Hari Merdeka

Hari Merdeka is Independence Day in  Malaysia, commemorating the independence of the Federation of Malaya from British Colonial Rule. The Federation of Malaya initially comprised the States of Malaya, North Borneo (later named Sabah), Sarawak and Singapore was officially declared in 1963, although Singapore declared sovereignty later that year.

The biggest celebrations are in Kuala Lumpur, but this year everywhere it was all a bit low-key due to Ramadan. Despite making the effort to leave my bed early on a public holiday, the parade wasn't really worth it. It was mainly different organisations represented by 50 or so attempting to march in time with a commentator providing information about the company: "And now, Intel! A safe and sure company with no safety problems to report this year"..etc etc

Fireworks spotted from my bedroom window though, so not all bad.

Malaysia does like to trump its national slogan, 'One Malaysia', whenever it can. But you don't have to look far to realise that there are actually three. At the top are the Chinese. You know they are at the top because they are the only ones who appear beside white faces on advertising for new condos. Malays are next. You can pretty much identify the women by their headscarves (they are predominantly Muslim; the Chinese are predominantly Buddhist or Christian) and the men by their paler colouring. And at the bottom - and by that I mean gym cleaners, house cleaners, street sweepers, hawker vendors - are the Indians (predominantly Hindu). As in most places, there is actually a group lower: the immigrants, mostly from Indonesia. And all three races are pretty much unified in their hatred of them. Indonesians tend to be the live-in maids, looking after someone else's children while their parents raise theirs.

There is not really one Malaysia, but what they do all have in common is the ability to play loud music on their national day.

Big Dilemma

Which should I take into the field?

Nasty, heavy, slow, lumpy work computer which has none of my settings but is insured.

Or, beautiful, lovely, light, easy-to-use mac with all of my docs and settings so no need to transfer files, photos etc...but with no back-up plan if something goes wrong.

New technology

Amazing what contact lenses can provide nowadays: perfect sight AND FREEDOM.

HB LB! (Happy Birthday Little Brother!)

Look what I found!

Happy Birthday!

VisitPenang

While walking through the old centre of Georgetown, the capital of Penang, in search of some fizzy, yellowish coloured drinks last night, we came across the Yeng Keng Hotel, a recently converted mansion in the UNESCO heritage area. It was refurbished just a couple of months ago and we were proudly shown around before we settled in the courtyard for a beer or two.

How you doin'?

Hello, I'm a very hot Ingrid. Pleased to meet you.


Turns out that this is not the best way to mix an introduction and the weather.

Like Buses

There is something very, very special about arriving at work to discover a parcel on your desk.

Imagine my astonishment when I saw not one...but TWO....

Like buses, presents seem to all come at once (woohoo!).

And look! look at my newly decorated office notice board! WELL DONE Toots for some stunning colouring in, and thanks the others for your lovely cards. I miss you!

Some of them up close:

And thanks Toots' mummy for the great card and FABULOUS idea:

And thanks to the other one for a FANTASTIC surprise!

Storm Damage

WFC is holding meetings all week long for senior staff on their Mega-Programmes. It seems to be a mega-week all round as this weekend we had two seriously mega tropical storms. 

So big that it resulted in flooding and left a gap in the ceiling....

...and the ceiling could now be found on the floor:

Good job Scottish houses don't crumble so easily in mega weather.

Kampong

A kampong is a native village in Malaysia, often associated with fishermen.

On a walk with Roxy, I was told that the Tsunami took out our local Kampong and the government re-housed them in the following (taken from the bus window):

Hungry Ghost Opera

Remember that the Hungry Ghost festival is on at the moment? Well, tonight they had a 'chinese opera' in celebration of the history and tradition. I say 'chinese opera' with the inverted commas rather than just Chinese Opera, because although Chinese Opera can apparently be very good, this one was awful.

It was set in the middle of a field, with a stage, bright lights, lots of makeup and phenomenal costumes, but an awful lot of very high-pitched, lour and piercing screeching.

It wasn't helped by the Buddhist 'celebratory' chanting occurring not 20m away. Somebody didn't really think through the logistics very well.

And here, the various offering for the temple in quite a unique display....

More offerings...

Penang

Look for your nearest exit

How to do a proper safety briefing.

'Normal' Life

It's fairly easy to adjust to the ways of doing things here but there are still some annoying quirks. Here are some examples:

- shopping is terribly inefficient. Every shop has about 10 assistants, at least 1 of whom follows you closely. And I mean closely - at least within an arm's length. I didn't really get why until I selected something to try on. The assistant then immediately rushes the garment to the changing room while you continue shopping. And so it goes on like that until all your selected garments are piled high in the changing room and you saunter in when you are good and ready. Once you've chosen from your selection, the assistant then takes the garments to the cash desk for you and places them neatly behind the counter. She then goes back to her job of following someone else around and you do your best to locate said counter. The first time this happened I couldn't understand why my wardrobe-to-be had magically disappeared until the receipt for the items was handed to me. This is only to confirm that they have been well received by the counter. You can then take your sweet time paying for you goods..passing by other shops, the gym, a pizza, who knows what, on your way to securing your purchases. When you finally arrive at the correct counter, one assistant attempts to locate your desired purchase and then checks the long code of numbers on your receipt with the one pinned to your garments, while another beeps the purchase, another packs it and yet another stands around filing her names. And that's how you buy clothes here.

- As you've gathered, this is not the most efficient of countries, and they must certainly have low employment rates. My gym exemplifies both of these traits. Staff must outnumber clients by at least two to one. And each staff can only do his one job. Be that at reception, or handing out towels, or helping you train. But woe unto you if you ask the towel guy what time a certain class is at (that be for the reception). In general, people here don't seem to know what's going on around them - ask a spa place where you can find a photo shop and no-one will have a clue...even if it turns out to be two doors down. But back at the gym, 9 out of 10 times they have to go and ask their manager anyway. And yesterday I asked for the form to freeze my account while I'm in Bangladesh. As it turns out (despite having asked the manager), the form can ONLY be filled in by their personnel on the premises i.e. no you can't go and fill out the form yourself and then bring it back to use completed. No, you have to waste your time and our time to do something together that is going to be five times as slow as it needs to be because you insist on writing in the answers when you can't spell my name, my nationality or my 'reasons for freezing the account'. And nobody asks why it's like this. And that's the most frustrating thing of all.

- All jewellery shops here have guards standing outside with bazookas. Well, they look big enough guns to be bazookas. The guards themselves may be tiny, old and decrepit, staggering under the weight of the bazooka, but they guard that store with pride and I don't doubt they wouldn't hesitate to fire. I don't like guns at the best of times and it's a nice incentive to stay clear of all the sparkly jewels as much as possible.

- The most annoying habit of all is the perpetual reply of "can" or "cannot' to EVERYTHING. Yes or no does not exist, nor does maybe or sometimes. The only acceptable replies are 'can' or 'cannot'. I learned recently that this is actually a direct translation of the Chinese, but it's wormed it's way into the lingo of young, old, black, white and every option in between. If a Chinese can say only two words of English, you won't need three guesses to work out they are. Even the lovely 'security guard' (he's surely over 80 and his main abilities seem to be to be to sleep in a chair outside the condo all night without falling off it) at the condo punctuates his broken English with at least 2 'can' or 'cannot' to every English word. Although now he's added a third: 'Roxy'.

- The interesting 'all-in-one' dish: main course (shrimp) PLUS dessert (the strawberry)

Bangladesh Visa

Bangladesh normally only allows stays of 10 days, so it's not even sure that I'll get a 90 day visa. But why they want to know the job occupation of both of my parents is beyond me. Do they google Mr. D. Kelling and check to see if his job title comes up as 'Drug Baron'?

No less than 4 fax numbers are asked for on the form (mine, my employer, my institute and the contact fax in Bangladesh). Who even uses faxes anymore? The last time I did was in the European Parliament when I'd fax my colleague on the other side of the wall with funny drawings of fish at Committees etc.

The gift of life

You may remember that earlier this year I tried to give blood in Stirling. I frustratingly had to queue, fill out the form, queue, get the iron test, queue and then get the interview, where I was told that as I had been to Asia within the past year, I was ineligible to donate this time but thankyouverymuchforcominganddon'tforgettoclosethedooronthewayout.

So I was quite interested to read in the local paper last week that there would be a 'blood drive' this Sunday at a local Church. At the appointed hour (which is very early in the morning), I got my bus into town. I still find getting around quite confusing and I always seem to end up getting lost. The roads all seem to weave into each other. But this time I was prepared. With my trusty sun-shield.

It's MUCH better than lathering myself with posh and pricey French suncream ever couple of hours which the dust and dirt cakes to. In many ways it's ideal weather to wear some of those pretty dresses that feature in my summer wardrobe, but this being a Muslim country, I simply can't. Instead, I tend to cover up anyway and wear long and loose clothing but then the suncream runs down under it. Ugh. Anyway, the weather nor the culture prevents the local Chinese girls from going out in micro-shorts and tank tops, but it's totally different for me to flash a couple of feet of fish-belly white legs - both in terms of what is acceptable here for a foreigner (different standards) and also what I'm comfortable with.

In fact, despite being manically sun-averse in Scotland of all places, plus wearing a surfer top when swimming this summer in Europe etc, I have slipped a bit here. It's a hassle creaming-up, hatting-up, sunglassing-up etc for just a 5 minute walk to the local food court for lunch...except that it's in the noon-day sun. And it's scorching. So my new purchase is a cunning solution.

And it really works. It's one of those with the silver UV-resistant undersides. I look like all those Japanese who don't want a spot of UV anywhere on them.

So my umbrella and I made it to Church. It's quite different here - tends to be more British than the British if you get my drift. But they are REALLY nice and helpful, and actually a bit surprised when they learned I would also be donating blood, as if I have special white blood or something.

So guess what?
.
.
.
.
.
I can't give blood here!

Why not?

Because I lived in the UK between 1982 and 1996.

!!!!!

Yes my friends, the UK won't take my blood because I've been in Asia and Asia won't take my blood because I've been in the UK during a particularly BSE-friendly period.

So my 8 pints of blood, my umbrella and I commiserated with an extra creamy hot chocolate after another couple of hours in the locally-frozen Starbucks before enjoying the sun again:

Stormy weather

On my nocturnal wanderings with Roxy, I've had to frequently take care where both Roxy and I walk thanks to the dark and deep storm drains that criss-cross the hillside within the compounds. Last night's stormy weather reminded me why they are so important. The rain seemed to drop out of the sky in torrents and the tarmac was soon under half a foot of water. I would have quite liked to venture out and see the storm drains in action simply due to the sheer amount of water around. But that would have entailed me getting wet, which would have meant getting an umbrella to at least shield my head, and there was no way I was chancing that in the fork lightning lighting up the sky. So Roxy and I scrambled along our well trodden paths this morning, but as you can sea, solid planning and tropical heat had already reduced them to just a sliver of running water. But you can see how deep they are - that already tells you something about the rain they get here. Although that is one weather condition a few of you probably don't need any more help familiarising yourselves with.

Anyway, we seem to be enjoying the weather between two storms: it's wonderfully breezy and about as fresh as it gets. Actually, it probably helped that I was still thawing from my 2 hours in Starbucks where I had gone for a change of scene to work. I'm writing up the theory for my PhD and it's d-u-l-l stuff, but necessary. But my reward?

Music..makes the people..come together

Ever since primary five when I copied Aileen O'Neil's answers (but reversed the order so that I wouldn't get caught) for top 5 favourite singers, I've been a bit behind on my 'name that tune' skills (and really, I didn't miss much by never having heard of Rick Astley).

Malaysians seem to have equally bad taste, with Lady Gaga's 'Alejandro' played incessantly on the radio as well as a couple of other annoying tunes that I find myself humming later on in the day in that moment of subconscious ignorance before you realise actually what it is you are warbling.

But whatever it is they are listening to here, they are listening to it L O U D L Y. Chinese music, Indian, local Malay or Western pop, it's all loud enough to bring on the early onset of chronic deafness. There is loud background music in the mall, in shops, on the bus, in taxis..you can't escape noise here. There really is no sound of silence.

The worst culprit is my gym. In the main gym area, the changing rooms and the showers, the music pumps out its disco beats. But somehow they have reserved their 'GO GO GO' music for the gym classes. At the start of the class the music is already so loud that I frequently jump with fright when it starts up. Before too long I am gritting my teeth and my heart is beating in time to the enormous base beats. But as the class goes on and we become 'accustomed' to the sound, the instructor only turns it up and up. It becomes so loud and so dancey that the hairs on my arm even bounce in time to the music.

By the time I leave I am a trembling wreck - but it's not just the strenuous classes they have here. You actually can't hear anything except for a high-pitched ringing. Imagine a night-club, but without the alcohol intake or mini-dresses. I consciously have to lower my voice when speaking to someone after the gym in case I end up yelling, because I really can't hear a thing. Are gym classes the over-30s Penang version of the under-20s rave? Yes the music 'pumps you up', but I'd rather see a bit more muscle-pumped instead.

Funny thing is, it didn't stop me hear the rumbling, gurgling, roaring storm that rode in as I made my way home...got home just in time before the rain lashed down: still no silence for the time being.

Petition to be presented at the UN in October 2010

http://www.1billionhungry.org/

Ghost Festival

Not to be outdone, the (Taoist and Buddhist) Chinese have just begun their own festival: the Hungry Ghost Festival. It begins on the 15th night of the seventh lunar month which is called Ghost Day. From what I can gather, ghosts and spirits (including those of deceased ancestors) come out from the lower realm as the realms of heaven, hell and the realm of the living are all open. Intrinsic to Ghost Month is ancestor worship and activities include preparing ritualistic food offerings, burning incense and joss paper.

In Malaysia there are quite a number of pavement shrines which are somewhat hazardous to the pavement-walker unaccustomed to looking at her feet on the way to work, but also very modern live (and loud and late) concerts.

Because of their beliefs, most of the Chinese rush home to make sure they are not outside after dark when all the spirits emerge, while all the Muslims emerge once the sun has set to break their fast amongst much celebrating. Outcome: traffic chaos.

I'll be a hungry ghost any day though: they get all the best food ;-)

One Fine Day

Get up: 6am

Take the dog for a walk

Leave the house at 7.30am.

Get the bus to the mall where I meet the car pool.

8.45: Arrive at work.

Go for lunch at 1215. We walk 400m or so to an open air food court. You go to the stand displaying the food that you want, order it and then go back to your table. Food arrives normally within 5 minutes. Pay when it arrives and order your drink. Options are chinese tea (hot or cold), lime juice, lemon juice (both with or without sugar). Try to eat without the fans blowing your hair in your mouth. Leave once everyone has finished - around 20 minutes. Although the food court is full of locals, they are not 'our' locals ie from the Institute. Us Europeans are the only ones mad enough to walk to the food court in the full glare of the noon-day sun. Instead, local staff either eat food they've brought in the air-con canteen at work, or drive to a mall or other food court worth a drive.

Back to the office, back to work.

Leave around 5pm to beat the traffic home.

Arrive at the mall around 6pm. Either take the bus back home, climb up the hill then walk the dog, eat and work/watch TV until bed-time, or stay at the mall and use the gym/go to the supermarket/work in Starbucks.

It's amazing how quickly things take on a routine.

But, things are changing for those around me. Tomorrow Ramadan begins. Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar  and was the month in which the first verses of the Qur'an were revealed to the Islamic Prophet Muhammad. Because the calendar is based on lunar cycles, the dates of Ramadan shift backwards by about 10 days each year. This year it is from 11 August - 9 September. During Ramadan, participating Muslims refrain from eating, drinking and sexual activities from dawn until sunset. Fasting is intended to teach Muslims about patience, humility and spirituality and is a time for Muslims to fast for the sake of God and to offer more prayer than usual. During Ramadan, Muslims ask forgiveness for past sins, pray for guidance and help in refraining from everyday evils, and try to purify themselves through self-restraint and good deeds. 

For non-participants it generally means a smaller selection of restaurants available, bad evening traffic and colleagues with smelly breath. But breaking the fast with Muslims after sunset can be a lot of fun and celebration. 

Office Gossip

In case some of you think that all I do is yoga and walking the dog, then I thought I'd better include something about my work: the whole reason I'm here anyway.

My PhD is part of a big project that is all about sustainable trade in seafood products. It's called the Sustaining Ethical Aquatic Trade (SEAT) project. We're looking at 4 products (Tilapia, Catfish, Prawns and Shrimp) from 4 countries (Bangladesh, Thailand, China and Vietnam).

In order to trace these products from where they are made in Asia to where they are eaten in Europe, we follow the supply chains, which we call 'value chains'. To do this we use a theoretical framework called Global Value Chain (GVC) analysis. Over the past few months in Stirling I have been reading lots of academic literature about GVC analysis, how to do it, and what it says about seafood trade between Asia and Europe.

One of the aims of the SEAT project is to look at all the food safety and quality (e.g. fairtrade, organic) standards that exist in Europe that seafood products from Asia have to conform to (market analysis). There are also many other hidden standards that retailers have in their supply chains (such as shape of fillet, delivery time etc).

The developing countries in the study may find it difficult to meet these standards because they don't have the resources or skills to bring their factories/farms etc up to the required standards. If they can't, then it means that retailers probably won't buy from them. Without access to European markets and with small domestic markets for these products, producers in developing countries may find that their livelihoods are compromised i.e. that they can't sell their product and are seriously in debt. This is considered to be an ethical problem and not a good thing.

Once we know what the standards are (even the hidden ones in retail supply chains), we can find out what the effects are and therefore what help is required and how best to give it. In Bangladesh next month we will be doing a survey that asks different people in supply chains - including farmers, processors, traders, exporters - questions about standards, their effects and what income alternatives they have i.e a livelihood study. Basically, the livelihoods survey, market analysis and GVC analysis are all contributions to my PhD.

If it's all a bit much to remember, just tell people I'm counting prawns.

YOGA

It's really not fair - half the seniors in Penang are more flexible than I am. I'm not used to being the total worst in a sports class but I am leagues and leagues behind these bendy stretchy people.

At least this time the yoga class I went to was at the gym so was a bit more 'westernised' i.e. more like my fabulous classes back home. But it was still totally beyond me:

'Madam, put your heels down madam'

'yes, now straighten your back'

'yes but keep your heels down too madam'.

There was no way I could get into some of those positions. It was just physically impossible without breaking at least an arm and a femur and possibly my spine too. 

But at least doing SOME exercise meant I could spend a guilt-free evening watching the telly. Hello Cougar Town/American Idol/NCIS!

Still Walking the Dog

There's something to be said for this walking the dog thing. I need to find somewhere to go for our hour-long walks and we are both fed up with compound-circling. I did try walking up the 23 flights of stairs to lengthen our walks but it was still rather boring.

So I really owe it to Roxy that she has been the reason that I've been discovering more of the area in which I live. I am in one of three high-rise appartment blocks on a compound on a hill. The management agency seem to own the hill so the property goes all the way down to the main round at the bottom of the hill. But once you're there, it's a 500m walk in either direction with very narrow verges, speeding traffic and hillside. I definitely feel more comfortable with the purpose of having a dog to walk, rather than just exploring on my own: she's a good excuse.

And today we discovered our friendly local neighbourhood comprised of some beautiful buildings. It's normal for people to live in high-rises here...and they are still building. No sign of a crisis here. There are also 'housing estates': compounds comprising of identical semi-detached or terraced housing - all almost brand new and immaculate and expensive. So original and old houses are a bit difficult to come by, and when you do find them, they often have a high-rise view. 

The path we took eventually led us to the beach...

...but as you can see, it's hard to escape the high-rises. When you do, it's normally worth it:

After the beach Roxy and I renegotiated the 'motorway' at the bottom of the hill and then continued along it until we found what I had been looking for: the local shops and food court around 1km away.

Food is really important in Penang and the place is littered with food courts where you can find cheap hawker food for around 4 ringgit (£1) a meal instead of around 20 in a restaurant. Roxy also managed to find a meal on the way home: she suddenly yanked on the lead and the next thing I saw were the back legs of what looked like a frog sticking out of her mouth. It's not just frogs: crickets, centipedes and ants are all fair game for Roxy. I'll stick to my 'chicken lice'.