There has always been an intellectual and developmental rivalry between Singapore and Malaysia for reasons that are complex and which switch from one party to the other. (Singapore is winning this one at the moment, imo, even though I’m not a fan of Singapore.) However, also in my opinion, the worst thing Malaysia could have done was what they did in the mid-70s. They shot themselves in the foot and changed the language of instruction in schools from English to Malay.

Now, when we talk about schools in Malaysia, we’re talking about a many-headed beast. There are the federally-funded schools, which are overseen by the Ministry of Education. Then there are the Chinese schools, which cater mostly for Chinese students with the medium of instruction being Mandarin. And there are the Indian schools, which cater mostly for Indian students, but I’m not sure which language they use (yes, obviously, one of the Indian ones … Tamil?). There are fully private schools, where the medium is English. And semi-private/government schools. And then international schools.

So, to get back to the story, all the schools under the federal system began teaching all subjects in Malay. I think the Singapore government must have been chortling into their chicken rice when they heard that one. Showing that stubbornness is a pervasive trait, the government didn’t overturn that ruling until 2002, more than a quarter of a century later, when English finally became the official medium of instruction for Science and Mathematics but by then the damage had been done. For how could you get teachers to competently teach in English when they themselves had gone through a Malay-only education? The government appealed to the older teachers to come out of retirement and do their bit for the country, but here at the tail-end of 2008, the after-effects can still be seen.

Everything in Malaysia is political. Everything. So believe me when I say that the Malay elites are still gnashing their teeth at having to concede part of their position on the issue of language. And, ever since 2002, every couple of years, they try a different trick. The latest is one where the government called the principals and senior teachers of the Chinese and Indian schools together and asked them whether they really wanted to teach English at their schools for subjects other than English? (This is two years after an agreement had already been reached that they wanted to.) Wouldn’t it be better, the government suggested again, if the Sciences and Mathematics were taught in … oh we don’t know … your native languages? I mean, it can’t be easy forcing students to learn such heavy subjects in a foreign and difficult language, can it?

The Malaysian reading this immediately knows what the government is up to. If the ethnic schools agree to change their language of instruction (as is their right as private schools), then the thin edge of the wedge is hammered in, and the next step is to then claim that, as all other races are becoming nationalistic, why shouldn’t the Malays? And, bam!, Malay is back as the only medium of instruction throughout school. I was never so proud of Malaysia as when — not only the principals and teachers, but also — young pre-teen students polled replied that English was the language of commerce, science and the Internet and, although difficult, they needed to learn those subjects in that language if they were ever going to make a success of their lives. The only holdouts were a couple of young Malays who had probably already absorbed the goodness enshrined in the NEP (New Economic Policy), a raft of positive affirmative laws geared solely towards Bumiputras that will provide opportunities available to nobody else, and ensure these young students’ relative economic wellbeing well into adulthood, purely because they’re Malay.

Now, I can understand that a country wants to feel proud of itself and its language, especially if the country is as young as Malaysia. But if its goal is to become a fully developed nation within my lifetime (as the government keeps claiming) then it has to put aside its nationalistic idealism in favour of pragmatism. Wong Chun Wai points this out clearly in his column from Sunday’s edition of The Star newspaper. Taking into account two of Malaysia’s neighbours:

…in 2006, the number of college students who spoke and could write English in India was reportedly 100% while in 10 years, it has been estimated that China would have the largest number of English speakers.

This is the competition facing the young Malaysian. The economic landscape is tough enough as it is, and narrow nationalistic fervour should play no part in hobbling its young citizens, especially as:

many [such Malay nationalists] benefited from the English medium schools of yesteryear

themselves. Exactly. Hypocrisy, much?

The second major source of distaste is the following. Education is a Very Big Thing in this part of the world. A recent WSJ Asia article (13 November edition, “Dispatch” column by SungHa Park) detailed life in South Korea on College Entrance Exam Day. And it included a quote that rings true throughout the region, not just in South Korea.

“To many South Koreans, the admission tests are something that should always remain fair because education is the last fortress through which everyone, regardless of their current status, can ascend to a higher social status,” said Choi Set-byol, a sociology professor at Ewha Womans University.

And the Malaysian post-secondary system of education is stacked firmly against the non-Malays, with Malays (or “Bumiputras”, sons of the soil) being allocated the majority of federal university places, purely on the basis of their race. In a part of the globe where so much emphasis is placed on knowledge and learning, Malaysia has the dismal reputation of being the only nation on Earth that discriminates against its own citizens on the basis of access to education.

That the ruling Malays would further stack the educational deck in their favour and strive to make Malay the only language of instruction is another slap in the face to the other races. Because where would a young Chinese Malaysian go for further education? Or a young Indian Malaysian? It’s obvious they’re not wanted in their own country, the current system having nothing to do with meritocracy. Overseas perhaps? With zero knowledge of English? On that basis, even Singapore (the most affordable “overseas” education destination there is) is ruled out.

You may ask if the motivating force here, on the part of the government, is malice or apathy. In fact, it’s neither. It’s fear. And really, Malaysia deserves much much better. Pity it’s not getting it from the people with that very responsibility.

We’ve all heard about them. Fatwas. The one against Salman Rushdie made him famous. But what exactly is a fatwa? From About.com, we see that a fatwa is:

an Islamic religious ruling, a scholarly opinion on a matter of Islamic law. A fatwa is issued by a recognized religious authority in Islam.

But what’s interesting is that:

… since there is no hierarchical priesthood or anything of the sort in Islam, a fatwa is not necessarily “binding” on the faithful

and, of course,

it is not uncommon for scholars to come to different conclusions regarding the same issue.

So, the issuing of a fatwa per se is not about to unleash hordes of torch-wielding Muslims looking for someone to execute (burning at the stake is frowned upon in Islam, from what I can gather). However, as with Christians, it will introduce yet another ruling to be adhered to by the more conservatively religious families. And, as mentioned above, it’s not beyond the realms of possibility for an imam at Point A to say one thing, and an imam at Point B to say something else when both given an identical question.

At this point, I don’t see it as being terribly different to how Christianity operates, where people tend to congregate at churches that have pastors/priests/reverends partial to their general philosophical view, and who adhere to principles not explicitly covered by the Ten Commandments based on their religious leader’s sermonised pronouncements, or interpretations, of the Commandments (Rev. Jeremiah Wright vs Pastor John Hagee, say). And, to take another example, the Vatican made littering a sin back in March, thus saving the environment from lazy Catholics.

Malaysia, being a Muslim country, has its own Fatwa Council that’s recently decided to come out with a couple of pretty controversial fatwas. The first is on “tomboyish behaviour”. That is,

women looking like men whether in appearance or dressing

This means women wearing trousers, for one. The fatwa was issued to preserve the faith of Muslims and thus stop the prevalence of lesbian sex. Like conservative Christianity, Islam takes the “threat” of homosexuality very seriously. In reality, however, I’m not sure how this fatwa is going to play out. We regularly shop at what’s regarded as a “Malay shopping centre” and I see Muslim females of all ages dressed in trousers, from toddlers to grandmothers. There’s a small playground set at the McDonald’s there. Would I really prefer to see young girls in skirts flash their underwear coming down the slide, rather than be sensibly clothed in pants? In which case, will we be looking at a fatwa to ban females from playground equipment next? For their own protection, natch.

The second is not so clear cut because the Fatwa Council is only due to give its ruling on Friday, but has shot into the spotlight due to a remark from Professor Zakaria Stapa of the Universiti Kebangsaan Malaysia who thinks that Muslims should avoid yoga because its origins could be tracked to Hinduism and, thus, threaten a devout Muslim’s faith. After a six-month study, the Fatwa Council is due to make its conclusion public on 7 November, so stay tuned.

The slippery slope of fatwas such as these are readily apparent to many Malaysians, who sarcastically ask whether different currencies (one for Muslims, one for non-Muslims) will be issued next, so Muslims will not have to touch money that may have been handled by, say, pork butchers. Or that, if non-Muslim practices and culture are such a danger to Muslims (as Prof Zakaria Stapa would have us believe), then not only should there should be fatwas against attending movie theatres, all amusements and most restaurants in the country, but that every other building in Malaysia should additionally have “Muslim” and “non-Muslim” entrances, just to ensure that fragile Muslims don’t get corrupted by all these foreign cultures.

For myself, I find Muslims in Malaysia, in general, to be a relaxed, tolerant and level-headed lot. We have only ever been viewed with curiosity at worst, warmth and friendliness at best, and hostility only from one supervisor at the local JPJ (Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV), by any other name) who obviously had a chip on his shoulder about foreigners in “his” country. (Come to think about it, J faced the same thing in the US DMV, from a Japanese American, so there must be something about hiring practices across the world’s Transport departments … but I digress. As usual.)

While I can understand, to some extent, the fear that a particular population has towards popular encroachments on their “values” from people perceived as “other” (Australia has this attitude in spades), what I can’t understand is the failure of common sense from those in authority. The people who are the decision-makers in any society are usually better-educated than the norm, yet seem wilfully blind. It seems obvious to all of us that patronising the general population and deliberately forbidding a particular practice is the sure-fire way of increasing its popularity. Drugs. Rock and roll music. The Prohibition era.

So why continue doing it? Is it because authority trumps reason? Or because the alternative is entering into an extended, and perhaps ambiguous and painful, dialogue? That attitude’s understandable as well, to be honest, but does not do justice to any idea we have that we are, in any way, superior to the rest of this planet’s inhabitants. So what if things aren’t always black and white? Isn’t that why we have brains? So we have the capacity to reason intelligently, rather than just grasp at the first knee-jerk impulse that occurs to us? Doesn’t humanity deserve better?

POSTSCRIPT: Interestingly, I found a fatwa about reading and writing fiction. The link is here, but I thought I’d reproduce the question and answer in full for your convenience.

Question: What is the ruling regarding reading or writing fictional stories and those which arouse the imagination? And if some of them [aid in] rectify[ing] social problems, then is this permissible?

Response: Fictional stories are from lies which occupy the time of the writer and the reader without benefit, so abandoning busying oneself with them is preferable. And if writing and reading [fictional stories] occupies oneself from that which is obligatory then this [fictional stories] is prohibited. And if it occupies oneself from that which is recommended then this [fictional stories] is disliked. In any case, the time of the Muslim is valuable, so it is not permissible to spend it in that which there is no benefit.

So much for increasing my readership in Malaysia and Indonesia.

(Of course I’m being facetious. There are Muslim film directors making movies in Malaysia and Indonesia, and Muslim novelists with books for sale in the local stores. I’m just going to have to fast-track my learning of the language in order to enjoy any of them!)

It was the Muslim New Year last week, so we piled the kids into the car and took a trip to Desaru Beach, about one and a half hours’ drive away. The Visit Malaysia - Johor brochure (hardcopy, so you’ll just have to trust me on this) says:

Desaru boasts 25km of inviting beaches fringed by palms and casuarinas … The waters here are perfect for a relaxing swim, water-skiing and catamaran sailing.

THE GOOD: Oh man, they weren’t kidding when they said 25km of beach. It curves gracefully away in each direction, stretches of gold, with only one section directly in front of the public car park (entry fee RM3 per car) full of people. The rest of the 24.5km remains relatively clear, just begging for you to explore. The other thing I liked about Desaru (which I detest Australian beaches for) is that you can find actual shade under actual trees while still on the actual beach. In Australia, walking a beach is like being targeted by a cheerful laser in a desert, hellbent on giving you skin cancer. That’s why, despite the beautiful, blazing white and pristine sand, visiting Australian beaches holds no attraction for me any more.

The water at Desaru is a lovely temperature and, once you get past the line of “dumpies” (waves that dump rather than roll), the water is still shallow and — at least where we were swimming — free of rips. Just along the most frequently-parked portion of beach, is a hut plastered with Carlsberg signs that sells much-appreciated drinks. It’s open every day till 5:30pm and there are tables, chairs and umbrellas, so you can sit and enjoy your drink while watching the goings on.

Later in the afternoon, we tramped down the length of the beach and picked up a fantastic collection of sea shells and corals.

On our trip to Desaru, we offshot our original turn-off and ended up driving through the town of Saleng to get to the major junction at Kulai. Can I say, Saleng is a charming town? We liked driving through it so much that we deliberately “lost” ourselves on the way back, just so we could drive though Saleng again.

The other humorous bit was passing a town called “Tawar Air 1″, which had me reaching for the kamus (dictionary) that we always keep in the glove box.

“Tawar means tasteless,” I told J. “Tasteless Water One. Unfortunate name for a nice-looking town.”
“Maybe they meant neutral. Or good. As in ‘it doesn’t poison us’.”
“If they meant good, then it would be something like boleh. Boleh Air 1. But it isn’t. It’s Tawar Air 1. No, someone at this place must’ve thought the water sucked.”

Minutes later, we passed Tawar Air 2. Then directions to Tawar Air 3.

“Wow,” I said, “whomever explored this area really didn’t like the water very much.”

But I thought that explorer was perhaps going beyond descriptive — into catty — when we passed Tawar Air’s 4, 5 and 6. I’m sorry, Tasteless Waters. You all looked like cosy little towns to me. I’m sorry you had to get stuck with those names.

THE BAD: There are occasional signs along the road to Desaru highlighting “Caution! Accident Area”. Pity they didn’t put it along the entire damn road. In fact, every single road throughout Malaysia should be designated as an Accident Area. A lot of drivers are people who (seriously) should’ve failed their driving tests — driving at inappropriate speeds along bumpy roads, veering across double lines in the face of oncoming traffic, and overtaking across said lines, around corners and over hills. I wouldn’t mind so much, except what’s going to happen when they met a vehicle approaching in the opposite direction? For this reason, my tip, as the mother of two small children, is to try and stay in the middle of a traffic pack whenever possible. That way, if someone tries something stupid, it’s the car at the front that’s more likely to cop it.

The road itself, considering that Desaru is a major destination for locals and the occasional brave Singaporean, is also in pretty bad repair and could do with major rework. That explains one reason why people drive in the middle of the road — to avoid the patches-on-patches that turn mere driving into an exciting roller-coaster ride of adventure. And only one lane each way for much of the journey? C’mon, Department of Transport, what are you doing with your funds? Spending them all in the Klang Valley, I bet.

When we got to Desaru Beach, we found only one restaurant. In Malaysia, the land of a million food places???? Were they nuts????? And the restaurant didn’t even have everything on their menu. “No, sorry, no ikan (fish).” Which nuked half the menu there and then. “No, nasi lemak is finished already.” Which, at 11am, disappointed The Wast, who has grown to like the national dish. J ordered the beef burger. For some reason, the beef patties you buy here are a bright pink, even after being cooked. This is rather disconcerting, especially when the colour looks unnatural to begin with. And the reason why you can find 5kg bags (or 25kg buckets) of mayonnaise in the local supermarkets is that they use a fifth of it on every burger they make. I had the nasi goreng kampung, which is fried rice, village-style, with an egg on top. That means lots of itsy bitty chopped up chilli and anchovies (ikan bilis) mixed into the rice. What can I say? I’m a sucker for fried ikan bilis.

THE UGLY: Tourism Malaysia says:

Desaru is located 100 kilometres from Johor Bahru, and is a very popular destination for its clean beaches, excellent golf courses and unique attractions.

Hold on. Back up. Did Tourism Malaysia say “clean beaches“???? ‘Cos it ain’t. Oh, it’s long and it’s 100km from JB, and it’s fringed by trees. But, people, clean it most definitely isn’t. I saw plastic bread wrappers in the water, and bottles, plastic bags, and broken glass littering every metre of the beach. It got to the point where we were looking out for shards of glass more than sea shells.

I can say that some Malaysians have absolutely no sense of pride in their country if they so carelessly litter their own environment (and I believe that’s true) but, the problem is, it’s also a bigger Asian issue. My mother used to throw sweet wrappers out the car window until, one day, I stopped the car, reversed to the approximate position where she so thoughtlessly flung out the wrapper, got out and searched through the grass until I found similar litter. She was so embarrassed by my behaviour that she never again littered while I was driving her anywhere.

Oh, and before any Singaporeans start up about how their country is so clean, I’ve lived there. It isn’t. I got sick of having to dodge plastic bags of food being flung from apartment windows on my way to the swimming pool — used sanitary napkins, uneaten rice, cigarette butts, chewed chicken bones — when the rubbish chute was situated inside every apartment, next to the kitchen itself for Chrissakes! You actually have to walk further to get to the window! I tried growing herbs on the balcony until I started finding used tissues amongst the seedlings. And I know enough Malaysians who complain about how Singaporeans will use rubbish bins in their own country then, driving up through Malaysia, throw drink cans and the kitchen sink out their car windows. (Thus illustrating that punitive, financial penalties will only work so far. The only real way to permanently stop people from such behaviour may be to shame them into something better … not sure; still thinking this one through.) So, no, Singapore can’t claim any high ground whatsoever. Brunei, the richest little country in the region, is also a disgrace, with the amount of litter that’s thrown into the river around Bandar Seri Begawan. (I’ve seen it for myself.) And I don’t believe Indonesia or Thailand are much better.

And it’s a crying shame. Coming back to our day trip, Desaru is a great beach, looking out over the incredibly historic and romantic South China Sea. It’s gentle, picturesque, shady, with lots of room for everybody. And it’s also absolutely filthy. I dropped an email to the Johor branch of Tourism Malaysia, describing our experience and asking them to PLEASE clean up the place, including a few suggestions on how they may do this and leverage the local and business communities at the same time. Let’s see if anything happens.

DESARU BEACH RATING: I’m sorry to say, as it stands now, 4 out of 10.

We get occasional blackouts here in our estate. J is not so sure, but I think they’re for maintenance purposes because (a) they always seem to happen at around 8pm, (b) about once a month, (c) for less than an hour.

The last blackout was last night. We escorted the kids to their bedroom and hung around until electricity was restored and firmly vetoed the idea of telling ghost stories. (With two highly-strung children, this is something you do NOT want to indulge in.) A few minutes was taken up by J playing flashlight signals with Mr L, who lives in a house about half a kilometre away, and then it was down to sweating and coming up with another family-inclusive way to pass the time.

Little Dinosaur, it turns out, is a champion at “I Spy” because nobody has yet succeeded in guessing what she can see.

“I spy with my little eye something beginning with … P.”
“Pencil.”
“No.”
“Pillow.”
“No.”
“Pillar.”
“No.”
“Poster. Pussy-cat. Pen.”
“Nope, nope, nope.”
“Aw, we give up. What is it?”
“Sharpener.”

The Wast gets abstract.

“I spy with my little eye something beginning with … E!”
And it turns out to be electricity, which we have none of at that time.

I just got to the point of putting my fingers over the torch so we [EDIT: cancould] see through them, when the lights came on again. Darn. That trick will have to wait till next month.

PREDICTION: Okay, let’s see how right I’ll be. (So far I’m doing better than 50%.) Paulson’s bail-out will pass. There are just too many vested interests on both sides — Democrat and Republican — for it not to. There may be a little shuffling at the edges — perhaps a cap on banker remuneration (with appropriate loopholes in place of course), and slightly more oversight into Paulson shenanigans — but the banks will get their billions of pounds of flesh.

(The ultra-cynical part of me wonders if the conservative Republicans, in particular, are deliberately acting as lightning rods for the population, drawing all public opposition to the plan. This will leave the other Republicans and Democrats free of censure. Then, when the conservative Republicans cave in, after making some pretty speeches, the blame will only be focused on the few (with some deft sleight-of-hand to dazzle the masses) and everyone at Capitol Hill will end up getting off scot-free.)

There are rumblings about the government taking equity in the firms they bail out — a la the Swedish plan — but I bet it will either be vetoed, or structured in such a way that results in yet more taxpayer money being used to transfer ownership completely back into private hands, sometime in the future. (With the stern admonishment that government “meddling” in the market never works, contrary to a large number of other successful, government-entwined economic policies around the world.)

In another interesting aside, Robert Rubin — who helped engineer this current state of affairs way back during the Clinton era — is now one of Obama’s advisors. And McCain readily admits he knows nothing about the economy. Thief or twit, make your choice.

Do you know what I really miss, living in south-east Asia? A selfishly large hunk of charred beef, still bloody in the middle, served with oversized cutlery. So, when we visited KL a couple of months ago, I was adamant about my food choices. “I want steak!”

Along one of the many many sides of the frighteningly humongous MidValley Mall in the heart of KL, is the San Francisco Steakhouse, which is quite a swanky place done in dark muted tones, with linen tablecloths and a little buzzer at each table, so you can just press a button for “Waiter” or “Bill” without needing to wave wildly amid other diners. Cool idea, although we had to stop little fingers wanting to press a button every few seconds.

I didn’t spot it till afterwards (’cos it was hidden by a promotional flyer), but the set menu for around RM$38++ was the best deal, which includes entree, main, dessert and tea/coffee. In the end, I opted for the run-of-the-mill fillet steak (for around RM$38++), cooked blue. It was a measure of the fact that the wait staff are experienced that they didn’t even bat an eyelid at my preference. (I’ve been in restaurants where the staff have actually gathered around to watch me eat my steak, unconvinced that I really enjoy a slab of meat that’s crispy brown on the outside and dripping red in.)

The service was efficient but cool. Things were done quickly enough, but I always got the impression that these people had better things to do than serve us. Which was a shame, because the kids were on their best behaviour, and I was in the mood to relax. I ordered my steak with garlic sauce.

The good: When the steaks arrived, they were perfectly cooked. The servings are large. The menu caters for varied tastes. The ambience is very up-market for what turned out to be a reasonably-sized bill (about RM$160 in total) for a slightly-hungry family of four.

The bad: The fragments of garlic drizzled on my fried tomato accompaniment were burnt. Do you know how bitter garlic gets when it’s burnt? Do you know how long it takes to wheedle little pieces of sticky, burnt garlic from in between molars? Meanwhile, the sauce overpowered the taste of the steak … but there’s a reason for that.

The ugly: Okay, here’s the sitch. The cheaper steaks at the SF Steakhouse are pre-tenderised. I’m 99% sure of it. How? Because I could mash a piece of steak against the back of my teeth with my tongue and the fibres would dissolve. Real untenderised meat doesn’t do that; doesn’t turn to porridge the moment you exert some kind of pressure on it. And the sauce is overpowering because the steak has no taste. After the “porridge” experiment, I scraped all the sauce off the meat and noticed a telltale streak of sinew cutting through it, a sure sign of topside. And topside doesn’t have that much taste. So, the restaurant “adds” taste through the use of strongly-flavoured sauces, like garlic and peppercorn.

J complained that I was spoiling an otherwise delightful dinner by being so analytical, but steak is something I take very seriously. I don’t have it very often (maybe only 3-4 times a year), but I love me some hunks of charred and bleeding cow muscle and — because it’s such a treat — I’m very particular about how it’s handled. Maybe the Wagyu steaks (at RM$65++ a pop) were done properly, but be warned if you ever order the more ordinary fillet steaks at the San Francisco Steakhouse. If you’re a true steak afficiando, you could be in trouble.

We have ordered the equivalent of twenty — count ‘em! — library-style bookshelves for our house. Can you say ka-CHING! There was really nothing else we could do. If you’re a serious collector of books, the stuff they laughingly call bookshelves in places like Ikea just don’t cut the mustard. And custom-built timber shelves cost even more than the metal ones we’ve shelled out for.

But bookshelves mean unpacking boxes and books. And unpacking books means taking several trips down various memory lanes. And I didn’t realise that I had more autographed books than I thought, from Terry Pratchett, Patrick Tilley, Greg Bear, Jeri Smith-Ready, Karyna da Rosa, and Liane Spicer to name a few. I thought it was only a recent obsession of mine, but I now see I’ve had this desire for many years. There are some boxes that haven’t seen the light of day for ten years, as evidenced by the pages of local newsprint that cover and pad them. A couple (including a copy of Robert Silverberg’s “Sunrise on Mercury”) have been termited to oblivion. Lucky I had several spare copies.

Which brings me to another point. Having owned a bookshop in a past life, it’s inevitable that I’d end up with multiple copies of various books. “Spock’s World” by Diane Duane for one, “Queen of Angels” by Greg Bear for another. The question is, what should I do with these copies? I know J will be eyeing my fiction shelves with a jaundiced eye, looking for more room for his ancient histories, and he will inevitably question the wisdom of holding several copies of Gibson’s “Mona Lisa Overdrive” or Lumley’s Necroscope books, there to take up valuable shelf space, while Seutonius languishes in a pile on the floor. At the moment, I’m thinking of donating my spare copies to a couple of libraries. (When you have 5 copies of a particular Asimov anthology, it’s easy to spread the cheer.) I was also thinking of doing a review of the book before I dispense my charity. That should keep me occupied on Wednesday’s when War Games runs out, methinks.

In other news, I also have to add an erratum. I mentioned that Robert Asprin was the person responsible for the best Lensman parody (”Backstage Lensman“) I’ve ever read. I was wrong. The piece was written by Randall Garrett, not Mr. Asprin. Many apologies to the memories of both.

The 14th of September is the date of the Mid-Autumn Festival for 2008. What does this mean? Mooncake!! Mooncake mooncake everywhere, so many variations to choose from.

About.com gives a great description of the Festival. Here’s a brief — ha ha — taste:

Every year on the fifteenth day of the eighth month of the lunar calendar, when the moon is at its maximum brightness for the entire year, the Chinese celebrate “zhong qiu jie.” Children are told the story of the moon fairy living in a crystal palace, who comes out to dance on the moon’s shadowed surface. The legend surrounding the “lady living in the moon” dates back to ancient times, to a day when ten suns appeared at once in the sky. The Emperor ordered a famous archer to shoot down the nine extra suns. Once the task was accomplished, Goddess of Western Heaven rewarded the archer with a pill that would make him immortal. However, his wife found the pill, took it, and was banished to the moon as a result. Legend says that her beauty is greatest on the day of the Moon festival.

As mooncakes only come around once a year, J and I make it a point to try different types and, in our quest for delectable edibles, have stumbled across the excellent range from Yong Sheng. Their Yoghurt Paste Mochi Moon Cake is divine (moon cake filled with cranberry yoghurt paste and a Taiwan-style mochi), as is their Auspicious Moon Cake (yam filling enclosing a mochi with a strawberry fruit gel in the middle). I’m also hankering for their Lemon Green Tea Moon Cake which, as you’ve probably guessed, contains green tea. Their strangest one, though, is the one I wanted to point out:

It’s called a Nyonya Pudding Curry Moon Cake and, in case the text from the brochure is too indistinct, this is how it’s described:

The aromatic curry paste in this mooncake is made from curry power [sic], galanga [sic], lemongrass, chilly, lotus seed paste and other 20 over Nyonya style cooking ingredients. The taste is definitely aromatic, spicy with a touch of Peranakan cuisine. The smooth mochi and pudding filling are indeed the ideal blend for superb taste. Surely pleasing your sensitive taste buds.

Yes, you have just seen the words “curry” and “pudding” together (hopefully, for the first time ever at this blog). And, believe it or not, it actually tastes pretty darn nice. It’s also rather hot, so is not recommended for those who normally avoid fiery food. (Or, er, curry pudding.) Hop along to Yong Sheng and you’ll see some mooncakes that look almost too gorgeous to eat. Almost. Heh heh. Of course they’re all high in calories but, what the heck, the Mid-Autumn Festival only comes around once a year. In fact, there’s a Yong Sheng shop on the way to the bank and I need to duck out to do some banking later this afternoon…

*: That’s the Gary Larson spelling for “food”, not the acronym for “fear, uncertainty, doubt”.

Firstly, Malaysian roads are, by and large, quite good. While the local, heavily-trodden roads tend to accumulate potholes — and clumsy uneven patches — at an alarming rate, the multi-lane motorways are a dream to drive. I wish I could say the same of Malaysian drivers. Malaysian drivers have a sense of entitlement about their driving style, whether they’re driving a Mercedes or one of those dinky Peroduas that seem to get in your way at the most inconvenient moments. (Hence our nickname of “Pfd”s for these cars.) And don’t get me started on the scooters.

On the other hand, everything is in a logical hierarchical order. The bigger your vehicle, the more you get your own way. Trucks and buses are at the top of the list, scooters at the bottom. And, there’s really no malice in anything, just sheer and absolute incompetence.

Bearing this in mind, a stumble onto David Astley’s website provided much mirth. I hope he doesn’t mind, but I’ve reproduced his “Malaysian Road Rules” below and — believe me — It’s. All. True.

Since arriving in Malaysia in 1997, I have tried on many occasions to buy a copy of the Malaysian road rules, but have come to the conclusion that no such publication exists (or if it does, it has been out of print for years). Therefore after carefully observing the driving habits of Malaysian drivers, I believe I have at last worked out the rules of the road in Malaysia. For the benefit of other expatriates living in Malaysia, and the 50% of local drivers who acquired their driving licences without taking a driving test, I am pleased to share my knowledge below:

Q: What is the most important rule of the road in Malaysia?

A: The most important rule is that you must arrive at your destination ahead of the car in front of you. This is the sacrosanct rule of driving in Malaysia. All other rules are subservient to this rule.

Q: What side of the road should you drive on in Malaysia?

A: 99.7% of cars drive on the left hand side, 0.2% on the right hand side, and 0.1% drive in reverse (be on the look out for drivers reversing at high speed in the left hand lane of freeways, having just missed their exit). Therefore on the basis of ‘majority rules’, it is recommended that you drive on the left. However, be aware that only 90% of motorcyclists travel on the left hand side - the other 10% ride in the opposite direction or on the sidewalk. Fortunately, motorcyclists traveling in reverse are rarely seen.

Q: What are the white lines on the roads?

A: These are known as lane markers and were used by the British in the colonial days to help them drive straight after consuming their gin and tonics. Today their purpose is mainly decorative, although a double white line is used to indicate a place that is popular to overtake.

Q: When can I use the emergency lane?

A: You can use the emergency lane for any emergency, e.g. you are late for work, you left the toaster plugged in at home, you are bursting to go to the toilet, you have a toothache or you have just dropped a hot coffee in your lap. As it is an emergency, you may drive at twice the speed of the other cars on the road.

Q: Do traffic lights have the same meaning as in other countries?

A: Not quite. Green is the same – that means “Go”, but amber and red are different. Amber means “Go like hell” and red means “Stop if there is traffic coming in the other direction or if there is a policeman on the corner”. Otherwise red means the same as green. Note that for buses, red lights do not take effect until five seconds after the light has changed.

Q: What does the sign “Jalan Sehala” mean?

A: This means “One Way Street” and indicates a street where the traffic is required to travel in one direction. The arrow on the sign indicates the preferred direction of the traffic flow, but is not compulsory. If the traffic is not flowing in the direction in which you wish to travel, then reversing in that direction is the best option.

Q: What does the sign “Berhenti” mean?

A: This means “Stop”, and is used to indicate a junction where there is a possibility that you may have to stop if you cannot fool the cars on the road that you are entering into thinking that you are not going to stop.

Q: What does the sign “Beri Laluan” mean?

A: This means “Give Way”, and is used to indicate a junction where the cars on the road that you are entering will give way to you provided you avoid all eye contact with them and you can fool them into thinking that you have not seen them.

Q: What does the sign “Dilarang Masuk” mean?

A: This means “No Entry”. However, when used on exit ramps in multi-storey car parks, it has an alternative meaning which is: “Short cut to the next level up”.

Q: What does the sign “Pandu Cermat” mean?

A: This means “Drive Smartly”, and is placed along highways to remind drivers that they should never leave more than one car length between them and the car in front, irrespective of what speed they are driving. This is to ensure that other cars cannot cut in front of you and thus prevent you from achieving the primary objective of driving in Malaysia, and that is to arrive ahead of the car in front of you. If you can see the rear number plate of the car in front of you, then you are not driving close enough.

Q: What is the speed limit in Malaysia?

A: The concept of a speed limit is unknown in Malaysia.

Q: So what are the round signs on the highways with the numbers, 60, 80 and 110?

A: This is the amount of the ‘on-the-spot’ fine (in ringgits - the local currency) that you have to pay to the police if you are stopped on that stretch of the highway. Note that for expatriates or locals driving Mercedes or BMWs, the on-the-spot fine is double the amount shown on the sign.

Q: Where do you pay the ‘on-the-spot’ fine?

A: As the name suggests, you pay it ‘on-the-spot’ to the policeman who has stopped you. You will be asked to place your driving licence on the policeman’s notebook that he will hand to you through the window of your car. You will note that there is a spot on the cover of the notebook. Neatly fold the amount of your fine into four, place the fine on the spot, and then cover it with your driving licence so that it cannot be seen. Pass it carefully to the policeman. Then, with a David Copperfield movement of his hands, he will make your money disappear. It is not necessary to applaud.

Q: But isn’t this a bribe?

A: Oh pleeease, go and wash your mouth out. What do you want? A traffic ticket? Yes, you can request one of those instead, but it will cost you twice the price, forms to fill out, cheques to write, envelopes to mail, and then three months later when you are advised that your fine was never received, more forms to fill out, a trip to the police station, a trip to the bank, a trip back to the police station, and maybe then you will wish you had paid ‘on-the-spot’.

Q: But what if I haven’t broken any road rules?

A: It is not common practice in Malaysia to stop motorists for breaking road rules (because nobody is really sure what they are). The most common reasons for being stopped are: (a) the policeman is hungry and would like you to buy him lunch; (b) the policeman has run out of petrol and needs some money to get back to the station; (c) you look like a generous person who would like to make a donation to the police welfare fund; or (d) you are driving an expensive car which means you can afford to make a donation to the police welfare fund.

Q: Does my car require a roadworthy certificate before I can drive it in Malaysia?

A: No, roadworthy certificates are not required in Malaysia. However there are certain other statutory requirements that must be fulfilled before your car can be driven in Malaysia. Firstly, you must ensure that your windscreen is at least 50% obscured with English football club decals, golf club membership stickers or condo parking permits. Secondly, you must place a tissue box (preferably in a white lace cover) on the back shelf of your car under the rear window. Thirdly, you must hang as many CDs or plastic ornaments from your rear vision mirror as it will support. Finally, you must place a Garfield doll with suction caps on one of your windows. Your car will then be ready to drive on Malaysian roads.

Q: What does a single yellow line along the edge of a road mean?

A: This means parking is permitted.

Q: What does a double yellow line along the edge of a road mean?

A: This means double parking is permitted.

Q: What does a yellow box with a diagonal grid of yellow lines painted on the road at a junction mean?

A: Contrary to the understanding of some local drivers, this does not mean that diagonal parking is permitted. It indicates a junction that is grid-locked at peak hours.

Q: Can I use my mobile phone whilst driving in Malaysia?

A: No problem at all, but it should be noted that if you wish to use the rear-vision mirror to put on your lipstick (women only please) or trim your eyebrows at the same time as you are using a mobile phone in the other hand, you should ensure that you keep an elbow free to steer the car. Alternatively, you may place a toddler on your lap and have the child steer the car whilst you are carrying out these other essential driving tasks.

Q: Is it necessary to use indicator lights in Malaysia?

A: These blinking orange lights are commonly used by newly arrived expatriate drivers to indicate they are about to change lanes. This provides a useful signal to local drivers to close up any gaps to prevent the expatriate driver from changing lanes. Therefore it is recommended that expatriate drivers adopt the local practice of avoiding all use of indicator lights. However, it is sometimes useful to turn on your left hand indicator if you want to merge right, because this confuses other drivers enabling you to take advantage of an unprotected gap in the traffic.

Q: Why do some local drivers turn on their left hand indicator and then turn right, or turn on their right hand indicator and then turn left?

A: This is one of the unsolved mysteries of driving in Malaysia.

While we were at the Mid-Valley Mall in KL, we saw a martial arts demonstration, somehow incongruously intertwined with an electronics exhibition. That is, one of those open spaces in a shopping mall was done over to highlight a company’s line of products in mobile phones, video-recorders and small appliances and, amid all this glass, microcircuitry and glass (and did I mention the glass?), a tae kwon do group did a demonstration. Okay, so here’s my take on this for any future martial arts instructors thinking of grabbing a few bucks/a bit of publicity by doing the same thing.

1. Although nothing happened in this instance, take it from me (and every other mother in the world) that (a) well-behaved children jumping around and (b) cases of expensive electronic gear, do not mix.
2. If you’re the instructor, work out yourself. There’s nothing that dents the credibility of a dojo more than having an overweight instructor who puffs and wheezes after completing two boring-ass defensive movements against (yawn) an attacker with a pretend knife. (Extra bonus hint: no right-minded, half-competent knife attacker EVAH attacks overhand. That’s only for movies … and, er, martial arts demonstrations.)
3. When you get your students to break planks of wood, it’s good that you make the scoring on the back of the plank as invisible as possible. But try to also make the little markers — telling the assistants which way to rotate the plank — a little less obvious as well, m’kay?
4. Try to be innovative by coming up with something a little different. Like setting up a more realistic street setting for a demonstration, or another way to perform a form/kata. It means you have to think a little, but it will pay off.

I’m not a fan of the Korean or Japanese martial arts (not until the advanced stages, when all arts blur together), so I’ll keep the rest of my comments to myself … and to a relaxing husband over a scotch, as we talk over our various martial arts experiences and watch the koi in our pond snuffle around the lotuses and not get any. Mwahahahaha.

POSTSCRIPT: I meant to blog on Friday but … well, here was the sitch. In our storeroom — at the very back, do a u-turn and, yep, right there under the stairs just where the bottom of the stairs meets the floor — was a metal pail, half-full of acrylic slate sealer. The bottom seal of the pail decided to expire and the sealer leaked out, muchas litres of it, soaking into a dozen large cardboard packing boxes (full of stuff, natch!), tool-bearing plastic crates, brooms, mops, assorted tins, etc. on its way to freedom . The first we found out about it was when a strong smell, and some thick gooey stuff, started leaking out from beneath the door.

Oh. My. God. Needless to say, the rest of Friday and a fair hunk of Saturday was a bust. Just when you think you can take a breather … Oh well, at least we now have the best sealed storeroom floor in the neighbourhood.

Because (a) we live in Lotus Street, and (b) we have a pond, I kinda got the idea that it would be great to put some lotus plants in our pond. Little did I know how incredibly stupid lotus plants are.

Like this. Don’t plant lotuses in square-edged containers. If you do that, the roots may end up in one corner, go round and round in that corner without finding the rest of the container, and the rootbound plant will die. Solution: plant lotuses in circular containers.

Or this. Never cut off dead leaves. The stems of lotuses are hollow, and if you cut away the discoloured leaves, water will get into the stems and — how ironic is this? — the plant will drown. Solution: don’t cut the dead leaves. If you hate the look of black/brown mottled and dead biological matter, hide those leaves under healthy ones.

And then there’s the koi who love lotus tubers and roots the way I love me some porky goodness. Koi have such a hard-on for subterranean lotusy bits, that they will excavate a lotus plant and eat its roots. The result? You guessed it, the lotus plant dies. Solution: Either don’t put lotuses and koi in the same pond (too late), or “mulch” the lotus container with sharp little lava rocks to deter industrious fish.

Now, believe it or not, I did a stupid thing. I cut the dead leaves off the lotus plants. Then I decided to go and read up on how to maintain lotuses. This is not exactly the correct order of things. Can you say p-a-n-i-c? Lotus plants are not cheap, no matter where in the world you live, and I was facing three examples of terminal cases right there. You can’t get some string and tie the stems shut because the stems are not really pliable like that. What I needed was something waterproof and pliable that I could use like a paste, to close off the holes in the stems (and they’re really obvious when you’re looking at them, scant centimetres under the killing water). What I also had were still a couple of hundred boxes with great stuff in them … still unpacked.

Well, people, if you’re ever stuck in that situation, I’ve found a solution. Lipstick. Using the tip of a metal nail file as a tiny spatula, I scraped off little mounds of lipstick and pressed them into the stem, making sure the lipstick covered all the tubules. I did that two weeks ago, and the plants don’t seem to be dying on me. In fact, I’m seeing new leaves emerge every few days. And some of the fish seem to like the taste of lipstick. While I’m currently breathing a sigh of relief over saving three expensive plants from my own stupidity, I’m trying hard not to think about lipstick and koi diets. One crisis at a time.