Transit(ion) in Tokyo

Our all-expenses paid trip home included a layover in Tokyo so, we figured, when else will we have free airfare to Japan? Who cares if taking an extra four days to explore Tokyo means I will only have five days before I start school, and two days before I move in to our new house in Davis? Obviously not me (whether I should have remains to be seen), and that is why I find myself here, in Tokyo, on our third glorious day of eating incredible food, practicing our Japanese, seeing the sights, shopping at 100 yen stores, and drinking sake and beer. 

From what I can tell, Tokyo lives in its own wonderful world. There are few people who can (or will) speak English, and we're lucky if we find English translations on the signage, but that is the beauty of this place. It is 100% unique, with little influence from other countries, languages or cultures. Of course, there is the trend of Engrish t-shirts and the occasional all-tourist destination, but for the most part Tokyo is all Japan. Here is a brief photo tour:

Walking the streets of Harajuku and loving the incredible fashion.

(Photo by Ez)

Posing at the gate to Meiji Park

A wedding ceremony at Meiji Shrine

The major intersection in Shibuya; all the lights turn red for all-pedestrian traffic.

(Photo by Ez)

Tokyo DisneySea! 

We enjoyed Annie & David's Leonardo Challenge, as well as some shows and rollercoasters.

Oh cute doggies, how I've missed you so.

Sensoji Buddhist Temple in Asakusa

Purifying our hands before entering the temple

Eating soba and tempura...Mmmm

Cheers! Sake in Japan is strong.

As our "transition country" from Malaysia to home, I don't think there could have been a better choice. Japan is so different and so (enjoyably) unfamiliar that, no matter how unfamiliar the U.S. will seem to us after being away for so long, it will seem much more like home after being here. I'd like to say we planned it that way, but I'll give credit to the Universe for that one. 

Ok, Japan, goodbye for now. Take good care of your ramen and sushi for us...we'll be back.

Now, it's time to go home.

Goodbye, Malaysia

It's 7:00am and I am lying in bed in our hotel in KL on our very last day in Malaysia. Yesterday we said goodbye to Terengganu, and today we will start our long journey home. So, how am I feeling? If you had asked me two and a half months ago, I would have told you that I couldn't wait to leave this place and the end just wasn't close enough. If you had asked me 2 weeks ago, I would have said that of course I was sad to be leaving, but I was too excited to come home to truly be that sad. But, starting about a week ago, and particularly yesterday and today, I have somehow put that excitement on hold, and have completely felt the reality of leaving the country that has been my home and the people who have been my family for the past seven months. I guess these things always sneak up on you.

It started about a week and a half ago, when all my students realized how near my departure had become. I would come to school and gaze upon teary-eyed faces who after seconds of looking at me, would burst into sobs and beg me not to leave them. I tried to comfort them by inspiring them to study hard so that they could come visit me in America, and this worked some of the time. But then, I realized that saying goodbye could very well mean I might never see some, or any, of these people ever again, so, instead of trying to inspire them or promise we'd see each other again, I simply started telling them how I felt and how much I'd miss them. That made us all feel better.

Then, the week before I left, my foster mom told me that the entire school, 800 students, faculty and staff, had all wanted to give me a going away present, something to show their appreciation and something for me to remember them by. I was touched, but told her it wasn't necessary because I'd always remember them and appreciate them no matter what. Even so, she "kidnapped" me that afternoon and whisked me away to a jewelry store in KT where she insisted I choose a white gold necklace as a gift from the school. On the way home I just kept thinking that this was quite a gesture; over 800 people had pooled their money together so that they could send me off with a gift as a token of their appreciation. Now, I get to wear this gift, carrying a little bit of each of them around my neck and close to my heart.

My last yoga class- the girls

Again, on Friday, the day of our fake wedding, my foster mom kidnapped Ez and I and brought us to nearby Lake Kenyir, where we met up with some of my favorite students from my Form 6 class. They told us it was our "goodbye trip" and we proceeded to boat around the lake for 3 hours, stopping to hike up a waterfall, tour an herb and flower garden, and visit a fish farm. It was a great send-off because I got to bond with my students outside the classroom a little bit, which I think we all appreciated.

My foster mom and me at Lake Kenyir

Nick (Form 6) and me on the boat ride

That weekend and Ez and I felt relieved that the fake wedding was over and that we had some time to start packing and reflect on our time here. The relief did not last long though, as we then became busier than we had ever been before, accepting invitations to people's houses and planning our last days at school. In the last five days we had at school, we ate meals at five people's houses. It was a wonderful experience, as we were invited to their homes in the kampung, which roughly translates to the "the countryside" in this context, to have traditional Malay-style meals where we all sit on the floor, eat with our hands, and MUST accept more food when it is constantly put onto our plates. Ez had a theory that accepting food is like saying "I love you too," so there's no way you can refuse. This would normally be a problem for my small stomach and relatively weak digestive system, but I hadn't been eating much that week so I was happy to return their love. Anyways, we absolutely loved going to the kampung. It is a whole other side of Malaysia that we hadn't seen until then. The families are so down-to-earth and hospitable. We felt really loved and we made sure they felt our love as well.

After our second meal of the evening in the kampung

Back at school, Ms. Sarah's Mailbox, desk, and arms started to fill up with letters, gifts and photos like never before. Sentiments ranging from "I love you like my mum" to "I am sad you will never eat rice again" were strewn everywhere and, finally, the tears I had been choking back started to flow.

Shakir's gifts to me: a drawing, a poem called "Tear Drops," and a shirt advertising his brother's band.

On Wednesday, my last day of school, I held my final program: a school-wide assembly where I gave away prizes for answering questions correctly, as well as awarded the prizes to the winners of my semester-long English Day competition. As a bonus, I let each winner choose something of mine or Ez's that we were leaving behind, after they had accepted their official prize. They loved taking my shirts and baju kurungs but, inexplicably, they passed on Ezra's socks and a box of paperclips and tissues. Then, I made my goodbye speech, thanked everyone for the amazing experience they have given me, and proceeded to hug the principal, teachers, staff, and all 400 girls in the school, while Ez shook all the boys' hands. Despite all the moments of the past 7 months I spent wishing I were home, saying goodbye was one of the most difficult things I've had to do here.

Goodbye, principal

Goodbye, girls

Goodbye, teachers

Yesterday, at the airport in KT, I was sent off by my foster mom, principal, five teachers, and a bus-load of 40 of my favorite students. We hugged, cried, and promised we'd try to meet again. I couldn't help wondering how we'd all be different if we ever did meet again. If I ever do come back to Terengganu, undoubtedly it will not be the Terengganu that I have come to know, love, and sometimes hate. For better or for worse, Terengganu will change--- is changing--- and so will all its people and traditions. For years Terengganu has been the shunned East Coast, Malaysia's "crazy uncle," if you will, who the country must accept, but doesn't really like or understand. But now, with tourism increasing and a new highway being built that will halve the travel time to KL, this is going to change. At best, the state will become more open-minded, more diverse, and more understanding of other cultures, traditions, and ways of life because of these changes. At worst, it could lose its traditions, uniqueness, and charm. All I can hope is that something I have said to my students in the past 7 months has planted the seeds to deal with these changes-- to embrace them with open hearts and open minds while still holding on to their identity and traditions. I know I have only been a small part of their lives, but if I have in any way helped them to construct a future built on cross-cultural communication and understanding, I will have done my job here.

Nick at the airport saying goodbye

And with that, I say, thank you, Malaysia. Thank you for challenging me to my core, and for helping me to better understand the world-- and myself. Thank you for your beautiful islands, lakes, jungles, and waterfalls and, most of all, for your children. May they continue to have such pure hearts and kind, understanding souls. Goodbye, Malaysia, I will miss you very much.

Our Big FAT Malay "Wedding"

Attention: This wedding was not real, it was just for show. Trust me, if it were a real wedding we would not have been wearing hot pink... and of course, you would have been there!

A few weeks ago I was informed that my principal wanted to throw me a goodbye party. I thought it was very sweet and told her I'd be honored. A few days later, it became clear that not only was this going to be a goodbye party, but it was going to be an excuse for all the students and teachers to dress us up like Malay Barbie and Ken, like they've been dying to do for months, in the style of a wedding. It was going to be fun though, as we would get to see firsthand all the different traditional Malay wedding rituals and "perform" them for the students, teachers, faculty, staff, and, as always, government VIP. I wasn't the least bit surprised about this format for a goodbye party-- weddings in Terengganu are the most loved and talked about celebrations. During the school holidays, no one can travel because they have a wedding to go to every day. So, it made sense that this was the type of party they were going to throw.

This bizarre and wonderful experience started on Thursday when one of my sweet teacher friends, Kak Zalina (Kak is the title we use with each other here, it means "older sister"), sat me down for 4 hours to paint my hands and fingertips with henna, a Malay wedding tradition influenced by Indian Hindu culture. We didn't finish until midnight, so naturally all the hostel girls were gathered round as she did it, feeding me banana chips when I got hungry and bringing me oatmeal. I felt like a princess!

Kak Zalina and my henna-ed hand

Then, on Friday at 6:00pm, they sent Ezra away to his school to get ready, and at 7:45pm, the make-up artist and her sidekicks came over and the transformation began. Within minutes of their arrival, the house filled up with about 10 more women, teachers from my school and their kids. After 3 layers of foundation, 4 colors of eye shadow, liquid eyeliner, hot pink blush and lipstick, fake hair, a veil, a tiara, large costume jewelry, and a hot pink songket gown, Barbie was done:

It was in this moment that my beloved ETA women came into the house (Zoe, Ellie, and Shamsia) and helped me laugh off my shock at how ridiculous I looked, while the boys, Kevin, Joe, and Len, were made to wait outside. It was so sweet of the women to make me all up, and I really appreciated their professionalism and effort, but I have to say that, hopefully, it's the last time I ever have that much make-up on again! At about 9:00pm, (an hour after it was supposed to start), the ceremony began in the hostel courtyard. I was escorted by my "bridesmaid," Kak Roslina, who held a yellow parasol over my head as I walked ceremoniously towards Ezra. In front of me were three adorable little flower girls, and behind me were hundreds of girls taking photos yelling, "Miss, miss!" Ez walked toward me, also underneath a yellow parasol held by his "best man," and trailed by about 30 little boys playing traditional drum beats, and 20 girls bearing gifts.

When we reached each other in the middle of the courtyard, we were made to do the traditional salaam, but this time with me, being the woman, having to kiss Ez's hand. As I dipped my head to do this, I was of course happy to be kissing his hand, but I whispered to him that he better be thinking some really feminist thoughts, and he agreed that he would. (That was also necessary for other parts of the ceremony, unfortunately, such as when we were made to pose for a picture with Ez sitting like a king in his throne and me on the floor next to him).

After that, Ez and I walked hand-in-hand to our "thrones" on the lawn to watch a traditional Malay silat (martial arts) performance. I love watching silat, so it was definitely my favorite part of the evening. I got a little tired by the end though, since throughout the whole performance there were hundreds of flashbulbs going off, and every time I started to relax my cheek muscles someone would undoubtedly yell, "Keep smiling! Smile! Always smile!" Who knew smiling could be so much work? Well, there go any fantasies I ever had of being a movie star... I think it would be way too hard!

Silat

We were then led into the canteen, now converted into a banquet hall, to sit in our second set of thrones in front of our 400-person audience. There was then another musical performance by the drummers, followed by an adorable dance performance by a local dance troupe. The ceremony then proceeded with the announcement of our "love story," aka "how we met," that Ez had written to make it sound less boring. Let's just say it was based on the truth.

Then, they performed the "ringis" ceremony, where important people in our lives (aka government VIP who we'd never met...politics, you know) came one by one to sprinkle our hands with scented water, rice, and herbs for good luck. Luckily, people we really did love were invited to do it too, like our foster moms Kak Zam and Kak Rokiah, and finally all the ETAs.

"Ringis"

Then was the photo session-- a redundant part of the ceremony seeing as though the entire thing was one big photo session. Though I was flattered by just how many people wanted our photo, this was a little bit uncomfortable for me. Not only did I look and feel like a Barbie whose cheeks were about to fall off, but it was pretty hot in front of the lights and just in Malaysia in general, so much so that Kak Roslina had to keep dabbing the sweat off of my face. It was also just overwhelming, and I think I almost had a panic attack a few times, as my hands kind of started to go numb. Definitely a fabulous experience to have once in your life, but it made me appreciate that it isn't like this every day.

Finally, we survived the ceremony, and made it all the way through the dinner and our thank you speeches. Dinner was great; halloween colored prawns on sticks and whole chickens made to look alive again with a carrot for a face, cornflakes for feathers, and even some boiled eggs coming out the rear. My personal favorite though: a pirate ship fruit platter carved from a watermelon! Very creative.

Ez giving his speech

Dinner

Dessert

The evening was followed, of course, by another hour of photo-taking, until finally I could return to my house to rest. The ETAs and Shamsia slept over, which was exactly what Ez and I needed after this wonderful insanity! Thanks, guys.

It was great, it was strange, and now it's over. I am very appreciative of what my school did for us that night, and I will absolutely never forget it. And, thank you again to the ETAs for supporting us, bringing us fruit and gifts, taking pictures, and being there for us when it was all over.

Lovely ETAs and lovely Shamsia

And, thanks again Malaysia for a truly unforgettable experience.

Malaysia's Greatest Hits: Part 2

In 11 days, I will say goodbye to Malaysia. I am counting the seconds until I can step off that plane and see my family, but of course I am starting to feel sad about all of the people and places I will leave that have been part of my life for the past 7 months. So, without further ado, here is the next (and final) batch of the things that I love about being in this country.

Yoga

Every monday night at 9:00pm, between 7 and 15 high school girls file in one-by-one to the prayer room at the girls' dorm and sit in rock pose (vajrasana) on top of their sarongs. When the room has quieted down and all the girls are sitting up straight and starting to relax, I ask them to sit up even straighter, relax their shoulders, breathe deeply, and let all of their worries float away. We only have 45 minutes to stretch and balance, but it is usually enough to connect us all together in relaxation and appreciation. Each week I try to introduce a new pose to what has become our routine, but we always end the session facing each other in lotus pose, taking a minute of silence, chanting "om" three times, and thanking each other with the traditional "namaste." While my class is usually made up of different combinations of the same girls, there is always one girl I can count on to be there any time-- Umi. What's great about Umi is that because she has never missed a class, I have actually seen her improve! She is much more centered and flexible than when we started about 5 months ago, and tells me she is planning on practicing even after I leave. This a picture of my girls in triangle pose.

The ETAs

One of our saving graces in Terengganu is (and has been from the beginning), the other ETAs. Although we are spread out all over the state in almost every district, Ez and I are lucky to be almost right in the center of everyone. This means that we can bus down to Kemaman to visit Chris in Kuantan or Cherating, zip over to KT to dine at Pizza Hut with our KTers almost weekly, or even drive up to Besut to watch Jackie and Ellie sing "I Believe I Can Fly" on stage in front of 1000 kids. No matter what, we are always in good company, whether we are just enjoying each other or complaining our little hearts out about all the problems we're facing at school. I've decided that our ETA community is the closest thing we have to family here, and we will always feel that way about each other after all that we've been through together. We can definitely be a dysfunctional family, and there are certainly feuds and an enormous amount of drama, but we all love each other very much. This is Jackie and Ellie ETA-ing it up R. Kelly style.

Rain

Malaysia is hot. Every second of every day is between 90 and 100 degrees, with over 80% humidity. Adapting to this weather has meant that we are now used to sweating 24/7, and drinking about 5 times as much water as we were used to. Showering is an event that occurs 2-3 times daily. So, when it rains here, Ez and I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Since it's a country with equatorial weather, it rains for about an hour almost every day. 

Nonetheless, we LOVE it when it rains. In Malaysia, you know exactly when it's going to happen. First, the sky turns dark grey and the temperature drops about 10 degrees (thank goodness). Then, the wind picks up and the trees, now lit up by the incredible pre-rain light to a vibrant green, make noise swishing to and fro. Then, suddenly, the rain just pours from the sky, flooding everything in sight in a matter of seconds. At this point Ez and I open up all the windows and let the cold air rush in, unless it's a particularly vicious storm and opening the windows does more harm than good. No matter what though, within an hour or two, the rain tapers off and the humidity returns, drying everything up a few hours later. Ez took this picture.

House Guests

Recently, with my departure drawing nearer, the kids have been stopping by our house more frequently just to say hello, hoping to be invited in for a quick chat before they have to go study or pray. I always have bowls of candy prepared for them when this happens, and of course I try to keep the living room clean so that they can sit down without sitting on candy wrappers from the last guest (or from me...). These house guests are always a delight. They usually bring me a little gift, ask to see pictures of my family, and then a little after 20 minutes they shyly proclaim, "Ms, I go first," which in Malaysian English means "I have to go now." I walk them to the door and thank them for stopping by, and they always ask if they can come back tomorrow.
I assure them that they can, but they usually get too shy and don't come back for a few days. Last week, after my yoga class, I invited the yoga girls over to make cookies. Since it was a surprise for them and they did not prepare themselves to be in Ezra's company (they were wearing capri pants and short-sleeved shirts), they looked terrified. I told them that they could change first if they didn't feel comfortable, but sure enough as soon as I said that Ez and I would be fine with them coming dressed as is, they all forgot about their fears and descended upon our kitchen. Furthermore, within 5 minutes they had all taken off their tudungs (headscarves) and surrounded Ez on the couch asking questions and giggling insanely. I felt a little strange that I was allowing this otherwise inappropriate behavior, but mostly proud that I inspired them to be more open-minded, and that they felt comfortable with Ez and me. This is a picture of Ez with the girls, quite literally, letting their hair down.

Roti Chennai 

Finally, a Sarah-and-Ezra-in-Malaysia tradition that I will miss dearly-- roti chennai (spelled "canai" in Malay). This delicious, Indian-inspired bread is made with ghee, flattened, spun in the air pizza-style, and fried to perfection on an outdoor grill at food stalls all over Malaysia. It is greasy, flaky, and absolutely delicious. Fortunately for us, our middle-of-nowhere village has its very own roti chennai stand... about 3 minutes walking distance from our house. Since we arrived, we have enjoyed roti there frequently, and used the place as an occasion to meet our villager neighbors and practice our Malay while we waited for our roti to fry up.  However, about 2 weeks ago, Ez took matters into his own hands. In his best Malay, he explained to Pok Mon, the roti maker, that he wanted to learn. 

Pok Mon immediately began what he calls his "training," teaching Ez to prepare the dough and fry the bread. After a few days of practice, Ez brought me with him, and made me roti chennai! Since then, Ez practices every day, and when I can I go with him to chat and watch as the town marvels at the white dude making bread for me and himself. Today we had a breakthrough-- Ez because he made his first batch of roti without holes in them, and me because I understood Pok Mon's wife when she asked me in Malay to take a picture of Ez making roti with their family, blow it up, and then frame it for them so that they could hang it in their cafe. We were touched. This is Ez making roti with Pok Mon.

So, Malaysia, in the words of my Malay students, "I will have many sweet memories of you!" 

Thank you.

Malaysia's Lesson Plan for Sarah

I have learned a lot here. Most of what I have learned I don't even know yet. I know I am stronger and more capable because of my experiences in Malaysia, but I have no idea what I will discover about myself and the world when I return home. I am excited (and honestly a bit afraid) of what I will find out.

As of right now, I know for sure that living and working in Malay culture has made me more flexible, more patient and, dare I say, more tolerant. Tolerance is a tricky one, so I'll leave that for last. 

Flexibility

Things in Terengganu change a lot, which in some ways is quite an understatement, and in other ways is quite ironic given how rigid and conservative the culture is. Nevertheless, events, classes, and dates in general are never set in stone until after they have been completed, no one will ever agree to anything you request because they can never be sure something won't come up to stop them from completing it, and ideas can be set forth and revoked by one person in a matter of 1.5 seconds. As a result, you hear a lot of "I don't knows," "maybes" and, of course, the islamic, "inshaalah" (God willing). This has made me quite okay with things changing all the time. I have literally felt this difference, as 5 months ago I would come home crying when my classes were canceled without my knowledge, whereas now when it happens, I feel completely at ease. I think I've learned that to truly be flexible, you have to expect that things will not happen the way you imagine they will, or at least not set your heart on it. I wonder what this will translate to back in America.

Malaysia teaches me to be flexible, so I return the favor!

Patience

Patience is a must for survival in Terengganu. I considered myself a patient person before Malaysia as well, but nothing can compare to how I am now (for better or for worse...). In America we are used to results: I ask you to do something, you do it, and vice versa. In Terengganu-- not so. If I ask you to do something for me today, you will say "maybe," and then, a few days or maybe weeks or months later, you'll do it. It doesn't matter if I ask for you to do it today or not. So, to cope with this, my patience has expanded immensely. Not that I never get frustrated with having to wait, but my threshold for frustration is a lot higher than before.

Patiently waiting to go on a hike on Tioman Island. 

Patience also comes into play because in Terengganu, unlike in every other part of the country, people really don't speak English. This can lead to many misunderstandings, miscommunications, and an increased cultural barrier. For instance, I can think I am explaining one thing to you, and because of the cultural and language barrier, you come away from the conversation thinking the exact opposite of what I tried to communicate. This leads to many, many, many repeated conversations of me trying to explain something important, like racial relations in America, and ending up with a Malay who either thinks we have no racism in America because everyone is equal, or that white people are superior to everyone else. Obviously, neither were my intended goal, but nonetheless I will keep explaining patiently until there is at least some flicker of understanding. Take this conversation I had today with the imam at my school:

Him: Sarah.

Me: Hi!

Him: Perhentians very good.

Me: Oh good, what did you do there?

Him: Saw turtles

Me: Very nice! Did you like the island?

Him: Yes. No.

Me: Oh, why not?

Him: There are Europeans there.

Me: ....uh...so? You don't like Europeans?

Him: (laughs) I just go one time only, no more.

Me: (looking offended I'm sure) ...okay...

Him: So how about your farewell party?

Me: I'm excited.

Him: When is it?

Me: Friday, August 1st

Him: It will be evening?

Me: I don't know, actually, Kak Zam is in charge.

Him: I think it should be afternoon, but Kak Yam does not agree.

Me: Well, you can discuss it with them, I don't mind either way.

Him: Are the ETAs coming?

Me: Some of them are.

Him: Who? Lens?

Me: Len, Ellie, and maybe Joe and Zoe.

Him: Zoe from last year?

Me: No, Zoe from this year.

Him: Is she have white skin too? Because Zoe last year have white skin. She is very polite. You are polite too, but she is very polite. You know, happy-go-lucky... and Bethany...you know Bethany, she also very polite, but more happy go lucky... you, you, you also fine but Bethany she likes everything...what do you call that?

Me: ...Agreeable.

Him: Yes, she agree. One time she go with no shoes on (laughs) the boys climb coconut tree and Bethany no shoes! She walk to boys hostel (laughs) so she like that. What do you call that in English, she like that but Zoe so polite?

Me: We'd say that they have different personalities

.
Him: But what word to describe she go no shoes to boys hostel boys climb coconut tree?

Me: We don't have a word for that in English.

Him: (laughs confusedly) But bethany white skin, not hair like you, what her hair?

Me: Maybe it's blonde?

Him: My friend told me not to say blonde because it is dangerous

Me: No, it's not dangerous to say blonde, it's just fine

Him: You not blonde

Me: No, I have brown hair

Him: Blonde?

Me: No, brown

Him: Brown.

Me: Yes

Him: And what about negroes?

Me: Remember I told you we say "African-Americans," not negroes

Him: Negro is bad word? Like willy?

Me: Yes, kind of like willy.

Him: Ok. So, they must sit in the back of the bus?

Me: No, that was 50 years ago. Now in America all races and religions are supposed to have equal rights and equal jobs, transportation, schools, and laws. We are supposed to be equal.

Him: Apartheid?

Me: No, not apartheid, that was in South Africa 15 years ago.

Him: Nelson Mandela?

Me: Yes, he helped stop apartheid.

Him: Ok, I go first. Bye!

So, these conversations happen all day long, every day, and even when they are as hilarious as this one, I can get tired of it. But, I have gotten better at dealing with it. Whereas before a conversation like this would put an edge in my voice and no doubt scare the person I was talking to, now I don't feel that edge and I can have that conversation with more compassion, understanding and patience.

Tolerance

I came here thinking that despite our different cultures, religions, moral systems, etc, Malays and I could accept each other and respect each other for who we were in our hearts. In many cases, this is true. Some of my students, though very few, have accepted me completely and embrace me and love me and it feels great. I have also been able to accept them in every way and love them too. Unfortunately though, this has not been the case for everyone. Acceptance is too great a word. To accept is to admit that at least part of you can understand. So, how can I accept it when the teachers hit the kids with a cane for being late? How can Malays accept me when I do not pray 5 times a day? How can I accept that Syariah law for Malays allows husbands to divorce their wives, but not vice-versa? I have struggled with trying to accept these things for months. I have told myself endlessly that just because they are different in these ways, doesn't mean these ways are not good. But-- and maybe you will not respect me for this-- ultimately, there are some things I just cannot accept about Terengganu. However, this doesn't mean that I have a right to try and change them. It doesn't mean that I have the right to preach against them. It simply means that I have the right to not accept them.

What I have learned though, is that in order for there to be understanding, connection, peace, and love, I must be tolerant of all those things that I cannot accept. You do not have to accept things to tolerate them, you just have to let them be. I may not like them. I may hate them. But, I must tolerate them. My only duty to my beliefs is to live my life the way I think is moral, and if by example I inspire someone else, that's great. 

I always thought I was a tolerant person, but the truth is that before Malaysia, I never had an opportunity to be tolerant. Everything I was ever presented with I could always accept to some degree. Of course I accept diversity... I accept it because I completely agree with it! But what do you do when you are presented with something that not an ounce of you understands or condones, and an entire culture lives according to it? If you can come to terms with that without accepting it, then that is tolerance. And, my friends, tolerance is hard. I cannot say that I am anywhere near as tolerant as I thought I was. But, by revealing to me what tolerance actually is, at least this experience has brought me a little bit closer.

The Next Generation

Just a quick note on Malaysian kids.

Despite the frustrations of 1) living in a foreign country  and 2) teaching high school students, I have to say that I am quite hopeful for the future of this country. This past week the kids have really shown me just how capable they are of being deep thinkers and good leaders, and that was something I desperately needed to see before I leave. So, here they are, little bits of hope that the future will be chock-full of confident, thoughtful, bright, caring and compassionate people:

Amirah:

Amirah came up to me the day after Pen Pal camp in tears. She told me how she realized I was leaving so soon, and how she would miss me because "I always smile and teach her to be proud of herself." She even hugged me when I started to tear up a bit, and when I could find the words I reassured her that of course she could be proud of herself, and that I would miss her too. Every day since that moment, she has brought me fresh flowers to put on my desk. It is one of the most thoughtful gestures I have ever received. It's been almost two weeks and she hasn't missed a day.

Amirah (center) at Pen Pal Camp

Liza:

Liza speaks English really well. She even knows English idioms like "I'm feeling fit as a fiddle" and "I hope you are in the pink of health." She practices speaking with me every day, and always tells me that she knows how important it is to be "an international person" and always listen to other people and perspectives. She says she wants to study English, and she wants to go to college abroad. Recently, she stopped by our house to bring me a tourist brochure from Malaysia. She said that she loved hearing my travel stories, so she wanted to encourage me to come back to Malaysia one day and travel more, and of course to visit her. Hopefully, she said, she will have some travel stories of her own. 

Liza (far left) during my cookie-baking class

Space Camp:

Last weekend I helped Ez and the other ETAs out with their English "Space" Camp for 150 students. It was space-themed, so each group of 25 kids created their own planet and culture and did ETA-lead activities with their planet. The second night, we had a "war" between planets (a dodgeball game) and then a peace ceremony where all planets loved each other again and performed in a Talent Show to showcase their unique cultures. It was great. What I learned at space camp though, as these were the cream of the crop for English students, was that these students are SMART. They understood everything we said, completed their tasks correctly and creatively, and were outgoing and fun to be with. Ez and I lead improv games for all the planets, and one scene in particular that I loved was when I was giving an example with one volunteer student of how to play freeze tag. She and I were given the positions of holding hands and looking at the ground in fright. She started the scene, as I was just going along with her, and it turned into this complex jungle scene where she and I were trying to escape land mines. It was brilliant.

Students doing an improv scene about duck hunting

Traditional Medicine:

I have known for months that in addition to using Western medicine for common illnesses and injuries, Malays also use traditional medicinals such as herb mixtures and oils. I decided that I wanted to know more about this, so my lesson plan for this week was to turn the students into my teachers. First, we all brainstormed common illnesses and symptoms such as the flu, fever, stomach ache, etc, and then I divided them up into groups and assigned each group one sickness. Not knowing what they would tell me, I simply asked them to teach me about how to cure their sickness using their traditional knowledge. Every single student, from ages 13 to 19, had a wealth of knowledge about local plants and herbal mixtures that would ease pain, dizziness, nausea, etc. I learned so much from them, and in return I assured them how wonderful I thought it was that even as children and teenagers they all knew how to treat their fellow human beings using mother nature.

Tonight we're going to Tioman island for a 3-day weekend. It is supposed to be one of the top 10 most beautiful islands in the world. A great ending to a great week!

English Pen Pal Camp

Last Saturday, I took 26 14-year olds to the beach in Kuala Terengganu, where we met up with 170 other kids from Anna, Gwynne, and Mike's schools. With the help of Ezra, Chris, Len, and Anna's boyfriend George, the four of us facilitated a day of English games and contests. The kids had been writing to each other for weeks, so they were very excited to meet their pen pals, see the ocean, and of course get the autographs of eight sweaty, sunburnt white people who they all consider to be Brad and Angelina (that's us, in case it wasn't clear).

The day was a blast. It started off for Ez and I at 7:00am, when we rolled out of bed in time to step into the bus and wait for the kids to arrive. All the chaperoning teachers from my school wanted to drive themselves, so Ez and I were on our own. We sat on the bus as the kids filed in, all donning their English Camp T-shirts and a glimmer of happiness in their eyes that I had never seen before. Unbelievably, we left promptly at 7:50am. As the bus rolled through the gate, I found out just exactly what I was in for. First, I realized that I had forgotten to make sure to buy water for the kids, a must for a day on the beach in humid 90+ degree weather. Then, one of my girls realized her camera didn't have batteries and started to get very upset. In the meantime, I was flooded with endless questions such as "What are we doing at the beach? When will we get there? What time will we eat? What is for lunch? What are you doing? What is Ezra doing?"

On the bus

I decided that in order to keep this fun and not go crazy, I needed a plan. We stopped in Kuala Berang on the way up, where I told the kids to stay on the bus while Ez bought water and I escorted my distraught student to the shop for batteries. Water-- check. Batteries-- check. Kids staying on the bus-- that was apparently too much to ask, and the bus driver obviously was in no mood to enforce my rules. But, no matter, I didn't lose anyone, and within minutes we were on our way. By the time we got there, my throat was hoarse from answering the students' questions, and my hands smelled like the menthol I was rubbing all over one girl's face and hands so that she wouldn't vomit. But, all 26 kids survived the trip without injury or regurgitation. Successful bus ride-- check.

The first part of the actual camp was probably the most frustrating. We spent at least 45 minutes trying to get the pen pals to meet each other, but they were so shy that it literally took them that long to approach one another. This was to be expected with the co-ed pairs, but the girl-girl boy-boy pairs were just as hesitant to meet each other. The ETAs literally had to push them together and repeat "say hello" 20 times before they'd even make eye contact. These kids are 14-16!

Ez and Anna trying to get the students to at least face each other.

Anyways, we finally got them to talk to one another, and then the fun and games began.

They speak to one another at last

First, we played a little game of human knot:

This was a big hit, especially for the girls. Then, we had an Egg Relay Race, where the kids had to pass off an egg to one another relay-style, only using a spoon:

The boys dominated that one.

We also sang "Lean on Me" with cute little hand motions, spent a lot of time eating and waiting around for the food to come so that we could eat, and made "yearbooks" for the kids to write in with all their new friends. That's when we really became Brangelina-- I think we signed autographs for about 30 minutes straight.

Superstars

The day ended at 2:30 so that I could take the kids back to the mosque for afternoon prayer. They all seemed so happy that I almost wanted it to be longer. But, everything comes to an end, and I'm just happy it ended well.

My kids (and me)

The next day, I learned that every single girl on the trip had fallen in love with Chris, and they kept asking me questions about him (the usual: What's his favorite food? What's his favorite color? Is he married?). A few hours later, they approached me and said they had a "plan."

"Ok, what's your plan, girls?"

"We want to have another Pen Pal Camp with you, Ezra, and Mr. Chris!"

I explained that I was very happy they enjoyed the camp and Mr. Chris so much, but that we were leaving in only 4 weeks and we would not have time for another camp.

One of the girls, quite literally, started crying. I gave her a big hug and told her not to be sad, and that I'm sure Mr. Chris liked her very much. Oh, young love...

THE Mr. Chris

Thanks to Anna, Mike, & Gwynne, and of course my awesome vomit-inhibiting skills, English Pen Pal Camp was a day for the history books. Of course, it didn't hurt to have Chris around either...