Singapore!

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October 10, 2010

Singapore is the anti-Kuala Lumpur. It is a well-planned, functioning, and competent city and citizenry. Everyone, including the cab drivers, seem so well-educated. The public transport system is extensive and works beautifully. I never worried about our getting hit by a car or purse-snatched. When someone signs a contract, they stick to the contract without graft or corruption involved. Some might say caning someone for dropping illegal gum on the sidewalk is an overreaction. Some might say it's a sanitized, artificial utopia. After a weekend there, I'll take sanitized, safer Singapore as a break anytime. I'd probably miss the laid-back, warm and welcoming way here after a while. Maybe.

We hit the botanic garden, the children's garden, and it was like our kids had been caged up for months. They ran wild and free, loving having the open space and stimulating nature. They climbed trees, saw the biggest lily pads in the world, and spun around on exotic playground equipment.

That first night we went on the famous night safari at the zoo. There was a big Halloween celebration, with uniquely Asian ghouls who'd jump out from behind bushes, but the kids seemed used to it after the first few jumps. They say 80% of the Southeast asian jungle animals are nocturnal so you can only see them active at night. And, we sure did. Even the tapirs, normally shy and hidden, wandered near our safari tram so I could almost reach out and touch them in a magical, once in a lifetime intimate moment with an animal I've tried to court for years, after trying to see some in Costa Rica years ago and last summer I tried to see them in the jungle here.

And, yes, we did go to Universal Studios in Singapore despite, as my brother reminded me sardonically, Universal Studios Hollywood being 10 minutes from his home in Los Angeles. It was new and had enough rides and characters to make a 6 year old's jaw drop and a 41 year old's brain shrink.

On the way there, though, Abraham did get his toe sucked into an escalator, as Griffin posted. His croc was sliced right thru by the escalator and it seemed to slice right thru his toenail and maybe worse. We couldn't tell how bad the cut was since it was pretty bloody. But, that didn't stop us from freaking out and running far, dripping blood, to the first aid office at Universal. There, the escalator oil was painstakingly and painfully removed from Boom's foot and we uncovered that he still had a fat little baby toe intact, not needing stitches. It still hurts often, especially during the nightly bandaid changes and cleanings, but he's much better - thanks for your good wishes for his recovery!

We rallied that night to Chinatown which was DELICIOUS with dim sum and more. When we returned to our sweet Swissotel, drummers played outside and Boom insisted we sit and watch them for what seemed like hours into the nite. He fancies himself a drummer.

Our last morning, we went on down to the Singapore Zoo and they all aksed for you...They even inquired about 'cha! Sorry, couldn't resist an Audubon Zoo song reference. It's one of the best zoos we've seen. Swimming jaguars, elephants moving logs, feeding giraffes ourselves (never done that at any other zoo!), and orangutans using "tools" like twigs to pull in keeper-designed food challenges like pulling in fruit to himself. And, we're now officially obsessed with Komodo Dragons whose spit has enough bacteria to kill you slowly and painfully, not the way to go, dying from saliva. I'm now dying to go to the Komodo dragon islands in Indonesia.

Ken was happier the moment we hit the bus for Singapore. He'd been feeling beleaguered and demoralized by his role as the stay-at-home dad (or as his New Zealand stay at home dads call themselves - a "man-mum"). We're trying to get a sitter to help him out a couple afternoons as a reprieve but, in the meantime, a trip away seemed to do the trick to bring back his adventurous, fun, more free side. It was a delight (and relief) to see again...

Griffin's Singapore

Griffin blog:

October 9, 2010

We went to Singapore! It is a 5hour bus ride to get there. Singapore is the most arcutectural place you have ever seen . There is a casino with a boat that is held up by three huge buildings. We went to an amusement park on an island called Sentosa. There are these cable cars that are like trams but these things go for like 50 miles in the air. Mama got scared. Boom Boom got his croc caught in the escalator. The escalator ripped his croc in half. One of his toes got really badly injured. Luckily they had a first aid room at Universal Studios Amusement Park where we were going. We stayed there for about a half an hour before finally getting out. The first ride I went on was Jurassic Park water rapids. There were these boats that took you on really fast rivers. It wasn’t too scary. There was also an Egyptian Ride. There was a roller coaster in the dark dark dark involving super fast downhill where you couldn’t see where you were about to go. Violent backward movements. And, fire. Then we saw this 4D Shrek Movie. Then we went on a dragon roller coaster. It was so fun. I had to go on it 3 times before I could stop.

A day in the life of an international school student

September 30, 2010

I visited the kids at school for a parent coffee-get-together, one of many the school hosts. Class parents often make their own homemade food for these events, so I go as often as I can. This time didn't disappoint with homemade egg rolls for breakfast. Clearly, I have ulterior motives for visiting my kids at school.

I paired the coffee event with my reading a book to Boom's class and having lunch with Alice and Griffin. One nice thing about the school is they encourage parents to join their kids at lunch sometimes, and it's a secret pleasure of mine to go. But, first, I read to Boom's class. This school is so loaded with expat oil money and more that they even have smart boards in the class for the 3 year olds. It's kind of over the top. Instead of my holding a book up and reading it to them, as I guess only dinosaurs do, the teacher held the book under an electronic overhead projector so that each page was projected up on the smart board screen. She turned the pages for me while I read. With the lights off and the book so distant from me, it felt almost as if the kids were watching a movie in the dark rather than having an intimate moment with me, getting lost in a book together. But, Abraham seemed proud to have his favorite pirate book and his Mommy projected on screen, holding my hand tightly the entire time.

Then, he and his adorable classmates raced tricycles, ran a lap around their age-appropriate soccer field on a track, and did ring-around-the-rosie with a haphazard, rambunctious style that seemed to be throwing off his task-oriented teacher who had the best-laid plans, until they were met by a bunch of 2 and 3 year olds tired of tasks.

I was surprised to see how rough Boom got with some of the other kids. In his old school he would never hit or shove roughly (he'd save it for his siblings) but in this class the first thing I saw was his shoving a younger, upset girl down on the ground. He continued to be rough the rest of the morning. And, I think some of the other boys were similar. I spoke with the teacher about it later, when our parents had coffee with her, but I'm not sure she has a system down that's working to manage it yet. It's honestly hard for me to watch Boom hurting anyone else, especially when it seems like if the environment were to improve, then he would too.

At lunch with Alice and Griffin, it was just plain exhilarating for me to see how well-liked they were. Alice had a close, close friend named Valeria, who rides on her bus and lives next door to us. And, Griffin was begged by 2 boys from his class to be goalie for the much anticipated, post-lunch soccer match. One of the boys asked Griffin if he'd come have a playdate at his house. In Brooklyn, I'd taken for granted how well-loved they were by their long-time best friends, and I didn't realize how much I missed seeing them adored by their friends, and vice-versa. Although, I must say, Griffin is both expanding his friendships (usually he only has one, isolated friendship in his class) and holding back his passion for his new friends somewhat. Maybe he feels disloyal to his best friends in Brooklyn, otherwise.

The Honeymoon's Over

September 28, 2010

It's official: My honeymoon's over. Maybe that's old news now. I think you could tell that the honeymoon was over by my previous posting where I described how overwhelmed I was feeling -- between lecturing a 150-student class for the first time, meeting so many new people for my research and social life, the travel, getting up at 5am daily to get the kids to the bus, and just plain life here. I had trouble sleeping.

My anthropologist friend diagnosed me with "Delayed Culture Shock." I thought I was just plain anxious and overwhelmed with it all. She described it as being overstimulated by doing, seeing, smelling, tasting so much newness. And, her treatment suggestion -- Be boring. Do only boring things on the weekends. Stop packing so much into my life. Go into work late, not early. Work more from home, in general. My friends, like Tamara and Courtney, said just do nothing sometimes. Patrick and Tina said just being in Kuala Lumpur is exotic enough for now, we'll have time to travel later. Mom tried to problem-solve ways for me to cut back on my responsibilities and activities. Yosef, Liz, one of my Fulbright friends, and Dad gave large class teaching suggestions. And, Dad pointed out that just living in a foreign place, like when he lived in Paris for a year, has an ambient stress -- a constant, silent, invisible stress in the background, which was a helpful insight. And, Ken took on more of my "Mom" responsibilities which are both hard for me to give up and hard for him to take, like planning and packing for future trips.

It's actually all working pretty well. I'm still stressed, at times, but more in a normal, functioning kind of way. My sleep is not perfect but now the sleep problems are limited to the night before my class. We've been just lazing by the pool and doing playdates for the kids on the weekends. I don't eagerly say yes to every social event. As you might guess, the kids have been equally ready for what we now call "relaxation days," so happy and proud of having playdates and new friendships with our neighbors.

And, I've been training for a half-marathon. I know, I know, I'm probably being too ambitious doing that too, typical me, but it's actually been a joy and stress release. Such necessary time for myself with only a meditative run to focus on, and a sore but relaxed body afterwards. And, I really like the people in the running group. One's from Texas and it's like jogging with Molly Ivans, the hilarious political columnist from Texas. They are seasoned travelers and expats from all over. I take mental notes on where to travel next while they tell me of their favorite Southeast Asian get-aways. We're all flying to Cambodia, Siam Riep, to run a half-marathon around the ancient temples on Dec. 7.

But, now that the honeymoon and the worst of my delayed culture shock are over, there are still lingering aftershocks. Like, just getting around this chaotic, sprawling, unplanned, loud, traffic-choked city. I take the subway and a taxi or bus to and from work a few days per week. There are about 4, very limited, different subway lines and none of them are connected -- You actually have to leave the first subway system, get out and walk and reenter another completely different subway line with a different ticketing system. But, the subways are very advanced, fast, and have cellphone service. Everyone is gentle and quiet in the subway. No completely insane behavior, as in NYC subways.

What aggression they sublimate in the subways, they express on the roads. They do not like pedestrians here. We slow the cars down, barely. I can't tell you how many nasty accidents happen here where a car or bus hits a pedestrian -- our elderly, beloved school librarian was medi-vac'ed back to the US with brain damage after a bus hit her. There are few or no decent sidewalks in some areas. And few pedestrian cross-walks -- the red lights often don't stop cars, but especially motorbikes, from flying through the cross-walk. I found myself cursing out two muslim, scarved girls giggling as they sped their motorbike right in front of me and Boom Boom, buzzing us as we crossed. In fact, there's been a streak of motorbike purse and jewelery-snatching. Right in front of our building, someone got his cellphone ripped out of his hands by a motorbiker. Worse, there've been serious injuries when they yanked necklaces and purses, dragging people -- I've been told of two serious head injuries and a death as a result. I've become a neurotic, hypervigilant pedestrian.

Most people drive. In fact, people are shocked we didn't buy a car just for the year. Cars are taxed 50%, there's insurance, lots of car accidents, and you get taken to jail, often overnight, if you're at fault, I heard. Needless to say, I'm completely intimidated by the thought of driving here. We chose to live downtown to avoid driving but it's still inconvenient often without a car. But, cabs are dirt cheap here. Often, cheaper than public transport for a family of 5. Just like it's cheaper for us to eat dinner here at a restaurant than to buy groceries and make it ourselves. But, the cabbies often don't know how to get to your destination, often not telling you they don't know. Or, they refuse to use the meter and try to charge you 3 times the meter price. We've now got a few cabbies we'll call to pick us up if we're going to a destination we know most cabbies refuse.

Where do we walk to, you might ask? Well, we walk to our local mall. Or, we take a cab to malls further away. Yes, we've surrendered to mall culture, after a long fight, with lots of sneering and contempt. Now, we often spend each weekend day in a mall. Yes, we swim, read, play games, socialize with new friends, but we also do the mall. This past weekend, we spent two days in malls and a night at IKEA. Everything happens at the malls -- birthday parties, soccer games (YES! soccer fields are on top of a mall), craft centers, cafes, movie theaters, science museum, galleries, etc. There's been such a huge BOOM in capitalism here, like in most of Asia, that there is no recession here, it seems. No empty storefronts. Just packed malls. And, it's a respite from the heat. You can only do a half hour or so at the playground before you run screaming for the mall air-conditioning.

Our apartment is posh, at first glance. A city view. Glass, steel, and marble everywhere. Balcony. Resort-like pool. Kids at the pool sometimes to play with. But, the reality is these high rises were built in a mad, capitalist-drunk rush, with bribes paid to city inspectors to look the other way. Sewage started backing up in our bathroom pipes stinking to high heaven. They fixed it but 2 bathrooms are unusable and stinky still. Other apartments have walls crumble due to constant water leakage. A friend's apartment electrical wiring blew out, ruining all her appliances, computers, and more. The developer had paid off the electrical inspector. Another 40 story high rise was quickly built with no stairs, that means only an elevator, no fire escape...let me say it again, no stairs at all. We're probably lucky with our apartment since it's so new that no serious problems have come up yet. As exciting it is to live in the heart of the city, the bright lights, loud cars, and other sounds make for a jangled, discombobulating night rest for me, at times.

I sense a theme here -- the government here lets the wild wild west reign, when it comes to development, urban planning, deforestation, and more. It is not a controlling state, to say the least. It's no Singapore. The Malaysian government is letting capitalism grow unheeded here, often burning through Malaysia like a wildfire. But, the government sure likes propoganda, anti-Israel rallies, and fomenting racial division at the same time that it calls for "1 Malaysia," encouraging all 3 of the ethnic groups here uniting as one. Truth, is, it feels like a very racially and religiously tolerant country, when you actually live here day-to-day, despite the underlying rumbing politics.

Alright, my complaint session is over. Just for now. You know there are 200 other wonderful things about life here I didn't mention. You may want to skip this blog for the next couple months until I'm done with my post-honeymoon hangover. Then, I'll get to the 200 wonders of Kuala Lumpur.

Fulbright: The Clinical Research Half

Note: Photo at top is of page is of, from the left, the heads of Harvest Center, Petrina, Pastor Elisha, Mr. Liew as the World Vision Malaysia CEO, and me

September 25, 2010

How lucky am I that I get to take my family to a soccer tournament for my research? Why would that be research? Because the first stage of my research project is to meet people. Yes, just talk and talk and talk. What I am doing for my Fulbright project is to collaborate with a community-based organization to do a sustainable mental health intervention for children and their families.

To develop this partnership with a community organization, I first have to meet a lot of people who will introduce me to the organization leaders; I can't just meet them without some sort of formal introduction. So, I first have to meet with the larger charitable organizations who fund the smaller community organizations, to get an idea of who might be a good match for my work and get some introductions. And, my HELP University professor colleagues have connections with Christian charitable organizations, like World Vision, who fund these community organizations. It is interesting that it seems to be mostly Christian organizations in this Muslim country that are funding interventions for children in poverty.

After I met with the head of World Vision Malaysia, he offered to introduce me to the heads of the organization called Harvest Centre, or Dignity for Children Foundation. The World Vision CEO, Mr. Liew, said he thought I should join him for a soccer tournament to meet the heads of Harvest Centre who were running the tournament. When we arrived for the tournament, he and Pastor Elisha, head of Harvest, were waiting for us out front. And, they gave us a warm welcome, with the older Mr. Liew even kicking the soccer ball around with Griffin, giving it a header too. Then, Mr. Liew and Pastor Elisha toured me around in the VIP fashion I've been honored with at every turn at these organizations. And, I thought it was because of my Fulbright status (God knows, I drop the Fulbright card shamelessly!) but I've started realizing it's also a Malaysian custom to host with great generosity, patience, and attention, and usually involving a meal.

Pastor Elisha showed me the soccer and net ball tournaments (for net ball explanation, see Griffin's post below) which were filled with refugees and poor kids from, typically, Indian slums. The refugees are mostly from Burma and can't speak either Malay or English. And, the Malaysian government refuses to accept refugees so the refugees are illegal here. They have no potential to become a legal immigrant or citizen. So, they get no official status, they are invisible. Worse, unlike in the U.S., as illegal immigrants/refugees, they get no schooling, protection from crime, health care, etc. On top of that, there is a group of Malaysian citizens who are backed by the government to round up these refugees/immigrants and take them to the border, in an often scary, threatening, and exploitive manner. This quasi-governmental group is called the Renu, I think, and they often threaten to expel them, then say they can stay if they pay a bribe. This is all after these refugees are already fleeing persecution from their own country, like Burma.

So, Harvest Centre takes over where the government chooses not to. They run a school for the children, because the government won't. And, the school has a mission to provide as high quality education as they would receive at Malaysian schools, saying refugees deserve respect and good education. The school's become famous for its education and has trained and developed many other schools for refugees all over Malaysia now. Pastor Elisha is originally Punjab, on the border of India and Pakistan. His wife is Chinese Malaysian, and they have a dorm and home at the school where they take in many of these children, with the intent of giving them a fresh start, especially away from some of the toughest families fraught with physical abuse or "gangsterism."

Pastor Elisha thinks the parents only get in the way of the kids getting ahead in life and healing from their past. He complained of parents pressuring their daughters to get married by age 13 but, now that they are at his school, they say no to their parents, saying they want to be teachers like their teachers at school. He has threatened fathers who were physically abusing their children. He doesn't try to change the parents. He tries to take the children out of the parents' home, often into his home or dorm. Or he tries to empower them to be different from their parents.

He and I had a moment where we realized we have different philosophies about helping kids get better. Mine has always been through changing and supporting the family and school, and his is to get the kids as far away from the family as possible. Maybe he's right, in this case, but I still wonder if there's potential for involving the parents somehow in this mental health process with the kids.

Pastor Elisha told me the story of why the soccer tournament is called the Faisal cup. Faisal had been in Elisha's school. He was about fourteen but had a "simple" mind and was at the academic equivalent of 1st grade or so. He often squeezed himself into the small chairs in the first grade classroom. One day he was playing soccer and the ball was kicked into the river. Faisal went in after the ball, since to him a $3 ball was precious and had to be retrieved. But, he couldn't swim and he drowned. Pastor Elisha teared up as he told this story. And, he said that to lose one of his most beloved students over a $3 ball inspired he and his wife to run this soccer tournament because so many refugee children have no organized soccer or even soccer balls to play with. The government provides soccer for all Malay children, but there's none for the immigrants or refugees.

Once Ken helped get Griffin and Boom started on playing soccer with the refugee kids, it made me really happy to see them connecting through soccer, especially since their rarified world is limited to the elite at their school.

In the meantime, I introduced myself to the head of the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) who is now an American, and he knows Fulbright. I've been dying to meet him, since UNHCR funds so many refugee programs, and I thought they'd know which are ripe for and interested in mental health program development. Vernon is his name, and he gave me the historical and current perspective on refugees here, making me feel like I was having an ivy league education in the reality of refugees in Malaysia and beyond. He also suggested a couple organizations who would be possible for me to collaborate with. What a coup to connect with him! And it looks like he'll be connecting me to organizations with potential too.

We had to leave, and when Ken had to take the ball with us, he said it was hard to take the soccer ball away. All the kids playing with Boom and Griffin were very reluctant to give the ball up since they didn't have a ball of their own and couldn't play as a result.

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.