The Left Foot
Our last weekend in Kuching and some more or less serious Christmas shopping at last. I've never been this lax before. It was quite successful though and the Right Foot finally found some cargo pants in his size, though not his first choice of colour.
We've packed two jumbo boxes of stuff to be sent home by DHL, RM800 for 50kg of mostly faded tee-shirts. Still we can't carry it around China.
We paid our last respects to the night market hoping for a repeat of the magnificent roti we had during the fasting month but there was no sign of the roti man so instead we had mee ayam followed by steamed dumplings, followed by strange green sweets made of agar agar and coconut. Interesting.
I had a phone call from Melbourne yesterday asking me when I would be arriving home.
"11th January", said I.
"So you could be back in Kuching by 13th for the start of semester then?"
Too flabbergasted to think I stammered and stuttered something about how I couldn't be spared from Lilydale. Truth is, I've had enough and I'm ready to go home. Gotta see Grumpy Girl before she goes to Cambodia, gotta see whatever's left of the cricket, gotta catch up with "The Bill" and gotta attend a couple of social functions I've been looking forward to. I could feel myself weakening today and my mind was running on ways I could manage it but eventually my brain kicked in and I decided this time I just say no.
Saturday, December 21, 2002
The Left Foot
Drama upon drama at work and no end in sight yet. Word got around that we were interviewing for an Library Assistant and all this week people have been appearing at my door clutching their resumes and expecting an interview on demand - a walk-up interview. Apparently this happens in Malaysia. My carefully constructed induction program for Z went out the window as we listened to a succession of appalling stories of under-payment and exploitation. Young people working seven days a week for RM320 per month. Outrageous. When I finally called a halt we had two stand-out candidates and were struggling to choose between them. Still undecided, I started to type up the interview report. Suddenly the other Library Assistant came into my office and handed in his resignation. Momentarily stunned, I rallied enough to congratulate him on being accepted into a Bachelor's degree course at another institution. Then of course I realised I could offer both our candidates a position. One of them is unlikely to accept the salary on offer so I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get senior management to agree to an increase. One of the things I was asked to do when I first came here was to initiate a cultural change in the library. It was a big ask but if I can get these two appointments through, they and Z would be a brilliant team and we would be more than half way there.
Right Foot and I decided to get our hair cut so we could see out and to ensure that Petite recognises us at the airport on Monday morning. RF went to Al's in some back lane and I went to Fantastic Sam's in a slightly more salubrious part of town. I wish I'd taken the trouble to memorise the Chinese phrase for "That's enough!" before I went. A series of gestures and grimaces failed to convey the message so I wrenched the apron from around my neck and stood up. Still she came at me with the scissors, all the way to the cash register when I hastily paid 0.000005% of the cost of a haircut in Chapel Street and fled into the night.
In 58 and a half hours I will see my brown-eyed girl.
Drama upon drama at work and no end in sight yet. Word got around that we were interviewing for an Library Assistant and all this week people have been appearing at my door clutching their resumes and expecting an interview on demand - a walk-up interview. Apparently this happens in Malaysia. My carefully constructed induction program for Z went out the window as we listened to a succession of appalling stories of under-payment and exploitation. Young people working seven days a week for RM320 per month. Outrageous. When I finally called a halt we had two stand-out candidates and were struggling to choose between them. Still undecided, I started to type up the interview report. Suddenly the other Library Assistant came into my office and handed in his resignation. Momentarily stunned, I rallied enough to congratulate him on being accepted into a Bachelor's degree course at another institution. Then of course I realised I could offer both our candidates a position. One of them is unlikely to accept the salary on offer so I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get senior management to agree to an increase. One of the things I was asked to do when I first came here was to initiate a cultural change in the library. It was a big ask but if I can get these two appointments through, they and Z would be a brilliant team and we would be more than half way there.
Right Foot and I decided to get our hair cut so we could see out and to ensure that Petite recognises us at the airport on Monday morning. RF went to Al's in some back lane and I went to Fantastic Sam's in a slightly more salubrious part of town. I wish I'd taken the trouble to memorise the Chinese phrase for "That's enough!" before I went. A series of gestures and grimaces failed to convey the message so I wrenched the apron from around my neck and stood up. Still she came at me with the scissors, all the way to the cash register when I hastily paid 0.000005% of the cost of a haircut in Chapel Street and fled into the night.
In 58 and a half hours I will see my brown-eyed girl.
Tuesday, December 17, 2002
The Left Foot
Only five more days at work for me and I'm as busy as ever, just when I thought I'd be cruising. The resignation of the library assistant has meant another round of interviews. The security gate arrived today and the book chute. The delightful Z is spending the week with me, learning the ropes and she is everything I'd hoped. She identified all the issues in no time without any prompting from me and we are doing our best to solve them but it is HARD.
The Right Foot is too modest to tell you about his very successful presentation at Pustaka Negeri yesterday where he wowed them with his recently acquired PowerPoint skills and stunning intellect. Like me, he argued strongly for the introduction of that most revolutionary of ideas - collection codes. It won't be our fault if codes aren't soon plastered over everything.
Petite Soeur arrives next Monday to celebrate Christmas with us. Can't wait to see her and catch up with all the ad world goss. I am feeling a little apprehensive about our holiday in China because it's going to be so cold. Our hotel is in a good location so we should be able to dash over to the Forbidden City and back before we freeze. I'm looking forward to home now and will gladly swap the luxury of four toilets to choose from for a free press and a decent news service.
Only five more days at work for me and I'm as busy as ever, just when I thought I'd be cruising. The resignation of the library assistant has meant another round of interviews. The security gate arrived today and the book chute. The delightful Z is spending the week with me, learning the ropes and she is everything I'd hoped. She identified all the issues in no time without any prompting from me and we are doing our best to solve them but it is HARD.
The Right Foot is too modest to tell you about his very successful presentation at Pustaka Negeri yesterday where he wowed them with his recently acquired PowerPoint skills and stunning intellect. Like me, he argued strongly for the introduction of that most revolutionary of ideas - collection codes. It won't be our fault if codes aren't soon plastered over everything.
Petite Soeur arrives next Monday to celebrate Christmas with us. Can't wait to see her and catch up with all the ad world goss. I am feeling a little apprehensive about our holiday in China because it's going to be so cold. Our hotel is in a good location so we should be able to dash over to the Forbidden City and back before we freeze. I'm looking forward to home now and will gladly swap the luxury of four toilets to choose from for a free press and a decent news service.
Sunday, December 15, 2002
The Right Foot:
It is Durian season up here. Remember back in childhood when there were "seasons" for hoops and hopscotch, yo-yos, marbles and other childhood esoterica which somehow appeared in the school yard one day, and the next, everyone was playing though the rules and techniques got passed on from one year's cohort to the next without anyone actually handing out instructions? Well, the Durian season seems a bit like that. The first indication I got that Durian madness was about to descend was several weeks ago when a single battered stall set up on a Kuching street corner, with but a single shelf featuring just a few large green spiky fruit which were attracting very few customers. I asked someone what they were, and was told they were indeed the legendary "King of Fruit" but that they were far too expensive and not at their best this early. I smelt one, knowing their rep. for vileness and thought it didnt seem too ponky. Early days!!!
Now we are right into durian mid-season. As we drove to and from Gunung Gading in our fruitless quest for the Rafflesia, we passed scores of road-side shanties, their shelves bowed down with durians and thronging with customers, otherwise and ordinarily respectable people who had driven in willy-nilly off the road in a frenzy of durian-induced madness, flung open the doors and were even now, shameless addicts that they were, busy smelling, tapping and othewise directing passionate devotions of a quite idolatrous nature to the goods on display. But the smell, that pervasive odour of necrotic flesh that is the Durian's signature scent, could now be clearly identified swirling within the cabin of our passing car, travelling at the state maximum of 90 km, windows wound up, with the airconditioning on full bore! People say that you have to eat durians on Friday night to give your system the entire weekend to work it out before returning to work on Monday and I can fully believe it. They hold durian parties here on Friday evenings, secret gatherings of like-minded addicts who are prepared to plumb the fruity depths in order to satisfy their unnatural lusts. Its only a wonder that Dr. Mahatir hasn't banned it, as he has sex between unmarried couples.
When at last we'd run the olifactory gauntlet and returned safe to the Enchanted Tower, we opened the entrance door to the lifts and out wafted the unmistakable odour! One of our neighbours has a two-durian-day habit, I'd say.
It is Durian season up here. Remember back in childhood when there were "seasons" for hoops and hopscotch, yo-yos, marbles and other childhood esoterica which somehow appeared in the school yard one day, and the next, everyone was playing though the rules and techniques got passed on from one year's cohort to the next without anyone actually handing out instructions? Well, the Durian season seems a bit like that. The first indication I got that Durian madness was about to descend was several weeks ago when a single battered stall set up on a Kuching street corner, with but a single shelf featuring just a few large green spiky fruit which were attracting very few customers. I asked someone what they were, and was told they were indeed the legendary "King of Fruit" but that they were far too expensive and not at their best this early. I smelt one, knowing their rep. for vileness and thought it didnt seem too ponky. Early days!!!
Now we are right into durian mid-season. As we drove to and from Gunung Gading in our fruitless quest for the Rafflesia, we passed scores of road-side shanties, their shelves bowed down with durians and thronging with customers, otherwise and ordinarily respectable people who had driven in willy-nilly off the road in a frenzy of durian-induced madness, flung open the doors and were even now, shameless addicts that they were, busy smelling, tapping and othewise directing passionate devotions of a quite idolatrous nature to the goods on display. But the smell, that pervasive odour of necrotic flesh that is the Durian's signature scent, could now be clearly identified swirling within the cabin of our passing car, travelling at the state maximum of 90 km, windows wound up, with the airconditioning on full bore! People say that you have to eat durians on Friday night to give your system the entire weekend to work it out before returning to work on Monday and I can fully believe it. They hold durian parties here on Friday evenings, secret gatherings of like-minded addicts who are prepared to plumb the fruity depths in order to satisfy their unnatural lusts. Its only a wonder that Dr. Mahatir hasn't banned it, as he has sex between unmarried couples.
When at last we'd run the olifactory gauntlet and returned safe to the Enchanted Tower, we opened the entrance door to the lifts and out wafted the unmistakable odour! One of our neighbours has a two-durian-day habit, I'd say.
The Left Foot
Our second last weekend in Kuching and it's the time the Rafflesia comes briefly into bloom. The Rafflesia is the largest flower in the world and has a diameter of 91centremetres. We drove for a couple of hours to get to Taman Negeri Gunung Gandang with high hopes of seeing a real Rafflesia to complement all the plastic, wood and fibreglass ones we'd seen so far. The climb up the gunung (mountain) was extremely challenging for two unfit frontier librarians and we were disappointed not to find the big R at the first of the three viewing points along the way. We struggled on, both developing that shaky leg feeling that goes with low blood sugar. I hadn't perspired so much since the day Petite was born. By the time we arrived at the second viewing point and fearing cardiac arrest was imminent, I knew that the final ascent was out of the question. Right Foot drew on his vast knowledge of Australian history, comparing the actions of early explorers who survived with those who didn't, and agreed that retreat was the only option. So back down the mountain we went, seeing lots of interesting flora and fauna that we had missed on the way up when we were totally focused on the Rafflesia. So the day was not wasted and what's wrong with plastic flowers anyway?
The Right Foot has his big day tomorrow, presenting his final report to the Datu and the Board. I showed him how to use PowerPoint and he has prepared a presentation that will knock their socks off. Then he will be free and I will have my chauffeur back. That will be wonderful.
Our second last weekend in Kuching and it's the time the Rafflesia comes briefly into bloom. The Rafflesia is the largest flower in the world and has a diameter of 91centremetres. We drove for a couple of hours to get to Taman Negeri Gunung Gandang with high hopes of seeing a real Rafflesia to complement all the plastic, wood and fibreglass ones we'd seen so far. The climb up the gunung (mountain) was extremely challenging for two unfit frontier librarians and we were disappointed not to find the big R at the first of the three viewing points along the way. We struggled on, both developing that shaky leg feeling that goes with low blood sugar. I hadn't perspired so much since the day Petite was born. By the time we arrived at the second viewing point and fearing cardiac arrest was imminent, I knew that the final ascent was out of the question. Right Foot drew on his vast knowledge of Australian history, comparing the actions of early explorers who survived with those who didn't, and agreed that retreat was the only option. So back down the mountain we went, seeing lots of interesting flora and fauna that we had missed on the way up when we were totally focused on the Rafflesia. So the day was not wasted and what's wrong with plastic flowers anyway?
The Right Foot has his big day tomorrow, presenting his final report to the Datu and the Board. I showed him how to use PowerPoint and he has prepared a presentation that will knock their socks off. Then he will be free and I will have my chauffeur back. That will be wonderful.
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