tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48972519236822397272024-03-05T21:57:55.186+08:00Blair's Travel BlogInfo, stories, and pictures from Sarawak, Malaysia (and now other things too)Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-38639882425867795902020-12-24T13:02:00.004+08:002020-12-24T13:36:57.408+08:0014 songs that take me to a higher place<span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">I prefer being by myself when listening to these songs, with the lights off and my eyes closed. I'll probably grimace and make weird facial expressions. I may feel tingles all over my head. My body will definitely move - a lot. I'll be dancing, my own way. These songs are one of the reasons I do not believe the material world is all there is.<br /><br /><i>In alphabetical order by artist:</i></span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Alvin Slaughter - "Speak Lord" (<i>Rain Down</i>, 2000)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Eldar Djangirov Trio - "Daily Living" (<i>Virtue</i>, 2009)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Eldar Djangirov Trio - "Exorcist" (<i>Virtue</i>, 2009)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Eldar Djangirov Trio - "Point of View Redux" (<i>Breakthrough</i>, 2013)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Pat Metheny Group - "The First Circle" (<i>First Circle</i>, 1984)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Pat Metheny Group - "A Place in the World" (<i>Speaking of Now</i>, 2002)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Pat Metheny Group - "As It Is" (<i>Speaking of Now</i>, 2002)</span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Snarky Puppy - "Lingus" (<i>We Like It Here</i>, 2014)</span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><div><br /></div></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Snarky Puppy - "What About Me?" (<i>We Like It Here</i>, 2014)<br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><div><span>Stephen Newby - "Prepare Ye The Way" (<i>Antioch Live</i>, 2001)</span></div><br />Terence Blanchard - "Transform" (<i>Bounce</i>, 2003)</span><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Touche Amore - "Flowers and You" (<i>Stage Four</i>, 2016)</span></div></div><div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;">Yanni - "Marching Season" (<i>Devotion</i>, 1997)</span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span>Yellowjackets - "My Old School" (</span><i>Twenty Five</i><span>, 2006)</span></span></div></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: medium;"><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OPa2p5b1BMGayBqPJ1x4WbeKwudFrtk7Jn_W4KMGFhttu2Cqh5VFtbyXynuuCexP41ONurNS3r_tDFEQvh2Ng4VXHb6_WTRqATZBbGdmqfhTbm1xLwWs3I9M0vNNOZ8WSrlXKdxGjEc/s700/Snarky+Puppy+-+We+Like+It+Here.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4OPa2p5b1BMGayBqPJ1x4WbeKwudFrtk7Jn_W4KMGFhttu2Cqh5VFtbyXynuuCexP41ONurNS3r_tDFEQvh2Ng4VXHb6_WTRqATZBbGdmqfhTbm1xLwWs3I9M0vNNOZ8WSrlXKdxGjEc/w400-h400/Snarky+Puppy+-+We+Like+It+Here.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-4305034132521949542017-06-02T15:27:00.000+08:002019-01-17T14:57:43.019+08:00Musician Bio<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLVBBh2Q9Ab2ms7yRr_0OzBblkfQQCfQvh" target="_blank">YouTube playlist</a> of Blair drumming</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Blair Daly has recorded on seven studio albums and toured in Rome, Prague, and twenty U.S. cities, including a performance at New York's Lincoln Center in the prestigious Essentially Ellington Jazz Festival</span><span style="font-size: large;">. He has performed with such prominent musicians as Larry Knechtel (Grammy-winning pianist on “Bridge Over Troubled Waters”), Terence Blanchard, Robin Eubanks, Thomas Marriott, Courtney Fortune, and Clipper Anderson.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Music has always been Blair’s security blanket. As a child, he was chaperoned to sleep by his mom playing the piano, or by a <i>Beethoven Lives Upstairs</i> cassette tape. The compulsively tapping nine-year-old enrolled in snare drum lessons and soon insisted on giving a performance for his third-grade classmates, drumming on a Frisbee taped to a wooden stool. Billy Joel’s “Piano Man” played endlessly on his bedroom stereo. His Discman’s primary occupants were REM, Nirvana, Green Day, and Reel Big Fish (Parental Advisory material courtesy of his older brother).</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />After a brief stint on the trombone, Blair started learning drum set at age fourteen using a hand-me-down kit emblazoned with “BEEF JERKY” on the kick drum. He purchased a Paiste starter cymbal pack, and while unloading it from the car the hi-hat cymbals slipped from his hands and rolled down the driveway, veering downhill and clattering past neighbors’ houses, finally smashing into a curb. Severely shaken and in tears, Blair feared this calamitous event meant he was destined to fail on drums. Yet, he stayed true to his AOL screen name – CaNtStOpDrUmMiN51 - and trained up enough to make the 8th grade jazz band.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Music soon became a vital source of self-confidence and an outlet for Blair's abundant energy. A summer of jazz trio gigs earned him enough cash to buy better drums. Nothing aided his development more than playing alongside older musicians and having freedom to improvise. While still in high school, he auditioned into the esteemed Bellevue College Jazz Band directed by decorated jazz educator Hal Sherman.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Harking back to his debut performance in third grade, Blair designed a STOMP-like drumming act, incorporating wooden stools, metal pans, and plastic water jugs, for a school-wide talent show. He won first place and the glory of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFrROuSztpc">performing</a> for 1,700 students at a school assembly. Blair also captained the drumline of his 215-member marching band.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />A treasured photo from college shows New Orleans trumpeter Terence Blanchard smiling at the audience and pointing toward the skinny kid on drums. Blair performed that night with a fractured left wrist; his cast barely fit through his suit sleeve.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Having played various genres over a span of 15 years, Blair’s current focus is on rock drumming with <a href="http://stubbornsonmusic.com/">Stubborn Son</a>. To his toolkit of technical proficiency and good ears he has added more punch and visual flamboyance, studying videos of Dave Grohl, Travis Barker, and Josh Dun.</span><br />
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Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-6856106313144229622016-01-14T17:05:00.002+08:002018-08-08T04:39:56.544+08:00The Grand Weaver<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ravi Zacharias published <i>The Grand Weaver: How God Shapes Us Through the Events of Our Lives </i>in 2007. Here are some excerpts from the book that are most meaningful to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Introduction</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Many people ask, "Why has God made it so difficult to believe in him? If I loved somebody and had infinite power, I would use that power to show myself more obviously. Why has God made it so difficult to see his presence and his plan?"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This is a fair and haunting question. Theologians refer to this as "the hiddenness of God". The skeptic uses stronger language, referring to him as the God who has absconded and left us with no visible sign of his existence.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">As much as the question <i>seems </i>powerful, however, I contend that the answers we give must remind the questioner that maybe, just maybe, the question itself hasn't been carefully thought through. For example, how often would we want God to reveal himself? Once a day? Every time there is an emergency? Would we like to hear a voice every now and then, saying, "Trust me"? The interesting thing about this demand is that some <i>have </i>seen God's presence; some <i>have </i>heard his voice - yet it did not make it any easier for them to believe.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Chapter 1 - Your DNA Matters</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To be able to accept the wonder and the marvel of one's own personality, however flawed or "accidental," and place it in and trust it to the hands of the One who made it, is one of the greatest achievements in life. ... Every little feature and "accident" of your personality matter. Consider it God's sovereign imprint on you.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Ch. 2 - Your Disappointments Matter</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It does not surprise me that the book of Psalms is the most read and most preached-from book in the Bible. In this book we read of every anguish the human heart has ever felt, every emotion that ever surged through the human breast, every betrayal ever experienced on the human scene, every foible and sin ever expressed by the human will. All of this comes to us primarily through David, a man who experienced it all. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The single most important thread in working through your disappointments is that your heart and mind ponder and grasp what the cross of Jesus Christ is all about. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Chapter 3 - Your Calling Matters</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sadly, the drive to become number one is often the very thing that ultimately destroys a person. It simply cannot deliver the fulfillment we seek. Story after story bears this out. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The goal is to find the threads God has in place for you and follow his plan for you with excellence. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sometimes it takes an entire lifetime to recognize God's calling. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What is a calling? A calling is simply God's shaping of your burden and beckoning you to service to him in the place and pursuit of his choosing. Finding your home in your service to Christ is key to noticing the threads designed just for you. It gives you that hand-in-glove sensation and provides the security of knowing that you are utilizing your gifts and your will to God's ends first, not for yours. When your will becomes aligned with God's will, his calling upon you has found its home. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Finding one's calling is one of the greatest challenges in life, especially when one has gifts that fan out in many directions. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">God often reinforces our faith <i>after </i>we trust him, not before. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Fortunately, the Christian walk is not a clueless journey that begins with conversion and ends with heaven, while we mark time in between. No, God has designed us to work for his honor. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Christian's walk involves all three areas of life - the spiritual, the practical, and the logical - which are not mutually exclusive. God is an immensely practical being who also guides us with wisdom and reason.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Because we are all priests before God, there is no such distinction as "secular or sacred". In fact, the opposite of sacred is not secular; the opposite of sacred is profane. In short, no follower of Christ does secular work. We all have a sacred calling. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">What is the first call for each one of us? It is to understand God's primary description of who and what we are. All the other accolades that people want to thrust at us are secondary. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In our callings, the ends can never justify the means. The means must justify themselves. This makes living as a Christian difficult because we often feel tempted to compromise our foundational beliefs in order to attain some pragmatic end. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In terms of Jesus' call on each of us, we are now that tabernacle and the dwelling place of God, a truth that is utterly unique and distinctive from all other faiths. ... We are the temple, and thus communion with God becomes personal and near. <i>That </i>is the backdrop of all of our callings. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Know that you are God's temple. Bathe your life in prayer. Live out your life in humility of spirit that serves for the right reasons. Seek the counsel and example of godly men and women. Finally, exhibit a commitment to the preeminence of Christ in all things. These are the components of a call. Self-glory, power, sensuality, and seduction of material gain impede such a call. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Chapter 4 - Your Morality Matters</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is critical to understand the similarities and foundational differences between various religions. In every religion except Christianity, morality is a means of attainment. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We simply do not want anyone else to dictate our moral sensitivities; we wish to define them ourselves. This is at the heart of our rejecting of God's first injunction. It has very little to do with the tree and everything to do with the seed of our rebellion, namely, autonomy. We wish to be a law unto ourselves. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I recall that Malcolm Muggeridge once said that human depravity is at once the most empirically verifiable fact yet most staunchly resisted datum by our intellectuals. For them, H2O as the formula for water is indisputable; but in ethics, man is still the measure - without stating which man. That is the fundamental difference between a transcendent worldview and a humanistic one.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">But the question arises as to what makes the Christian framework unique. Here we see the second cardinal difference between the Judeo-Christian worldview and others. It is simply this: no amount of moral capacity can get us back into a right relationship with God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Christian faith, simply stated, reminds us that our fundamental problem is not moral; rather, our fundamental problem is spiritual. <i>It is not just that we are immoral, but that a moral life alone cannot bridge what separates us from God</i>. Herein lies the cardinal difference between the moralizing religions and Jesus' offer to us. Jesus does not offer to make bad people good but to make dead people alive. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Approximately fourteen centuries before Christ (scholars debate the exact date), the Hebrew people received the Ten Commandments. An extraordinary first line gives the basis of the Ten Laws: "I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. You shall have no other gods before me" (Exodus 20:2-3).</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">To miss the preamble is to miss the entire content of the Mosaic law... Here the Hebrew-Christian worldview stands distinct and definitively different. <i>Redemption precedes morality, and not the other way around</i>. While every moral law ever given to humanity provides a set of rules to abide by in order to avoid punishment, the moral law in the Bible hangs on the redemption of humanity provided by God. ...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">No one is made righteous before God by keeping the law. It is only following redemption that we can truly understand the moral law for what it is - a mirror that indicts and calls the heart to seek God's help. This makes moral reasoning the fruit of spiritual understanding and not the cause of it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A humble spirit, as it honors God, realizes how near and yet how far it is from God. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">True fulfillment and the possibility of boundless enjoyment come when we do life God's way. We we do it our way, we only enslave ourselves. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Chapter 5 - Your Spirituality Matters</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We human beings are incurably religious. We long to worship and will even create our own objects of worship. Take a trek around the globe and you'll see this is proven. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is imperative that we know whether the object we worship truly deserves our worship and actually has the characteristics we ascribe to it. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jesus challenged three different types of spirituality: traditionalism, legalism, and superstition. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Modern Day Spiritualist: </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I find it fascinating how it has become worthy of a medal to say, "I'm a spiritual person." But what does that mean? I believe the speaker is saying, "I believe that there is such a thing as the spiritual beyond the physical - some combination of the mystical and the ethical. I believe that everyone must find something spiritual to hang on to in life." In the midst of these affirmations, however, two untruths get smuggled in. The first is that truth does not matter, only belief; and the second is that to be spiritual is to be Eastern.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />The death of truth has been the greatest casualty of our time. ... Without truth, spirituality is nothing more than a confession that sheer matter alone does not answer life's deepest hungers. ... Spirituality does not give relevance to to life; rather, truth gives relevance to spirituality. ... Truth, with its handmaiden of grace, was incarnate in Jesus Christ. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Ch. 6 - Your Will Matters</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The most important aspect of the Holy Spirit's presence: the power that he gives us to do God's will. "Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires; bit those who live according to the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires," writes Paul (Romans 8:5) </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You <i>Can </i>Walk in Obedience: </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We are fully capable of exercising our wills to do what we have set our minds to do. Just observe those who follow earthly leaders.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">This is where the hard questions of the Christian faith come to the fore. The gospel declares that the Holy Spirit brings about the new birth and that because of the Spirit's power within us, we gain the ability to do God's will. In other words, the new birth and the new walk are supernaturally bestowed. If by sheer power of the will even a "pagan" is able to comply with a tough set of rules for living, then what does it say of the Christian who supposedly is supernaturally endowed but lives a duplicitous life? This is a hard question for the believer to answer. Only in and through the power of the Holy Spirit is the Christian walk even possible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;">So where does one begin? With self-crucifixion. We bury the self-will so that God's will can reign supremely in our hearts. Our will his no power to do God's will until it first dies to its own desires and the Holy Spirit brings a fresh power within.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The ABCDs of a Willful Walk with the Lord:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><b>A</b>sk without pettiness</i> - The Bible tells us to </span><i style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">ask </i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">for the Holy Spirit.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>B</b>eing before doing</i> - I am a child of God related to my heavenly Father. I am not my own.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>C</b>onvictions without compromise</i> - A conviction is something rooted so deeply in the conscience that to change it would be to change the very essence of who you are.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i><b>D</b>iscipline without dreariness</i> - If one can only see the need for and fruit of discipline, one can understand why it offers such great rewards.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">G.K. Chesterton once said that there are many angles at which you can fall and only one angle at which you can stand straight. The next time you think about the power of your will, think not just of the immediate choice but of all the other compromises to which one ill-advised choice could lead.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Ch. 7 - Your Worship Matters</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You and I simply cannot serve two masters. Even the devil knows that [in Matthew 4 he schemes to transfer Jesus' worship from God to him]. Here is life's essential purpose - to worship God in spirit and in truth (see John 4:24). All other purposes are meant to be secondary. When they become primary, they destroy the individual.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To worship means "to bow down" and "to serve". Worship means "reverence and action"....Worship is ultimately "seeing life God's way".</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">With the dimensions of the eternal and the infinite and the uncaused, to conceive of God as one essence and three persons is not unfathomable. It legitimately stays within the realm of mystery. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The book of Acts gives us the five main components of worship: the Lord's Supper, teaching, prayer, praise, and giving.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We have been led to believe that music is the centerpiece of worship. It isn't. It is included in "praise", one of the <i>five </i>expressions of worship.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Prayer enables you to see your own heart and brings you into alignment with God's heart. Prayer is not a monologue in which we imagine ourselves to be communing with God. Rather, it is a dialogue through which God fashions your heart and makes his dream of you a reality. It is truly the treasured gift of the Christian that through direct answers and not-so-direct answers, the follower of Jesus begins to love God for who he is, not for what he may get out of him.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Those of us who have enough must learn the art and the heart of giving if we are to be true worshipers. Spending more on ourselves and giving less to the world in need may be the very reason few take our mission seriously.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><u>Ch. 8 - Your Destiny Matters</u></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Jesus' home was with the Father (see John 8:14-29; 12:44-50). Jesus talked a great deal about his mission on earth, but as he drew closer to the completion of that mission, he spoke often of returning to the Father, from whom he had come. Jesus told the disciples that he had prepared a place so that where he was they - and we - could also be (see John 14:2-4). This simple description of being at home with God is the ultimate destiny of the follower of Jesus Christ.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Do you recall how fearful the disciples had become after the death of Jesus? They went into hiding, half hoping the story had not yet ended but knowing full well that they had little prospect of any good news (see John 20:19). The women visited the tomb just to pay their respects; not for a moment did they expect to find that the tomb was empty and that Jesus would appear to them there.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">To not feel is to be dead in the truest sense of the term. To feel is to be alive. What is my destiny? It is to feel, to see, to have all of the senses finally converge in the fullest expression of purpose. Everything I feel and experience before I arrive at that heavenly home amounts to mere analogy. Everything in my heavenly home is consummate expression.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If Jesus were a charlatan or had deceived himself, he could have said, "I will spiritually rise again." Such a claim could never be proven false. But Jesus promised a bodily resurrection - a concretely demonstrable falsehood if it were not to happen. This is vitally important. Jesus made an empirically verifiable claim <i>and then fulfilled it</i>. This statement has profound implications. It means that these bodies of ours, which the apostle Paul describes as a "temple of the Holy Spirit" will some day be transformed to be like Christ's "glorious body," just as the Bible declares (Philippians 3:21). They will continue to exist and our individual identities and personalities will be translated into an eternal realm.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The design is beautiful. The promise is sure. The end result is profound. The answers will all be there. But the condition is clear: we must search for God with all our hearts. And when you are about to walk into eternity, may you also be able to say, as did my father-in-law, "Amazing! It's just amazing!"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">END</span></span>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-52329083977854658352016-01-02T15:38:00.002+08:002018-08-08T04:43:59.911+08:00Rafting a Borneo River<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><i>Shooting the Boh: A Woman's Voyage Down the Wildest River in Borneo</i> was published in 1992 and is written by Tracy Johnston. Her storytelling is excellent. I can relate to a lot of what she writes about the forest and a desire for adventure.</span><br />
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Here are my favorite passages from the book.</span><br />
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(re: the jungle and getting lost)</span><br />
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The river that ran right in front of the village was not the Boh, it turned out, but a tributary. We went down it in a dugout canoe, watching in vain for birds and monkeys and wildlife. It was my first inking that a rain forest - the ecosystem with the most wildlife per square inch of any place on earth - could seem like a monotonous blanket of green vegetation.... The jungle was ten feet away, and I decided to check it out.</span><br />
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I made my way overland without much problem, sliding through the bushes, grabbing hold of vines, climbing over fallen trees. The big trees had been cut down here, but there were plenty of creepers and woody vines, called lianas. My first surprise was how much of what I touched was rotten. The vines cracked off the trees, logs crumbled in my hands, and the earth was more like compost than dirt, hot and oxidizing. The tree canopy wasn't closed up over my head, so I knew I wasn't walking in primary rain forest, but the world around me was nevertheless a maze of leafy tangles.</span><br />
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After I had gone inland about fifty yards, I realized that everything looked the same and I should probably turn back. I remembered the line from Tom Harrison, the British paratrooper who had parachuted into the jungle during World War II: "Take two steps off the trail, get disoriented, and no one will ever see you again." I wasn't worried since I had headed in only one direction, away from the river; nevertheless, I turned around and started back, threading my way through the forest litter. But when I came to the river, there were no people and no boat, only the sound of the water lapping at the riverbank. I could see up and down the river or about twenty yards, and there was no sandbar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
I called out but no one answered, so I started making my way upriver, moving as fast as I could. When another turn revealed more monotonous, jungle-covered riverbank, I realized I had no idea if I was above or below the boat. My instincts were obviously wrong; I could be heading further and further in the wrong direction. Suddenly the jungle was hot and it seemed as if the creepers and the leaves were stealing my air. My T-shirt got caught in a prickly creeper and I had to use two hands and my teeth to get it unstuck. I was lost.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
....</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b>
<b>"It's amazing in there," I said when I rejoined the group, sweating, breathless. But no one asked me what I had seen. It didn't matter; I was thrilled. Part of the urge to explore is a desire to become lost</b>.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
pp. 44-45</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
++++++</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
(re: the fun of adventuring)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<b>Part of the fun of adventuring is going places and doing things people tell you not to.</b> I even liked the idea that we didn't really know what we were getting into on the Boh. Partly out of confusion and partly out of laziness, I've always thrived in an atmosphere of uncertainty. Whenever I take the random chances that come my way, life suddenly gets interesting. Besides, it's hard to lead a deliberate life, I've discovered, harder to create a challenge than accept one. And I hadn't completely given up the sense of security that seems to come as a birthright to Westerners: we'd paid our money; we had out return tickets; surely no reputable company would send us anywhere truly dangerous.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
p. 79</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
++++++</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
(re: remote places)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
One of my travel fantasies has always been to go someplace so remote that I'd be transported to another reality, the one that flourished on earth before the evolution of human technocrats. The only person I know to have done that is Eric Hansen, who spent seven months in Borneo traveling in the rain forest as the natives do - setting up temporary shelters, hunting and gathering food, adapting to the rhythms of the jungle as well as the villages and longhouses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
When Hansen finally reached a logging camp near the east coast, he was ushered into the bathroom of a missionary pilot and confronted by "a brand-new bar of Dove soap, a white porcelain washbasin, and a blue terrycloth handtowel with matching washcloth." His response was an almost uncontrollable urge to leap out of the window.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
<b>"The ultimate trip," I wrote in my journal that night - our third on the Boh - "would be to get that far out; far enough out there to be scared by a bar of soap."</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
p. 115</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
++++++</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
(re: loyalty to your spouse)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
[After the author, whose husband is not part of this trip, decides not to run one of the more dangerous rapids]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
"That was a fantastic run," said Howard. "Really great."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
"You missed the best rapid," Mimo said, shaking his head. But to my amazement I wasn't completely sorry I'd cast my lost with the wimps.<b> It felt good to send a message to my husband, to keep a promise I didn't have to keep.</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
p. 213</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
++++++</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
(re: when adventures are finished)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
"I can't believe I'm saying this," Linda said, "but I feel almost afraid to leave the river - <b>afraid that...I don't know; that everything after this is going to be a letdown.</b>"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
I knew what she meant. The moments of greatest intensity in life - whether they come from facing danger or falling love or being carried away with some kind of work - seem almost surreal when they are happening; they take place in slow motion and seem to crowd out ordinary reality. But then, when they're over, they seemed to have happened to someone else. Even on the Mahakam, when I thought back on the last ten days, I had only a dim sensual memory of what they'd felt like. Mostly I had a bunch of stories, a trace memory of dreamlike images, a feeling in my bones. What had seemed like another lifetime was about to become just another ten days in the discourse of ordinary life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
pp. 240-41</span>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-68828885183583431012015-11-05T02:57:00.001+08:002018-08-08T04:43:25.907+08:00New Friend Amira<span style="font-size: large;">(Written on 9/27/2011 in Terengganu, Malaysia)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />Today, as I routinely do, I ate Indian flatbread (<i>roti canai</i>) with curry at the shop across the street from the school where I teach. Less routine was that I made friend with a 5-year-old. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I was watching two little girls interact with their little baby cousin in a stroller, and they noticed me admiring their cuteness. Often little Malay girls, especially in a small town like Kuala Berang, will cower away from me. So I was floored (almost literally) when, as the two of them walked past me sitting there eating, the smaller one - maybe 4 or 5 years old - gave me a rock-solid punch, right in the shoulder! I was initially so flustered by this that my hand slapped down into my curry bowl, splashing the spicy orange sauce all over the table. My face must have shown a mix of shock, anger, and amusement, but the hilariousness of this bold little girl's action quickly sunk in. I started cracking up, utterly delighted by this strange occurrence. Equally delighted were the dozen or so laughing ladies in the shop who saw it all.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />I started talking with Little Miss Mike Tyson in basic Malay and learned that her name is Amira. I hope to see her at that shop again some time -- I snack there several times a week, after all. Oh, and when I asked the shopkeeper where in the world she learned to punch tall, foreign-looking strangers like that, he shrugged matter-of-factly: "television".</span>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-6281580456695822562013-12-13T13:04:00.001+08:002015-11-05T03:01:52.284+08:00Children of Ba Kelalan (Video)These moments in 2010 may be my most precious memories from 4 years in Malaysia.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-21158275118902578322011-08-11T16:44:00.000+08:002015-11-05T03:02:28.001+08:00Lucky Victim<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">During one of the past few nights a suspected drug addict tried to steal my motorbike, and I was very lucky he failed. The bike is usually parked just outside my house, but the past few days I'd been borrowing my school principal's car, so my bike was parked at her house. (I now realize that I was setting myself up to be a theft victim by parking it in plain sight along a main road, especially considering that my bike is a coveted model which is frequently stolen.) When I went to return her car and pick up the moto today, we discovered the damage. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The key mechanism is destroyed because the thief jammed some tool into it to try to turn on the engine. However, it was only a few minutes before several local guys showed up to lend a hand with some tools and technical knowledge of motorbikes. (I've consistently experienced this kind of helpfulness here.) Before long the guys had taken the bike half apart and completely removed the ruined key mechanism, which I now know isn't actually necessary in order to turn on the engine. Now my bike can be turned on and driven with no key at all until I buy a replacement key mechanism. Tonight the bike is parked outside my house once again, which is a very secure spot because there are two levels of security gates between the school's main entrance and my house. The folks said a better thief would have been able to steal the bike very easily, or at least remove and steal the engine and leave behind the wheels and frame, which is often done.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the local motorbike spare parts market here are key mechanisms which are more secure and harder to fudge with than the stock version. I plan to buy the "Nazi key," so called because the shaft of the key isn't flat but rather formed like a 3D swastika. From now on I'll always put a padlock through the front wheel brake rotor so the bike can't be driven or even pushed anywhere. I'll also always find a secure place to park it. I only need to prevent it from being stolen for another 3 months and then I'll relinquish it to its next owner before leaving Malaysia.</span>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-59911411808773272232011-02-21T23:46:00.001+08:002016-01-02T16:00:44.040+08:00The Toad<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:View>Normal</w:View> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves/> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:DoNotPromoteQF/> <w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:SnapToGridInCell/> <w:WrapTextWithPunct/> <w:UseAsianBreakRules/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/> <w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/> <w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> <w:Word11KerningPairs/> <w:CachedColBalance/> </w:Compatibility> <m:mathPr> <m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/> <m:brkBin m:val="before"/> <m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/> <m:smallFrac m:val="off"/> <m:dispDef/> <m:lMargin m:val="0"/> <m:rMargin m:val="0"/> <m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/> <m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/> <m:intLim m:val="subSup"/> <m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/> </m:mathPr></w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">(Based on a story related to me by a housewife in a remote village of Borneo)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">A young housewife in a rural village found a large toad sitting on her kitchen counter one morning. Frightened by the warty creature, she used her broom to shoo it out the open kitchen window. The following morning the toad was back. This time she whacked the disgusting annoyance out of the window, and when she went to sleep that night she made sure to shut all the windows and doors. She believed that would be the end of the toad.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">But day after day the toad kept returning, and the woman soon concluded that she was cursed. She began to pray that God would break the curse so that she would no longer be greeted each morning by that awful toad. Despite her solemn plea, there was no change; the toad was there every morning.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Growing increasingly depressed about her misfortune, the woman decided one evening to relate her troubles to a neighbor. As they sat down together in the neighbor’s kitchen over a cup of tea, two cockroaches scurried across the floor and under the cabinet. To the neighbor’s surprise, the young housewife shrieked at the sight and shivered in disgust, but she quickly calmed down and they went on sipping tea and chatting away.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The night was getting late and the woman finally mustered the courage to confide in her neighbor about the curse. As the details slowly came forth, the neighbor did not react with sympathy but rather with an informed grin. Amused by the young housewife’s distress, the neighbor gently<b> </b>inquired, “Did you know that toads eat cockroaches?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">That night the woman realized that she was not cursed but greatly blessed. Thanks to that toad, hers was the only roach-free home in the village.</span></div>
Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-23128258032972675102010-03-28T22:48:00.001+08:002015-12-02T15:40:37.669+08:00Outstanding Education in Marginalized Communities: The Ba Kelalan Story<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> <w:splitpgbreakandparamark/> <w:dontvertaligncellwithsp/> 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<b style="font-family: 'times new roman';"><span style="font-size: large;">I. Introduction</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Beginning in the year 2000 the Ba Kelalan Primary School (BKPS), which perpetually ranked among the lowest performing schools in the Malaysian state of Sarawak, began a process of transformation which culminated last year when it received the prestigious Commonwealth Education Good Practice Award. Considering the remote location of this school in the highlands of Borneo and the limited resources available, the school’s recent success has caught the attention of the education community. This paper tells the school’s story and attempts to identify what has made it so successful. It will be shown that the BKPS community has unified under a vision for excellence, has capitalized on its unique advantages, and has relentlessly maintained a positive mindset in order to prevent its disadvantages from being excuses for mediocrity.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">II. Background<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ninety-nine percent of the students at Ba Kelalan Primary School are Christian and of the Lun Bawang ethnicity. The Lun Bawang number only 40,000 worldwide and are concentrated in northern Sarawak, East Malaysia. BKPS students come from one of nine villages surrounding the school which collectively make up Ba Kelalan, tucked in the interior highlands of Borneo. The students’ families live quite simply with limited electricity and water supply. A large majority of their parents are farmers who are not educated beyond Form 3 (age 15). The people of Ba Kelalan are largely isolated from the outside world due to geography and virtually non-existent computer use and internet access. Getting to Lawas, the nearest town, requires either a five-hour trip by 4WD truck or a costly plane ride; neither of these options are totally reliable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">All of the students of BKPS live during the week in dormitories on the school grounds. They maintain rigid daily schedules and are supervised around the clock. On weekends they live at home with their parents who come to pick them up on Friday afternoons and bring them back on Sundays. Other than school holidays and weekends, the students spend all of their time either on campus or engaging in school activities outside of campus. This means that the teachers of BKPS have a great deal more access to their students than do the teachers of non-boarding schools. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">III. The Story<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">When Mr. Pudun Tadam became the headmaster of BKPS - his alma mater from the 1960s - at the start of the 2000 school year, the attitude of the villagers, the students, and even the staff was that, because of the serious disadvantages of being a rural school, academic excellence was beyond reach. Despite the efforts of the Ministry of Education, from 1990 to 1999 only about one quarter of the students each year passed the standardized public examination. The school campus had the basic necessities and was in acceptable condition, but nothing made it a special place where children would thrive. The classroom environments were plain, lacking physical and visual embellishment for the stimulation of learning and creativity. The school was in no way a reflection of the unique cultural traits of the Lun Bawang people. There was little to be proud of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Mr.Pudun determined that a complete paradigm shift was necessary. He held a radical belief that the school of his childhood harnessed the potential to rise up and defy all expectations. It could become not merely a good school, where the majority of students passed the standardized exam, but one of the absolute best schools in the entire nation, where students enjoyed learning and were outstanding in all fields. Mr. Pudun believed not only that it could be done but that it <i>must</i> be done if the Lun Bawang people of Ba Kelalan were to have a bright future. Education was the only way. So he set his mind on convincing others to come on board. He rewrote the school’s vision and mission statements, and he set very specific and ambitious goals for the Year 6 students’ performance on the standardized year-end exam.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">In Malaysia, children begin Year 1 of primary school at age 7 and finish Year 6 at age 12. Toward the end of each school year the Year 6 students take a cumulative exam, known as the UPSR (Primary School Exam), which covers the subjects of Math, Science, English, and Malay language. The results are the key way the Ministry of Education judges each school’s performance and compares one school to another. Outstanding performance on the UPSR can win Year 6 students entry into one of the public secondary schools exclusively for high achieving students, known locally as ‘Science’ schools.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">At the beginning of the 2000 school year, Mr. Pudun set a goal that the Year 6 students would achieve UPSR results that would rank them among the top ten schools out of the thirty-one schools in the Lawas District. That year they met their goal by leaping fifteen spots to rank eighth. The following year the goal was to rank in the top five, and again they succeeded by ranking third. In 2002 they determined to again rank among the top three in the district. That year their UPSR results landed them in first place, ahead of all other schools in their district. In a span of three years BKPS went from the bottom third in its district to the top-scorer.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This incredible turnaround did not go unrecognized, and in 2003 the Malaysian Ministry of Education awarded BKPS the Most Promising School Award. With their eyes opened widely to the potential within their children, the community was fully committed to perpetuating the newfound success. In 2007 the school received the Excellent School Award from the Ministry of Education. In 2009 BKPS was bestowed by the Ministry with Cluster of Excellence status, which comes with a large annual bonus for the school budget. Also in 2009, BKPS with its project titled “Community Participation for Achieving Quality Education in Difficult Circumstances” received the Commonwealth Education Good Practice Award. It was chosen among forty other nominated educational organizations from various countries throughout the British Commonwealth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">It is evident that under the leadership of Mr. Pudun and a core group of committed staff, the teachers began to believe that academic excellence was attainable, no matter the circumstances. In a short time this belief spread to the students and then to their parents as they witnessed improving exam results and growing enthusiasm for learning in their children. As the parents came on board, they began to volunteer their time and talents to improve the school under the direction of the school administrators. Once the community stepped up, the creativity of the people of Ba Kelalan was unleashed and the school’s appearance, inside and outside, was transformed under the two hallmark programs of Ba Kelalan Primary School, Musang and COMIC.<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">IV. Programs<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Above and beyond the standard curriculum, the school initiated and has maintained twelve programs designed to develop the students’ abilities in the three main subjects by which the Malaysian government assesses schools: academics, sports, and student welfare. Musang and COMIC will be explained first, followed by a brief mention of the other ten.<s><o:p></o:p></s></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Musang, meaning “teamwork,” is a Lun Bawang tradition whereby an individual or a family appeals to the surrounding community for assistance in completing a complex task. The community members volunteer their time and skills, expecting only a simple meal in return. Mr. Pudun realized that this concept in the blood of the Lun Bawang people was an asset to the school which should not go unutilized. The school could benefit from free voluntary service to help overcome its deficiencies in human and material resources.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Under the Musang program, the school administration outlines projects designed to build up and beautify the school compound. They then solicit help from the community to implement the projects and encourage the volunteers to carry it out their own way, allowing for a great deal of originality. Each of the component villages of Ba Kelalan is assigned to a different area of the schoolyard and asked to improve it. The volunteers clean up their areas, plant new flowers and trees, and even have erected wooden huts to serve as quiet, shaded places for students to read.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Communities in the Classroom project, or COMIC, follows the Musang concept, but volunteers work inside the classrooms rather than on the school grounds. Each village is assigned a classroom and asked to beautify it in a way appropriate for whichever age of students occupies that room. The volunteers have built mini ‘self access huts’ in the back of each classroom which are packed with pictures, posters, and reading materials. The huts’ designs reflect the unique architectural craftsmanship of men from the various villages and provide a one-of-a-kind physical enhancement to each of the classrooms. For both Musang and COMIC, representatives of each village are expected to come periodically for maintenance and improvement of their assigned areas.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">As these programs have been successfully carried out, new structures have sprang up on the campus and the classrooms have been filled with decoration. Recognizing that their community has unified to work on their behalf, the students are more motivated to do their part – to come to class every day and try their best.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The purpose of the remaining ten programs are as follows:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To give weaker Year 6 students a chance to succeed on par with their peers on the UPSR by providing them special instruction in the afternoons and evenings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To improve the school’s overall UPSR results by coaching Year 6 students on test-taking strategies and providing plenty of sample exam questions for practice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To develop good reading habits by giving incentives for students to read books on their own outside of class.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To ensure students’ mastery of the multiplication table through repetition of memorization exercises throughout the day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To motivate the students to speak English more in school by creating more opportunities for English interaction. University graduates from English-speaking countries come to BKPS for several month stints as volunteer teachers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To bring up excellent athletes by recognizing their talents early and coaching them effectively.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To help underperforming students master the basic necessary skills of reading and writing by providing remedial instruction outside of class.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To develop students who are independent and capable of caring for themselves by giving them daily chores and responsibilities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To keep the students continuously motivated to do their best through motivational presentations by teachers and outside visitors.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-size: large;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span><!--[endif]-->To build up the leadership capabilities of selected prefects through leadership training and by entrusting them with greater responsibilities.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Each program is routinely monitored and adjusted under the direction of a different staff member. Parents of children at Malaysia’s top urban schools commonly utilize private tuition to give their children extra instruction outside of class. With these programs BKPS students also receive after-school assistance, though it is free of charge and takes place inside the school.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">V. Advantages<o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Ba Kelalan Primary School has certain advantages which give it a leg up over other schools. There are few enough students in each class that the desks can be arranged in a U-shape, leaving an open space in the center. This facilitates better interaction between the teachers and students and among the students themselves. Teachers often invite the pupils to sit with them on the floor and approach learning more informally. Recognizing that these young students are away from their parents for much of the year and yearn to go home, teachers try to relate to students more like parents so that the children feel comfortable. This is all part of the administration’s goal for the students to like being at school as much as or more than they like being at home. This is the only way, they believe, to make sure all students stay in school without using coercion. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One cannot overstate the significance of the entire school community, other than a few Malay members of the staff, being Lun Bawang and belonging to the same denomination of evangelical Christianity. When the school administration plans events or service projects, they know without question that the villagers, most of whom do not have packed schedules like townsfolk, will come and participate. Locals say their strong religious convictions are paramount not only in unifying the community to serve the needs of the school but also in instilling obedience and proper values in their children. Discipline problems and bullying are rare.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Because of the remoteness and relative backwardness of Ba Kelalan, the children are not exposed to those harmful elements of society present in urban areas. Television, movies, and videogames are not available time-wasters, so the students read or play outside for entertainment. With pristine tropical rainforest lying just beyond the schoolyard gate, the students naturally take an interest in environmental science. The Parent Teacher Association of BKPS is quite robust and pitches in books and financial assistance. Overall, the staff takes full advantage of their 24-hour access to the students by planning a multitude of extra opportunities for them to learn beyond the daily class schedule.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">VI. Conclusion <o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Ba Kelalan Primary School has demonstrated that an outstanding quality of education can be provided even in remote and disadvantaged schools when the school community unifies under a vision for excellence. Though some of the reasons for the school’s success are unique to Ba Kelalan and are not transferable, the most significant ones can be practiced anywhere. Schools which want to emulate the success of BKPS can learn from its programs, can solicit the involvement of their communities, and should have the optimism and motivation to shoot for ambitious goals. The students, parents, and staff of any school must believe in their potential and insist that no obstacle be an excuse for poor performance.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-8874154062673843102009-05-24T00:33:00.007+08:002009-07-16T14:14:52.391+08:00Dead ComputerI apologize for the lack of updates. My travels since leaving <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">UNIMAS</span> have been wonderful, and I look forward to working on new posts to show and tell. My computer has been on its last legs recently and today it appears to have thrown in the towel. Unless something changes, the laptop is utterly useless and I cannot access my pictures. So new posts will have to wait until I return home and can fix it or have access to a different computer. For the next two weeks I'll most likely put nothing new up. As soon as I get a working computer, I'll get back to it with gusto.<br /><br />Recent and upcoming destinations:<br />May 10-14, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Mulu</span> National Park, Sarawak<br />15-17, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bandar</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Seri</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Begawan</span>, Brunei<br />18-20, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Lawas</span>, Sarawak<br />20-23, Ba <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Kelalan</span>, Borneo interior, Sarawak<br />24-27, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Kota</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Kinabalu</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Sabah</span><br />27-June 2, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Phnom</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Penh</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Siem</span> Reap, Cambodia<br />3-5 Bangkok, Thailand<br />5, HomeBlair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-86514525558292094992009-05-05T17:02:00.005+08:002009-05-19T11:22:33.304+08:00Goodbye to UNIMASToday I leave UNIMAS. I mailed home three 10kg boxes of stuff that should arrive in two weeks. My three exams last week went fine and I passed each of my classes. I bring back to Whitworth a mere nine credits but also a basic social proficiency in Malay and a wealth of unique experiences and new friendships.<br /><br />An only partly-planned but fully exciting one month of travel around several places in Sarawak, plus Kota Kinabalu, Cambodia, and Bangkok awaits. Very fortunately, there are friends or at least contacts almost every place I'm visiting. This should make learning and exploring easier, and I'll be safe and well taken care of. No worries, Mom.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332268851524840818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyi_XjTMHeXSM64KjzD3Jg4RYGOAGFA_d0zxB-_DiBBxpMrh-Cx3pLQjcdYTWI4iypKmHMakP8XPJMAU6iCCIMgAVBnunc_y6OT1dKJQeq7qShyphenhyphenSOQTZsDlTiPVuFrUQLYb8F3rzCiWkg/s400/IMG_4557.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfsvRrngCWWxH0liAg1NzQmbhI7iARFiCzZ1_rH2kIpvL9v6i_3nYB17eB9F4PyMS3ejT02GM8RLfMmgscnKJuG9kGT_1rt96cUkaR1-SJWimlguSkOWPOJ-u0zvRxvFtcqWHTkFBvs8/s1600-h/IMG_4537.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332268849141373938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfsvRrngCWWxH0liAg1NzQmbhI7iARFiCzZ1_rH2kIpvL9v6i_3nYB17eB9F4PyMS3ejT02GM8RLfMmgscnKJuG9kGT_1rt96cUkaR1-SJWimlguSkOWPOJ-u0zvRxvFtcqWHTkFBvs8/s400/IMG_4537.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMkDZWWgvk7KrdLbPf4if9fqmIbSBdV7TE-MUEVmaPcVj5y1rEL-i-EwmkAFixUMX7vTtdXp6K2Qg-hh4AJ1ntzEplNiz-VyjL4AAspJcAg4IiGhzI1Di4H-9bB6PQm1GwkaExWtfNL8M/s1600-h/IMG_4538.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332268839512860370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMkDZWWgvk7KrdLbPf4if9fqmIbSBdV7TE-MUEVmaPcVj5y1rEL-i-EwmkAFixUMX7vTtdXp6K2Qg-hh4AJ1ntzEplNiz-VyjL4AAspJcAg4IiGhzI1Di4H-9bB6PQm1GwkaExWtfNL8M/s400/IMG_4538.JPG" border="0" /></a></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-66483392817650525202009-04-24T08:37:00.024+08:002009-04-26T18:57:59.868+08:00Bali (Pt. 3 of 3)Rafting, reggae, and relaxing occupied the bulk of my fourth and fifth (and last) days in Bali.<br /><br />I mentioned that Eddie – the go-to guy for arranging activities at Jati Home Stay – hits up every guest regardless of age or apparent interest to go rafting because he earns commission. I for one was happy to oblige.<br /><br />Payung Rafting is, so they say, the best and longest-running of nine companies that profit from the rapids of Bali's Ayung River. As with the cycling tour the day before, I was picked up in the morning and brought by van to the starting point, in this case a small equipment shack near a Hindu temple and, of course, the river.<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328069884107215170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis_wzybDgVhv-2k7WkV_la1rntCS-gphGUQhudJyRoyUg1pF1teeB33Dx2gVncZDT2LAf4FW1dQlRKG2a7MRc2Ah-B8jTcWME790AlcNzUXeWiQhm2fZVPpWPCJELb461SsT3ln-nzMOc/s400/IMG_2820.JPG" border="0" /> After hydrating and taking our helmets, lifejackets, and paddles, we descended 375 steps down the steep canyon wall to the river. In my boat was a honeymooning Californian couple whom I greatly enjoyed talking and joking with. (I have met fewer than ten Americans so far while abroad, and these were some interesting, relatable folks.) Two Hungarian ladies plus our guide Agus rounded out the boat.<br /><br />This company's 10km stretch of the Ayung begins a bit further upriver than the others'. Agus boasted that their stretch includes right off the bat a 2m drop, the largest of the day, whereas others put in downstream from it.<br /><br />The two-hour trip included two stops along the river. The first was to admire artistic rock carvings in the riverbed.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328069160260583986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXgDEHLBdhUmYED1FMjBc66h8bCdnqXmRZt0bU-TbCkrKm99UWhZi-W4Ng9LbqaSySM-2XdHxPg-kbLy1BD4Rtp2fkOBBOgfujDimV7zbBymRKmFYCoCxvpnAUI9-wuxPrSjw1Xeu7uHA/s400/IMG_2823crop.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQ6FLfqKaeCAdPJIhza_hcuECxhDNcn4eVzdwdTaDsBrYlmmcNdUMd8Iqr6Xjb5usPo_xaTOTdeQH5NrOWFVBeyaJQ5IuNGEQBPWSg6vzG1qrnUVs2_HmZqciUDamunQr4N-O0tXKvXQ/s1600-h/IMG_2829.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328069156046059394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiQ6FLfqKaeCAdPJIhza_hcuECxhDNcn4eVzdwdTaDsBrYlmmcNdUMd8Iqr6Xjb5usPo_xaTOTdeQH5NrOWFVBeyaJQ5IuNGEQBPWSg6vzG1qrnUVs2_HmZqciUDamunQr4N-O0tXKvXQ/s400/IMG_2829.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzUTF_5wohZ_XztXtznDHPqGGPUvl9g8IBB9AAzzWvCcY7tk5-8QSG9IzpHRa3Rs8Uz9Yq2hvkrBLV6zJ5ONMdG_I66NbTCLZRj9WSY0x0zMURiilj6blvFZhjTHPWT7tPtZqhs3ifY4/s1600-h/IMG_2835.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328069153703196658" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNzUTF_5wohZ_XztXtznDHPqGGPUvl9g8IBB9AAzzWvCcY7tk5-8QSG9IzpHRa3Rs8Uz9Yq2hvkrBLV6zJ5ONMdG_I66NbTCLZRj9WSY0x0zMURiilj6blvFZhjTHPWT7tPtZqhs3ifY4/s400/IMG_2835.JPG" border="0" /></a> The second stop was to play underneath a waterfall. The crushing force of the water on my head was intense when helmeted and almost too much to bear helmetless. Trying to stand my ground underneath the mighty waterfall as it attempted to push me away was an amusing challenge.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeeLlz06dRscHnXiL1H6PvvHNJK_qJKN9-zBBJ-SkaRnjYONpUbvJErYdzgNhgTnDbY3dOVq2Dk6uvk-TqcZKnb9xmhjGRtxNnBj9Ck5yaEdJzVryBQG8_jgv2fkwTChknOrSF8OfJW0/s1600-h/IMG_2844crop2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328067514959149522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 358px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbeeLlz06dRscHnXiL1H6PvvHNJK_qJKN9-zBBJ-SkaRnjYONpUbvJErYdzgNhgTnDbY3dOVq2Dk6uvk-TqcZKnb9xmhjGRtxNnBj9Ck5yaEdJzVryBQG8_jgv2fkwTChknOrSF8OfJW0/s400/IMG_2844crop2.JPG" border="0" /></a> What I liked best were the splash wars between boats and the calm sections of the river when it was safe to flop overboard and just float belly-up in the cool water. The beauty of the green vegetation on the near-vertical canyon walls was unforgettable.<br /><br />After finishing rafting, I was thankful for my fitness as the oh-so-steep hike back to the top gave some of us problems. During lunch they showed the video of our trip. It had been filmed by a man in a kayak who over and over would zoom past us to the next ideal spot from which to capture the action. I liked the sound track and actually thought the movie was quite well done – not to mention that I happened to <em>kind of</em> be the star (by no fault of my own, of course) – so I bought the VCD. A great souvenir, I think, in addition to the incense, percussion instruments, and books on pantheist spirituality that I bought while in Bali.<br /><br />That night I again met Juanita and Ingelin for an ultra-cheap dinner. I kept the Coke bottle as a souvenir because it actually had Indonesian (same as Malay) writing on it (which for the life of me I cannot find in Malaysia) but I was forced to give it up – <em>an empty bottle!</em> – by security at the airport. It was immature, but that might have been as upset as I've gotten while abroad. I suppose the glass was the problem.</p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328065823749490130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLbKyipZy9UFl3gEfYx0eV4X0DxO84tyncen60HAStVT0e7pRX7NMFAvvXrFGTrdEZpOk5M61a0CPc-iMK6WpMn9_DkXJUcyb5P3gGPhAQZCej3nFH35StvaKe6WFyD8UmEvJbYkQsxvo/s400/IMG_2946.JPG" border="0" /> Then we went for reggae music and drinks at a restaurant there in Ubud. I thought the band was great, and I'm pleased to report that I was actually the one to suggest to the girls that we get up and dance. I recognized the band's keyboard player as the guy who had sold me percussion instruments earlier that day, so I went up to say hi. Before I knew it I was jamming on djembe with the band and even given some stop-time over which to solo. The girls' mild reactions seemed to convey that I'd have to try harder if I wished to impress them.</p><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328065255031725506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYjY36nCJXk46riQIHhNyy__XT5gC9rQTvVIgcTH9VkyLhuROh_RyqmEc1clm2I0wesP7UnBh8vGwviUNVL8yPRHFBe3wYjdCl8kymYleCW6jj9evfHRnEV95djUPoMXNpZG-kvqnIGNE/s400/IMG_6759crop.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQf_5_56TzB2MgKtU6HE0UkzzF39ZLUlBsefBcq0_hktEI-AvV0lNA6PXaL0D387llMD7XiBETPmFdhSnyG2lPRajaH5Oksyly9kJwtiiPCUjPC5dmFU5U5kHTDnQDJbOwp7AvPtSZ90/s1600-h/IMG_6760crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328065249341616354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 309px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsQf_5_56TzB2MgKtU6HE0UkzzF39ZLUlBsefBcq0_hktEI-AvV0lNA6PXaL0D387llMD7XiBETPmFdhSnyG2lPRajaH5Oksyly9kJwtiiPCUjPC5dmFU5U5kHTDnQDJbOwp7AvPtSZ90/s400/IMG_6760crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-nPiWJF5YY0PTGMsNCMGUKjImcOoH3cx6oDgHGVkW0yyp6NZvUrEN-meICd4ocZw57WtKKRoQL8NjUaqkHuU9dEITNViRHBJ36JM0Fd3E0JHsoQQvJzzKU-AlYYdQtefaVqgugHJ82CU/s1600-h/IMG_6752.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328065250149555650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-nPiWJF5YY0PTGMsNCMGUKjImcOoH3cx6oDgHGVkW0yyp6NZvUrEN-meICd4ocZw57WtKKRoQL8NjUaqkHuU9dEITNViRHBJ36JM0Fd3E0JHsoQQvJzzKU-AlYYdQtefaVqgugHJ82CU/s400/IMG_6752.JPG" border="0" /></a>Everywhere I went in Bali the locals were setting out little leaf-made offering baskets. Though they are typically small and square, the size and shape of the offering baskets vary, as do their contents and the number set out per day. They are placed on sidewalks, in entryways, or on little shrines and are meant to return to the gods a bit of what has been given.<br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328056814624618082" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzu9bPm8PngY0OCrBj9nauQSryKSCMe4YGrjIcjBegnngYjnjGThVJ7QK8TLVMsQ1HH1BAvVexaxxUHiIYDxEXpRNXIAZKWh2emRHZjDyp3_N5yctZZvjMZkzDyfubJuQUZfq0WZRA_HI/s400/IMG_2871.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryblALWR4hkz-INMEjPFjRIdwORhGIRnq-iUMHGc5IOdVHp4bZ5thgT3Y4f6BHGvp_SjGIDWOP7H4o-KMvZOxHeFa7ffSakW4lbZBaI03MzgoG7xdwr9q_5yBzbSIQE8d3OQr8Tf_fgM/s1600-h/IMG_2585crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328056811127714178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgryblALWR4hkz-INMEjPFjRIdwORhGIRnq-iUMHGc5IOdVHp4bZ5thgT3Y4f6BHGvp_SjGIDWOP7H4o-KMvZOxHeFa7ffSakW4lbZBaI03MzgoG7xdwr9q_5yBzbSIQE8d3OQr8Tf_fgM/s400/IMG_2585crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFjrGUZHD29gcDw2jjhzSkM42O0c_sUK6HnV6rP3vW2wEVG8eKZhfNuC4qC-bDDApJ5VtwNbcGAByJzq6wr6bvpCQnB7wFZ6uX8K0cWpZEkwiIiGdqNb1KCgpcF1Ze_YDVwKeawMeoXM/s1600-h/IMG_2851.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328055787405583314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFjrGUZHD29gcDw2jjhzSkM42O0c_sUK6HnV6rP3vW2wEVG8eKZhfNuC4qC-bDDApJ5VtwNbcGAByJzq6wr6bvpCQnB7wFZ6uX8K0cWpZEkwiIiGdqNb1KCgpcF1Ze_YDVwKeawMeoXM/s400/IMG_2851.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhNK06kyAek83_LuefNuC-yUS7mzs_HN5bOJe_eAylNj1tWDj5pU8LCP1usJ7MpTvaVKVFIDNWJ45IUb2dzLTSp60w-PbZF0dprvecXu3ERG1le1vyQPwLi2MBh0lhfVSWfxaYiPnLTg/s1600-h/IMG_2592crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328055783603925618" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 249px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPhNK06kyAek83_LuefNuC-yUS7mzs_HN5bOJe_eAylNj1tWDj5pU8LCP1usJ7MpTvaVKVFIDNWJ45IUb2dzLTSp60w-PbZF0dprvecXu3ERG1le1vyQPwLi2MBh0lhfVSWfxaYiPnLTg/s400/IMG_2592crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> The following day, my last full one, we did some final exploring around Ubud, checking out the claustrophobia-inducing main bazaar.<br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328054583330893954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo52ULVsEWSbwsMMMUKKoU4SajPSNYVuHMQcQbSITgKyRDHuqkyZlB9nMo2lrPEvCxyvXxZ0F3yBVQC6vgo6jTXMUsQsRM1SK3gwRNgprzHO5-gjTERJj2lL2AB_VxbEa99f9bMwYQAg/s400/IMG_6788.JPG" border="0" /> Then we hired transport to get us back near the airport to the town of Sanur, bargaining the cost from 180,000 rupiah down to half. Our driver was hysterical. He asked for both of the girls' email addresses "so he could improve his English," and they prudently provided fakes.<br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328053569985576354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsHNpCeAyfw6WkRAq04z-GjaCFP-lgVfN_StRMtjJmEjFsbKn0nZwuH0cSekNWQX8KiSnHjMnF2g0Nkx_o72QHyH5HqFbGy9m_wbRrXx6mRrYXM11AsjweYgbzEzeu-7Yz9WyhA9Ff6-0/s400/IMG_6839.JPG" border="0" /> </div><div>In Sanur we hurried to the beach to get there before the sun completely set, having heard that <em>this</em> was the spot to find a nice beach. We were dumbfounded that hardly anyone was there when we arrived, and the low tide revealed hundreds of feet of unattractive sand and seaweed in front of the water's edge. It must be that all the good beach activity is done well before sunset. Instead of swimming we lay down and talked. I learned to count to ten in Norwegian.<br /><br />We found dinner at a restaurant featuring live Irish music that I very much enjoyed. The European girls were familiar with far more of the songs than me, an American with admittedly a healthy dose of Irish blood. An impossibility in Kuching, this restaurant was at the time patronized by exclusively white tourists.<br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328052069836926754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVahMAigjJHT3R0uRqwYMnmgDVwxDmnfKHv6-xQhys05Q3IuQIBn8EwaVJiMwe9PAWjiqnUgn-UawttUkwqXKrDZks25C7uoJjSOSTcq-OXtPHHN-WH3X8vybTgw4TZgwoN3S9Bx77fX4/s400/IMG_6847.JPG" border="0" /> The next morning I finished packing, we said our goodbyes, and I caught a beat-up taxi-van to the airport. Off to Jakarta for the shortest of visits to some new friends.</div><div></div><div></div><div>-----------------<br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>-----------------<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxnZmpKf0IQ5NpdP1rdpO_5ckyQUQAfCAgD6PC-fPrgSEqfyZQVuvX8EVM7k8zcyYPJThcnUgsTgPTmM_EZvSQAKIZ_JdS8XfiK6cF98qVXBj6k1utIG9TyWKV86AGbSzZkoetugVQ1LM/s1600-h/IMG_2590.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328051473818598322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 352px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxnZmpKf0IQ5NpdP1rdpO_5ckyQUQAfCAgD6PC-fPrgSEqfyZQVuvX8EVM7k8zcyYPJThcnUgsTgPTmM_EZvSQAKIZ_JdS8XfiK6cF98qVXBj6k1utIG9TyWKV86AGbSzZkoetugVQ1LM/s400/IMG_2590.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-7996026822604033452009-04-15T04:08:00.009+08:002009-04-15T05:04:36.104+08:00Mr. PeterFor my Malaysian Social History course, a partner and I were assigned to interview someone of the older generation who had stories to tell and to write a report about what we learned. Below I have pasted the report. It totaled almost ten pages double-spaced, so this is a very lengthy blog post.<br /><br />Introduction<br />The Bidayuh people of Sarawak, Malaysia live in towns and villages around the capital city of Kuching (Wikipedia 1). An alternate name for Bidayuhs, meaning 'inhabitants of land', is Land Dayaks, a name given during the reign of James Brooke. The Bidayuh are the second largest Dayak ethnic group behind the Iban. Bau district is one of five near Kuching where most Bidayuh villages are found. The authors of this report, Haslina Jais and Blair Daly, were fortunate to meet and interview Peter Tiwet anak Tuen, a Bidayuh and a longtime resident of Kampung Tanjong in Bau, Sarawak.<br />The town of Bau is 30km southwest of Kuching and is known for its historic gold mines which were discovered by Chinese miners in the 1840s (Wikipedia 2). The mines were closed in 1921 by which time all the easily extractable gold had been removed, but when hard times hit during the Great Depression Chinese miners headed back in for whatever profit could be made. Since then, several different companies have controlled the mines and made them operable off and on through the present day.<br />On Saturday February 14th and Sunday March 8th the authors of this report drove approximately one hour from the UNIMAS campus northwest to Kuching and then southwest to Bau. Kampung Tanjong is where our interviewee Peter grew up and has lived for the past thirty years. As far as we know this village has no major historical importance. It was among several Bau villages that made the news this year in early January because its residents were being told to prepare for evacuation due to flooding. The number of people living here has declined from over 300 thirty years ago to less than 200 today due to fewer and fewer young people choosing to make their homes and raise their families in the village.<br /><br />I. Birth, Japanese Occupation<br />Peter's birth took place in circumstances quite dissimilar to those of the authors. He was born in 1944 inside a home in the foothills of Mt. Singai. His mother did not benefit from the modern technology or medicinal comforts that hospitals provide but rather was aided by other women who had already gone through the process. Tiwet was the name given to Peter by his father, Tuen, and all of his children retain this name as their last name (e.g. Gloria anak Tiwet); however, Peter has preferred the Christian name he was given by his priest upon being baptized at a young age in the Catholic Church.<br />In Sarawak, the war breaking out in Europe in 1939 seemed a long way off and not likely to affect the country any more than World War One had (Rawlins 1965, 139). Britain, who had promised protection to Sarawak, sent a small group of Punjabi soldiers here, but no one thought this Borneo state would soon be engulfed in the war (Rawlins). In fact, many were busy preparing for Sarawak's centennial celebrations just a few years before Peter was born. (Englishman James Brooke was handed control of Sarawak by the soon-to-be Sultan of Brunei, Rajah Muda Hassim, in 1841. By 1941 Sarawak was still ruled by the Brooke family, specifically James' second nephew's son Charles Vyner.) The centennial celebrations took place in September; by the year's end Sarawak was under Japanese occupation. Not only Sarawak but also Hong Kong, Malaya, Singapore, the Philippines, and Indonesia fell to the unexpected Japanese offensive in a matter of weeks in late 1941. Kuching was captured on Christmas Day.<br />The Japanese takeover of Sarawak during World War Two did not much affect Peter personally – as it came to an end when he was one year old – but it did negatively impact his family. He views that brief period as a time of severe hardship for the people of Sarawak, including the Bidayuhs of Kampung Tanjong. Japanese soldiers were a constant threat to their livelihood and well being, creating an environment of fear. Tending to be highly suspicious of the locals, soldiers punished villagers brutally if they perceived the slightest threat or sign of disrespect, being known to beat people for failing to bow to them in deference. Peter's father experienced their wrath firsthand. He asked a man sitting next to him in a restaurant whether the rumor was true that the Japanese would soon be leaving. This stranger turned out to be working for the Japanese. Peter's father's question was reported, and he was beaten and left for public humiliation outside the courthouse in Kuching. Rapes of village women and girls were not uncommon. To make girls less attractive, parents would intentionally avoid washing their daughters and would smear their hair and faces with dirt. Peter's parents routinely hid his older siblings in a secret compartment inside their chicken coop whenever the soldiers came around.<br />Common goods like food and clothing were much harder to come by as a result of the Japanese occupation. The overall disturbance to the economy caused by the military occupation made markets scarce and food less affordable. Some shops in Bau and Kuching were robbed and then destroyed. The inaffordability of food combined with Japanese soldiers feeling free to confiscate any village's crops forced the people of Kampung Tanjong to rely more on bartering and on collecting food such as fruit and roots from the jungle. Peter's family had to eat a diminished quantity and variety of foods, so their diets lacked nutrition. Days of eating nothing but rice mixed with tap water and salt were not unknown.<br />Not only commerce but also communication, transportation, and education were interrupted from 1941-1945. Normal modes of contacting the world outside the village were cutoff by the Japanese who were wary about allowing too much unmonitored interaction. New roads were built only if they facilitated Japanese consolidation of the land. Peter's father often had no choice but to remain in the village. Schooling was not a priority of the Japanese administration, so Peter's older siblings were for the most part denied this right during the occupation.<br />Peter was one year old in September 1945 when the Australian army entered Kuching and the Japanese formally surrendered.<br /><br />II. Schooling, Sarawak Becomes a Colony, Communists<br />Despite being a bright student who was twice promoted to skip a year, Peter was educated only through primary school. He attended St. Peter's missionary school, a short walk from his home, where his teacher was a local but the medium of instruction was English. Many Bidayuhs in Peter's generation attended English medium missionary schools. This explains why their grasp of the English language is usually equal to or better than their grandchildren's, many of whom have gone to Malay medium government schools. Peter moved to a different village to complete Primary Six, but he did not advance beyond that into secondary school or university. His mother died when he was a child and his father remarried and was not concerned about his education. Without a mother and father to guide him at a young age, he says it is only by the grace of God that he has generally made good decisions and turned out alright. He spent a few idle years "just being a boy" back in Kampung Tanjung before taking a job at age seventeen. He collected specimens and blood samples of jungle animals and handed them over to be sent to a research institute at the School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine in England. This was from 1960 to 1963, during which time Sarawak was a British colony.<br />When Rajah Vyner Brooke returned to Sarawak in 1946 after the defeat of the Japanese he had already decided to cede Sarawak to Britain (Rawlins, 142). The place was in bad condition with hungry people, disorganized trade, neglected plantations, and inactive oilfields. Peter's family felt the effects of Sarawak lagging behind the world in development, with revenue being insufficient to support services like education, health, and roads. These tasks, thought Vyner Brooke, could be better managed by a colonial power like Britain. Additionally, the Rajah was getting old and had no sons and no heir to which he thought fondly of handing over Sarawak. For these reasons he recommended cession. The bill passed the State Council by a narrow margin and Sarawak became a British colony in July of 1946 (Rawlins, 145).<br />It was not long before the growing communist activity in Sarawak became the number one enemy of the British administration. The most intense conflict took place in the 1950s when random communist bombings would kill a small number of people here and there and British troops retaliated by stepping up the intensity of their manhunts. Severe Emergency Regulations were enacted in Malaya starting in 1948 and lasting twelve years (INSAN 1979, 139). As during the Japanese occupation, this was a scary time to be a villager around Kuching. Security was very tight and once again freedom of communication and movement were interrupted. Peter's family had been warned about the evils of communists by the British, but Peter's father decided it was in the best interest of his family to accommodate both sides of the conflict rather than make any enemies. He helped feed, hide, and inform four communists in particular who over time became friends of the family. They hid deeper and deeper in the jungle as the British stepped up their searches, offering rewards to those who gave useful information and threatening those perceived to be aiding communists. One night the four communist friends were actually caught and killed when the British raided their camp. This all took place during Peter's childhood.<br /><br />III. Bidayuhs, Eventful 1963, Work<br />Returning to the subject of the Bidayuh people, the 1960 census recorded Land Dayaks, or Bidayuhs, as Sarawak's fourth most populous ethnic group behind the Sea Dayaks or Iban (32%), the Chinese (31%), and the Malays (17%) (Rawlins, 189). They made up 8% of Sarawak's population, but the category of Land Dayaks encompassed several indigenous groups found in southern Sarawak that are broadly similar in language and culture (Wikipedia 1). Bidayuhs have and continue to live in what used to be Sarawak's First Division, within 40km of Kuching, and are closely related to groups across the Indonesian border in West Kalimantan (Wikipedia 1). Tradition holds that Bidayuhs live on forested hills and even mountain tops for protection from Iban pirates who used to attack them (Rawlins, 191). Hence the family joke that Peter was born on top of Mt. Singai, which towers above Kampung Tanjong.<br />The year 1963 was momentous for both Sarawak and Peter. Sarawak achieved full independence as a member state of the Federation of Malaysia. Peter believes this change could neither be said to be generally good nor bad for his family and fellow villagers; rather, it presented a range of pros and cons. One positive result was that the "Borneoisation" of the state administrative government, which was called for especially by the federal government of Malaysia, meant that many new government posts opened up as they were vacated by British. On the negative side, Sarawak joining Malaysia meant that some of its people were subject to forms of discrimination and unequal treatment based on race that they had not experienced prior. Peter is critical of Kuala Lumpur's focus on the development of cities at the expense of sufficient attention to rural areas.<br />Also in 1963, nineteen year old Peter got married and landed a new job working as a caterer in the mess hall of the 99 Gurkha Brigade stationed at Green Road in Kuching. This British contingent was present mainly to defend Sarawak from Indonesia which was expressing hostile displeasure over Sarawak's joining of Malaysia. Peter's wife also gave birth to their first child in 1963. These three major events in Peter's life at age nineteen remind us of the social transformation that has taken place. Today it is very uncommon for young Sarawakians to wed, take a full time job, and have their first child all before turning twenty years old.<br />Peter liked his job working for the British army for three years because they treated him nicely, praised his English speaking, and tipped well. At the time he was renting an eighteen ringgit per month room in Kuching for his family of three. He was sorry that in 1966 the brigade was apparently no longer needed and was relocated to another country. They asked Peter to come along, but, being a family man and unfamiliar with the world outside Kuching, he declined. He proudly reports that they threw him a going away party during which he was honored with a plaque bearing his name and a word of gratitude for his fine work.<br />Peter immediately found a new job as a bar steward at the high-class Sarawak Club. Over a period of fifteen years he worked his way up to Acting Assistant Manager, a position which encompassed the jobs of storekeeper, public relations officer, chief steward, and purchasing officer. This was a man with no high school education but a good head on his shoulders and an honest work ethic. Having served there for so long, Peter was entitled to be promoted to the position one step higher of Assistant Manager which carried more prestige and paid better. He felt cheated when the nephew of a Sarawak government minister was appointed to the job instead. This man was university educated but had little experience, and when he came to Peter to ask for advice on how to do his new job, a betrayed Peter told him to "Go to hell!" Peter suffered a severe stroke and nearly died in 1977, but fortunately the Club helped pay for the emergency care Peter received in Kuala Lumpur. In 1988 Peter's stepfather passed away and he felt it was proper for him to return to the village to manage the paddy, the fruit trees, and the family, as his stepfather had done. Peter quit his job at the Sarawak Club, but before long he regretted this decision because he quickly ran out of money and realized how high-paying his job had been. He went back to work in 1992 as a driver for an economic development corporation known as P.P.E.S. that was closely affiliated with the Sarawak government. The job provided him some flexibility and acceptable pay as he drove the company executive around Kuching. Peter held this job until his retirement in 2005 at age sixty.<br /><br />IV. Opinions<br />In addition to sharing his work experiences and his perspective on significant periods in Sarawak's history, Peter also volunteered opinions on a few topics about which he obviously feels very strongly.<br />Peter is defensive of the British and of missionary schools. He thinks that maligning the reputation of the colonial power and saying that they are the source of Sarawak's relative backwardness are easy to do today but are ultimately unfair. Governments should be judged according to their historical context, he says, and the colonial government did what it could to develop Sarawak given the resources it had. Peter went to an English medium missionary school and most of his children and grandchildren did also. He feels uneasy about the incorporation of missionary schools into the national school system, citing a rumor he heard that Muslim prayers are now being recited alongside Christian ones at a historic missionary school in Kuching. Because medical terms are all in English and so many Malay words are borrowed from the English language anyway, Peter thinks the Malaysian government's switch to using Malay as the medium of instruction in schools may not have been wise.<br />In his view Malaysia is not fully democratic. Having a list of "sensitive issues" about which free and open discussion is not allowed is inconsistent with democracy. Peter dislikes the Internal Security Act and perceives it to be a threat even to him, as he expressed genuine fear that he could be arrested for some of the things he was telling the interviewers. Overall, Malaysia's biggest political problem is that the government does not treat its citizens equally. He would like to see a strong leader emerge in Malaysia capable of unifying the people and in favor of treating all Malaysians like one family with no favoritism.<br />Additionally, Peter voiced that common refrain from the older generation that society has gotten more and more dangerous over time. For example, it is no longer safe for girls to walk by themselves at night in Kuching.<br /><br />Closing<br />The authors of this report were very grateful for the opportunity to interview Peter who has lived well beyond both of our ages combined. It helped us to put a human face on significant periods in Sarawak's recent history and was a worthwhile exercise in Malaysian social history.<br /><br />Interview Information, Challenges<br />Peter is the grandfather of a classmate and friend of the authors. This explains how we found, contacted, and obtained interviews with him. We met him on two occasions, February 14th and March 8th, at his thirty-year-old home in Kampung Tanjong, Bau for approximately two hours each. Along Highway 1, the village is the first one on the right after passing over Spora River headed west.<br />The process went smoothly with no major challenges. We were fortunate to find an older gentleman who is not shy about sharing stories and opinions and communicates so well in the English language, as one of the authors understands Malay and English while the other knows only English. Peter's granddaughter, who is a friend of the authors, accompanied us on both visits, making it easier to find the village and to break the ice between interviewers and interviewee. Our second meeting was cut shorter than any of us preferred because Peter needed to leave for evening church. The authors encountered one small confusion when we initially understood Peter's full name to be Peter Stewart. We corrected our mistake during our second meeting.<br />-<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324653995964436338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvp6HwsdMVL-5uh-k2rvkeqiO1VZlnp_TlOlqve5TB-bz3rbu3YxwHe2jHvAlEhKoCtiD-C6PNeMEYMFeDj82EdMWAZa-Rgycwd3jfb48bcTH2kJX4ZxuhnEYVIrv7RpHmugj1CMO_si4/s400/DSC02260.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324653994418158562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbwJQEYFIoTpRFpjwuCWurmq2HKzwPt1GGGbf-S9VnzHwKt0EAymUYty8iRj_DR7cJG1vDU3rPOt3_PREOANNzhE4tryqLo1wOVZl1J3kM-aYFrt60J-BlqqLGmto4phuScHmz8pRlNA/s400/DSC02273.JPG" border="0" />Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-65037280616010721052009-04-15T02:22:00.011+08:002009-04-24T08:35:36.718+08:00Sepak TakrawI consider myself a fairly skilled athlete, but in Malaysia I've found one sport that is <em>way</em> out of my league.<br /><br /><em>Sepak takraw</em> (Eng: kick ball) resembles volleyball in that each team is allowed a maximum of three touches before it must pass the ball over the net, and points are scored by landing the ball inside the opposing team's boundaries. But the net, court, and ball are much smaller and – here's the clincher for me – the feet are used to hit the ball rather than the hands. (The knees, chest, and head are also okay.)<br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324616240926843698" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsyOP17UiC42xh0yopKJApnsowUrLzogP3ivflnZl5ij5X1Fjoo4eZ8TLb8DJENn-j3ApaeeCgH0oonE0VBlrR8W1FHVs8gZunHhjiEvUtYI9i9lV7vEXbbtsl00O0yLjC8NTPrn-SMAk/s400/IMG_2968crop.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qK3-2z8hlVYkqwzpSasVYmn9FKXoS4a19dCnMd6v0F81LsbOglDYoHUvzBhGl8Nb3I0lDRun_R51ypDz31as0E0xEP3ZQDsfTHi1akLrYZFZRU5BlqiZd0vJ0p3XvFoRzI7PELf9od0/s1600-h/IMG_2977crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324616046287951730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8qK3-2z8hlVYkqwzpSasVYmn9FKXoS4a19dCnMd6v0F81LsbOglDYoHUvzBhGl8Nb3I0lDRun_R51ypDz31as0E0xEP3ZQDsfTHi1akLrYZFZRU5BlqiZd0vJ0p3XvFoRzI7PELf9od0/s400/IMG_2977crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324616041732561938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQXeHWKTx5mASzzMpj-Eu7WNt0wVA0F-SCpLzNHZujvH-EcKORlDd07JHJD-PkmEYsY0CBW-ggxhV7ZktkT0hUlZKsxOYMNwzecqmql-JIzvCPfQe9p5F27HoMmqyZtJVxn-FagrxXf2Q/s400/IMG_2981crop.JPG" border="0" />Each team has three players and games are played to 21 points. As in volleyball, offensive specialists go for smashes, which involves leaping high and striking the ball with the foot above the head. Players either complete a backflip and land on their feet or else fall hard on their sides. Naturally, the opposing team tries to block the smashes...<em>with their feet!</em></p><p><em></em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324615501561219458" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 256px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCTzimELGYhyNusBet0bxf9rcFJldJwUhrkXt6xeB_JnqyocjXUz0tFyvy01KQUO_jVgO7_z6U0KJhd2FdKXTV5krUOmknrYHK-3NvFqN0zqPixOMbVqngwsp53KWxJwnuPYcKqGXxwgo/s400/IMG_2962crop.JPG" border="0" /></p><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324614905363205714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 225px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjynJVlo75Tx4oSfX8zVgiMJztkmflSr6D7zOnRLt2HFewafalOzwK38JT0llZaxEo6hKaO89xJwNpGbZlTKbRfpCjyYZMplNOGHGxUnfA3YRv_FB5rbTS8vaMx5EnzvYi1TZZYDbpQFOs/s400/IMG_2986crop.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPQGQBKOyxwQKz5zcHKRAEkcAVNng8yHH0pgNLWSXclWmWD_HTZ51ygCatGlK7j8uQhPVqEmj9k4CUDnWaIvSB9LBfFwJEGnECWpdjU-4lQosHW0PGMrHg1pHukcbQo_EgBk1VIXID28/s1600-h/IMG_3012crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324614899124951154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 270px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYPQGQBKOyxwQKz5zcHKRAEkcAVNng8yHH0pgNLWSXclWmWD_HTZ51ygCatGlK7j8uQhPVqEmj9k4CUDnWaIvSB9LBfFwJEGnECWpdjU-4lQosHW0PGMrHg1pHukcbQo_EgBk1VIXID28/s400/IMG_3012crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> The original balls were made out of rattan but modern ones are synthetic. <div>-</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5324614556540550498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 394px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh31E5NcUXZB2r0_7LMDei5YFcmGPHGwQ7hjhHcS3iAjxtPVT-Qyphp7jwmgReFxfdNCHnDxrKKnnCbq-VWLVjz3JIOJJjGAmZFXz5dRpLvhqde3T7Gd5GuCtojJGntrJhtG-KMQkCzXo/s400/IMG_3015crop.JPG" border="0" /> The sport is native to Southeast Asia and is most popular in Thailand and Malaysia, yet a United States Takraw Association does exist, and teams from North America and Europe have been known to compete in the sport's world championships held annually in Thailand.<br /><br />The guys let me dink around with them in a circle, and I did alright, but <em>sepak takraw</em> demands a degree of flexibility, agility, and foot-eye coordination which I will never possess.</div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-84865405001807686852009-04-13T01:28:00.014+08:002009-04-15T04:06:38.819+08:00Mom and Jane Here, Then Off to PhuketCoincidentally, my mom Vicky and her close friend Jane had been planning a vacation together to Thailand even before I knew I would come to Malaysia. It was only natural for mom to insert a side trip to Kuching to see her boy.<br /><br />She and Jane first went to Bangkok and soon continued on to Kuching where they stayed four nights. A friendly taxi driver brought them by his village on the way to see me at UNIMAS. They also enjoyed the orangutan park, the Sarawak Cultural Village, and the bistro and diverse shopping along the waterfront.<br /><br />View of Kuching from their hotel room:<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323861919077316898" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_OqEFXfGy767GJ4vpXX_a3r-QrvbCqIg0RFeGcRB4eIFMoo9rdQoHLVK1RTeQuYjVezZQlzZAviiDbnsKiz4d-gQxvuGoezqgVFQWeB3iaR8EAYY3gwxhWmVoGwOujkJh_-owowTlTeo/s400/IMG_3322crop.JPG" border="0" /> At the Cultural Village we saw dwellings of Sarawak's major indigenous groups and watched the tribal song and dance performance. We were even feeling silly enough to accept the invitation to dance on stage. (I'm short on pictures of mom and Jane because they preferred using their own cameras.)<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323861521535855074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghQk_88iaJGgWwr1kAOauLtLW3Cnn4G4fNdAws9ZSID0o1jFxSLMxTF7eFWDLS5DV_naHLGZ88ecj9thignDfdFyMyigJcq1Bc_urCGp9ID-PDiAVvFHUKqiLr015fl3fGwlmfW4FGk8I/s400/IMG_3288crop.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQceKwdCRp_gNxek4p5jgZat4-2v3uC2SXu34uH7aVznyaNio6dNZjtWRgd1xdNoPo3EYNMfX8oqtoNw8TCvGSyo3ZJHkqFyTUzAslYLksElamjprZpFpO3Fw6dCGEWov2osHhXB6KTys/s1600-h/IMG_3315.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323861517676366610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQceKwdCRp_gNxek4p5jgZat4-2v3uC2SXu34uH7aVznyaNio6dNZjtWRgd1xdNoPo3EYNMfX8oqtoNw8TCvGSyo3ZJHkqFyTUzAslYLksElamjprZpFpO3Fw6dCGEWov2osHhXB6KTys/s400/IMG_3315.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoZmyWluooAVAOubnLaFOwe-vFERJW4yNXJmp7-z3pzBIjkIr9jbs0H7LsMSJA-QI9Sio1RXST9mp-bs0p8rYW6w8UtF_jCaIy1I4mMVXhCjRxxEoJbuqVaGRMfJH4pLDaDVprfUOERo/s1600-h/IMG_3303crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323860991854665874" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBoZmyWluooAVAOubnLaFOwe-vFERJW4yNXJmp7-z3pzBIjkIr9jbs0H7LsMSJA-QI9Sio1RXST9mp-bs0p8rYW6w8UtF_jCaIy1I4mMVXhCjRxxEoJbuqVaGRMfJH4pLDaDVprfUOERo/s400/IMG_3303crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirM_FqrYhdTJ4jk8b38PJLuFnYsFPQw6MA3KgH_7P2M94gzN-0LdDfTjoY-WGKp_yOxy_iL1AntuL6dsnUsSxZ4uv8ncFoolUvo44N5Heunrxrk9nhsf2mnklTntNyIaN2L2dqJbF13DU/s1600-h/IMG_3301crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323860989226421234" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirM_FqrYhdTJ4jk8b38PJLuFnYsFPQw6MA3KgH_7P2M94gzN-0LdDfTjoY-WGKp_yOxy_iL1AntuL6dsnUsSxZ4uv8ncFoolUvo44N5Heunrxrk9nhsf2mnklTntNyIaN2L2dqJbF13DU/s400/IMG_3301crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> I accepted the offer to join them at the resort in Phuket, the main destination of their trip. We left on a Saturday and I returned Tuesday night, missing only one lecture. </div><div><br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323860073873341330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Q2aXXvpGjQYev9j8niDlNZ8kibeDZpmaiLCJ-N-aszktKN6W8WMqk14AMskX17iPVpooOYq60lXfqwhmf_gqTziGdoVpEUyKaWii52hpn9pNHLxSDb2HDDv7cL5M6rZ-swEsDURayWM/s400/IMG_3332crop.JPG" border="0" /> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzo5HrRqHmGkYRMksg1J8mZa1Zk57lS0fExp-lOWxdaVTmyi9ya23asXpahD8d8TK4bOSRku2Oyes-W3xAH9kI3EnU5sH-TiF0q1xH4lXqpBNvsNSptRkEHlFip6eIW0lFzcw9nOZdJ-4/s1600-h/IMG_3337crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323860069656942130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzo5HrRqHmGkYRMksg1J8mZa1Zk57lS0fExp-lOWxdaVTmyi9ya23asXpahD8d8TK4bOSRku2Oyes-W3xAH9kI3EnU5sH-TiF0q1xH4lXqpBNvsNSptRkEHlFip6eIW0lFzcw9nOZdJ-4/s400/IMG_3337crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfIzDb0agzrBUH6-2XXqEoaJxXXuT_uHlX23IzcHEU_Jna4XUXe4TyHmauiQfn3d0yJeyif02B3-osaEDrXf36ZxwoVxkg0XFbb9MtSav8XpEqUWVxsex1z4FDDJHzQUG4ed72ZIa332I/s1600-h/IMG_3345.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323859720612429362" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfIzDb0agzrBUH6-2XXqEoaJxXXuT_uHlX23IzcHEU_Jna4XUXe4TyHmauiQfn3d0yJeyif02B3-osaEDrXf36ZxwoVxkg0XFbb9MtSav8XpEqUWVxsex1z4FDDJHzQUG4ed72ZIa332I/s400/IMG_3345.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPZD6QPiGDiuae3_7HmnNPThaN3pZj-A3vbt_sJ4oQ2V3-bYrD-KUMGHI8qFJOWEk5MqLNNJfCJO4WdULM3vrXDnkc-APxAyPV-i1QMYW8oRI0s5WuGdv3fcxkhg4sK9gH5H5Gq8PVig/s1600-h/IMG_3351crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323859715785199138" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWPZD6QPiGDiuae3_7HmnNPThaN3pZj-A3vbt_sJ4oQ2V3-bYrD-KUMGHI8qFJOWEk5MqLNNJfCJO4WdULM3vrXDnkc-APxAyPV-i1QMYW8oRI0s5WuGdv3fcxkhg4sK9gH5H5Gq8PVig/s400/IMG_3351crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgro_CVc-xcI2davey_I1A7GuHDByKO-Fi73Ty8mAn8VDReU810792gRAfSTq6CH1xVF6Xgnk_l8s3RJbIS6Sbsckvm1SOtY2ywReNpuVuG8FOcGiyfm5Sr5xC4Q50Y6fCjUwPRFfOXMSU/s1600-h/IMG_3371crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323859189345597506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgro_CVc-xcI2davey_I1A7GuHDByKO-Fi73Ty8mAn8VDReU810792gRAfSTq6CH1xVF6Xgnk_l8s3RJbIS6Sbsckvm1SOtY2ywReNpuVuG8FOcGiyfm5Sr5xC4Q50Y6fCjUwPRFfOXMSU/s400/IMG_3371crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWagIxfwHpoKtNgNGFwVg4zx3Klq7WbS5JOUsc1Og1bhp9TU77n11nrnEtdZuHY7cJUDQFXj69vP-73v929VSllemLgvin9cy1ShMnzooLR2Q9T_ZWYiFn89LWL0GiFTpTfeyfAbY_G5I/s1600-h/IMG_3385crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323859182410329922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWagIxfwHpoKtNgNGFwVg4zx3Klq7WbS5JOUsc1Og1bhp9TU77n11nrnEtdZuHY7cJUDQFXj69vP-73v929VSllemLgvin9cy1ShMnzooLR2Q9T_ZWYiFn89LWL0GiFTpTfeyfAbY_G5I/s400/IMG_3385crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323862772858430210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 381px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9aqFt318nznIXaRiRc7jEdvpw5DvSGPGh-2j7drkDOOaNkP_MvpIg8Qoin1wGHgkDxcTSdPLrBd6YNPpkOjvg8jkMX8WedhxtEXw_QEG-aQWCK_hvlY1fFhS3Hi9PTs9D_uKewUS-vS4/s400/IMG_3392crop.JPG" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-48796744645156310112009-04-12T17:39:00.016+08:002009-04-22T16:13:27.104+08:00Bali (Pt. 2 of 3)Ingelin and Juanita chose to explore the myriad shops of Ubud while I headed off for an 'eco/educational cycling tour' of beautiful inland Bali. It took the first half of my third out of five days.<br /><br />From our hostel we drove by van past villages, terraced paddy fields, and a Hindu procession to a restaurant perched high on a crater rim that overlooks a lake and two volcanoes. Mt. Batur is Bali's most active volcano, having last erupted in 2000. Mt. Agung, the island's highest point, erupted in explosive and deadly fashion in 1963, wiping out over a thousand villagers. The lake between the two volcanoes is Bali's largest and, considered the island's source of life, is the destination of many religious processions. Breakfast of fresh fruit and pancakes on the outdoor patio was wonderful.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323749431135534434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEx341kMe06gKtnq7fzsSpeuaHFiuwtuSvgzARiBcJBB7-6Utyb5VJsqqnIlxMqCQee3wqnIGLQsststcKZTUbZu9jFOhn_jqBcZur3A1fVJJkDxvaeLaTaDHdrJ2awMQLxg5DcJOZBnY/s400/IMG_2602cropedit.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymA6nP6PbCz5ud-zlhs2yQrperyOeGRia5FOtyQzjFXOoydZIK6bKScSV7JjUtEdSfGW1CeR7gjytrmjFUNoIjUnPqp5dom5a5-yoFr2pvWH6qvL2KsXZvSrQFDLuH5BWxvjWCtv00z0/s1600-h/IMG_2608.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323749426927488322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjymA6nP6PbCz5ud-zlhs2yQrperyOeGRia5FOtyQzjFXOoydZIK6bKScSV7JjUtEdSfGW1CeR7gjytrmjFUNoIjUnPqp5dom5a5-yoFr2pvWH6qvL2KsXZvSrQFDLuH5BWxvjWCtv00z0/s400/IMG_2608.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwiPpKB1wN0_Hz49pq_0KUGHTaeQPe5P3T5SpNrFnWy1oNIshc8AM6dRs1E_3lnjhglOZ-e0orkSvvmIl1rFFeV867h6OrXPAUgxy7aWLLEGOje4QYFSNH4zTHHPLTJR9MFZQenEW9hI/s1600-h/IMG_2623cropedit.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323749422806284882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMwiPpKB1wN0_Hz49pq_0KUGHTaeQPe5P3T5SpNrFnWy1oNIshc8AM6dRs1E_3lnjhglOZ-e0orkSvvmIl1rFFeV867h6OrXPAUgxy7aWLLEGOje4QYFSNH4zTHHPLTJR9MFZQenEW9hI/s400/IMG_2623cropedit.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNc2PZGiICgpz2vV0OFemwRblBC63IPit_U3cOBmgtPBmrjCXyxOf6aYyo1fn7dWJXlQSGNPyI25USFFLxxgOawGMtpXPjS2yluvedTbcBFj_FmfgwT5Z9rfamyE3N-ZT7sqhj8rgYCu4/s1600-h/IMG_2621crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323748374436499650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNc2PZGiICgpz2vV0OFemwRblBC63IPit_U3cOBmgtPBmrjCXyxOf6aYyo1fn7dWJXlQSGNPyI25USFFLxxgOawGMtpXPjS2yluvedTbcBFj_FmfgwT5Z9rfamyE3N-ZT7sqhj8rgYCu4/s400/IMG_2621crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGy2eHnYBzvGe2Dxq0rWaGNaesuKX50qNrLn_mcDYrU2DcH8fKRoAhIa9wdzc_imHRXORa-Am83uUe-5bjgGiZMgotmvijrdG5OeSDazlIzvUCbQawYvO3F42HMyv2ZjoW1UGtKQnoBZY/s1600-h/IMG_2633crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323748369622928914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 272px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGy2eHnYBzvGe2Dxq0rWaGNaesuKX50qNrLn_mcDYrU2DcH8fKRoAhIa9wdzc_imHRXORa-Am83uUe-5bjgGiZMgotmvijrdG5OeSDazlIzvUCbQawYvO3F42HMyv2ZjoW1UGtKQnoBZY/s400/IMG_2633crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCoZqlHlk1vFw5JNYX2SoL09uA-u6xHf98w9l2L_CObyukg6LuPqgyJhaAZV9hwGLVG0eClJS16iBI3xwSyVFtVE7TEWxA2-va9vxrmOmP1xHbXdHI3A-UrKG5zNj53iR2Rfl2WUxT4o/s1600-h/IMG_2640.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323748363759247746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdCoZqlHlk1vFw5JNYX2SoL09uA-u6xHf98w9l2L_CObyukg6LuPqgyJhaAZV9hwGLVG0eClJS16iBI3xwSyVFtVE7TEWxA2-va9vxrmOmP1xHbXdHI3A-UrKG5zNj53iR2Rfl2WUxT4o/s400/IMG_2640.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>Before getting on the bikes we stopped at the company's eco-informational center to sample teas, coffees, and fruits (mangosteen, rambutan, snakeskin fruit) and to be educated about the natural surroundings.</div><div>-</div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323746861181320322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxXTMELKsrNGhXOEffiV4r3Ts5XDbTAaks0zBudMQ2ssPr6UoX-iYTGLRNjWPVi-AszgW-Sre0MCj50Z-M2cLbtmnH11XN0SQybLSumwDncRldxg9UZclHCZ1w6uquMZGreTu-Js3RpQE/s400/IMG_2655cropedit.JPG" border="0" /> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0nmXbBLkPHI2wJf1sjiIWEwJw3ZLwoWP64qa9DMKw7-7LeMZyvbdQs2Bv2xlGURxJQDuZ9Q8mtek71btK4Z7ZIny2SFaqurkrd_Yf9sQC5yL_0UQ2Z63rTpCUMoB69tFKXYz2tWElMh8/s1600-h/IMG_2644crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323746858746798850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0nmXbBLkPHI2wJf1sjiIWEwJw3ZLwoWP64qa9DMKw7-7LeMZyvbdQs2Bv2xlGURxJQDuZ9Q8mtek71btK4Z7ZIny2SFaqurkrd_Yf9sQC5yL_0UQ2Z63rTpCUMoB69tFKXYz2tWElMh8/s400/IMG_2644crop.JPG" border="0" /></a>Our nineteen year old guide throughout the tour was very charming and professional. His name, Ketut, indicates that he is the fourth child in his family. In the Balinese naming system each person regardless of sex receives one of four names based on the order in which he or she is born. What about the fifth child? Go back to name #1.</div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUWe4OKTniyTxhpOerJn8vayenzQIhpYdofu0qTqpLmyR-QRmk5tQRZ0NnVztjIub_-nBjfK1XotDvYlbORvJw_vr5XRjyKNT91zXxgHFOsEQ4ZMne1J2uI0L-r9uECh186k6RtTAahU/s1600-h/IMG_2603.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323746850428653346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 293px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUWe4OKTniyTxhpOerJn8vayenzQIhpYdofu0qTqpLmyR-QRmk5tQRZ0NnVztjIub_-nBjfK1XotDvYlbORvJw_vr5XRjyKNT91zXxgHFOsEQ4ZMne1J2uI0L-r9uECh186k6RtTAahU/s400/IMG_2603.JPG" border="0" /></a> The real fun started when I mounted my slightly undersized bike and began cruising downhill. We made several stops during the two-hour journey: visiting a Balinese compound, taking part in paddy planting and harvesting, watching a craftsmen carve Buddha statues, stopping beneath a giant Banyan tree. </div><div><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFPBizehAOnWhLcGEUevgMjJ6mwlE0gB-CWo3XZQ_ORHDLeVc7sWAIbZHMRsZbmXddd6AZtXqlM_aHNc4yEyBtWbmRW7yW9qFJxCnd2HOmu1qzvJ7x0ur6huLO_xvgPYCNHaWi34krrw/s1600-h/IMG_2687.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323745594159022882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFPBizehAOnWhLcGEUevgMjJ6mwlE0gB-CWo3XZQ_ORHDLeVc7sWAIbZHMRsZbmXddd6AZtXqlM_aHNc4yEyBtWbmRW7yW9qFJxCnd2HOmu1qzvJ7x0ur6huLO_xvgPYCNHaWi34krrw/s400/IMG_2687.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwreNUh4K688gnXENcfzl5mSB9guJX6MODzUS7CgkYrTr5l0d1LyCUIntxjG9J0qccu13F1SWWzXBHNRvxENPL1aY74FTi7ixj2DDvX_BMvJIdgAOISNZZPUZff-dfKKJEjLjhI0fSVA/s1600-h/IMG_2674cropedit.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323745588591844802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 316px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwreNUh4K688gnXENcfzl5mSB9guJX6MODzUS7CgkYrTr5l0d1LyCUIntxjG9J0qccu13F1SWWzXBHNRvxENPL1aY74FTi7ixj2DDvX_BMvJIdgAOISNZZPUZff-dfKKJEjLjhI0fSVA/s400/IMG_2674cropedit.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsAjsSB5875-rYJDW5bVinecNuGrAm3xjdE5DfvHuDELUzsJlJA425_UVCdJ8Tj7DOIGoZZSN6kPC6yA7pmZHH89yg2BJ48LdE6yvXskiQbBqXm-p-f4Wn95KVZQbQXhp4IAw3SiFqNw/s1600-h/IMG_2732cropedit.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323744572753185282" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsAjsSB5875-rYJDW5bVinecNuGrAm3xjdE5DfvHuDELUzsJlJA425_UVCdJ8Tj7DOIGoZZSN6kPC6yA7pmZHH89yg2BJ48LdE6yvXskiQbBqXm-p-f4Wn95KVZQbQXhp4IAw3SiFqNw/s400/IMG_2732cropedit.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA8_crOtL51xg4Dc8DMkDG9xLGbU9oY01hQetsG1rKiocReR7hdEu4wwW6hbfzR0VhVc_tLDJtO7f0rNRW-HrV5Zf7TWFADCEC0mnrwbx7stQsOyAyGIjCQS6nhBPDZmBKkwfDKyCtGfc/s1600-h/IMG_2694crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323744568272136146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA8_crOtL51xg4Dc8DMkDG9xLGbU9oY01hQetsG1rKiocReR7hdEu4wwW6hbfzR0VhVc_tLDJtO7f0rNRW-HrV5Zf7TWFADCEC0mnrwbx7stQsOyAyGIjCQS6nhBPDZmBKkwfDKyCtGfc/s400/IMG_2694crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvQhHPCmU0MdtpW8KhptVBRvqTp2BzitaTGZ1LCEMIfcCyx68YHSlux_DCVjmS5455PE9mu77dLJngPr_kt9NPirrCN70zjVGjym9TJUKkF5eeWU1pFPaVK3gYp6LhPjEHmYlLTmOmlo/s1600-h/IMG_2723.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323744565987184050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvQhHPCmU0MdtpW8KhptVBRvqTp2BzitaTGZ1LCEMIfcCyx68YHSlux_DCVjmS5455PE9mu77dLJngPr_kt9NPirrCN70zjVGjym9TJUKkF5eeWU1pFPaVK3gYp6LhPjEHmYlLTmOmlo/s400/IMG_2723.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div>Most of all, the views were gorgeous. My five-man group was up for the optional uphill section that ends at the bamboo lodge where lunch was served. We soon ran into that same religious procession we'd encountered earlier. Weaving and squeezing our way up the hill through cars and devotees made our mad dash for food that much more fun.</div><div>-</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323743410054439682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFXlXRRIvqJPWHQYSDRFJsLFwGzAU1FBlXwNTD-AZ4T83NxWEzS7z7JZS2vIh59XS_QsPJrp8p-ypUMWTtrYAp0LUJGOCbWAxTo9tOQDwVu2Yj1aymMuO_uoAAUGRuI0y_i5kr2-sfTE/s400/IMG_2704cropedit.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRQv_FQyuBhkAHHhvsoN-djMU7FGiKA4j7ld7rcBQ0B6Ixp98i6VylfYF6nF-BN5Q-bBZUizSQo6fXQqyElPUvE6GtXWB8zi3G115UNQp0yTpgFcXDXN4tU6doKMf8bhKFpe_ukoeeB8/s1600-h/IMG_2720cropedit.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323743405683859154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfRQv_FQyuBhkAHHhvsoN-djMU7FGiKA4j7ld7rcBQ0B6Ixp98i6VylfYF6nF-BN5Q-bBZUizSQo6fXQqyElPUvE6GtXWB8zi3G115UNQp0yTpgFcXDXN4tU6doKMf8bhKFpe_ukoeeB8/s400/IMG_2720cropedit.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdacDKsoPx2yfKVglzFIQS8a0XzZq4P1pkbsLV_V999uXlZGC3BELBFwkkuVI6egGoC-kbyyoLUVGWBjtlaLeHtRonSVRx4rCvbKbSu14ug8QOKdJqXPDQeFXFJzcgHE_oYcJFfj70pE/s1600-h/IMG_2745crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323743401457272418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 309px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpdacDKsoPx2yfKVglzFIQS8a0XzZq4P1pkbsLV_V999uXlZGC3BELBFwkkuVI6egGoC-kbyyoLUVGWBjtlaLeHtRonSVRx4rCvbKbSu14ug8QOKdJqXPDQeFXFJzcgHE_oYcJFfj70pE/s400/IMG_2745crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> The tour ended with a visit to the Ubud Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary, home to 300 long-tail macaques. They are untrained and roam freely. I made a poor guest to their sanctuary when I twice provoked one to charge me, shrieking and waving its arms wildly. All I wanted was a picture together. The park also houses three temples and two graveyards. Ingelin and Juanita (below) met up with me here.</div><div>-</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323742195922507634" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSe1U2A4I-zgknlCOZhVNh_NUiyF4ERZu_bVyhsx5CCFioyqndkEYqyGroRfUQtlKYchQINF0UvBrpoczCA9yq7Uc5TEGGmcioOk49qeXVMK7plgpOYIoSJVMR9ph7qiDQ7K3RNGDKQjY/s400/IMG_6644.JPG" border="0" /> <div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2jM7IRSb9ixAz0qeE_uqWqDPHKH-eAVxOL4Nkl1Pn2Qu3dlsWPzxiEWrNNHziNi2IcCurJljPzH074ibjPe8N4POwI8TJTgIBD5xtSiO6H1waK2ZE77CVZNpFmJkE8bLK-Mdkgeyd38/s1600-h/IMG_2758cropedit.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323742191938066530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 338px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2jM7IRSb9ixAz0qeE_uqWqDPHKH-eAVxOL4Nkl1Pn2Qu3dlsWPzxiEWrNNHziNi2IcCurJljPzH074ibjPe8N4POwI8TJTgIBD5xtSiO6H1waK2ZE77CVZNpFmJkE8bLK-Mdkgeyd38/s400/IMG_2758cropedit.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqBHquMXNE_5U_5u6BSRJ08lozqveBs70i3sbNoYYdOHG6Yd9njc0dmgXpaMxm3gDvP4cL3vnG7drFmprnmNu-kzPXi-LOvMCZ1DH5qNDQRB3fWbZZMO9qrG8yf3K5bfaapsHXZ-fzqY/s1600-h/IMG_2791.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323742188505615090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJqBHquMXNE_5U_5u6BSRJ08lozqveBs70i3sbNoYYdOHG6Yd9njc0dmgXpaMxm3gDvP4cL3vnG7drFmprnmNu-kzPXi-LOvMCZ1DH5qNDQRB3fWbZZMO9qrG8yf3K5bfaapsHXZ-fzqY/s400/IMG_2791.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCk1i_gPEA4QrRwqhb8JEqgRZujnNVObzXQNQTjX50L6eQ58IUpHYlGGFXX9ZUjhf7m_8CgAUbxBtyGKjctL54C8H8bAIyxRyXFp8HHAJrsohxpeawWgtCbznlGIy_w-da6aUa9eF6qi0/s1600-h/IMG_6647.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323741352584494962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCk1i_gPEA4QrRwqhb8JEqgRZujnNVObzXQNQTjX50L6eQ58IUpHYlGGFXX9ZUjhf7m_8CgAUbxBtyGKjctL54C8H8bAIyxRyXFp8HHAJrsohxpeawWgtCbznlGIy_w-da6aUa9eF6qi0/s400/IMG_6647.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9v4YtKhua70YzvYCH0dgyUw5I-rcOQdUt8KoRMAgn9Mp1Oj750ewbzBQQ5tAnXClugVRwKvg-AkGtS835LE14yLGHQ6plwphyphenhyphencotd9pc-pjJ-XzJl6nuyq0vq2ugi6017_GmGUQuNvms/s1600-h/IMG_2753crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323741347739907730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 342px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9v4YtKhua70YzvYCH0dgyUw5I-rcOQdUt8KoRMAgn9Mp1Oj750ewbzBQQ5tAnXClugVRwKvg-AkGtS835LE14yLGHQ6plwphyphenhyphencotd9pc-pjJ-XzJl6nuyq0vq2ugi6017_GmGUQuNvms/s400/IMG_2753crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> The Balinese have many styles of music, dance, and chanting which they perform to reenact Hindu stories. After dinner we attended one called Kecak, "a form of Balinese musical drama performed primarily by men. Also known as the Ramayana Monkey Chant it is performed by a circle of 100 or more performers wearing checked cloth around their waists, percussively chanting "chak", and throwing up their arms. The performance depicts a battle from the Ramayana where monkeys help Prince Rama fight the evil King Ravana."</div><div>-</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323740083802014530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeEXmCju-lmVzuuq6LutRRoH4cdqg9jwlquInE1IJfTDZWC_kWRRhEInC9hvcNiogpvKJMXZFTu1AFkOHCA8x-7AJEdPWtB0v30TZbciOvU1NRsPsYRR3d8XMzqUvGCbSCfc7pmdClsPU/s400/IMG_2796.JPG" border="0" /> <div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtBsMXfWOWwXRaJswi4lnkQ4a5A6ou5v3oPqkO_TeX55yJudQlOq0gNaln8sNKaMTVaOaMJdUkk8h54ZeiKBXSVIVcIR9g4xQD4i8W0hjpcbTpby6BlZ__DkbIWpzGx9q_kXOzkn7c6w/s1600-h/IMG_6683.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323740080076150226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtBsMXfWOWwXRaJswi4lnkQ4a5A6ou5v3oPqkO_TeX55yJudQlOq0gNaln8sNKaMTVaOaMJdUkk8h54ZeiKBXSVIVcIR9g4xQD4i8W0hjpcbTpby6BlZ__DkbIWpzGx9q_kXOzkn7c6w/s400/IMG_6683.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLwf0QNxLkmDrC2rdhDUCShcP0fAWyJEQ5kB8HkJKTmr2EJI3dX6qwSIcu32cnLhl4TGs4fZTopBEJkI4pUsSduKc7WMfnsq_ZdDa5304ySN198fi6ZIQu0Cuj_hNb0jhPIS2w1CVnSsc/s1600-h/IMG_2805.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323740077178893794" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLwf0QNxLkmDrC2rdhDUCShcP0fAWyJEQ5kB8HkJKTmr2EJI3dX6qwSIcu32cnLhl4TGs4fZTopBEJkI4pUsSduKc7WMfnsq_ZdDa5304ySN198fi6ZIQu0Cuj_hNb0jhPIS2w1CVnSsc/s400/IMG_2805.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:130%;">I still had rafting, reggae music, and a very quick stop in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" /><st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Jakarta</st1:place></st1:city> ahead of me.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt"><span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">-----------------------------------------------</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="MARGIN: 0in 0in 0pt">-----------------------------------------------</p></div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323741343030378402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9WCNSmo_ijAvqIE_EeDr5-NzTraXLLCHihXTXqzI1YPXzhDT6dmtzg9dLsDpYW3d4k5D5y12J3MehS2WhcUA2rlgDBYgI6Cv5YqrtFpRxHHXzZmI50IcLUzXdl1aBDteeF0POBOa-WDs/s400/IMG_2601.JPG" border="0" /> This town celebrated a recent Indonesian independence day by painting miles and miles of street trees with an identical red and white pattern.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yNYBP8ybNSZKR3z205lJG8vWNaTwLSI5lQIifM_OHmso99m-MtwkS-5gisR-uDkRQN8rHdmr1iSJjm4FZHNcgast36nGuVvWpAaR9GKcCVKY2yPeaiW5ycbg86EsvHwyErNib4DRkiA/s1600-h/IMG_2610.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323738237035456338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 202px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1yNYBP8ybNSZKR3z205lJG8vWNaTwLSI5lQIifM_OHmso99m-MtwkS-5gisR-uDkRQN8rHdmr1iSJjm4FZHNcgast36nGuVvWpAaR9GKcCVKY2yPeaiW5ycbg86EsvHwyErNib4DRkiA/s320/IMG_2610.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpmEtpHG1Ln5cwjRE2iXCuVv7fzjntTHT7Zu3zYgATRqNVBrnWhKF4o675MPiQoKdwa_DNCA6R81TeRa0rijGFNv-7OBAihCPde3X2CS9tN10-ZdJ2eoAqKFMssMkQoPqoaXkSNq0-Dg/s1600-h/IMG_6609crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323738232938892146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdpmEtpHG1Ln5cwjRE2iXCuVv7fzjntTHT7Zu3zYgATRqNVBrnWhKF4o675MPiQoKdwa_DNCA6R81TeRa0rijGFNv-7OBAihCPde3X2CS9tN10-ZdJ2eoAqKFMssMkQoPqoaXkSNq0-Dg/s320/IMG_6609crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPHKiMFR4pDJ9FOG2a6Bif3r-xgk8Mqs-JTmr25tHclH4BH4GvSokN-D-GpZrUZsD3wFOfIShZGovF9qHhsruZ6otQnQk-iVCoUqFTQOoebVY7pueNa9S1IiCuBWMNuVRcjsJKjUGef4/s1600-h/IMG_2776.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323738230864812098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 268px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPHKiMFR4pDJ9FOG2a6Bif3r-xgk8Mqs-JTmr25tHclH4BH4GvSokN-D-GpZrUZsD3wFOfIShZGovF9qHhsruZ6otQnQk-iVCoUqFTQOoebVY7pueNa9S1IiCuBWMNuVRcjsJKjUGef4/s320/IMG_2776.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-56038308133407780582009-04-06T22:58:00.009+08:002009-04-29T15:01:57.519+08:00NajibIt would seem significant that three days ago Malaysia got a new prime minister. Najib Razak was sworn in by the king at the National Palace on Friday, after the former prime minister made the unprecedented move of voluntarily stepping down before the end of his term.<br /><br />Despite its occurrence at a crucial time for the country, the leadership transition has stirred very little excitement or optimism among Malaysians. In fact, it's safe to say they cared more about President Obama's swearing in than Najib's.<br /><br />Two main reasons explain the lack of excitement.<br /><br />First, Najib in no way represents change. The fifty-five year old was initially elected to Parliament at age twenty-three. He was a state governor by age twenty-nine. Prior to becoming Prime Minister he was the Deputy Prime Minister for five years. Najib is Malaysia's sixth PM, and his father and uncle were the nation's second and third, which helps explain his early political successes. His face and name are definitely not new.<br /><br />He has worked his way up to the presidency of the same Malay-centric political party that has dominated Malaysian politics since independence fifty-one years ago. The number of scandals and unanswered allegations surrounding Najib prompted a respected former MP and law minister to give a speech titled "If truth be told, he can't be PM" in which he appealed to the king, who technically appoints the prime minister, to choose someone else from the ruling party. Race-based political parties and scandal-ridden politicians are also nothing new.<br /><br />The second reason that this transfer of power has failed to inspire Malaysians is that they played virtually no part in the choice of their new leader. In Malaysia's parliamentary system, as in any other, the Member of Parliament who leads the party which commands a majority of seats in the lower house is the Prime Minister. This post carries more power in Malaysia's system than does the presidency in America's.<br /><br />Whereas President Obama was directly elected by American citizens, Malaysians had very little say. As the former Vice President of the country's dominant party, he ran unopposed for the presidency and was officially voted in by elites at the party's Annual General Assembly last week. (The announcement that Najib would be chosen as successor was made months ago.) The only Malaysians who can vote directly to keep him in government or remove him are those 120,000 who reside in the parliamentary constituency he represents. For comparison, of course, every American had the choice to vote for or against Barack Obama.<br /><br />I am still the only person I know who actually watched last Friday's live broadcast of the swearing-in ceremony. It was over in a half hour and contained no speech but rather two prayers, two renditions of the national anthem, the bestowal of an award to the outgoing PM, the reciting of an oath and signing of agreements by the incoming PM, and much bowing to the king and queen with hands pressed together in front of the face.<br /><br />Malaysians have seen all this before. Now they're waiting to see what Najib will do.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321644680150652530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjroquSawfN151yGp1EHoGqMD6ufYPVpXSi_9NrhP8E1bYdMBJshfFe6mBi0xWy8yV7hO0MFPAcNeKejjn3QS5Nj6ilI0QKwmRgOD5wXDLJbprb2rCKGmIfK2bR6WYllNLZ4t2HLHs4zoM/s320/n_01najib.jpg" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8Bx4Bx0SWw7Z7nE6tPrMDlUWMbTto7gjDrxubZ3O8XarAPNRHzmI8ThExPtBcAzggw00IcRlv4LgHSQBhhMR8UIHIU8mTJH43FTXxjjhcAzykhpxiQWe6uqNdkxoof6F7NY71DZGHXs/s1600-h/capt_photo_1238770886632-3-0.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321644676950968386" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 213px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ8Bx4Bx0SWw7Z7nE6tPrMDlUWMbTto7gjDrxubZ3O8XarAPNRHzmI8ThExPtBcAzggw00IcRlv4LgHSQBhhMR8UIHIU8mTJH43FTXxjjhcAzykhpxiQWe6uqNdkxoof6F7NY71DZGHXs/s320/capt_photo_1238770886632-3-0.jpg" border="0" /></a>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-19894301057247426822009-04-06T17:48:00.012+08:002009-04-06T18:26:16.632+08:00Bali (Pt. 1 of 3)Never again will I have the luxury of regular four-day weekends, so I'm trying to take full advantage while it lasts. I stretched one recent weekend to six days (skipping classes Thursday and Tuesday) and made a spur-of-the-moment trip to Bali and Jakarta, Indonesia.<br /><br />My travel around Southeast Asia would not be practical or affordable if it weren't for the benevolent low-cost airline AirAsia ("Now Everyone Can Fly") based out of Kuala Lumpur. It constantly offers online promotions, and fares of five dollars for domestic flights are common.<br /><br />I bought my tickets to Bali only ten days out. All four flights – to KL, to Bali, to Jakarta, and back to Kuching – cost $180 total.<br /><br />My original plan was to sleep in the KL airport and then catch the first morning flight to Bali, but luck was on my side. UNIMAS employee (and my good friend) Gary was informed just one day prior that he would be flown to KL Wednesday night to do some collaboration on a proposal Thursday morning. His Wednesday flight was to leave an hour before mine. With that, I had scored a free ride to the airport and exchanged a row of hard airport chairs for a comfy hotel room bed. This also allowed me to see a bit of the city, enjoying 1AM dinner with Gary at a street stall and riding the KL monorail with uniformed schoolkids at 6 that morning.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321520277631371218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheVnghtYFftrvagF0LoYrpmeP96CUG_fXo-GeX3T-nQ-jdPMWn3hSKHtIdxqn_XP_3s6ZvlfGnFOgxAazMMG4QIfWB6gIqOjiW15QR9YrG48oakt_r-09uKmoV-wm0PKUHjVfxrGNXbtk/s400/IMG_2558.JPG" border="0" />The journey to Bali was smooth. The only plans I had made prior to arrival were booking a hotel for the first night. Waiting for me at the airport was the hotel's manager, Fajar, holding a sign with my name on it (the first time I'd had this cool distinction). Hotel Miki in Kuta was a great place to crash the first night because it had an inexpensive restaurant, the rooms were comfortable, and English-speaking Fajar was very helpful.<br /><br />Because the hotel is not adjacent to the beach, they throw in a free motorbike rental with every room. Fajar's younger brother was assigned to be my motorbike driver and instructor, and in exchange I would help him improve his English. Communicating with him was great fun because our grasps of each other's languages were about equal, so we alternated between English and Indonesian (same as Malay).<br /><br />After eating dinner together the first night, he invited me to hop on front of the bike and drive us back to the hotel. Kuta's roads are crowded and disorderly and I had never driven a motorbike, but – at the time – I thought this was a great idea. Hey, we both had helmets! He tapped me on either shoulder to give directions, and I cranked my neck backwards to check for cars, having overlooked the existence of the side mirrors. We arrived in one piece, wide awake and in high spirits.<br /><br />Early the next morning I let him do the driving to the beach, where I wanted to run barefoot along the water as the sun came up. Fifteen minutes down and then back did the trick, and afterwards the ocean to my right looked very appealing. High on endorphins, I wasn't bothered much that the water was too warm and actually quite full of trash. Soccer on the beach with a couple Aussies and a bunch of local boys built my appetite for breakfast.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVngvmgBxYly6uS4pjrhRf69XOTCznp61nLSWwWEPCUP3ViQ6Eq_F8qFYY4mQcHnB9kJmaMciX2XQ3wltlqQb8P4BBBJ85R5DKk-93Gwvi7uGcMEVKoXiZvJ3mJowzxzAJVsbRFUWwWHw/s1600-h/IMG_2565cropedit.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321518796022904306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVngvmgBxYly6uS4pjrhRf69XOTCznp61nLSWwWEPCUP3ViQ6Eq_F8qFYY4mQcHnB9kJmaMciX2XQ3wltlqQb8P4BBBJ85R5DKk-93Gwvi7uGcMEVKoXiZvJ3mJowzxzAJVsbRFUWwWHw/s400/IMG_2565cropedit.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321519520611394674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxnVbbuavli_ZjnRSusTNewz69M0BOZawarSJGPA-Ctsb_ysBWDNAcORmaeqFWJA6eGJPObOFiJkis2LoGcuXSID4Wih7YuAcIRbf5bfxwOwzV5cvOijvEnvpBwrRIvYJyV1xTS4yZ6q4/s400/IMG_2574crop.JPG" border="0" />Fajar had informed me with a wink that a couple cute Norwegians were also staying in the hotel. My first question was a dumb one: "Do they speak English?" Turns out everyone in Norwegian schools learns English. I sat with Ingelin and Juanita at breakfast.<br /><br />Having just spent a month together in Australia, and halfway through a three-month post-graduation holiday, they were pleased to have someone new to talk to. For my part, I was grateful to find companionship in these congenial Europeans. It turned out that we enjoyed each other and had similar enough goals for our stays on the island that we remained a trio for the duration of my Bali sojourn.<br /><br />In the afternoon we made a move, heading an hour north and inland to the town of Ubud, a center for Balinese art and culture. We were incredibly lucky to chance upon an opening at Jati Home Stay, rated #1 home stay in Asia by HostelWorld.com. (It was booked full three weeks out when I called a week before.) One large bamboo building split into ten rooms sits on the edge of a green paddy field inside a Balinese compound owned by an extraordinarily talented artist. Our arrival was timed perfectly – just after some folks with a reservation had officially not shown up. I got the honeymoon suite with one extra large and comfy bed, and the girls got the other vacant room next door. We liked Ubud and these accommodations so much that we stayed here three nights.</div><div>-</div><div></div><div><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321518024433145154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWXsruQ6EFGD3anxo_M_XSDoGCzDePNj1LpGzt9-um3NOvJvtbsW6_D9dIhuyzbRuC5b1ZJkzgGrjd7e1_KisYskpoQSIRzPGgE6VHQeX63IWuwMiwYKcEC5zNhN2I_OJ9MifbtmdQsv0/s400/IMG_2576.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOqvoQIQc1N77kMAq3LM_nk6apccmVSbPJEoOW1c0GMR12ngnqiu4j3677RpFlO2MLybjUbnmzebJF12n9Hx9z7SyVakS6WTtC_EfhJ6jeT4hWHKIfDf_Fg1L_wA_UTIvRRlqEI4iiYZg/s1600-h/IMG_2581.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321517191343679346" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 319px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOqvoQIQc1N77kMAq3LM_nk6apccmVSbPJEoOW1c0GMR12ngnqiu4j3677RpFlO2MLybjUbnmzebJF12n9Hx9z7SyVakS6WTtC_EfhJ6jeT4hWHKIfDf_Fg1L_wA_UTIvRRlqEI4iiYZg/s400/IMG_2581.JPG" border="0" /></a> -<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321516608577656802" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 264px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxl59Eot7gwrthz2MLuLKBorbmAODp1W86Lxra25hvm8otVbHyZzoRGEG-7U-73yUq7HuChWUNMoCXiEhP97KZ2lm0dFubzmkbn934t96k5xXaQ_i7tPdZRxCx1HDGx0bj0LlaQxd2r0/s400/IMG_6508.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div><div>The public staff of two at Jati was very gentle and kind, explaining that as long as we stayed we were part of the family. Putu cooks the complimentary breakfasts and Eddie is the expert at arranging activities. He hits up every resident to go river rafting because it earns him commission, and I became one of the few to oblige. But first priority went to the exceedingly enjoyable downhill cycling tour.</div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-6092225555696045202009-03-24T01:58:00.005+08:002009-04-06T18:27:11.966+08:00An Opportunity WastedI was excited when I heard that a U.S. Foreign Service officer would be coming to speak to UNIMAS students and faculty about the new Obama administration. "A perfect opportunity to see a presentation of Obama's agenda crafted to the interests and sensibilities of a Muslim and Malaysian audience," I thought. Unfortunately, most of us in attendance were disappointed by the lack of meaningful substance in the talk.<br /><br />Marrie Schaefer is the Public Affairs Counselor at the U.S. embassy in Kuala Lumpur, and UNIMAS was her first stop on a tour of Malaysian universities where she will give her talk called "Obama Administration: Transitions".<br /><br />It is very regrettable that the presentation focused almost exclusively on those less-than-significant things that, in my view, received far too much coverage or emphasis during the campaign: Obama's blackness, his childhood years in Indonesia, his relatives in Kenya, how he met Michelle, his daughters, his Blackberry phone, his basketball and dancing skills, etc. She plugged <em>The Audacity of Hope</em>, advising students that it's not too expensive and that they should get it while they still can. She was given forty-five minutes and spent fifteen on an hour-by-hour recap of the events of Inauguration Day.<br /><br />The only American in the audience, I was deeply ashamed that this Public Affairs Counselor from the U.S. embassy would assemble a slide show full of stuff straight out of <em>People</em> magazine and expect to be taken seriously in a university setting. It bothers me even more to think she'll give this same talk to so many more Malaysian students and teachers. In my assessment, she's wasting a valuable opportunity to convey useful, meaningful information about the new American administration to some of Malaysia's brightest.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316451724792270850" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWQezh83P9LH18C7iGhM6SBrsCn85l5neaSCLptPx3HS2s17xWjXIHYslWi4wQxxvr7UKIQZzr3ZzhyOBn7EWtfC-gDwbSSIlCRyReK8x-b8u__-2jJiB0GdAJo50qX9Wj3oJI1P7Mg6M/s400/IMG_2522.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316451719576789394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzUKV1-TJMp14nFSPwuTPo186n1LnCp4LY8ozi2LhhSQQ2askfRTHWqTTlrXhUAg2IAvJE2kEzN9cVKP60V_jyOJ1erMnf8obsd1_rEXvTiJGt0AMR0BhI6Cac1jIVihRmUqVM7Cvm9o/s400/IMG_2520.JPG" border="0" />Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-38767205152936266572009-03-19T14:13:00.016+08:002009-03-24T02:05:45.985+08:00Ponggal NightPeninsular Malaysia has an ethnic Indian minority of nearly 10%. Sarawak's Indian community on the other hand is tiny, registering less than one hundredth of a percent of the population. Still, there are enough Indians at and around UNIMAS to put on one heck of a Ponggal Night 2009.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316433014986234978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 330px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkRteKTTIFwLGfhi1Yn-ktXDrDgN1x5MXThHyIiPD0MdfIYivWd1rwv0UPYMUgbkynPROrVmFVggivyGXdjhAFh42dkaUyaB3C8uoGkSYsMBxVCw5et0y9kQDo4MYujqxniM6SQN4CwL4/s400/IMG_2960.JPG" border="0" /> I had mistakenly assumed that Hindi, the official language of India (along with English), would be the mother tongue of most Indians in Malaysia. Actually, the majority here are ethnic Tamils and speak the Tamil language. Besides India and Sri Lanka, Malaysia has the world's highest population of Tamils, a result of the British colonial government having recruited Indian laborers to clear jungle, build roads, and work on rubber estates.<br /><br />The harvest festival of Ponggal, something like a Thanksgiving, is celebrated by Tamil Hindus worldwide. The peak of the four-day festival actually occurred back on January 14th, but the huge amount of preparation required for this annual UNIMAS event means it can't be ready before March. A traditional celebration of the festival includes many customs and rituals being performed each of the four days, but UNIMAS Ponggal Night consists simply of Indian food, a speech, and a lot – lot – LOT of choreographed dance performances.<br /><br />Jana is an Indian girl who sold Seon and me our tickets. I met up with her to get the tickets and took the opportunity to ask some questions about Ponggal and Hindu practice. She sent me a text message the night before the event to ask me something, and that led to a conversation that I thought I'd share. (I wasn't a big texter before coming here, but students do it so often that I've jumped on board.)<br /><br />Jana: Hi blaire, how r u? Did u mind if I put urs n Seon's name sitting together wit some Indian guys?<br />Blair: I'm well. Don't mind. That sounds good.<br />Blair: Our table should have girls too though :)<br />Jana: Ok…pls bring ur tickets 2moro…<br />Jana: Hey u naughty boy…all guyslah…:-)<br />Blair: Haha, alright then. We'll bring our tix, don't worry.<br />Jana: Ok c u 2moro...hope u enjoy our performance…hope u show ur talent(dancing)..haha..<br />Blair: Ha! I have talent in sports and drumming, NOT dancing, but I'll give it a try :)<br />Jana: Ya ya.. i hope so.. but u still have to dance wit guys..ha..ha..<br /><br />She got the last word.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316436329238054322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4afYHk7g0q98s6NEtcUHc18-FXUzRk3Bpee7p_LB56eGDKPmDlk6qgwZmuKkttNMj74mn5JTfNZQp6SrlrQxCy8LqA1DZ3jR_A2AO_q01-JSJDAu174gAyNTobotYrfBOFlXFtgfWXCA/s400/IMG_2406crop.JPG" border="0" /> <div>Above is the Dean of Student Affairs whose face is very common around these parts as he's invited to speak at seemingly every schoolwide event (and there are many). I didn't know it at the time because his speeches are in Malay, but he actually mentioned me in one of them. Referring to last month's track meet that I took part in, he mentioned his amusement at observing how the Malaysian athletes took three steps for every two of mine. Then he went on to criticize the students for failing to stretch and warm up like I did, attributing my success partly to my pre-race routine. Based on the frequency of cramping and injury I've observed around me when playing sports here, his was a fair criticism that students generally do not take seriously stretching and warming up.<br /><br />He interrupted his Ponggal Night speech every five minutes or so to take a crack at reciting simple phrases in the Tamil language. The forgiving crowd of almost a thousand cheered him enthusiastically for each attempt.<br /><br />Other than the meal and speech, the four-hour night consisted of a few songs and plays and a whole lot of dance performances. I was impressed by the number and variety of dances they pulled off. Each one seemed to go on and on, one song blending into the next without a break in the choreography. There was traditional Indian dancing, hip hop, salsa, ballroom, and even some cross dressers in the mix.</div><div><br /></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316431985817895202" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 362px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKlyl7DGEFSoMtnznWDBTKq6x-d_KLLI2RXMLTQYdXhPXmdy1y3PW-hFH55OGy51VXTSAhNd3XO8hL-mT4AxITA6G-_NMxg5ZnQzPkZzpwkXEjLMMl8Z1CwP5ceKnqSmssmIluKNJgII/s400/IMG_2417.JPG" border="0" /></div><div>I borrowed my Indian clothes from the UNIMAS theater costume shop.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxPpb2Lv-TW3k5aeoHFBpxMpV61MUTTIfolQiDHFHdNwU0bJJYFpclqNxSMpFR97Dedoy-iK5Umh6zIzb-P_26zxPRA8vay_BSmg99425NneH55EvkkX3E_sTCBGZ2TnuXYB_1SBuzOY/s1600-h/IMG_2422crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316431974917935650" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 310px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxPpb2Lv-TW3k5aeoHFBpxMpV61MUTTIfolQiDHFHdNwU0bJJYFpclqNxSMpFR97Dedoy-iK5Umh6zIzb-P_26zxPRA8vay_BSmg99425NneH55EvkkX3E_sTCBGZ2TnuXYB_1SBuzOY/s400/IMG_2422crop.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-5348341374913673332009-03-11T01:01:00.007+08:002009-05-04T17:06:30.812+08:00Remaining Travel ScheduleIt has taken quite a bit of asking around and many, many hours on Air Asia's wesbite, but I finally have just about solidified my travel schedule for the rest of my time overseas.<br /><br />March 12-17 Bali, Indonesia<br />March 20-23 Pontianak, West Kalimantan, Indonesia (9-hour bus ride south of Kuching)<br />March 28-31 Phuket, Thailand (with my Mom!)<br />April 9-15 Singapore<br />April 15, 19-20 Kuala Lumpur<br />April 16-18 Temerloh, Pahang, Peninsular Malaysia<br />May 5 Exams over, Check out of UNIMAS<br />May 5-9 Miri, Sarawak (Miri International Jazz Festival May 8-9)<br />May 10-14 Mulu National Park<br />May 15-16 Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei<br />May 17 Labuan Island<br />May 18 Lawas, Sarawak<br />May 19-21 Ba Kelalan, Sarawak<br />May 22-27 Kota Kinabalu and around Sabah, Malaysia<br />May 27-31 Phnom Penh, Cambodia<br />June 1-2 Angkor Wat, Siem Reap, Cambodia<br />June 3-5 Bangkok, Thailand<br />June 5 Seattle, Washington, U.S. of A.Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-9062581175303348462009-03-10T23:30:00.006+08:002009-03-25T15:34:12.305+08:00Sarawak FCOne of my first questions back when I was considering coming to UNIMAS was "Does Kuching have any professional sports?" The answer is yes...sort of.<br /><br />I knew enough about Malaysia not to expect any pro baseball, football, or hockey, but I thought basketball was a possibility. (Seon informed me that even South Korea has a pro basketball league, although - amusingly - each team is allowed a maximum of two foreign players, and before this year a rule banned anyone over 6'8'', i.e. the height of the tallest Korean player.) Soccer has never been among my favorites, but in recent years I've shed my prejudice and grown to appreciate this world's best loved sport. In many parts of the globe it's all they have in the way of pro sports, and that includes Sarawak.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311599275674391554" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 250px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4pAeyOCVp5p_NItAADvZHBv3LG1FIdoL4osEmUTdKTVmLC0oL5NzvdEOf0fnTMPstjjwUpFihkhnAsY_BUXeGyDucx45tNFT6_TuEkl5CwNRSu4QPg_KS9-gHh12U3V4qDWw_VI1TvqM/s400/IMG_2249crop.JPG" border="0" /> The Sarawak Football Club's heyday was in the '90s when their nickname was the Crocs. In 1999 they made their only appearance (losing to Brunei) in the prestigious Malaysia Cup, the longest-running soccer competition in Asia. Since then they have declined so much that last year, by which time they'd become the Hornbills, they faced the shame of losing their position in the Super League and being relegated to the second division of Malaysian national soccer, the 14-team Premier League.<br /><br />Ten years ago they began playing in Kuching's impressive Sarawak Stadium which seats 40,000 and was built for the 1997 FIFA World Youth Cup. This venue is conspicuously and impractically large for a city the likes of Kuching.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Wq9z63sh56cN2mR9XzuGXb1M3mUkIQcUUervpGmUgDvKkb2hHO9CYHE65PjOmtv1mNW3JcgKmUO-Ras2wYGvFFcHVtJtmvjcitT4OGVs31IIztT1QDfacifaDFD-eZrNGY0zlzVaeG0/s1600-h/Sarawak+stadium+aerial.jpg"></a><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311598787807418466" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 282px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdG-d-k4ZQDNiGkCBZcK9VpAO1lBr29iD-_51IEDjCYxUn9kmevRlJedO3c4y28lHbF4CqlzbdzDN6y43ceScIPobgJDnWktUx0hOgWfYiCqPDwUGH0qoq2w0GLjOrAXIi_XlawOF92EE/s400/Sarawak+stadium+aerial.jpg" border="0" /> <div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEXG-XFerqk1O2ERpML9aULrAquWZeojaftU3quPWveT21OF3mjNwDkUKCDQFrUrrloxikCdotN4KOYig5-EuAeEXFWJ5ZuOmAPLHi4K_6UcJlWyZ9qLZZ5B-WkWlgTOHPErtlUp1N74/s1600-h/Sarawak+Stadium.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311598133307263586" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 156px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxEXG-XFerqk1O2ERpML9aULrAquWZeojaftU3quPWveT21OF3mjNwDkUKCDQFrUrrloxikCdotN4KOYig5-EuAeEXFWJ5ZuOmAPLHi4K_6UcJlWyZ9qLZZ5B-WkWlgTOHPErtlUp1N74/s400/Sarawak+Stadium.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div><em>Unfortunately</em>, we only drove by this magnificent structure on the way to Sarawak FC's most current home, the older and far less impressive State Stadium. The team's dismal performance lately has made them unable to pay the state government enough to rent the nicer, newer stadium next door.<br /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311597764051864050" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 341px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyZp0Qn3qcOxhsfAZBr4rfMexJoAIJVqG0jFiHFfS1HkswBW7FtycS8fIzyrNrVld9bXAp_5jo4aI9LeGy3a3L3vwA8GhPJn6-3niQewQmAUjnxptlXcBV6hXQfUZbZ9-nXpntkMOoKo/s400/IMG_2244crop.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311597757282064402" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 266px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6StMSN2cyNT-L6QfGqfbORO6ClHF_ba2AZBAFkLnIxTpJ2FJogJQrbvmTEknjNCyYBvu9vwc7tvaWvCXDCvYCUPuoKrAi7W36XFHT1sRtgCHvjtes4WaueSdwUFgEBARasGQmz2VjH9A/s400/IMG_2211crop.JPG" border="0" /> My friend and classmate Gary from Kuala Lumpur informed me about the game just a few hours before it started, and luckily I was free. We went for the cheap, uncovered seats (i.e., cement terraces) which cost me $2. Even though it rained, this turned out to be a good move because they allowed everyone into the covered seating regardless.</div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311597249934829506" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOIKZZjt70r8n29a1yK655WT23vEEiwAahK6tbL9qzYUkTgOXQtzRo2PgtK5BnkCpHg8hNhe-7IN9eRJKQcU-ODP3uwi0O12HTe9MFwhrTEaVexSW0RturSCziKVdVilfVrJFQPhR8ixg/s400/IMG_2242crop.JPG" border="0" /> <div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5q7DuqC9hpRSlhflfh3CWyi9v1tmho_XJT5ih98T1UC2V9miosHeeFKAbhXKhVE7PtnpzENpq3uL_FTNjJ7ZvnDFZaZx2anfnvfSOmd83sh6OQqSHu9t63m1FtPHro_hnGkxf4CGsZ7I/s1600-h/IMG_2241crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311597246289825698" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 254px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5q7DuqC9hpRSlhflfh3CWyi9v1tmho_XJT5ih98T1UC2V9miosHeeFKAbhXKhVE7PtnpzENpq3uL_FTNjJ7ZvnDFZaZx2anfnvfSOmd83sh6OQqSHu9t63m1FtPHro_hnGkxf4CGsZ7I/s400/IMG_2241crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> Despite the low turnout, the game felt lively throughout thanks to the chants and beats provided by the Sarawak Football Fan Club. They played one bass drum and a couple dozen <em>kompang</em>, shallow single-skin hand drums of Malay origin. I've been informed that the best place to buy one is the Kuala Lumpur central market, so I plan to stop there next month.</div><div>-</div><div></div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311596506434150450" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 296px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDb2PQLFXES1q60ZbUeoJ7d8KlH3L51xB0WHRGEazfNgo_7vrbW6VhYPrA3a5ilhFK9FoBbk2wGrCPXdtAd9ldyP_7TMwMMq79n0ID3kXrPYsAjVBxEPfrIokfoBBpJ0ZZoAud3Y00ciw/s400/IMG_2253crop.JPG" border="0" /> <div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUq5qAKTDBNtINj01cbr5qzt7JtdiEhFOkDL6ERFKh-RGKDjMGe7mmcFWZg1cmZyqGKoUSi_KrYftEDL6flCVxSHir0pYVU0k-gnhRHN5Jd8dnlJN6YZmcTyjtoBEFCcFTjvEtmOV3EM/s1600-h/IMG_2239crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311596502252458994" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 349px; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDUq5qAKTDBNtINj01cbr5qzt7JtdiEhFOkDL6ERFKh-RGKDjMGe7mmcFWZg1cmZyqGKoUSi_KrYftEDL6flCVxSHir0pYVU0k-gnhRHN5Jd8dnlJN6YZmcTyjtoBEFCcFTjvEtmOV3EM/s400/IMG_2239crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> A local military marching band provided the halftime entertainment. (Any good <em>football</em> game has a marching band at halftime, right?) They were small and featured bagpipes and a baton wielding leader. I enjoyed their simple five-minute routine, but Gary was more interested in his dwindling supply of cheese puffs. He said his own high school marching band was better than these guys. Ditto man. Ditto.<br /><div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311596497178663890" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 231px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZBxYNUmvYVm2vYfHZwtflutp26dw-EafnRfk3a5Jij0GLoXpZ8kQEaRp0XqlzV4N4dfkaFIwFJNYcc-9OV1TajjzK1EDg5R7cyY-55UjXSHH8Js4dVM3phATaSyfjmOIKt9l739ona9w/s400/IMG_2225crop.JPG" border="0" /> Despite Sarawak's large indigenous and Chinese populations, nearly all the players on Sarawak FC are Malays. Sarawakians pride themselves on being significantly more racially integrated than Peninsular Malaysians, but sports here remain very much segregated. It can be said, for example, that soccer is for Malays and natives, whereas basketball is played almost exclusively by Chinese.<br /><br />In the past Sarawak FC has had several Australians, a couple South Africans, a Scot, and a Brazilian, among other foreigners. (Players from at least 66 countries have played professional soccer in Malaysia, but never a single American!) In fact, teams had become dependent on their foreign players for scoring, as last year the top four leading scorers were non-Malaysian. It is quite unfortunate that the league's rules regarding foreigners are constantly changing, and the most recent ones ban imports altogether.<br /><br />At one point near the game's end a slide tackle led to some shoving and exchanging of words, and I thought I would get to witness a soccer brawl – Malaysian style. It was not to be. We lost to visiting Terengganu 2 to 1.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-55766369158018347872009-03-08T23:30:00.009+08:002009-03-09T12:22:42.660+08:00ClimateThe monsoon season was in full swing when I arrived just before New Year's Day. Like clockwork heavy showers confined me indoors a couple hours every afternoon. It's been raining so much that even the locals who have lived for decades in this tropical climate are complaining. The rain has been a major cause of flooding throughout Sarawak and even in better developed Peninsular Malaysia. Malaysian news has been showing outraged Kuala Lumpurians demanding that the government find a definitive solution to the flash flooding once again hitting this modern capital city. At some spots in KL, water has briefly risen above five feet, swamping cars and causing major traffic jams.<br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310883676380842722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 273px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3W0jYBO8oCzfl0skV1QMKdvFeiww5gb7D74O1ryO0xk8j9aupgLtWl8OwGlbchspJdB2LVm0CxTZ3NMdp9WlOO-nFDhsPX-nqIn_IUtw1rtCvQFmqt-b7C3ZqVlGyTd8_2GnJoZZlmUQ/s400/flooded+cars+KL+after+downpour.jpg" border="0" /> </div><br /><div>A view across the Sarawak River from the Kuching waterfront on a rainy day:</div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310883662542466530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEBFeabtvurPwPDIAbQW5MJjdfcuBdg2ayaY3Zk2NfHoOnlc-F98mmvZRkWv4zEefjH97sMaH6r50dn0Hw0c9W4ykwV8O6Z5lCzl3QmWHB0SwY2P-iXv92YiSL2-sAG5I6VQUp0OgKKxg/s400/IMG_1746crop.JPG" border="0" /> Rain outside my class at the UNIMAS old campus:<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310883667845151858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 305px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcF1iPnNkzUW_rslGkkJFeJatsS9jkefdayWS9ybD2NMjVVMMBxiIaSOBhS8SJXbc97TTLffC0mu0CtUfEOEkYPu28Anlv15P2DHcIxVT7EBRCt7CEffohSiZswtBf_AdE7YnEcKBqkYY/s400/IMG_1804crop.JPG" border="0" /> <p>Strangely, I've actually been underwhelmed by the amount of rain. A Pacific Northwest native, of course I'm used to rain, but somehow I expected rain during the rainy season <em>in the</em> <em>rainiest city in Borneo</em> to be like Seattle rain on 'roids. It hasn't been which is nice, plus I always appreciate having clouds around midday to block that brutal equatorial sun. With little variation the temperature is mid-80s in the day and mid-70s at night.<br /><br />Kuching's rain is not so different from Seattle's, but its thunder is. The weather forecast for virtually every day that I've been here has been "T-storms," but rarely do thunder and lightning come near enough to campus that I'd say I'm in a thunderstorm. Those occasions, however, can be a bit frightening. The sharp thunder "claps" are ten times as loud as the low "booms" I'm used to. At first I found it odd that people kept telling me to be careful whenever I was heading outside at a time it was raining. That was before I found out that last year a UNIMAS student was struck by lightning and instantly killed just a half-mile from where my apartment building sits. She was using an umbrella and a cell phone at the time.</p><p>I must have had an exaggerated conception of 'tropical climate' before coming here; I've found it easier than expected to tolerate not only the amount of rain but also the level of heat. I do all my running and basketball either in the morning or evening, and midday I try to stay inside or under shade. I would be wearing shorts 100% of the time if it weren't for the expectation that to class and inside the library men wear long pants, which I find uncomfortably hot when outdoors. But overall the heat rarely bothers me. In fact, some of my classes are so heavily air-conditioned that I've learned to bring along my jacket.</p><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310880520181188978" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 347px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRKG_yZQAN-rGZROOv2RpuoJtL4anz9fbjlyQXViHhEa9MFlVGnGEfwX4kYei6_o0UiivraDMtbaeqZLGN1TCInv-RPb25oEByZw16A0ByNN0I9hdoqaRFmFpQ7Yg2yPLC4GKYcAi_B8/s400/IMG_2320crop.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310880510160065186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 316px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggncM8gjltccYe-rQSTkCLFFZpaegslxfZ_gecTwad_XNPSqLbnFLVGjbPWeyIRs9z_W0XyfxvenNIm44fv70FDbiGWQKletgsuQS6zypmzB-HWJ-ELL_l7FumZelPhxtXScHOtV2952w/s400/IMG_0883cropedit.JPG" border="0" /> Below is the main entrance to the library. From a distance the windows look frosted, but up close it becomes clear that it's just condensation on the glass.</div><div><br /></div><div><div><div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310879876907490114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9SXSHd7Hlu0FkTq3kTWGhysrzo6QmG9GI_vG6Aw8GuptTc1WKpE08bvxTNFoU2us1u2WdZM1Ati2mpdN199UrWGDA_vxvET4GvtiHjfmRAcKRnOLPh9xsHD5kol8xOmb6TNG4L9SRloM/s400/IMG_1193.JPG" border="0" /> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310886688777686594" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrG6p2xswDPM3YxJUOqgCuZd8HNmkSoeH10LcX4rnHps3VIWNoD26Dr-rSdu4B-NYxbreLGcYwoFJka_icWuKJWhLush_YPa0kDnVx8eyIZwLJvVB25CrQAk3tocKHMIuhRJKocK6nhDI/s400/IMG_1190.JPG" border="0" /> The tropical humidity has its pros and cons.<br /><div>Pro: My face and hands require less moisturizing lotion.<br />Con: When walking outdoors at my normal pace I start sweating in about three minutes.</div><div>Pro: My muscles automatically stay looser and require less stretching before sports.<br />Con: The lens of my camera fogs up real bad when moved outdoors from an air-conditioned room.<br />Pro: I can get sweet photo effects without any fancy software.</div><br /><div></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310879215571025378" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 366px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdR95BcIdgMsAMiFKBQ5aI0hbh4BUbKnlpjTwrRfXYHqKEoshWrufEjGQO0jmUyCHAfX57FKJUnu5D5MX5d5O4pn6Yw-_LA9v6IAeTIEo7jyWveZQVoV3VlEmXi93xYbiXa7cZxnHO0m4/s400/IMG_1360edit.JPG" border="0" /> All in all, I find the weekly weather forecasts for Kuching – which invariably read "High of 86, T-storms, 80% chance of precipitation" – to be misleading. I'm grateful that neither the rain nor the heat nor the lightning (knock on wood) has much impeded my activities here.</div><br /><div>--------------</div><div>--------------</div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310891132264101042" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 308px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqaaRGAlY0KcI9tk0VZv0-kiLAyEPQEwbn-RU1jFUjNyhypH7TmccED6mU3FfMX1GWdkGIaNwlil7I9sIJ4FMMRi1WH5QGov9yseGKONrmIVVz6HQredVMTTxfYpW416J-TlzmadwY8Y/s400/IMG_1315crop.JPG" border="0" /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIOvmDtOHNU9F8cruPxceTJ4pzDHkgRP1oiYK-wnGb5YoglfL6a8FjbpdQsVacBUsLUuhWAJLcI2TvWwN12htuIJLl6SuFpDf1-gj49ReiAXMJYyQ57Jq3CaMp5-0y1r9bpagQPEF1FU/s1600-h/IMG_2318crop2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310878550140956034" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 351px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIOvmDtOHNU9F8cruPxceTJ4pzDHkgRP1oiYK-wnGb5YoglfL6a8FjbpdQsVacBUsLUuhWAJLcI2TvWwN12htuIJLl6SuFpDf1-gj49ReiAXMJYyQ57Jq3CaMp5-0y1r9bpagQPEF1FU/s400/IMG_2318crop2.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-51070727254218217602009-02-20T23:48:00.019+08:002009-12-27T12:51:59.769+08:00Meeting the Men of the ForestIf Borneo has one symbolic animal it is the orangutan. Today orangutans are found only in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">rainforests</span> of two islands: Sumatra (critically endangered) and next-door Borneo (endangered).<br /><br />So many of us in the West are captivated by these cute and intelligent creatures, at the same time subhuman and superhuman. Scores of American and European <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">NGOs</span> are committed to preventing orangutan extinction and protecting their jungle habitat. The orangutan exhibit at zoos is always among the most popular, regardless of the captive apes' typical inactivity and depressed demeanor. Yet despite the love affair on the part of us Westerners, or <em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">orang</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">putih</span> </em>("white men"), the people who actually share space with orangutans, or <em><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">orang</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">hutan</span> </em>("forest men"), often regard them as pests. No different from ranchers protecting their livestock, villagers are liable to kill menacing orangutans who eat from their fruit trees, threatening their livelihoods.<br /><br />Thirty minutes from the campus is a very neat place to see the orangutan in safe and nearly natural conditions. This past Sunday I visited the Semenggoh Wildlife Rehabilitation Centre with Seon, Min Sun, and our friend Gary who works for UNIMAS.<br /><br />Feeeding time occurs twice a day when the park staff leave out fruit on a wooden platform separated from a tiered viewing area for park visitors. We arrived an hour before the three o'clock feeding, so I enthusiastically suggested we take a walk down one of the park's many trails. <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304968821160575778" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 266px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12vItJ9UJWMmCUiVqpHyVtBGVrDAF5riLMgP4slCUFVan3_tBnAFbeDxGRBYEN7zC2fVPaR80X491yn4eL_plEB79Yr1FAb4-omF0w3akt4CjkYLgynRGGDIHGFZAldcVPTYcAJ44wQ8/s400/IMG_1937crop.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304965627337529026" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZcBkinhues4bm30d7f2-Pjwg7J5n97LRxTHsrUs5Iehuv4xrRkUjvpeTbY2PDucOERIeUMIS-rEDSFu38IGdJeSkRE-wR37KnjGx0ln-MFN6NVWpqm6g3dwg9irvDwNOSFjnl51vIHXA/s400/IMG_1953crop.JPG" border="0" />Merely stepping foot into a real tropical rainforest put a big smile on my face, but overall the hike may have been a bad idea. Wouldn't you just know it that the map at the trailhead wasn't exactly up to date? We ended up walking twenty minutes in and twenty minutes straight back, rather than the planned route which would have brought us nicely to the orangutan viewing area with time to spare. We ended up rushing back and making it just in time to see the orangutans' dramatic arrivals from all directions.<br /><br />Concern about missing feeding time wasn't the only reason we rushed. Halfway back to the trailhead, with Seon and I lagging behind teaching each other patriotic songs from our respective countries, Min Sun and Gary stopped. Min Sun was looking down at her leg and Gary, slightly panicked, told us to hurry past them and stop up ahead. We soon found out that Min Sun had two leeches sucking away at the back of her left leg. Gary removed them, and then we all hustled the heck back to the main road.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304968813516061442" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 335px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiUpFfh5iZyyGoOU1Tpm30qPZ-LSxDjXYQlwcQVANjQUT23roZorAQlppVkNi6Hl6aXNe90lUmA9L9soIh0_hfr5e-UQ0QWrJ33gtZ94FtINHN4fQAPg3FfrfmwoRcffJviLY4r5bR49w/s400/IMG_1948cropedit.JPG" border="0" /><br />We surveyed the damage once we'd finally reached safe ground. Unfortunately, Min Sun, who is very easily frightened, by far had it the worst. She needed five leeches removed from her feet and legs, and she wasn't the least bit happy about it. Seon had two leeches. Zero actually tasted my blood, but four were on my shoes, and one was under my foot inside my shoe. How it got there I'll never understand. I wouldn't have even thought to check inside my shoe if it weren't for Gary. Amazingly, Gary was wearing shorts and sandals, yet not one leech touched him. The reason, he says, is because his job has taken him into the jungle many times and he's learned how to walk in a manner to avoid leeches.<br /><br />Having regained our composure, we found the trail to the orangutan viewing area. In no more than two minutes I was already standing next to a tree in which an orangutan clung thirty feet above. As it turned out, our arrival to the viewing area coincided with the arrival of the last of the orangutans who cared to show up for feeding time that afternoon. I can't describe my excitement as I walked along a path through the jungle with orangutans swinging through the trees above my head. Our destinations were the same, but our modes of getting there were comically different.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304941952149296994" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 321px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLSg4n51GuWtbXKAAON0NoZpWFTyeeDZk2H_4YS2fO18QssyXRZQ0to4hPYN-uZ7_XU-9L_XQz19jhTN8BJgpVXMQs6bj08q5AhpanavM5Ha6Psi4X0ydLyjkJqo41P4KgT2OHXEZjEt4/s400/IMG_2008crop.JPG" border="0" /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304961872115932274" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 267px; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjELu1WirotYqrU6QFKXK61myqqiJx8tZFfWgizHetdjA3rSVUJbc6y2-rkzL2IYUsmJVDnWN33liedwJwTyVM9TjbUS758YVAg9CRIST5LEFFQcwZk_bhJymqQx886W_leRZX9ITYOkpA/s400/IMG_1984crop.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304965621720398450" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 347px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo3J63xwLkHIaxgLf9FTXP6oMD4bS6PhNKjRFGAdUCAB4TBDxWA3wOLBb9XUT8L7Kt3y7WlcGpdtDWSuylX6mtMoZmak_WBYHU8nuyfy5UNNbKjDGppAtJW8MRz3R8sjkRxnjDrmO3jQQ/s400/IMG_1965cropedit.JPG" border="0" /><br /><br /><div><div><div><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohMN5gK23WmS_TZmLacWeostl6HwH_3J57g2dUt0Ylw4TIyVcuROvz9qlSn3MiGwyRJ-vDF6u5TgkV4Du0m0xO9NGQuiAsf2I3jSVWDr-MiRqNy5AgIbD9VVMQG3tPMWsnzjHhtMNby4/s1600-h/IMG_1981crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304961876551186306" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 267px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhohMN5gK23WmS_TZmLacWeostl6HwH_3J57g2dUt0Ylw4TIyVcuROvz9qlSn3MiGwyRJ-vDF6u5TgkV4Du0m0xO9NGQuiAsf2I3jSVWDr-MiRqNy5AgIbD9VVMQG3tPMWsnzjHhtMNby4/s400/IMG_1981crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> Below is an adult female with her baby's hand barely visible at her chest. </div><div><br /><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXw-tvE9mz3Qwa2q4iRMRUsDp6DyB3jz2_RJa5_eN75legbRCmPXfIU-Qq3Onxbyimpf2fromiIi01QE48y4NJSa-k89jx5exVlO0rMWBBBKYV93tkLTgke66j8plpVeNjycCWY3kryU/s1600-h/IMG_1989crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304961870401421298" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 247px; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwXw-tvE9mz3Qwa2q4iRMRUsDp6DyB3jz2_RJa5_eN75legbRCmPXfIU-Qq3Onxbyimpf2fromiIi01QE48y4NJSa-k89jx5exVlO0rMWBBBKYV93tkLTgke66j8plpVeNjycCWY3kryU/s400/IMG_1989crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> <div><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304944824998730914" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 331px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSs_3Y1euaS5zVEBAy_JQ1Fmimv6iJiH7qXsJ825ko4pCiJKdzT-NetVztVNY4f9gsOGRR2gXMEnmarjKFoDuRUG0vLqPbGEWrsPiQb9cGlvgtHpnbCKajKN_ClZhWBFKOEjggV0b1Cg/s400/IMG_1996crop.JPG" border="0" /> <div><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304944835315920146" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtsXcpYMAwirm-vM0Dk-W1hcEdtX4OplNKKlaizXcYngVi2A0vOwoYoDlu_Ix0SQsJAPi3F18sSq1ZIUW9mgLHk0PYu1RNwf0UoS53FXYmNJ2bOqq7kgsPKlTeYmhUsZ0B1GdHBToJ5s/s400/IMG_1993crop.JPG" border="0" />At one point two of them were giving chase to a third who had snatched the lone coconut set out by the park staff. In the end, the others gave up and the early ape got the fruit.</div><div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLk4xITjlWgvBT_Sr4ifmo6qBDLKvPScLKsnmLPKus8NcZfYdOFJjeLPJnfGhFrQEXg5aBZNz3jKBQ1MwpheS9BkCUyvIz1rJkrxAXt5njGZOr2nlnZt3Yi7CbVKVPj19_aRIgOtrY2is/s1600-h/IMG_2017cropedit.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304941948942020242" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 237px; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLk4xITjlWgvBT_Sr4ifmo6qBDLKvPScLKsnmLPKus8NcZfYdOFJjeLPJnfGhFrQEXg5aBZNz3jKBQ1MwpheS9BkCUyvIz1rJkrxAXt5njGZOr2nlnZt3Yi7CbVKVPj19_aRIgOtrY2is/s400/IMG_2017cropedit.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7g5KZ-5LOkLRk0DNaFB1ixUp230mPm4oaSQkpZNvqUpaGZ1bnsfm5Z6vzLpHTgfkFd-SERnZqahMxpmrAYDOX0t9EdHqdpwMXRozKjEsSwsuz4dxpbo22bgj6OF8to_4jiXP-JG1kTU/s1600-h/IMG_2022crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304941945413534882" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 300px; height: 400px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-7g5KZ-5LOkLRk0DNaFB1ixUp230mPm4oaSQkpZNvqUpaGZ1bnsfm5Z6vzLpHTgfkFd-SERnZqahMxpmrAYDOX0t9EdHqdpwMXRozKjEsSwsuz4dxpbo22bgj6OF8to_4jiXP-JG1kTU/s400/IMG_2022crop.JPG" border="0" /></a>--------------<br />Below is a map from the United Nations Environment Program website showing the past, present, and projected extent of deforestation in Borneo. Saving the rainforests of Borneo is not primarily a matter of pressuring the government to protect more land or collecting money to purchase more acres. Today, nearly every square mile of remaining primary forest is already at least <em>officially</em> protected, either as a national park, sanctuary, or something else. The logging that is still taking place is almost all illegal and simply hard to prevent.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304962437111402434" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 400px; height: 317px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQHe-1wMh3rzeMZ3lTAaGaMkwkNtazsHGcv7JNsJMyds2Azvjvl31CgvlVRvXojyETCzO3v2Xrc5e5RwhcftWICnSLeUjaaa1mv1Df0bg-XzobJzGw5Yg4rxH38dR2CdFjh45UgoqfDbI/s400/Deforestation+in+Borneo.jpg" border="0" /></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4897251923682239727.post-26409781105187185412009-02-11T23:22:00.009+08:002009-02-16T23:44:22.073+08:00Go Allamanda GoLast weekend I took part in the inter-college track meet. It was held at the sports complex in Samarahan because UNIMAS has no track. (In addition to the USA) I was representing my dorm, Allamanda College, though I had no orange clothes to affiliate myself as such like the other Allamanda athletes.<br /><br />Brian is a Malay friend of mine who I'd run with a couple times prior to this competition. Last Wednesday he brought me along to the track to see what times I should shoot for in my events. Just after I finished timing myself in the 1500m it began raining heavily. Despite our saturated shoes we had a great time continuing with our training in the tropical downpour. Brian had struck a deal with the security guard allowing us to stay after hours, so, being the only ones in the whole stadium, we even had the guts to run shirtless, which is something I've been very tempted to do during my morning runs but have refrained from in respect of cultural standards.<br /><br />On Friday Brian brought me along to the public pool next to the track so we could relax our muscles before the meet. Two days after swimming in that pool my hair still felt as if I'd mistakenly shampooed with Elmer's glue. My rinse-wash-repeats were no match for the chlorine and whatever else was in that water.<br /><br />As well as being a sprinter, Brian is a great distance runner, swimmer, and cyclist. His two goals athletics-wise are to complete the Iron Man held on Malaysia's Langkawi Island and to take part in a footrace to the peak of Sabah's Mt. Kinabalu, a mountain I hope to climb in May. Currently in the news is Le Tour de Langkawi which enters its fifth of seven stages tomorrow. This is Asia's most prestigious cycling race and covers six Peninsular Malaysian states. (Ironically, the race's namesake is not included in the route.)<br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301563014832292258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpFMyquOvtazOjQjjCYnP5gzyFIRre9QgsJcZ64aUFHplSwwoSVa07lIn3FDzlpW2ACKTODG-5lg1SO9gyDu2n0o6qa8Hul1XQVFvNLO_tQvAI5MEva5MXbKi7Q4tKEwCwEjYpdPSKIuQ/s400/IMG_1828.JPG" border="0" />An opening ceremony was held before the track meet began Saturday morning. The deputy vice-chancellor made a speech praising the students for choosing to participate in this event rather than go to the shopping mall. Then we sung the national anthem and the UNIMAS theme song, both of which I really like and neither of which I quite have down yet. A lengthy prayer concluded the ceremony.<br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301563010797987506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 261px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5-QABenB1-XFxjgVokdosrLi1Zn7eozckq-JOqHkQyMuznJpWL-mVHmIuY38c_fASHTOc2wwLmo0zrZ-PbVaKyA9cNCty_V9ryUuVNW-ohWF_Nzf4Fge8sChU0Xe1LD-ogtYm1QLeyBs/s400/IMG_1838crop.JPG" border="0" /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301958883023934354" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 317px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijzTJVykOsh7r6igEpJZdl85PQ_G_5HWiShizUBjI1hb5LL3KK5_VKv4camvBmE8MUksAvhD8FTk3Uc8q5LqPUaADyoLc6XWn-Z_rgaBdKOzKDZoE8SSv4NkD7JNh7Kg_C8Ti6FVebTKU/s400/IMG_1845.JPG" border="0" />Certain events typically found in a track meet like hurdles races and high jump were excluded because they didn't have the equipment. Brian was expecting to run the steeplechase, but it was cancelled a day before the meet for this reason. One thing I found odd was the number of runners, especially girls, who would collapse during or at the end of the race and be carried off on a stretcher to be attended to by medics. To my knowledge no one was seriously injured. The girl below in orange brought home the gold medal for Allamanda in the 100m dash.</p><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWxsWeY1wgqCEDkZ4iF-6TOBhhdiF6yCrFwjVeE_-rdxczhXIfXeOPLsPw0KKyK-tyIPq3E8jBI8BnWtYfmFFLWXOkHPLHDDBY2xnXw4U2KLWb4Sa0i_SX3gL3oJausmhGhGe0WOIoXUE/s1600-h/IMG_1848crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301562015581971938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWxsWeY1wgqCEDkZ4iF-6TOBhhdiF6yCrFwjVeE_-rdxczhXIfXeOPLsPw0KKyK-tyIPq3E8jBI8BnWtYfmFFLWXOkHPLHDDBY2xnXw4U2KLWb4Sa0i_SX3gL3oJausmhGhGe0WOIoXUE/s400/IMG_1848crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> Brian is second from the left. He won silver in the 100m and bronze in the 200m.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-A2lht_jdKj8pyd9T07XCXbRvffg9D8CLp5GWdsm5L3ro7FRWY0eKRs6dPgtNLqjPjKwMIdWTFkKLw7t_EqQg3FsKxHZEkDQ8pyKlMdpvr0cOnUKOIqT0pYMU18EUIzxEEVrKeA_YW2I/s1600-h/IMG_1850crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301562010279850066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 318px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-A2lht_jdKj8pyd9T07XCXbRvffg9D8CLp5GWdsm5L3ro7FRWY0eKRs6dPgtNLqjPjKwMIdWTFkKLw7t_EqQg3FsKxHZEkDQ8pyKlMdpvr0cOnUKOIqT0pYMU18EUIzxEEVrKeA_YW2I/s400/IMG_1850crop.JPG" border="0" /></a>Saturday I won first place in the 1500m with a time of 4:54. On Sunday in the 5000m I took second to a real nice Indian-Malaysian guy named Benjamin Nathan Sebastian who I'd trained with before. In each of my races there was at least one guy running barefoot.<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3inCwJnIOrcuFlnEQoSCn8BGc96wdH9L4oYylXhVdlG77gL66n3_Eg9w-KI51Ga5uQ1UetovHPkUc4GBOT1fyHyYRGynqaUH0nb3iyet7tpNuv48Yg-LizF6k0OI7bo8v7lK6Nr18dM/s1600-h/IMG_1853crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301562007658273090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 360px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM3inCwJnIOrcuFlnEQoSCn8BGc96wdH9L4oYylXhVdlG77gL66n3_Eg9w-KI51Ga5uQ1UetovHPkUc4GBOT1fyHyYRGynqaUH0nb3iyet7tpNuv48Yg-LizF6k0OI7bo8v7lK6Nr18dM/s400/IMG_1853crop.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYW2g1Kjg9rNCVCAvNvlRcev9hakMgZ05o95W8Sg4ofarF_-SChf8_qFjRmj0nOvPOhb4vVyUdZ8LT6OLbzg_QgJhC1htyK3K99XXyVz5vz43CHDvP_s0UAZPChs5QYFcEhhZ0xp02n8/s1600-h/IMG_1855crop.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301561471077062402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 233px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPYW2g1Kjg9rNCVCAvNvlRcev9hakMgZ05o95W8Sg4ofarF_-SChf8_qFjRmj0nOvPOhb4vVyUdZ8LT6OLbzg_QgJhC1htyK3K99XXyVz5vz43CHDvP_s0UAZPChs5QYFcEhhZ0xp02n8/s400/IMG_1855crop.JPG" border="0" /></a> <img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5301956122348612546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 398px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_vvNLWGqNfpGZuk2D9JcBTYzZrgTTGQtTSrk2VuAOf0vx19Or-NGSpyDlkcN1bKkE7VoMlMFrTLSUa5cC-AywmL_BMwsCskTe7PjND7DwMHk-5GbjrZccu35mFmwQY3Es38CObVj0y4/s400/IMG_1876crop.JPG" border="0" />In the overall medal count Allamanda came in second only to Kenanga, the dorm for UNIMAS military trainees. The pictures that I'm in are thanks to my awesome roommate Seon who kindly came out to support me.</div><br /><div>-----</div><div></div><br /><div>Today I stopped by the ping-pong club's first meeting of the year and played three very intense matches, barely coming out on top in all three. If I'm lucky, I'll bring in another medal for Allamanda in this Saturday's inter-college ping-pong tourney.</div></div></div></div>Blair Dalyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08084839312842340690noreply@blogger.com