Felipe's Birthday Party

September 25, 2010

Griffin:

I went to my friend Felipe's birthday party today. We played soccer, ate pizza, hit a pinata, got candy, and got medals for soccer. I was goalie and my injured wrist got more injured. Most balls didn't get past me, though. As you can see in the picture, I look like someone just scorched my face.

Griffin: Soccer Tournament

September 25, 2010

Griffin:

Hi bloggers! This is Griffin. Today I went to a soccer tournament. There were two kinds of games. One was soccer. Another was called "Net Ball," where you try not to drop the ball. Once you get the ball, you have to freeze and pass it to someone. If you drop the ball, anyone can try and get it. The point of the game is to shoot it in the hoop. At this tournament, the point of the game was to scream when you shot it in the hoop!

Only girls played net ball there because their Muslim parents did not want them to play soccer because they thought soccer was a boys sport.

I got my soccer ball and started kicking it around in a goal. Some kids came over and a few got in the goal and a few got to shoot. I got in the goal with Boom Boom. I think I have an injured wrist from blocking a few balls. And, I learned how to punt about a mile.

I could not communicate with the kids I was playing with. I could tell them but couldn't talk to them. They couldn't say something back to me. When I said something, they would do it. But, I couldn't have a conversation. They come from places all over the world and do not know English. They are refugees. A refugee has no home, he no longer has a country. Most of these people are from Burma where they were treated poorly.

Class Parent Coffee

September 24, 2010

I am one of three class parents for Alice's first grade class. At this school, the class parents host coffees, often at their homes with homemade baked goods. Or, you can do it the easy way, like I did, and meet at Starbucks, at a local mall. We weren't sure how many parents would show up. In fact, at one point, it seemed like it might be just us class moms and one other mom, but we were so happy when one after another mom came, for a total of 9 of us.

If you look at the picture above, you'll see there are families from all over the world. In fact, I think there may be some sort of quota this international school tries to meet, like no more than 10% Thai, 10% European, etc. I heard there's been a quiet uproar lately among upper school parents since Koreans are almost 20% in the upper school.

If you start at the left above, the first mom is Vietnamese, the next German (with Columbian husband), Venezuelan, me, Divya from Goa in India, Lebanese-American, American, British, and Indian. Their husbands are working and they are not working themselves, for the most part. It seems hard to get a job in this and some other countries, as the spouse of the work visa-holder. And, it often doesn't seem worth it if you're just going to be posted in another country in a couple years. One mom is an electrical engineer from Venezuela but hasn't worked since she left Venezuela 6 years ago. Sometimes, the Moms seem to feel like their wings have been clipped. At the same time, they love the travel and luxurious lifestyle with lots of cheap nannies/housekeepers here. It's hard to go back to washing dishes after dinner, if you return to settle back down in the US.

We all appreciate Alice's teacher so much. I gush over that teacher. She's so warm clear, great activities, and has handled some recent girl-girl verbal aggression with directness and an empowering approach. Yesterday, Alice actually thought some girls were whispering about her at recess. She ran to tattle to the teachers (having become an expert tattler after 6 long years of practice) and fell down off a play structure on the way. She hit the ground hard, with mild abrasions all over her body, requiring a dramatic visit to the nurse. When the nurse called me, I found myself telling her, "Well that will teach her to tattle." The nurse didn't seem amused.

Griffin's New Friends

September 23, 2010

My new friends are Mateo and Felipe from Argentina. I have had three playdates with Felipe and two with Mateo. And a few pool playdates with them. Today they came over and played legos with me. We wrestled a little and had a lot of fun. They are both short. Felipe is very funny and weird. It's hard to understand their accent. All the same, I like them.

I was invited to my first birthday party by them. It'll be a soccer party this weekend. Felipe is in second grade. Mateo is in fourth grade. They live in the tower connected to ours and ride on the bus with us. How I got my friendship with Mateo was because he sits right next to me on the bus everyday.

Hari Raya Dress-Up Day at School

September 23, 2010

We are celebrating Hari Raya at school. Hari Raya is the end of the Muslim fasting called Ramadhan. Today we are dressing up in Hari Raya clothes. I have my own as you can see in the picture. So do Alice and Boom Boom. Not everyone wore Hari Raya clothes. It was optional. We made our own sarongs but didn't bring them home. We learned to tie them around our waists. It is very hard to do it. There is one stripe down the middle. For girls, it goes in the front. For boys, it goes in the back.

I learned a celebratory dance for Hari Raya. It is very hard in the beginning but it gets easy as you practice. Then we had an assembly. They showed us all the different Muslim clothes from all over Malaysia, such as Malacca, Sarawak, Sabah, Singapore, and much more. Then we learned a few words in Malay. When we were about to leave, our teacher took us to taste some Hari Raya celebration food. Some were cookies in the shape of a fried flower. Round with little holes in it. And there was orange juice that tasted a little bitter. And, there was something like a rolled up crepe that looked like lace, a circle with lots of lines.

I'm having a nice time in Malaysia.

Fulbright: The Teaching Half

September 21, 2010

So, half of my Fulbright involves teaching and the other half is clinical research. The teaching part involves my teaching a couple classes per semester at HELP University. One class is a large lecture with 150 freshman undergraduate students. The other class is a small class with 9 Clinical Psychology masters students. Both classes are on Research Methodology in psychology.

After a lot of heated negotiation with the department heads (and involving the president and more, in the background it seemed), I settled on being willing to teach 2 classes per semester. Not a big win on my part since I only wanted 1, but I was able to negotiate that I did not have to supervise any undergraduate or masters theses. I negotiated hard since teaching can easily take over your life, leaving clinical research by the wayside. They were perfectly polite and e-smiling through the entire negotiation while also barely budging an inch. From their end, I think they were girding themselves for the arrival of a hard negotiating New Yorker.

When I arrived at HELP for the first time, I was welcomed warmly, all negotiations going unmentioned. The ones in charge, as in department head and dean, are male. The majority of professors who teach are female. I was taken out to lunch by the female professors, all feeling overworked but joking about it. They barely have any time for research, themselves. And, I'm learning that it's hard to get clinical psychology professors to work there in a country with only about 70 or so clinical psychologists. But, still, the high turnover of clinical psychology professors in the department gives pause. In the end, Asia has a reputation for working its professors so hard that none can get any research done.

Then, the dean, a psychology professor with an anti-bullying program, invited me, the kids, and Ken out with his family who has a daughter Alice's age and a toddler -- you saw pictures in our blog when they came over for a "pool party" at our house. His family is now planning on having us spend the night at their place in a month, after their 7 year old passes a series of upcoming tests. They have been repeatedly generous in hosting us in ways that have stopped me to think. I can't remember ever welcoming a foreigner at our institution or neighborhood the way they have me. It's made our transition feel so much warmer that I now have a new standard for how much less alone a foreign family would feel if I just made a little effort to host them.

The picture above is taken with Alice's blurry camera, right after mine broke. It's of the President of HELP University (far left), his wife, the CEO, the Senior Vice President, and the head of Human Resources. I was so honored to be asked to meet with the president, right after they got me an official work visa. In the US, it's a rare moment that a new professor would ever have a special meeting with the president. Then, my teaching assistant told me that he met with the president too. Everyone does. The President doesn't like hierarchies, and he insists on meeting everyone before they are hired, and often after.

Still, the meeting made me feel very VIP, anyway. They both presented their business cards to me in a uniquely Malaysian style -- placed flat on their hands like they were holding the business cards like a fragile tray. I, of course, had no business cards which makes you feel professionally naked here. I gave him Cadbury chocolates. Now, I have business cards with a big fat "Fulbright" on them. I was also surprised to have the President give me his card, if that makes sense. Like having President Obama give you his card, in case you weren't sure what his name and contact information were.

The president really liked talking about issues worthy of debate, with a softly sardonic questioning style. Like, he said no one thought they needed psychological help, here, until psychologists came along. Everyone just used to go to their imam, priest, or pray to Buddha, feeling better afterwards as the incense carried your worries or wishes up and away during prayer. They were very interested in what work Ken did, and he said he and his wife would eat a meal with me and Ken sometime.

The university is largely populated by Chinese Malaysians, and some Indian Malaysians, and peppered with expats from some other countries -- Zimbabwe, Iran, Saudi Arabia, China, and Austria, are some in my class. They often seem to be using this university as a stepping stone to get to a western university, in Canada or the US. Why are there largely Chinese Malaysians and some Indian Malaysians, when this country is 60% Muslim Malaysian? Where are all the Muslims in my classes. Well, I have a few, but here's the story I was told...

The public universities save the majority of spots for Muslim Malay students, and any non-Muslim Malay professors have little chance of getting a public university professorship or, if they got one, have little to no opportunity to rise. So, the Chinese Malaysian President of HELP had been a professor in the public university system, but he was tired of the limited opportunities for him, so he started HELP Univ. as a private university, since private universities do not limit most spots for Muslim Malays. Since then, HELP University has taken off, and it's even on the Malay stock exchange. That was a shocker to me since I don't know any academic institutions traded on the US stock exchange. It changes the entire academic field when you're a commodity that's being traded. One of Warren Buffet's subsidiaries recommended HELP as an investment, and its stock recently skyrocketed.

The class with 9 clinical students is softspoken but lovely and interactive, but I get pretty nervous before teaching the class of 150 students, and I'm wiped out afterwards. I teach it in a large auditorium with a microphone for 3 hours (!!!). Whew. I woke up every hour on the hour last nite, on edge with the big class being today. Over time, it's gotten somewhat easier since I've developed a relationship with them and they feel more comfortable being more responsive and interactive in class. My big concern had been that they wouldn't give me the subtle cues (not so subtle in NYC) that some information I'd be lecturing them on was confusing. I still think they see it as rude to let me know if they don't understand what I'm saying, but I'm getting better at reading it. And, I've packed my lectures with activities to both kill time (Monty Python clip!) and to make it more interactive, like a debate over whether or not day care if bad for kids. They are very very very worried about getting a good grade.

Alice's Blog: Pool Party

September 17, 2010

Alice's blog:

I just got a new camera that I can take good pictures with. I just don't like that some of my pictures were blurry because my camera goes in and out with blurriness so if I take a picture when the blurriness starts my picture is blurry.

We had a pool party last night with our new friends. It was very fun because they had a girl who was 7 years old named Aletia. She couldn't swim very well. She held onto the wall and climbed over to the jacuzzi. The jacuzzi isn't hot but there are sprayers that can spray your back. If you put your thumb inside the hole where the water comes out, it will spray out the top of the wall and hit someone. I swam to the other side underwater with Aletia. After dinner I swam, ate, did laps of the crawl. We went up to our room and Griffin got a laser light (CO note: Illegal in the US, they are long, sharp lights that can shine across the entire park to a building on the other side).

I ate a lot of pasta. Then we ate cookies and ice cream. I got two bowls of ice cream and two cookies. I made the cookies with Daddy and Boom Boom. When my friends left, I gave Aletia a balloon. Me and Boom Boom played some keep up the balloon.

Bye Bye!

Colleen note:

Our new friends, Chee Leong, Pee Shei, and their kids Aletia and Atticus (Western names; they have Chinese names too) gave us some lanterns to celebrate the Chinese Moon Cake Festival. They told us that Chinese Malaysian (and other children of Chinese origin all over the world) children prance around at night carrying the lanterns, lit from within by candles. The festival history is that centuries ago the Monogolians invaded China and put a Mongolian soldier in each Chinese family's home. The chinese families baked mooncakes and gave them to each other, with a note hidden inside saying "Kill the monogolian soldier in your home at the next full moon." Then, they slit the soldiers' throats at the next moon. Now, they celebrate that gruesome moment of freedom with moon cakes and lanterns.

I love mooncakes and try to eat one every day. Now, I won't eat another mooncake without thinking of slit throats.

Greece Redux: "Celebrity" Volleyballers

August, 2010

I couldn’t move on to the next country until I had closure over telling you about our time in Greece.

I’ll try to contain myself to brief highlights, but brief does not capture my typical blogging style.

We hit the Greece beaches on the first day, hitting the hottest, “volleyball celebrity,” beach filled with models. I don’t exaggerate. That’s what they told us at the gate. I laughed. Then they were completely right.

Avery, the eldest cousin at age 16, had just gotten his driver’s license and had to be dragged away from his partying friends in Scarsdale to come to Greece, to slum it with his younger cousins and elders. To console him, we tracked him down and steered him towards the volleyball celebrities and models. And, they did not disappoint. Note his beaming smile in every picture. He watched the models frolic in the water for a photo shoot, all advertising the drink Frulite (get this – it’s a drink where they add chocolate to orange juice! It made me want to vomit but Avery didn’t seem to notice).

The other Frulite model-based activity was a volleyball game, filled with female models in butt-baring bikinis who don’t know how to play volleyball, one real Olympic female Greek volleyball player, and a couple buffed male models who actually knew how to play and made the game happen. Avery immediately signed he and Ken up to play. Ken told me he had to play with the models, to make Avery happy.

The entire Freeman family showed up for the “celebrity” volleyball game a couple hours later. We sat in the small stands, we dominated the lounge chairs, we yelled as only New Yorkers can. We drank beer and got louder. We watched a whole lot more bounce than just the volleyball. Jen was nervous that Avery would embarrass himself on the volleyball sand, but she was relieved when he hit his first serve, right into a model on the other team, who, surprise surprise, missed the ball! Ken was one of the better players, along with the male models who were more than just eye candy for the female Freemans in the crowd. They didn’t bother keeping score, but Griffin and his cousins ran around telling everyone his Daddy and cousin won the game.

After that we posed some more on the beach, then the kids got henna tattoos. Griffin got a dragon and Boom a spider. Within a day, their tattoos started to swell. After a few days, Griffin’s started oozing puss, dripping down his arm. By the time we were leaving town, we had to put Griffin on oral steroids because his body was reacting by breaking out in an itchy rash and hives all over. Tina did her research and found out that Greek henna tattoos on the beach are known for giving allergic reactions to some people who get them. They put black hair dye, PPD, I think, in the henna to make it darker. More than a month later, Griffin’s finally cleared up leaving a ghostly white trace of a dragon on his arm.

Later, at the same beach, Lisa lured me into trying windsurfing for the first time. Ken said no because he thought his upper body wasn’t strong enough. Steve said yes, maybe because his upper body strength is solid. Lisa was an excellent teacher, and I got up pretty quickly then watched Steve struggle. Turns out it’s about balance not strength. But, Steve eventually figured out how to turn the windsurfer around while I didn’t. On my last, most tired, attempt I started flying over the ocean surface, incredibly fast feeling like a bird. I kept on trying to turn around but couldn’t. I continued heading south and finally pushed the windsurfer into the shallow and walked it back. Lisa swam back to help me. Then, Harvey huffed his way down the beach, telling me he almost called the Greek Coast Guard to come get me.

Griffin's First Playdate in 3 months

September 15, 2010

Griffin here:

I came back from an activity at school on the bus. My friend who's in fourth grade, Mateo from Argentina, said to ask my Dad if I could come over to his house. He lives in an apartment in the tower right next to ours. My Dad said yes. And his Mom said yes. So, we had a playdate. I got to look around their apartment which was a lot more interesting than ours. They had legos and all sorts of videogames. I played at their house for a little while then I went home. That was my first playdate in 3 months!

Then today after in-line skating after school, I came home and did a bit of my homework then I went to the pool. My friend Mateo was there. We played soccer in the pool. Then we came up to my apartment. I had a playdate with Mateo here. The first thing we did was playing legos. I made a totally new setup. Then we ate dinner. It was delicious -- meatballs and spaghetti. After that we wrestled on the bed. Mateo's brother Phillippe, I found a way to wrestle him down. I grab him around his stomach and never let go, and finally, he just collapses. Then, we had dessert, gelato and cake.

That was my second playdate in 3 months!

East Malaysia: Niah Caves

September 11, 2010

As we landed in East Malaysia, to a coastal town called Miri, threatened Koran burning was happening in the U.S. The Muslim world was offended, and Malaysia wasn’t to be left out of the protesting Muslim states. The Prime Minister of Malaysia chimed in, asking President Obama to stop the book burning. No one in Miri mentioned it to us. But, we carried the knowledge of how events in the U.S. impact us here, as we thought of 9/11 while hiking.

Miri is famous for oil – Shell is the only act in town. It’s not famous for much else other than being driving distance from caves. We weren’t sure if it was worth the trip there. The hotel was on the beach but you couldn’t get to the beach because they had covered it with huge rocks, smacking of a desperate attempt to keep climate change at bay. The town had no charm. It was only famous for smuggling alcohol and more, from the neighboring country of Brunei. But, Hari Raya holiday weekend tickets had sold like hotcakes, and we were too late to get affordable flights to more spectacular places. The only cheap-ish tickets were for Miri since no one else wanted to go there.

So, we gave Miri a chance. We started with the crocodile farm. Note the word “farm” rather than “Crocodile Sanctuary.” First sign you see when you enter the “farm” is that BBQ crocodile is for sale. Crocodile belts are for sale. We saw enough crocodiles piled around, alive, but often on top of each other, to last us a lifetime.

Just as Ken and I were starting to get depressed, after seeing a cute but highly stressed, pacing sun bear on a short leash being fed bananas by tourists, the crocodile feeding was announced. You must see the video, is all I can say. We’ve never seen anything like it in our lives. It was the most animated and buzzed I’ve seen Kenny on this trip. A feeder came out to a very high platform, and he first blew a whistle. All the frozen crocodiles moved for the first time since we’d been there, strategically positioning themselves, slowly. Then, the feeder threw a whole, dead, unplucked chicken far into the air. It just flew, and the crocodiles’ eyes followed it as it flew. The first chicken landed next to a small crocodile, and its neighbor promptly bit the winning croc’s leg, prompting a roar of outrage from the crowd. The small, winning croc plowed his way through the bigger, blocking crocs, to a safe chicken-eating haven. Another chicken flew in the air, landing in the water. There an immediate snap came from out of nowhere, from the depths of the pool, and a wild wrestle ensued under water. We only saw bubbles and rushing waves, to show that one croc won. More dead chickens flew. The crocs ate them in one gulp. It looked like they barely chewed. The other crocs looked on, completely still, eyeing the winners, looking ready to get revenge later.

Finally, the feeder blew a whistle and walked away. Kenny leapt up and gave the feeder the first standing ovation he’d received in his life. He yelled praises for his chicken-throwing skill and clutch performance. The feeder looked surprised then quietly smiled and walked away.

The next day we dedicated to the Niah caves. We hired a driver for the day, and Ken warned him in advance that, given the 4.5 kilometer walk to the caves, the driver would have to carry Boom back from the caves when he collapsed. In Greece, we’d had Nate and Zander’s wiry, eager-to-prove-themselves muscles to carry Boom back from long hikes. In Malaysia, Ken seemed to think we had to hire someone to carry him. Turns out our driver was actually a body guard for a politician for his day job (only admitted to me later when I plied him with Tiger beer). He just smiled confidently when Ken continually teased him about carrying Boom.

We hiked to the caves, caves that had only been discovered by Western archeologists in 1960. We figured out why it took so long for the west to discover it – it’s surrounded by swamp. You can’t drive or fly there. You can’t even land a helicopter there. The only way there is to slog through kilometers of buggy, fauna-filled swamp. That’s a nice way of saying, croc-filled swamp. How did we get there? A raised 5K walkway over the swamp, hugging the outside of the huge cave, dodging stray rocky outcroppings thrust out of the swamp. The closer we got to the cave, the more dodging the walkway did because there were more rocky protrusions coming out of the swamp than there was swamp water.

Well, it was worth the archeologists’ slog. They discovered caves filled with life from the prehistoric era, 40,000 years ago. They first dug and found pottery and jade earrings traded from Indonesia. Then they hiked deeper into the completely dark cave, filled with bats and bat “black gold” – bat poop is worth gold to some. They emerged on the other side to discover a smaller cave, filled with 1200 year old paintings, perfectly preserved. And, we could actually see some of them too, still, although they had faded. The paintings were inspiring for us to see. We couldn’t believe it. They perfectly depicted their dead ancestors floating on a boat down the river to the underworld. They added some curly cues and other geometric designs for spiritual spice. And, in front of the paintings were real skeletons left in man-made boats. That’s how they buried their dead, curled up in fetal positions in wooden boats…hoping that the boats would help shepherd them to the other world.

We actually saw some dead bones and boats remaining from 3000 years ago. Then we turned around and walked back from whence we came, “torches” in hand (aka flashlights), the kids squealed with delight as they walked through the caves in the absolute dark, shining a spotlight on the bats overhead.

We also walked past bamboo poles stuck in the ground, extended all the way up almost 30 stories to the top of the Great Cave. Nest gatherers somehow, impossibly, shimmy up the smooth bamboo all the way to the top of the ceiling to scrape swiftlet (swallows?) nests off the ceiling, because they are worth thousands of dollars, often used for Chinese Birds Nest soup, believed to have healing properties, sold all over Asia.

Then, we walked the 4.5 K back, thinking we’d have a similar slog to the archeologists’, trying to coax tired Boom all the way back. We prepared our “bodyguard” to carry Boom, especially when Boom made us carry him down some stairs. We watched Griffin tire himself out, slipping off the side of the walkway, hanging on for dear life, but with only a 2 foot drop to the muddy cave floor below. Alice went piggy back on Kenny most of the way home. I had to rest repeatedly. Ken complained, making it an art form. And, Boom, ran ahead, with the bodyguard chasing after him. We lost sight of him. The bodyguard told us Boom would keep on looking back at him saying, “I’m first!” “You can’t catch me!” all the 4.5K back to the car.

We rested the next morning. Then our new best friend, our bodyguard, picked us up to take us to the Latak Waterfall. It’s a popular local jungle swimming hole. When we arrived there, it was raining, and hard. Then, we heard thunder. But, we looked around and saw no lightning. Repeatedly, which was strange. Is a lightning-less thunder unique to the rainforest? We plunged into the jungle, despite the thunder and a tepid, polite warning from the forest ranger who sold us our tickets -- mentioning to look out for slippery paths and thunder. Turns out we barely touched the jungle floor, again, hiking along a raised walkway most of the way, and by way I mean only 25 minutes of hiking.

We took a Pringles break under shelter from the rain, listening to Ken explain “evolution” to the kids, in one seating. Then, we reached the Latak Waterfall, with the kids relieved it wasn’t like the rapids from Taman Negara (see previous blog posting about near-death rapids ride for Griffin). It was just a single, long line of water dropping from a couple stories above. And, unlike the rapids, there was a rope blocking us from swimming under the waterfall. On top of that, a forest ranger or “guard” sat in a guard house to make sure we didn’t swim too close. Ken complained that our waterfall swimming leash was so short – “Why come to a waterfall if not to swim to the waterfall?” Then, Griffin made the same complaint, then Alice, then Boom -- it was a contagious complaint.

My bridled explorers moped their way to the water then immediately started splashing, wrestling, and throwing with delight. The local Malays stopped their chicken bbq-ing to come over and stand in the water with us, largely unable to speak English. One explained to me that they can’t swim. But, their kids got wet anyway, fully-clothed and they took pictures of their kids with each of mine. As usual, Boom was the star of the paparazzi, but Griffin was shocked and quietly pleased to finally be asked to be in a photo with the large family.

Soon, more than just Muslim Malays arrived. Some Indian Malaysians arrived, but only a group of men came. As the rain slowed to a drizzle, the men started playing a drum, clapping, pounding Coca-Cola, and singing traditional, foot-stomping songs in some Indian dialect, I think. Then, one leading singing man jumped up and started dancing, and each would take turns joining him, with shoulder shimmies, kicks, jumps, whirring around, mirroring each other as they danced and sang with all their hearts.

I watched from the water, laughing with Ken, as I dunked myself, feeling renewed and a bit less stressed from my Kuala Lumpur life. We went back to the hotel where the kids begged us not to make them go to a local restaurant, as we usually insist (hotel food = bad and expensive; local food = cheap, fresh seafood and delicious). We relented, or really I relented. They knew I was really the one who pushed us further, that way, often too far. So, I gave in, knowing that a night of horrible food lay ahead of us, but my parents, Courtney, and Tamara would be pleased that I was “taking it slower.”

So, we spent our last nite, watching the sun set over the oil tankers on the horizon, with an awful Robert DeNiro “family” movie (“Everybody is fine”) playing on the grass for a buffet dinner/movie night at the hotel.

PS Our camera is broken. :( We have to send it to the US for repair. In the meantime, you'll get many blogs filled with crappy pictures from us.

Griffin's Post:

September 9, 2010

I have a four day weekend because of Hari Raya. We are going on a 3 day trip to East Malaysia. It is a two hour flight to get there. We are going to see caves. People used to draw on the caves. They didn't draw with blood. They could have. I don't know what they used to draw because in the old days what kind of ink was there?

School is pretty hard. It's hard to get around the school. There are such long lines in the cafeteria. The only things I look forward to are snack and lunch and playing soccer at recess. I had Mandarin class today. "Nu hi qui qui de pao" means the girl quickly ran. "ting" means listen. "ting" means stop. There are two different types of ting. One is long and one is short. The listen ting is long and the stop ting is short.

"Shuo jung wung" means speak mandarin. All of these might not be spelled correctly but I don't know how to spell them. There are a few symbols. But I can't remember them.

The symbols are important. In fact, if you say the wrong symbol (character). Like, if you say I want dumplings but use the wrong symbol, then you might actually be saying I want sleep.

From, Griffin

The reality of living on the other side of the world

September 8, 2010

I am tired. Very tired. Not from bad things but lots of good or fine things. The good things are being with my kids in the morning and some before dinner with the kids and Ken. And exploring Kuala Lumpur and nearby has been good. Other good things are being a part of the psychology department and teaching here at HELP University. All the faculty has been so welcoming - taking my family out on the weekend, taking me out to lunch, etc. Another good thing has been meeting people associated with various mental-health-related projects here, trying to get my mental health research and program work off the ground. Even my commute is pretty good, same as in NYC, but with a better subway line (LRT) to a bus to HELP University. Running with a running group on Saturdays and running on a track a couple times during the week around our local park has been very very good. Being class mom for Alice's class has been good. Throwing myself into any social opportunities from the kids' school, my work, mental health organizations, and exercise has been paying off. But, I'm very very tired come afternoon, and dead come evening.

Lots of good, I know. I'm lucky. But, there's a reality to it all.

Ken sleeps in late since he's up late working, usually. And, he's not thrilled with his new role of being the stay-at-home day come afternoon. He's been mentioning his "lot in life" lately. He's been exercising a lot.

So, I get the kids ready and to the bus in the mornings. My alarm is set for 5:30 but I'm usually up much earlier. Often, on the hour every hour from 2am on, I'm jolted awake on edge, checking the clock. I nearly jump up at the alarm, and I get ready, trying to squeeze in a few minutes of meditation or yoga before the kids get up. Griffin was having some anxiety returning to school, post-Greece, feeling confused by all the newness of it, so he started meditating with me for 5 minutes before the other kids wake at 6:15. On my 2 teaching days, I try to dress myself fancy before I wake the kids so that I can go into work early, right after their bus leaves at 7:10am.

That 35 minutes before the kids wake up is my saving grace in the morning. Getting to work early feels like stolen time too.

Teaching has been surprisingly good -- I've only taught one undergrad class so far, but they seemed curious and asked some interesting questions, but come the third hour of the 3 hour class with 150 people, I could have been dancing naked on the table, and they'd still look like they were nodding off. That's a long, painful third hour. I've never lectured that long or to so many people. They insisted I use the microphone after I avoided it the first half of class. I was wiped afterwards.

Then, I've been so excited after each mental health program/research meeting -- possibly developing a crisis team here in KL with other child mental health therapists. Possibly, helping develop an anti-bullying program, now focused on getting the teachers to be less violent or verbally harsh towards the kids in the schools. Or, working with an anti-poverty preschool program for immigrant kids who are not allowed to go to Malaysian schools. Or, help World Vision with its new anti-poverty initiative up North to help families feel more connected to their schools. All meetings I've had in the past week. All interesting, with me rapt and with intense focus. I come home wiped out afterwards.

On Friday, we'll go see some exotic caves and jungle in East Malaysia, flying a couple hours to get there. We'll be fascinated, working hard to get to and get into all the sites there. We'll come home wiped.

All good, just surprisingly tiring, this new world.

Griffin's After-School Activities and Hari Raya

September 8, 2010

Griffin's post:

This Monday after school activities started. I have Mandarin on Monday afternoon. Soccer on Tuesday. In-line skating on Wednesday. We have language in regular school, and I go to Mandarin for language during the school day. So, I have 3 Mandarin classes per week.

Soccer is a little weird. Like, I'm not used to it. But it's fun altogether. It's weird because it's a little hard to understand what to do. Everything just happens so fast. There are 30 people in soccer, 4 and 5th graders too. And, some friends to keep me occupied.

I had an in-line skating lesson today. I got on my gear. You need to have elbow gear, hand gear, knee gear. The hand gear has to go right down to half of your forearm. And a helmet. I got all that on. It was a bit hard. I got up then just started skating. It just seemed so easy! Exactly like ice skating. They gave us time to skate around the area. So, I started just pushing off with my feet and then I found out how to turn. I put one foot down and pushed with the other foot. Then I figured out how to stop - I put my feet in an arrow shape and it slows me down and I stop. Then they taught us how to get down and up. You put your knees in a v shape. You put your hands between your knees. You put one foot up then the other. Then there were two classes. Classes for people who knew how to skate and those who didn't know. I was in the class who did know.

It is Hari Raya holiday in two days. That's the end of Ramadhan. The end of Muslim fasting where they celebrate. My friend Widie in my class who rides my bus to school is from Indonesia and is Muslim. He even fasted on his birthday today. His mom would buy something for him for 400 ringitts if he fasted.

So, in a couple days, during Hari Raya holiday, we are flying to see caves in East Malaysia.

Griffin

September 5, 2010

Griffin here:

The video below you is a Hari Raya event (Hari Raya is the end of the Ramadhan fasting, it's a celebration). They did fake karate fighting, though it looked like it hurt. It seemed one guy always won. It was special fighting, but it was a religious celebration. There is a woman in one picture picking rice paddies.

There were men dancing traditional Malay dance. It was very beautiful.

They performed the dance in a mall.

Some people came over and took us to an indoor playground at the mall. They were friends from mom's work and they were Chinese Malaysians. Their names were Chee Leong, Pei Shee, and Aletea.