling and begging as usual, but more bustling to catch a boat than anything; there was purpose here on the docks. A woman in a sari scootched along on her bottom for lack of two legs, but she maintained a pretty decent speed.

From the docks we went to walk around Old Dhaka where everything imaginable was for sale, mostly foods, books and plastics, the staples of a good life. We even stopped to buy some fabric and drank some overly sweet tea, laden with sticky carnation milk AND sugar, just in case. I was rather fond of it. People approached me, asking where I was from or just stared unflinchingly at the stranger. I smiled my goofy American smile and shook hands whenever I could, taking photos that the people always wanted to see and then said, "thank you," as though I'd given them some kind of gift or honor by taking home their photographs! No worries here about souls being stolen by the camera, thank goodness! We had the knife sharpener, the fruit hawker, the books salesmen, and the juice makers, all vying for space on my camera, but I tried to be fair and catch everyman at his best; my favorite was the man biking a huge haul behind him who said loud and clear after I captured him on film, "thank you!" Just recognizing his efforts seemed to make him grateful; it's the least I could do!

The juice man crafted a special concoction that seemed to feature flies in amongst the fruits, and I confess that I passed up this delicacy but thought a photo might suffice.

I'll write more tomorrow, but it's late and I'm ready for bed.

Dhaka Day Two - finish

A little bit of coke goes a long way.

Before visiting the Kahn Parliament in the pouring rain, I wanted to walk around and went out to the red-haired guard who then passed me off onto a man walking by the house, who was going to a client's. We walked around until he found his client, we met with a man, then we were seated in a small conference room, given tea and biscuits, and then I said I had to get back, so we got up and left - very bizarre! I did get this lovely photo of the tea container and the shadows on the doors.

Some of the texture as we scraped through the traffic...

Once I returned to the house, I ate some heavenly breakfast - eggs, breads, fruits, etc... and then off in the car with Hussein, who drove, and Doiub, a red-haired imam. They drove me to the Parliament, and I was disappointed not to be permitted to walk around inside, but they were very accommodating and tried to get me as close as possible so that I could take decent photos; I was initially so moved to see it from this perspective that I stood, awed, tears in my eyes.

After the parliament, we drove to the National museum, which was in many ways a joke, and then in the afternoon, I went to the bazaar around the corner with Hussein.

Bangladesh!

I arrived yesterday, obtained a visa on arrival, was met by Saad's friends and then driven home by his driver, Hakim. The vehicles on the right caught my eye, little enclosed steel meshed three wheelers that we locally call CNGs. I was struck by the paint job on the busses - at least some of them looked as though they'd been through the wars, and traffic came to dead standstills much of the time. Horrid.

The house is luxurious with a staff of servants that far exceeds the number of family members living here. I have a wonderfully cushy room with a bathroom, ac and a ceiling fan, so I was happy as a clam. We stayed up late to chat, but I crashed around 10 because the time change made it really midnight for me; I was up at the crack of dawn, about which I shall write tomorrow as I'm headed to Old Dhaka early in the morning with loads of other stops along the way - Liberation Museum, Dhaka University, the Lalbagh Fort, etc...

I gave a peek into what I did today at the top of the blogs; more photos will come tomorrow. Now, bed.

Penang to KL

We began the morning in Little India in Penang so that Pearl could finally introduce me to Apum Taluk or some such thing, which turned out to be coconut milk and rice flour with scrambled eggs in the center - TDF! BUT, we had to have this at Amina's stand because she makes the best, and I can tell you how hot it is behind her burners where she stands, wearing her little cap, gesticulating and smiling and chatting all the while because I went back there and almost died from the heat of the burners. The egg pancake is eaten with the hands and dipped in a rich curry sauce on the side. While I ate TWO of these things that I've been hearing about since I arrived, Pearl and Chandra talked to the couple at our table, another dark man and lighter woman. They spoke in Bahasa Malay, which I could understand only a limited amount of, but after the other couple left, Pearl told me they were a Malay couple and the four of them had been bemoaning the fact that the younger generation did not socialize together anymore - Chinese sticking with other Chinese, Malays sticking with other Malays, Indians sticking together as well. They remembered a more forgiving, more open social system.

The night before Pearl and I had decided to mend the quilt I had given her from Laos, and after much discussion, brain storming, arguing even, we came up with a plan; however, because I had given her the quilt, I insisted that I do the sewing. When I saw the simple Singer she had been working on with no light and a foot pedal that she had to pump, I relinquished my offer and let her sew. Not surprisingly, like most things she does, Pearl sews like an angel, and she had that thing practically finished by the time we went to bed. I should have known that young Chinese girls had to learn to cook AND do all the sewing; she used to sew all her daughters clothes AND do smocking on her dresses. What can't this woman do?

Yesterday she had made a lovely pinapple "rojak," which is really a salad, but cutting the pineapple was such an art with lines cut all around the fruit before cutting it up into pieces. These are some of the ingredients for the rojak sauce, and of course it had ground peanuts sprinkled on top. I think I will have gained 15 pounds by the time I get home!

The bus to KL took almost 6 hours - only meant to take 4 - and by the time I got here, I felt confused; the station had been redone from a 3rd world grunge to sparkling chrome and windows. It totally threw me off balance in an area that I otherwise felt confident I knew. Once I got myself out of the station, I instinctively found the old route to Bukit Bintang where I found The Green Lodge and got the usual room with one bed and a chair for 65 ringet because it is a "double" bed instead of single, which would have been 55 ringet. Life is getting pretty fancy when I'm paying more than $20 for a room! In the interest of frugality, I did get dinner for under $10 and that did include one small Tiger beer, a luxury I doubt I shall enjoy for the next 10 days as I will be spending time with a muslim family in Dhaka. KL was quite a scene this evening, as kids were setting up for Saturday night; the bars were filling up, restaurants were bustling, and a band was getting ready to play. I moseyed around until it began getting dark and headed back to my generic room. I don't like moving around crowded cities alone when it's dark, especially when it's dark and Saturday night...

Tomorrow I leave for Bangladesh, no visa in hand, but faith in my heart, a smile on my face and cash in my wallet so that when the immigration officer talks to me, I am ready to do whatever I need to do to get a visa on arrival, which my former student assures me American tourists can obtain. Crossing fingers, sending good karma....

Finally, even if it isn't the most staggering I've seen, at least I'm happy to report that there IS graffiti in Kuala Lumpur! It's the plastic bags that kill me; supermarkets do not give them out in Penang, and I think the hawkers shouldn't be permitted to either.