Malaysia Update

Ship Time: 8:40am
Time at Home: 10:50pm, yesterday
Current Location: Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

On our way into port we somehow gained an hour back overnight, which was an unusual switch. Geographically speaking, that didn't make any sense at all, but who am I to complain? If Vietnam chooses to be an hour behind the rest of the Southeast Asian countries, then God Bless Vietnam.

And for those concerned about pirates; we were not attacked, but we did go full speed during night on our way to Singapore, we were stationed for a day to refuel and all that.

The Ship
I'm not a morning person. At all, really. But I love port mornings on the ship, because most people are gone, and my undying love for the ship makes our alone time very special. Especially over a breakfast of old French toast and stale Froot Loops, like this morning.

Malaysia
Malaysian culture can only be defined in terms of its being a hodgepodge of other cultures, primarily Indian and Chinese. It was curious seeing "Little India", having just come from Big India. This mix is displayed quite clearly in other ways too, as when my friend Jess and I went to a movie at the theater (for 6 Malaysian Ringgit, approximately $1.75). The film was in spoken Japanese, with three sets of subtitles. This effectively meant that if there were more than one line of dialogue, there were 2 lines of subtitles, but in 3 languages, so that there was six lines of subtitles, which meant the screen was lost somewhere behind a veil of foreign words in mismatched fonts. It was quite the experience. The languages were Malay, English, and Chinese. The film was about the worst I'd ever seen, and at one point the main character screamed, "Corpses to the left! Corpses to the right! Everywhere, corpses!" This had Jess and I disturbing the rest of the theater with our laughter for at least 15 minutes, and each other for about four days afterwards. [And for anyone who cares, the Japanese film was titled Loft, but I suggest you avoid it.]

Another curious thing about these Asian countries is that you can go to a movie in the theater, but pirated versions of the DVDs are already prominently displayed for purchase everywhere, even in mall stores. And for generally around $1 apiece, I bet the Hollywood execs are pulling their hair out, and may now search me out after I confess to having watched the new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie on DVD. But I wouldn't mind if they sought me out to punish me, because I've got a bone to pick with them. (Shredder isn't even in that movie!)

The varied ethnicities of Malaysia make for an interesting spectrum of political opinions. Of course these all reflect poorly on America, one way or another. Rick and I had a good conversation with our cab driver about 9/11 conspiracy theories, and then he asked us if Hilary Clinton was going to be the next president. In every country, it seems, I'm astounded by how much everyone seems to know about the upcoming Presidential Elections. But then I remember it's only because the entire world is anxious to see Bush abdicate the throne. Somebody was telling me about one cab driver they have who actually liked Bush. But they liked him because of "what he does to the Muslims." This is why I usually introduce myself as Canadian.

Actually, one of the best brief political conversations I had was in India. In India people get excited to meet Americans. They want to take pictures and chat with us. So I told this one guy in a second-hand silk shop that I was from the United States (because you have to say "United States," or "USA," not "America", which refers only to two entire continents). He immediately went, "Ah, John F. Kennedy! I love John F. Kennedy. He's the reason I love America. You used to have such good leaders in America... Not so much anymore. You should find more leaders like John F. Kennedy!" As I left I agreed with him, and told him that I would see what I could do.

The best thing I did in Malaysia was hike Penang Hill, which is a misleading name for a small mountain. The trail was called the "Jungle Trek", and it became quite clear why, as we were immediately suffocated by the intense humidity, and one would not have made it far if they decided to run off through the dense foliage. I chose to stay as far away from everything but visible dirt as I could, though, after seeing a monstrous centipede that has at least 6 or 7 inches long, about an inch wide, and had a small legion of wickedly grotesque, dancing legs. It was straight from King Kong, I tell ya. I never had a deep aversion to insects, but the more I see on this voyage the more all insects are beginning to bother me.

And then there was the monkey incident. DON'T FEED THE MONKEYS. People tend to ignore these signs. Monkeys, consequently, learn that people come with food, and frightened people throw food at monkeys.

These monkeys are not especially large. Walking they aren't higher than my knee, though standing they might actually be up to my waist I suppose. But I figure, you know, that because I'm three times their size, they'd scamper off up trees if I walked along down the road I was on, through a bunch of lazing monkeys. After all, roads are people places. Monkeys don't belong on roads. So I'm walking along, and I take a photo of this monkey.

He, apparently, thought the black box in my hand contained food. That, or he was outrageously offended by my picture of him. He went off like a diva. Either way the reaction was unpleasant enough, as he started following me, making the most horrendous sort of hissing/squawking/snarling noise I've ever heard a creature of such a small size make. I'd rather have a rabid dog barking at me. So he's following me, and I'm clutching my camera, thinking that this monkey wants it. And I was not going to give up the camera. Of course I didn't have any food to throw at it.

"Rick, what do I do?" He laughs, "I don't know." But by the time I had frozen in place, uncertain of where to go, and a second monkey started coming towards me, nobody was laughing. Some Japanese tourists up the way looked at me blankly while their son threw peanuts at more monkeys. (The writer here is of the firm belief that this entire incident can be blamed on that Japanese kid, who I desperately wanted to kick in the face for throwing peanuts at the monkeys.) So I was standing there with a monkey on either side of me, one hissing intensely, and less than 5 feet away from me. I was starting to think of defensive maneuvers I could make, in case this thing decided to leap at my face. Could I get my foot high enough and in time to bash its skull in? Mostly, I just clutched my camera, and prepared to kick its head if it ran at me.

But after it stood next to me for about 5 seconds without moving, I think I subconsciously determined that it was not going to jump, and if it was, it wasn't going to do it yet, so I turned around and power walked right out of there. It followed me until some bastard threw an ice cream cone at it.

That's why you don't feed the monkeys.