4/1: Last Days at Seri Puteri School

My view from my apartment - I moved into a three bedroom, two bath apartment, including a living room, dining room and kitchen. It's a little lonely not sharing Zuan's house anymore.

Three things I learned:
1. I was wondering why there are no dogs around, and I found out that for Muslims, dogs are considered dirty. After petting a dog, a Muslim must do a special cleansing before entering a mosque.

2. It is compulsory for Muslims to pray five times a day. The morning prayer, before sunrise, is called Subuh. At around 1PM is Zuhor, the afternoon prayer. Then at 4:30 is Asar, or late afternoon prayer. Immediately after sunset is Maghrib, or dusk prayer. And then at 8:30PM is Isyak, or Evening prayer. Of course the times are dependent on sunrise and sunset times, which don't change in Malaysia, being almost right on the equator. Many Muslims pray even more times, giving them extra "merit." They have a very strong focus on heaven and hell, so extra merit is a good thing. I learned that if a Muslim is traveling they can combine two of the prayer sessions together, but they must be at least 90 kilometers from their home.

3. To both Indonesians and Malaysians, I bear a strong resemblance to Chuck Norris.

Masjid Sultan Mizan, otherwise known as The Steel Mosque, since it is made of steel. This is a very new mosque, having just opened six months ago.

Besides teaching math to 8th, 9th and 11th grade students, I have taught two English classes - they set me up in their nice, huge lecture room and I talked about myself - that's all. It was to the entire 8th grade class, and then the entire 10th grade class. The teachers wanted the students to hear a "native" English speaker. Then yesterday I taught two geography classes for Zuan, showing the students pictures from my travels this year. Today I am back in the lecture hall, showing the photo show to the entire 11th and 12th grade classes.

I feel somewhat like a rock star. After my last class with one of the 8th grade math classes today, the students surrounded me, asking for my autograph. It was funny, silly, and a little embarrassing.

Zuriani, Yan and Miza, three English teachers, drove me into KL yesterday to pick up my Vietnamese visa. Zuriani said to me, "My students are quite in awe of you, Robert." To which I replied, "I don't even have to open my mouth. I just have to be white." Then Zuriani, who is pretty funny, responded, "You don't even have to be white. All you have to be is male. I mean, consider the student population." And all along I thought it was that they were impressed with the way that I teach.

Tomorrow is my last day at Seri Puteri school. After that I will travel around Malaysia for two weeks before returning to KL to fly to Vietnam to meet my Evergreen Students. I will be visiting Taman Negara, the oldest jungle in the world (I read yesterday) and a couple of remote islands in the Northeast, so I may fall behind in my blog for a while. The teachers here have been incredibly hospitable - taking me out to eat, driving me into KL (twice) to deal with the Vietnam visa, taking me on tour around the cities of Cyberjaya, Putrajaya, KL and Melaka, and answering my multitude of questions about Islam. They have even arranged for transportation to the jungle tomorrow. I especially want to thank Zuan for putting me up in his house (even giving up his bedroom for me), to Zuriani and Yan for all their efforts to make sure I have everything I need and for sharing their faith and their country with me, and to Principal Rashida for inviting me to come to her school and arranging food and housing. It was been such a wonderful and eye-opening experience for me. I so much appreciate the new friends I have made.

This morning, as I finished my meditation, a prayer of thanks emerged, and this is a fitting place to share it: I offer thanks for the blessings of patience and quiet in order to see and learn from the lessons around me.

3/29: Two very generous people, and more

Johan and Yan, my weekend tour guides

I am still staying in the house of Ridzuan, though supposedly I will be moving to the guest house "soon." Ridzuan said that his friends think he is crazy, for if he loves to travel, and if he wants to go somewhere, he just goes - no plans, no problem. "I like to gamble," he said. He suggested we go to Cameron Highlands on the weekend, but couldn't really commit. "Ask me in the morning," he replied when I asked on Friday night if we were going to Cameron Highlands on Saturday. My plan was to either to go to Cameron Highlands with Zuan, or go on my own to Melaka (not Malacca - I think the Malaysians know how to spell their own cities). But it turned out there was a PTA meeting Saturday morning that lasted longer than expected. I sat outside the meeting hall, waiting to see what my weekend would be like. Yan, an English teacher who I met a few days before on my trip to the Vietnamese embassy in KL, invited me to sit and eat a snack. While I was eating, without my knowing she called Zuan, found out that we wouldn't be going to Cameron Highlands, and then called her husband, who was driving back from the airport, having just picked up his brother, Didi, who is going to university in Australia and is on Easter break. She arranged for me to accompany them into KL for sight-seeing, and then to Melaka the next day.

So Yan, Johan, Didi and I headed for KL. But before we toured the city, we went to Johan's parent's home. Within a minute of being there, I was surrounded by food (another similarity between Muslim mothers and Jewish mothers). I immediately took a liking to Johan's mother, Salmah.

Beautiful building in KL with the KL Tower in the background

Old and new in KL

Johan in front of the high school he attended in KL

View of KL at sunset

The next day Johan, Yan and I head for Melaka, but before arriving, we stopped at Taman Mini, where replicas of traditional houses from every state of Malaysia are on display. At one point in the show, portraying the different dances of Malaysia, the dancers went off stage to collect "audience participate." Of course, the one white guy sitting there would be selected.

Melaka is a UNESCO World Heritage site. It was Malaysia's most important spice trading center, with merchants from as far as Arabia, China, India and Europe conducting trade there. Thus, it was conquered by the Portuguese in 1511, the Dutch in 1641, and then the British in 1824. On August 31st, 1957 Malaysia gained self-rule.

Old British building, though maybe originally Dutch

This church was built by the Portuguese in 1511.

Dutch church from 1753 in the back ground

Nice building

There is a huge Chinese influence in Melaka

Cheng Hoong Teng, the oldest Chinese temple in Malaysia, built in 1673

There are many shops that sell all types of paper products to be burned at funerals, so the departed has everything he or she needs, such as a 6 pack of beer or a Mercedes Benz.

Batik artist

I am learning about Malaysian cuisine. for breakfast one morning in the school dining hall, I was served a white bread, scrambled eggs and hot dog sandwich with tomatoes and sambal (spicy sauce). Above is a new product at one of the food stalls in Melaka.

These bicycle rickshaws used to be the main form of transportation in Melaka, now they are just used for the tourists. There are actual competitions for the most beautifully decorated bicycle rickshaw. Not only are they quite a sight, but quite a sound as well, as they drive by blaring their music (huge speakers attached to the back), often playing Malaysian Rap music.

New addition to the "laundry collection"

At the table: Kina (Johan's sister), Izhan (Kina's boyfriend), Suarnor (Johan's father), Salmah (Johan's mother), and Johan. Standing behind are: Didi (Johan's brother), me, and Yan (Johan's wife)

To conclude the evening, we met Johan's family in KL at Restoran Stadium Negara for "steamboat." The contraption in the middle has two types of boiling broth, and a variety of vegetables, meat and seafood are then placed in the broth and cooked. but before we ate that, I had the most delicious dish ever - chili crab, eaten with mentau, a fried white bread roll.

Petronas Towers at night

3/26

What I learned yesterday:
Hijab is not the woman's head covering, but the veil in front of the face, which the women and girls do not wear at this school (even if they wear it at home). The head covering is called Tudung, which everyone must wear. At dinner last night all the girls were wearing their tudung tied in front instead of wrapped around the neck. I asked a teacher why, and she explained it was fashion. "But how did they all know to wear it the same way?" I asked. and the teacher replied, "the administration told them to wear it that way." Interesting.

I have now had two conversations with two different groups of people, about whether Americans believe that all Muslims are terrorists. I told them of course not, but here is my perspective which I shared with them:

Though Islam is the fastest growing religion in the world (and I believe it is also the fastest growing religion in the US), the population of Muslims in America is still small and many Americans know nothing about Islam. President Bush exploited that ignorance, creating an atmosphere of fear to push through his military agenda. One of the things I appreciate so much about President Obama is that he doesn't try to simplify complex situations and talks about the difficult issues in their complexity. One of the positive aspects (if you can call it that) of 9-11 is a deepening discussion on terrorism and on Islam. So it seems to me, at least in the environment that I live in - the progressive Pacific Northwest - that a dialogue has emerged, trying to understand the complexity of this world issue. I believe that the overwhelming majority of Muslims are peace-loving. The war in Pakistan, with a Muslim government fighting a Muslim enemy, shows, of course, that Islam does not equate with terrorism. But right now, what I mostly hear are non-Muslims defending Muslims. What I would love to see is the Muslim world standing up against terrorism of any kind. Every Malaysian I talked to agreed, and would love to see this as well.

3/25

Great day yesterday. After teaching, the English teachers took me out to lunch. Then I returned to to school meet with the students I knew from the CDLS conference in Delhi for a tour of the campus. It turned out the Girl's basketball team was practicing at the time, so I got the opportunity to play basketball with the girls (they play in their hijabs, and I had trouble telling apart the team I was playing on and the team I was playing against, so I suggested different colored hijabs). After the game, we did "air high-fives." the team ends each practice, like most sports teams, by getting in a circle with all hands in the middle, and chanting some cheer. They asked me to join their circle (with a cushion of air between my hand and theirs).

My tour continued after basketball practice. As soon as I stopped playing, it was as if every pore in my body decided to explode, and I was literally covered in sweat. I learned during the tour, and experienced while I have been here, that the students basically run every event, from the prayers before and after every class to the assemblies to the all-school Sports Day. Even the prayer sessions (held five times a day for Muslims) are run by students - you can hear a sweet, student voice over the loud speaker during the "Call to Prayer." I also learned that all their prayers are in Arabic. Every Muslim in the world will say their prayers in the same language at basically the same time (taking into account time zones, of course). They even all use the same tunes, for there are marks, like musical notes, which explain how to chant the prayer. And then I realized that it is the same for every Jew, who will sing their prayers in Hebrew, no matter where in the world they are from, with basically the same tunes, due to the little marks that Jews have (called trope). I am finding so many similarities between the two religions, from the focus on ethics to the little "hats" that men wear.

3/24: Conversations

Zuriani said she would take me to the Vietnamese embassy today, and to meet her in the lobby at 2PM. there, I found two other women sitting with Zuriani, and we all piled into the school van. After a while I realized that it must be improper for Zuriani to go somewhere with me "unescorted," thus, all four of us went to the embassy.

After the embassy, we went to Petronas Towers for lunch. As we were walking through the mall, we passed a Western woman in very short shorts. I asked the teacher I was walking with how she felt about the way the woman was dressed, voicing my opinion that it was very rude and insensitive to dress that way in Malaysia. The teacher replied that she didn't feel that way. First of all, she lives in KL and sees all types of people here. Secondly, that woman is not a Muslim; she can dress any way she likes. It didn't offend the teacher one bit.

So then I told her about a woman I had seen at the community recreation center pool the first night I was in KL. All the women at the pool were totally covered, even those swimming. But this one woman was wearing very tight jeans, high heals, and a tight spaghetti strap top, and this woman was a Muslim. The teacher replied, "How that lady dressed at the pool is none of my business. It is between her and her God."

Wow! So I am being blown away by tolerance.

I had a long talk after dinner with Nuzac, one of the students I had met at the CDLS Conference in Delhi. She explained to me that Malaysians learn about Islam everywhere - in the Mosque, at home, in the school. Her biology teacher talks about Allah and the "miracle of life" in biology class. And learning about Islam is not just religious studies. For example, in studying Islam, Nuzac learned not to litter and why. She explained to me that if she studied for a test and didn't do well, maybe it was because she didn't take care of her relationships. Maybe she wasn't nice to someone, which could have affected the way she studied. Nuzac also told me that she has already done her Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca), when she was 13 years old. "I felt so close to God." she explained. "But I don't need to go to Mecca to feel close to God," she continued. "I should feel close to God where ever I am, all the time."

If I could always feel God (or "The Universal Presence") with me then I would never be alone, and I would never have anything to fear.

3/19-3/22: Leaving Bali, Kuala Lumpur and Seri Puteri

Leaving Bali
Sometimes I am amazed how far a bead on my mala has to travel as I move the string of beads across my finger with my thumb. Everything is relative.
Sometimes I can't imagine what I ever got angry about. My life is so blessed. Everything is relative.
At the airport, I watched a boy cross the crosswalk, jumping from white line to white line. Some games are universal.
Two days ago, when I arrived at the airport in Bali, I watched a boy happily helping his father retrieve the luggage from the conveyor belt. While waiting for the next piece to arrive, he sat at the edge of the belt, and his father had to tell him to stand - another universal occurrence.

Malaysia
A new adventure is beginning. The only place I had previously been in Malaysia is the island of Penang, off the north west coast, and that was back in 1985 (on my way from Singapore to Thailand), and then again in 1988 (on my way to Sumatra). So I know nothing about the country of Malaysia or the city of Kuala Lumpur (known just as "KL"), where I will be staying for a while. I found myself sitting on the airplane to KL smiling. I think that the prospect of all the unknowns made me happy.

I have been invited to teach at Seri Puteri, which is a Muslim girl's school, grades eight through twelve. But I arrived during their mid semester vacation, so I had a few days to get adjusted before school actually started up again. Zuriani, one of the teachers from Seri Puteri who I met while teaching at Modern School in Delhi last November, picked me up at the airport with two of her students, Nadz and Kelly, whom I also had met in Delhi.

This is Ridzuan (called Zuan for short, pronounced like the Spanish name, Juan). He volunteered to put me up in his house while the school was on vacation. He has taught geography at Seri Puteri for 8 years, and has been the greatest host ever, taking me into KL, out to eat, and to the beach.

One of the Petronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur, the tallest twin towers in the world, 10 meters taller than the Twin Towers in New York were. They were the tallest buildings in the world from 1988 through 2004. Driving from the school into KL with Zuan, I was impressed by the three lanes of traffic going each way - cars staying in their lane, and following the traffic lights. There has definitely been a transition from chaos to order as I have moved from India to Indonesia to Malaysia.

Quite a shopping mall - Kuala Lumpur reminds me somewhat of Hong Kong, with its tall buildings and impressive architecture.

China Town

Entrance to Seri Puteri, which is located in Cyberjaya, the Silicon Valley of Malaysia, about 30 minutes south of KL. It is a new city, with wide streets, huge housing and condo complexes, wide open green spaces, man-made lakes with foot paths, and sidewalks (I no longer take sidewalks for granted).

School buildings from the basketball court

More pictures of this very impressive campus, which houses 840 students and 82 teachers (70 women and 12 male).

During the last week end of the holiday, there was a balloon festival in KL. This one landed on the track field of Seri Puteri.

The beginning of the second half of the semester commenced with an assembly. Seeing all the girls in their Hijab (called Tudung in Malaysia) and school uniform was an impressive sight. I am having to learn proper etiquette with the population here. For example, I should not offer to shake hands with the students or female staff I meet, but if they hold out their hand to shake, then it is okay. If they don't wear a Tudung, then it is also okay to shake hands.

First day of teaching: all I can say is that I love to teach, I love to teach, I love to teach.

This evening as I entered the dining hall, Nadz and Kelly (two students who knew me from their experience at the school in Delhi last November) saw me enter alone, so sat with me as I ate. I asked them about the classroom prayers that I observed today. Before the start and at the conclusion of each class, the student "class monitor" leads her peers in a short prayer. Each student stands with hands cupped in front. Nadz explained to me that the beginning prayer is to help remove distractions, and the closing prayer to to remind students to use their time wisely. So I asked if the prayers are just rote, or do they continue to hold meaning. Nadz replied, "It depends on how devout the student is. These are prayers of surrender to the one God."

I know this picture is out of focus, but I loved the feel of it.

3/18

Fruit salad is part of the breakfast that the guest house serves, but I added pieces from two mangosteens (on the top, for those unfortunate to have never tasted one). Pineapple is delicious, and watermelon is one of my favorite fruits. Bananas are so good in Indonesia (I guess because they ripen on the tree and end up on your plate probably the same day they were picked). But nothing, nothing compares to the Mangosteen!

So this is my last day of splurging in Bali. In the morning I went back to the fruit market to buy another kilo of mangosteens (about 8 or 9 mangosteens per kilo, costing about $2), then went for a swim, and then a very nice and deep Balinese massage ("You like strong massage," said the masseuse. "Why you not shave? You hairy like a monkey. Your children hairy like a monkey?" She asked). After that I went back to the best gado gado in Indonesia (as far as I know). I was mistaken in my blog yesterday. Here is what the sign says outside the restaurant: "Village Cafe, Owner Mr. Chicken." So now I have about $7 left in rupiah - enough for dinner to go back to my fish paste man and martabak man (from three weeks ago), buy myself a large beer, and still have some rupiah left over. What to do?

Eat Pray Love reflection:
In the last chapter of Eat, Pray, Love, Elizabeth Gilbert wrote about a process she had gone through a couple of years back, when she was in the middle of a very painful divorce. She went to the island of Gili, off the coast of Lombok (the island just east of Bali) for a silent retreat - ten days to be alone with her "demons." On the evening of the ninth night, she sat and meditated, attempting to deal with them. First, she called up all the things she was angry about, and "owned" them, one by one, telling each event that there was a place for it in her heart. Then she did the same process with all the things she was sad about. Finally, she dealt with what was the most difficult - all the things she felt shame about. And even shame had a place in her heart.

This too is something that I struggle with, as I punish myself over and over again while recalling and rehashing painful events of my life. I think it is especially true when I am alone, for then, without the distractions of companionship, I live a lot of the time in my head. Sometimes I forgive myself (or others). Sometimes I even love myself, remembering that the place I am at is the perfect place for me at this time. I know that the "demons" are lighter than they used to be, so I know I am making progress on the road of forgiveness, joy and blessing. (I had originally written "one the road to forgiveness . . ." but changed it, for I know that it is not a place, but a process.)

Favorite Quote from Eat Pray Love (p. 294):
"God long ago drew a circle in the sand exactly around the spot where you are standing right now." (from a Sufi poem)

The next time you hear from me I will be in Malaysia. While I was working at The Modern School in Delhi in November, I met the principal of a Muslim Girl's school in Kuala Lumpur. She invited me to work at her school (for room and board only) for as long as I want - "One week, two weeks, one month, no problem." So I go there tomorrow.

3/17: Back in Bali

Okay, so I am not quite roughing it anymore. I thought before I arrived in Bali, that I would splurge for my last two days in Indonesia (my visa expires on the 19th, when I fly to Malaysia), and get a guest house with a swimming pool. Well, it turns out that for the same price as I was paying before (about $11 a day), I found this place - beautiful swimming pool, beautiful room among a beautiful garden, even a beautiful bathroom (western toilet and hot water for the first time in three weeks).

View of my porch

My view from my porch

Here is how my day went. I got up at 5AM, and caught a motorcycle taxi to the airport (50 cents). The plane was almost on time. I arrived in Bali at around 10AM. Found a motorcycle taxi to drive me an hour to Ubud ($7). By 11:30AM I was drinking sweet, Balinese coffee on my porch. I went for a swim, then a bit of a walk to my favorite gado gado in Indonesia (The name if the restaurant, or maybe the name of the owner, is Mr Chicken), and it was so worth the walk. Then I walked back to my guest house, went for a swim, spent an hour at an internet cafe trying to catch up on my blog, went back to the guest house, swam again, read my book, swam again, did my wash, and then walked up to the market to buy a kilo (2.2 pounds) of mangosteens, which are sooo good! Then back to the internet cafe to get caught up on my blog. (While walking to the internet cafe, I saw a motorcycle with 4 westerners on it. I am used to seeing 4, or even sometimes 5 Asians on it, but not westerners.) That's it for today.

3/15 in Moni: market, rice fields, village, and Barnabas

I've got a nice little routine every morning (it's interesting how satisfying routine is with so much change in my life this year). I do my push-ups, then count my beads with my Tibetan mantra (I bought a mala - a string of 108 beads when I was in Dharamsala), then I do a little yoga - the sun salutation that my friend Ginetta showed my how to do again (I used to know it years ago). Sometimes, like yesterday morning, when I left at 4:30AM to catch the sunrise on Kelimutu volcano, I have no time, so I chant my mantra and count my beads in my head (I did this all the way up the mountain because it was soo cold). It seems like it should be the easiest thing - say four words over and over again, counting 108 times, but I have a "monkey mind," wandering all over the place. (By the way, everyone things I am Muslim due to my beads. Apparently they use 108 beads also. And I am told that the Catholic rosary is 108 beads as well.) But my favorite part of this practice is a lesson I learned from Elizabeth Gilbert's book, Eat, Pray, Love. There is always a 109th bead, hanging separately. Gilbert writes that the 109th bead is a reminder to offer thanks to your guru. Well, I have no guru, but I do have so many teachers and experience so many "life lessons" daily (sometimes, or often, I learn the same lessons over and over again - usually having something to do with preconceptions, expectations, and/or attachments). So now, at the 109th bead, I offer thanks to all of my teachers and all of my lessons.

I started this day at the "Monday market"

Then hired a motorcycle driver for the day. Flores is such a spectacularly beautiful island. Unfortunately, I have seen much of it from a bus window. I wanted to go back to the rice fields I had seen about a half hour before arriving in Moni.

Tobius, my driver/guide, took me to some hot springs, and then to this traditional village.

He introduced me to the village artist, who invited me in for coffee and a little chat.

This is his most recent piece, made out of 300 year old wood, and also my favorite piece. He decided to dress me up in the traditional hat for the photo.

The artist's daughter and grand child

There is a church choir which practices every afternoon (for Easter celebration) right below my guest house. They sing in Indonesian, and the tunes are not familiar, but they are so obviously Christian. It sort of seems out of place, and sort of doesn't (I am used to the Muslim chanting from loud speakers, and the majority of Indonesians on Flores are Christian). "Out of place" is just a concept based on a narrow perspective. These huge television disks seem "out of place" among the very traditional houses, but that is only because my view of traditional villages is so narrow.

Kids from the village, Koanara, next to Moni

As I wondered through Koanara, I was invited into the home of Barnabas (sitting to my right, your left), where I ate lunch, and was invited back for dinner (a little side business of his, "Local people eat same, same." Barnabas says) I thought that for my last night in Moni, it would be fun to have a traditional meal. So I ate with Barnabas and four of his neigbors, while his wife and two children served. Barnabas spoke about as much English as I do Indoneisan, but the conversation never waivered. I think the beer and arak helped.

Quotes from Eat, Pray, Love:
Again, what I was thinking about I end up reading about the next day. Yesterday I wrote about my favorite part of the mala - the 109th bead, where I say thank you to my teachers and lessons. Today I read about gratitude. Gilbert wrote that she has been praying a lot lately. "Most of my prayers are expressions of sheer gratitude for the fullness of my contentment. " She goes on to write about her guru, who said that most people think happiness is a stroke of luck, "something that may descend upon you like fine weather if you're fortunate enough. But that's not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. . . . You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestation of your own blessings." She goes on to write, "I keep remembering a simple idea my friend Darcy told me once - that all the sorrow and trouble of this world is caused by unhappy people. . . . I can see exactly where my episodes of unhappiness have brought suffering and distress or (at the very least) inconvenience to those around me. The search for contentment is, therefore, not merely a self-preserving and self-benefiting act, but also a generous gift to the world. Clearing out all of the misery gets you out of the way. You cease being an obstacle, not only to yourself, but to anyone else. Only then are you free to serve and enjoy other people." (pgs. 272-3)