10 lbs Later...

Okay, so I probably haven't actually gained 10 lbs since I got to Italy, but likely very close to it. Still, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Our three weeks in Italy were a culinary treat that I will remember forever, and I hope everyone gets to experience the gluttony of pizza, pasta and gelato multiple times a day at least once. If you haven't yet, put it on your bucket list, and I promise you won't regret it.

Food aside, the past two weeks in Italy encompassed both some soaring highs and some barrel-scraping lows. After emerging triumphant from our adventures in the balsamic vinegar capital of the world, Ez and I found ourselves in Venice, land of canals, tourists, and canals full of tourists. Unfortunately, our first day there happened to be the storm of the century, but because our rain gear was packed at the very bottom of our well-stuffed suitcases, Ez and I dressed... well... poorly. I somehow convinced Ez that even though it was raining, it would be really hot, so he wore shorts and a rain jacket. I wore a sundress. Predictably, we both got soaked. Lucky for me, my dress dried quickly and it was pretty easy to find a hawker who wanted to sell me a plastic poncho. Unlucky for Ez, he was wearing never-drying khaki shorts, and spent the day soaked and cold, and understandably unhappy.

The next few days in Venice turned out to be beautiful, thankfully, and we explored the canals, churches, and even some of the gorgeous islands beyond the city in the Venetian lagoon. We even made it out to Padua for a day trip, where we ate more gelato and where I got to listen to Ez sing "I come to wive it wealthily in Padua" over and over again, because that is all he knew about Padua.

After Venice we headed north to a small town on Lake Garda called Saló. It was a miserable travel day-- we went from train, to bus, to waiting for 2.5 hours for another bus, to realizing we missed that bus, to calling a cab, to waiting for that cab, then to finally arriving at our country bed and breakfast in the hills overlooking Saló, a good 7 hours after we left Venice (which was only 120 miles away).

But, as often happens after a crappy travel day, we awoke the next morning to realize we were in the most beautiful place in the world. Our B&B was set back in the hills overlooking the lake, and we were surrounded by green meadows dotted with wildflowers, the Alps visible in the distance. It was the definition of quaint. Even our innkeeper was perfect... he was an elderly Italian man who seemingly never left the mountain, just drank his coffee overlooking the lake and tended to his guests. Seriously, he didn't even know what the internet was. When I asked if there was internet access, he didn't know what I was talking about until I pointed to the computer, at which point he said "Oh I don't know about that" and gestured for his cook to come help me. And, speaking of the cook, our B&B had the BEST food I have ever eaten, period. Ez does a good job describing it here.

Our day in Saló was also fabulous. We played cards at a lakeside cafe, munched on juicy olives, and Ez drank a beer while I sipped on my new favorite drink, the omnipresent Aperol Spritz. We also got gelato three times, but who's counting.

Our lakeside bliss, of course, was then followed by the worst day ever... our day in Milan. Now, maybe it was just because it's muggy and deserted in August, or maybe we were just bound to have a bad day, but Milan just seemed like an awful, awful place. Nothing was open, everything was ridiculously overpriced, and our hotel reception guy was a mean, sexist jerk. Maybe that last part wasn't Milan's fault, but it really didn't help. Anyways, not much to report here because we literally walked around miserable, starving and offended all day long.

After 24 hours, we emerged from Milan, hellbent on saving the trip which had seemingly taken a turn for the worst (24 hours seems like a lot when you're traveling I guess). We hopped on a train to Vernazza, one of the "Cinque Terre" (5 towns) on the West coast of Italy. Okay, that helped. Milan who? We swam, sunbathed, danced, ate, hiked... it was perfect. Just look at the pictures, I don't really need to say much.

Finally, our last(ish) stop was Florence, where we marveled at the Duomo, snuck pictures of The David (don't tell), and walked across the Ponte Vecchio (famous medieval bridge). As a highlight, I ordered an iced coffee at a cafe overlooking Pitti Palace, and they brought me a cold cappuccino in a martini glass dusted with cocoa powder and garnished with coffee beans. Oh, Italy.

And the grand finale... for our last day in Italy (literally hours before our flight), we made one last effort to find the illusive town of Panzano that had escaped us just 2 weeks prior. Being fairly sure we had the right town this time, Ez and I hopped on a bus, and after winding through the breathtakingly beautiful hills of Tuscany and then Chianti, we finally arrived in Pananzo-in-Chianti. In true Sarah&Ezra fashion, we probably got as lost as we possibly could in the two-street town, trying to find Ezra's hero-butcher, Dario Cecchini.

Of course, his butcher shop was right in front of where the bus originally let us off, so when we made it back there after 45 minutes of wandering around, we were pretty excited that not only had we found it, but it was just as everyone had promised it would be. Dario himself was there, and as we entered the shop we were bombarded with glasses of free chianti and a hearty spread of bread, cheese and salami. Ez and I headed up to the restaurant above his butcher shop for lunch, ordered wayyyyyy too much food, and then left just in time to catch our flight out of Florence.

Before I sign off from Italy though, I do want to say one thing. The other night I had a dream where I needed to exchange my new bathing suit because it was too big. When I got to the store, I was severely disappointed, because all the bathing suits in my size were actually spaghetti noodles. I was fine with this, but then I noticed that the spaghetti suits were all covered in bolognese. Deal breaker. I decided just to keep the one I had.

So, 10 lbs later (or thereabouts), I find myself sitting in an apartment in Copenhagen awaiting the many adventures ahead. First item on the To Do list: find a gym.

Si Mangia, Si Perde

Translation: One eats, one gets lost.

This is not a clever idiom that you hear everywhere you go in Italy that means something romantic but, rather, it is the theme of our our trip. We have spent the majority of our time here looking for food, eating food, waiting for the bus, taking the wrong bus, and winding up back at our hotel just in time to look for food again. It's a good thing we like each other (and food) so much.

Our first stop was Rome: an ancient city, a medieval city, a renaissance city, a modern city, and a city with sprawling suburbs that we got to see up close and personal when we took the bus from our hotel all the way to a car junkyard instead of the colosseum. Luckily we are both fairly well-educated and could tell the difference! Just kidding.

We made it!

Second, we found ourselves in medieval Siena, home of tourists, gelato, and people who get really excited for bi-annual horse races. (Thanks to our lovely friend and tour guide Laurel, we also found out that Siena has a lively rivalry between its neighborhoods, and come the horse race in 4 days, there may be some fighting in the streets). We got lost in Siena within our first 5 minutes, as the streets, beautiful and breathtaking as they are, make no sense at all. But, even though not all streets lead to Rome (or Siena in this case), they do all lead to food, so we managed okay.

Gelato in Siena

Our most recent stop was Modena, a small city in Emilia Romagna near to what we thought was the small town of Panzano, the home of Dario the Butcher, who Ez was dying to meet. We really had no other reason to come to Modena other than to find Dario, so it was pretty *funny* when after a prolonged 7-hour train ride and then 1 mile trek to our hotel in the middle of nowhere, Ez looked online and discovered we had come to the wrong Panzano. For more on this story, you can read Ez's blog. Fortunately Modena turned out to be fabulous-- no tourists, extremely nice people, and yes, very good food. I highly recommend it, especially if you like balsamic vinegar and Italian sports cars (it is the home of both).

Quaint Modena

On the language front, things are going fairly well. I figured that with my romance background and the month or so I studied Italian while commuting to work this summer, I’d at the very least impress Ez with my skillz. Unfortunately, Italians aren’t fluent in Spanfrenchuguese, which is apparently what I actually speak instead of Italian. I’ve gotten better though, and definitely understand it when I’m spoken to for the most part. Today when buying train tickets in Italian, the woman asked me if my native language was Spanish, which I will take as a win.

I know I've mentioned a bit about food already, but I think I should talk about it even more. As many of my dear ones know, I hardly ate anything in the weeks leading up to The Big Day, more because of nerves than fear of fitting into my dress, but I suppose it was just an overwhelming time in general. Well, I’m delighted to report that I am making up for it, and then some. A typical meal for us here begins with bread, meat and cheese, then some veggies soaked in olive oil, and then a huge plate of pasta which contains meat, cheese and olive oil, and then an entire pizza (also with meat, cheese, and olive oil). And yes, that is just my meal alone. Multiply that meal by two, add 1 or 2 gelatos, 2 or 3 slices of foccacia or pizza bianca, an espresso snow cone with whipped cream, and that will have brought me to about 2pm. Okay, that would be the entire day, though I guess that isn’t much better.

Seriously though, our days of gluttony are nothing compared to what we’ve seen some Italians eat. For a meal, it’s common to eat an entire antipasto plate of meat, cheese and oil-soaked veggies, then a rich, creamy, meaty pasta, then a meat dish with a couple of sides (I’ve seen plate-loads of creamy potatoes and spinach), a bottle or two of wine, then a huge plate of dessert (mostly tiramisu), espresso, and a digestivo. Also, if you order a pizza, you are served an entire U.S.-size medium pizza all to yourself, not pre-sliced. And, you are expected to eat the whole thing. It’s the only time I’ve felt guilty for not eating an entire pizza by myself. Asking for a to-go box feels like the walk of shame.

And finally, the most important thing Italy has taught me thus far: to paraphrase Ben Franklin, lactaid pills are proof that there is a benevolent force in the universe that loves me and wants me to be happy.

I guess I’ve also learned a thing or two more about traveling—getting lost is pretty okay when you’re with someone you love and there’s no shortage of food no matter where you end up.

Lots of love!

-Sarah
Venice, Italy

Actually, Sarah in Italy!

Back to the blog after 2 long years!

Stay posted, more to come. For now, just know that I am eating lots of pasta, usually at midnight after I've woken up from a long jet-lag nap. Other highlights include hopping on busses and taking them to random places and then figuring out how to get back to the hotel, churches decorated in human bones, and granita, the most delicious thing I've ever eaten.

For a more clever account of it all, go here.

I will write more later!

There's No Place Like Home

You've guessed it-- where else could I be if I am blogging at 5:00am, wide awake and starving for those mini hot dogs that Mom made last night? I'm home! And, it is just as cozy, comforting, relaxing, wonderful, and delicious as I thought it'd be. 

Thank you to all of you who have followed along with my blog and photos over the past 7 months. I hope it was an enjoyable journey for you, and that by taking it with me you have been able to glimpse a little bit of what Malaysia is like. 

Now I begin a new chapter, and I hope that you are all in it! I am still in Sonoma being taken care of and gently being prepared by my family to be released into the wild on Saturday, when Ez and I move into our new house in Davis. I haven't decided if I am going to be a real blogger now and actually continue this, but I have really enjoyed this style of writing, so check back every so often if you have time. Maybe I will have things to say about law school, I don't know. My philosophy right now is that the next three years of my life should be about learning, not about competition and grades, so hopefully that means I'll have time to blog. We'll see!

Love to everyone... and hope to see you sometime soon!

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.