Learning in Shantou

With my first trip to mainland China only days away, my mind is riddled with doubts.

I leave Friday afternoon for a three day trip to Shantau, China to teach English.

I am very skeptical of my teaching abilities. I do not speak more than five words of Mandarin. I speak even less Cantonese. Both languages are spoken in the regions around Southern China. What impact can I really make in one trip?

On this trip I am scheduled to teach high school students, learn about China's school system and visit local cultural sites.

Shantou has been a special economic zone since 1979. What the term special economic zone means, I still don't really understand.

The city is located in the southeast coast of Guangdong Province. With its economy expanding rapidly, Shantou has still held on to parts of its traditional culture.

Regardless of my abilities, I am very interested in learning more about the Chinese education system. The prospect of interacting with local mainland students also enthralls me. I only hope I learn as much from them as they will learn from me.

I plan on teaching some English songs and play games. Any ideas?

Call to prayer

AS PRINTED IN THE WHITWORTHIAN:

The song seemed to echo through Melaka, a strange, foreign chant. Muslim women walk by dressed in hijabs, traditional head coverings women wear in public.

Loudspeakers broadcast the Muslim call to prayer five times a day to all Muslims in this port city in Malaysia. The melodious cry served as a constant reminder to me that I am a stranger traveling through a country that is 60 percent Islamic.

(View a slide show of Melaka here.)

Leaving Whitworth for the last semester of my senior year, I am studying at the Chinese University of Hong Kong in Hong Kong for six months. I decided to travel through Singapore and Malaysia in Southeast Asia during my two weeks vacation for the Lunar New Year celebrations.

Before traveling to Malaysia, I had never been to an Islamic country. I did not know how Islamic Malaysians would view Americans. I was wary of how Muslims would interact with me after it seemed President Bush had labeled Muslims as evil. I also was not sure what images Hollywood has given Malaysians about Americans, and how I would be treated as a result.

I had read in the news and heard from various people in the United States that Malaysia was a hotspot for terrorists. I knew southern Thailand, just north of Malaysia, was experiencing terrorist attacks from Muslim extremists.

After two weeks of travel, I discovered my fears and hesitations about traveling in an Islamic country were completely unfounded. The people I talked to kept telling me: "This is a peaceful country. We are not a terrorist country."

My travels echoed that statement.

While Malaysia is an "Islamic" country, Islamic law only applies to Muslims when family law and religion are involved, according to the CIA World Factbook.

On the top of a hill in front of the ruins of an old Catholic church, I closed my eyes and listened to the call. The song was not a call to hate-it was a call to worship.

Upon arriving in Melaka, the first people to help me understand the bus system were a group of Muslim girls dressed in hijabs. They were kind, helpful and trusting. They did not hate me because I was an American. Instead they seemed happy to help a foreigner. They treated me with the same kindness and respect they showed everyone else.

I had always believed terrorism and extremists did not represent the majority of Muslims. Now I had seen that what I believed in theory was true in reality. Traveling through Malaysia showed me just how beautiful Islam can be in a country where other religions are given freedom to coexist alongside one another.

The dilapidated old church behind me served as a reminder that Islam has not always been the dominant religion in Malaysia.

According to a 2000 census, the country is 60 percent Muslim, 9 percent Buddhist, 19 percent Christian, 6 percent Hindu and 3 percent a mix of traditional Chinese religions. During Portuguese rule, Christianity dominated due to colonial influence.

While Islam may be the largest religion in Malaysia, the current government guarantees freedom of religion to everyone. The Malaysian government is currently promoting an agenda of unity, harmony and peace between all ethnic groups and religions.

As I stood beside the Catholic ruins, I could see a Hindu and Buddhist temple below. The call to prayer continued to resonate through the city. Church bells from the town square below started their throng in unison with the Muslim song, creating a harmonious sound.

Jessica Davis is a senior majoring in journalism and history studying abroad at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. Contact her at jessica.davis@whitworthian.com.

Island life on Puala Pangkor

Snapper, sting ray and a few other fish I had never seen before lay among ice in a metal container in front of the road side restaurant on the island of Puala Pangkor.

I chose the snapper took a seat at an outdoor restaurant just across the road from the ocean.

The Snapper looked delicious with its red body and meaty skin. Malays as well as Chinese like to present the entire animal when eating a meal. The fish’s body had been sliced in half, leaving the eye looking straight up at me. A thick layer of chili powder brought out the flavor.

Earlier in the day I had been swimming in the ocean where snappers and angel fish swan in and around the bright coral.

The water is so warm here -- clear and blue, the sand white and clean.

Little islands appear on the horizon line covered in thick forest – a reminder that I am in the middle of the tropics, not on the beaches of Southern California.

Large trees line the coast. From these trees are swings made by locals to swing out into the water.

The fish arrived split in two. It had been fired over an open flame in a banana leaf. The white flesh had been smeared with a chili sauce.

I took a bite. The moist fish mixed with the spicy chili almost melted in my mouth. Mixed with the rice and fresh vegetables that we had ordered, I felt the sensation of happiness that only comes with well prepared food.

I took a sip of my Malay-style tea: a dark tea mixed with condensed milk over ice. The ice here is safe to drink as the water in Malaysia is very clean. Even though I mainly eat street food, I have not gotten sick.

For desert, Adelaide and I walked down to the local grocery store to pick up an ice cream. A nice way to cool down in the fresh air. I noticed a slight increase in price over the other places we have been traveling to. Islands are usually like that though.

*PHOTOS FROM TOP TO BOTTOM: 1) A sunset at Puala Pangkor Island. 2) Fresh fish on sale where I picked out my snapper for dinner.

The western price

A man called out to me as I walked through Little India in Singapore.

“Where are you from?” he called out. Usually I ignored such questions, but I muttered as I walked by, “The U.S.”

I heard him talking in my direction, but I kept walking. Suddenly from behind he violently grabbed my arm.

“Don’t walk away from me when I am talking to you,” he said with a thick Indian accent. His grip on my arm was tight. His fingers were digging in.

I felt fear. This man seemed desperate for me to buy something. I had come face-to-face with the stereotype that as a westerner I must have money to spend.

During my travels in Hong Kong, Singapore and Malaysia for the past month-and-a-half I have become aware of a phenomenon I like to call the “western price.”

I have come face to face with the belief on several occasions that being a westerner means I am wealthy. What some people do not realize is that while I am an American, I am also a student traveling for six months on a tight budget.

The price for westerners is often a significant amount higher than what the locals pay.

The average price of a taxi ride in Melaka, Malaysia is around $10 RM. Adelaide and I were always charged $15 RM. Another time in Hong Kong, my friends I hired a boat to travel around Cheung Chau Island. The group of us were charged $40 HK (around U.S. $6). An old woman also got on with us and only paid $0.50 HK.

I often feel guilt when bargaining down prices that have been raised because I am a foreigner. Many of the countries I have visited or will be visiting rely on tourism as the main part of their economies.

Back in the market, I looked at this man in the face. He dropped his tight grip on my arm and continued to talk to me. For the first time in my travels, I felt afraid this man was going to hurt me if I tried to leave.

He grabbed my upper arm again and dragged me over to his booth. He was selling scarves made of casmir (so he said). I could not argue that they were very beautiful, but I was not in the market for buying anything that afternoon.

He would not take no as an answer. I realized later that I was being too nice because I was afraid.

He kept saying, I won’t be angry if you don’t buy, but his eyes said otherwise. Twice I tried to leave and each time he grabbed my arm.

I picked out two scarves because I find it is easier to bargain if I buy more. I asked the price. He wanted S$45, too much. That was around U.S. $30.

“I’m a poor student,” I told him. He agreed and brought the price down to S$40. Still too much.

He argued with me that business was bad and he had to eat. I felt guilty. The truth was I could probably afford the scarves even if they were U.S. $30. This man could obviously use the money, but I refused to be coerced into buying something out of fear.

I tried to leave again but his voice rose higher. I still felt afraid. I could not leave unless I bought from him. After several minutes we agreed on S$35. Not a great deal, but I just wanted to leave.

I reached into my wallet and did not have the full $35. He accepted S$33 and I left with my scarves in hand.

*One of the scarves I bought in Little India.

Scars from colonialism still fresh

Bats screeched overhead. I cringed as the guide turned her flashlight to the ceiling of the Dark Cave.

I hadn’t even entered the cave and I felt goose bumps on my arms. This cave was alive.

(View a slideshow of Batu Caves here.)

I had just finished exploring the Batu Caves, one of the most sacred sites for Hindus in Malaysia. Just off to the side, a loud speaker announced on a continuous track, “Thirty minute guided cave tour.”

For $35 RM (around U.S.$10), Adelaide and I had decided to escape the heat and tour the cave.

Inside the cave was crawling full of creepers. Bats hung from the ceiling, insects buzzed in the air.

Several meters into the cave, thousands of cockroaches were feeding on bat guano (bat feces). The bugs scampered across the pathway lit up only by the lantern on my helmet. I walked carefully so I would not squish any under my black converses.

Earlier in the tour, our guide Deva had pointed to a white line visible through natural light near the entrance of the cave.

In the 1860s the British had come to the cave and extracted all the bat guano for fertilizer. Two hundred years later the walls were still scarred from the mining.

The more I travel through South East Asia, the more I am realizing the effects of colonialism are still a reality for many people here.

Malaysia has been independent for over 51 years from colonial rule. On the other hand, East Timor has only been independent for less than a decade.

East Timor is South East Asia’s poorest and newest country, according to Britain's Foreign and Commonwealth Office.

The East Timor president Jose Ramos-Horta was shot by rebels outside his home in Dili on February 11. He finally woke up February 22, according to an article by the AFP.

Just for some history, East Timor was colonized by the Portuguese in the 16th century. Eventually it was invaded and controlled by Indonesia in the 1970s. When the now deceased Indonesian President Haji Muhammad Suharto fell from power in 1998, East Timor was able to procure independence only in 2002.

Less than ten years later, the country is still undergoing political instability and social turmoil. (Listen to the NPR report here.)

These scars do not fade over night.

Back in the cave, Deva moved her flashlight back and forth across the path, looking for what she said was a friendly, albeit poisonous snake.

I kept a watchful eye on what I could see of the path, not wanting a fatal bite.

*The Hindu god Lord Murugan at Batu Caves looking out over the city of Kuala Lumpur.

Selamat Tahun Baru Cina

A red glow seeped from China Town in Melaka. Red lanterns hung from roof-top to roof-top.

Nearly every building used red light bulbs to light up the buildings.

Banners proclaimed in Malay, "Selamat Tahu Baru Cina" (Happy Chinese New Year).

Even though I was in Malaysia, the street was packed with ethnic Chinese who had traveled from all over South East Asia for the Lunar New Year celebrations.

On each side of the street were stalls after stalls of trinkets, jewelry, street food and even small animals.

The Chinese have zodiac years represented by 12 animals. The year 2008 is the year of the rat. I am constantly reminded of this by the displays of Mickey Mouse all around town and on the shirts of little children.

People born in the year of the rat are known for their charm. They are materialistic, perfectionists and very thrifty. They have big dreams, which are usually achieved.

Stopping at one stall to look at a mouse piggy bank, the man behind the booth opened his hand to reveal a live small mouse-like creature.

He pointed to the gold piggy bank, “That one is $10 RM.”

Then he pointed to the mouse in his hand, “You can have this one for $250 RM.” I was horrified. The creature looked either nearly dead or very sedated.

Thanking him, I walked on.

In one stall, large skillets filled with dim sum (a variety of Chinese snacks such as steamed dumplings, shrimp balls and pastries) emitted an enticing smell. I stood over the open skillets and picked out four different kinds of dumplings full of pork, vegetables, tofu and other things I could not recognize. Most of them were covered with cabbage.

I placed my selection of dumplings into a plastic bag and the vendor squeezed some chili sauce over the steaming bunch.

I struggled to pay for the dim sum as my other hand was occupied with a fresh squeezed glass of sugar cane juice.

Adelaide and I sat down on the side of the road to eat the dumplings. I was surrounded by stalls. People walked by in an endless stream.

Even though I am not a big meat eater, I found the dim sum delicious. Each morsel was full of flavor.

Down the road I could hear Chinese music, which hung mystically in the humid air. I listened to the buzz of people around me. I heard Malay, Mandarin, Cantonese and English.

Tonight was only the beginning of the new year celebrations. Chinese New Year celebrations last for 15 days. I was in Melaka for the first three days of the celebrations.

Looking around, I was surprised to see how preserved the Chinese culture was in Melaka. Junker Street seemed more Chinese to me than most of Hong Kong.

Then I thought back to my Modern South East Asia history class I am currently taking at the Chinese University of Hong Kong. The Chinese have had a difficult time in South East Asia. Before the Europeans arrived in the region, the Chinese had already established a commercial base in South East Asia.

When the Europeans arrived, the Chinese were used as the middle men between the Europeans and the locals. As a result, the Chinese often were able to gain considerable economic power.

Violence against the ethnic Chinese when their economic power became too great became a pattern in most South East Asian countries. Malaysia was not an exception.

I remembered the diagrams in my class depicting China Towns in Malaysia being set on fire and images of the Chinese being killed.

The remnants of this history remain. In 1998, riots broke out against the ethnic Chinese in Indonesia after the financial crises of 1997. Amidst this struggle, it made sense to me that the ethnic Chinese would be able to keep their culture in tact.

I bit into my last piece of dim sum, hungry for more.

*Photos from top to bottom: 1) The Junker Street night market located in China Town in Melaka, Malaysia where the Lunar New Year celebrations were held. 2) A family sells dim sum at the night market on Junker Street during the new year celebrations in Melaka.

Heading back to Hong Kong

After nearly 13 days of traveling through Singapore and Malaysia, I will be heading back to Hong Kong Saturday morning.

I have several blogs written, but have not been able to find a computer that will accept a thumb drive. Expect many posts on Saturday afternoon (Friday night back in the United States).

Also, I will soon be contributing columns to the Whitworthian student newspaper. Feel free to check out the site at http://www.whitworthian.com. I will most likely republish the columns here.

While waiting for my blogs, feel free to check out these stories:

Malaysia to go to the polls on March 8
Ethnic Indian minister heckled in Malaysia

A fusion of cultures

Palm trees on the road between Singapore and Melaka. Palm oil remains one of Malaysia’s top export commodities.

Deep forest surrounds many parts of the road between Singapore and Melaka.

Red lights lit up buildings in the spirit of the Lunar New Year Celebrations on Junker Street in Melaka.

Red lanterns were strung across Junker Street from building to building for the Lunar New Year celebrations, which started on the evening of Feb. 6.

A Chinese man and woman prepare food at the night market in Junker Street in Melaka for the Lunar New Year celebrations.

Notes written in honor of WWII prisoner of war victims in Changi Prison Camp located in Singapore.

One of the many Hindu gods perched on top of Vishnu’s temple in Little India near Perfuma Street, Singapore.

Learning Malay

Kupu-kupu
Di mana kamu
Kupu-kupu
Di mana kamu

Aku tidak tahu!

While searching for the Butterfly and Retile Farm along a highway outside the city of Malaka in Malaysia, my Australian friend Adelaide continued to teach me Malay words.

I had just finished viewing traditional Malay, Singaporean, Indonesian, Burmese, and Vietnamese houses in the park called Mini Malaysia.

The map Adelaide had made it seem as if the butterfly farm was only a few meters away down the road.

We could not have been more wrong.

Because the road was actually a highway, we decided to walk below the road beside some bushes so we would not get run over.

After walking for 15 minutes, I exited the quasi-pathway and found a tourist information center.

Closed. The office was shut down for Chinese New Year.

Adelaide spoke some Malay to two boys near by who told us the farm was just down the road. We decided to plod on.

At this point the highway narrowed, making it impossible to go further except by a thin stretch of land above a drainage ditch. We decided to jump the ditch and walk alongside until we reached the park. I survived the jump and continued on.

Until we reached a point that could not be crossed. We had reached a dead end. No walkway.
No butterfly farm.

It was time to turn back. The hike back was just as arduous. Sweat was rolling down our faces and backs in the 90 degree Fahrenheit heat. We finally made it to the bus stop to head back to Malaka.

Twenty minutes later we were picked up by the green bus that headed back to the city. While on the bus, Adelaide turned to me and asked if I would like to know the Malay word for butterfly. She told me, "It's kupu-kupu."

I tried to bore the word into my head. To lighten the mood (and help mysel remember the word), I decided to make up a song with the words I had been taught that day. The song "Kupu-Kupu" was born.

Kupu-kupu
(Butterfly)
By Jessica Davis
(with some help from Adelaide)

Kupu-kupu
Di mana kamu
Kupu-kupu
Di mana kamu

Aku tidak tahu!

Kupu-kupu
Di mana kamu
Kupu-kupu
Di mana kamu

Aku tidak tahu!

(To the tune of dreidle-dreidle)

The English translation:

Butterfly
Where are you?
Butterfly?
Where are you?

I don’t know!

(Repeats)

The official language of Malaysia is Bahasa Melayu, otherwise known as Malay. Adelaide learned Bahsa Indonesia while studying abroad in Indonesia last spring. The two languages are almost identical except for a few words. She has been my teacher while traveling in Malaysia for the past four days.

Malay is coming much easier to me than Cantonese in Hong Kong. The language is based on the Roman alphabet, making it very easy for me to read and understand.

Here are a few of the words I have learned:*

Selamat minum: Cheers, drink up
Tidak: No (verb)
Nama saya: My name is
Selamat datang: Welcome
Hati-hati: Careful
Selamat siang: Good morning (late morning)
Selamat sore: Good afternoon
Selamat malam: Good night.
Ayam: Chicken
Sapi: Cow
Ikan: Fish

I have been able to use most of these words. Sometimes my mind goes blank, while at other times the word flows from my tongue.

*All of the letter ‘c’s are pronounced as ‘ch’ as in chat, chicken, children.

The red lights of Singapore

She wore a long sleeved shirt, long pants and closed toed shoes.

A good girl, I thought working in a rough area. She probably helped in one of the kitchens of the restaurants.

Then I noticed her pose. She was standing in a doorway with her arm propped provocatively on her hip. Her eyes were demure yet somehow enticing.

Then I realized. This woman was standing in the doorway of a brothel.

I smiled at her.

For a fleeting second I saw a twinge of sadness on her face, which was quickly replaced with a hardened look. She looked away.

Maybe my eyes had deceived me; maybe I had made the experience up. Maybe I had brought my western ideas that prostitutes are victims, forced into slavery. Maybe this was her chosen way of life. Maybe I shouldn’t draw conclusions from one look.

Surrounded by young women parading their bodies for ogling men, I refused to believe that. I could not ignore that one fleeting second.

Just one street down I saw what I thought to be stereotypical sex workers. Five young women stood underneath an opening made for storing cars showcasing their bare legs and open mid-drifts, some of them showed more.

Men stood nearby looking on. Nearly all of the women on display did not look Chinese or Singaporean. They looked Filipino to me, but I could not be sure.

I longed to observe and understand this place. As two young white western women, I knew we could not linger in this part of town.

A few days later, an article about Filipino women forced to work in the red light districts appeared in one of the free daily Singaporean news magazines titled Today.

According to the Philippine Embassy the number of Filipino women trafficked into Singapore and forced into prostitution or work in the red-light district has surged by 70 percent.

As reported in the Singapore newsmagazine Today, Singapore’s Ministry of Home Affairs contested that the number of Trafficking In Persons cases reported to police has been falling. Today reported there were 33 reported in 2006 and 28 cases in 2007.

Compare those numbers to the 212 cases the Philippine government reported. The disparity between these numbers made me very suspicious.

What’s more, the Philippine Embassy reported the large number of cases may even be higher.

By chance, while traveling in Malaka, Malaysia I happened to meet a man who works for the Singapore Tourism Board. We did not exchange names, as it was only a conversation shared over es cendol (shaved ice with molasses, condensed milk, red beans and a green-jelly-like substance).

I asked him about the article and the disparity in the numbers I had read about.

The Singaporean man told me the numbers were a matter of perception. While this information is not confirmed, he explained that any visitor to Singapore received a 30 day visa.

He called the Filipino women “social visitors.” These women might enter prostitution, but they are not considered trafficked.

I joked with him and said, “Well, then I am a social visitor, but I didn’t make any money.” I thought to myself, the only difference is that I was not forced into prostitution.

I told the Singaporean man how safe I felt in Geylang. He told me how regulated the red light districts are.

“There is a reason this is one of the oldest professions,” he said. He went on to say that every two months the women are tested for HIV/AIDS amongst other diseases to make sure they are “clean”.

I also learned while in Malaka one of the Malay words for prostitute: Kupu-kupu malam (meaning night butterfly). I did not see the kupu-kupu malams in Malaka.

Adelaide and I steered clear of Malaka’s red-light district. But I still could not forget the women I had seen in Singapore. My mind kept visiting the words of the article and what I had seen.

The Today article tried to explain why there was such a disparity in numbers. Its explanation mirrored what the Singaporean had told me.

According to Today, Singapore defines human trafficking on the issue of consent. For example, if a man or woman enters Singapore legally and then fall into prostitution the government does not consider those people to be trafficked.

The article pinned down two factors fueling the increase in Filipinos entering Singapore:

Budget airlines offering cheap flights within South East Asia.

The resulting growing number of red light districts in Singapore (there are three within the city alone).

What the article failed to do was hit the streets of Singapore’s red light districts – something I stumbled upon accidentally.

PHOTOS from top to bottom: 1) The opening where the sex workers had been standing the day before in Geylang. 2) Walking on Geylang Street where men usually sit drinking beer and stare at the women walking by.

The art of getting lost

Where are we?

Did you check the map?

Can you hand me the guide book?

Did we pass this an hour ago, or was that 15 minutes ago?

I’ve been in Singapore for two days. That is 48 hours, at least 10 of which spent in confusion.

Getting lost in Singapore is not neccessarily a bad thing.

With so many things to see, I would call the last few days "explorative meandering" rather than constantly getting lost.

Getting lost is all about falling upon unique experiences not outlined in a guide book or found online.

CHINA TOWN

A traditional Singapore started off our day with a breakfast of Kaya toast (bread with butter and coconut jam), a very runny egg and cup of tea at Ya Kun Kaya Toast.

With full stomachs, we began our hunt for a new hostel. (The hotel in the red light district was nice, but a little sketchy.)

After circling the block for 15 minutes, we discovered A Traveller’s Rest-Stop hostel on Teck Lim Rd had been shut down. (The second time our not so trusty guidebook had let us down in one month.)

With a look of dismay, Adelaide and I began to look for other options.

That is when my first explorative meanderings led me to Paul – a Liverpool man turned New Zealander who had stopped over in Singapore for a night on his way home. Adelaide and I invited him on our quest to find a cheap hostel.

LITTLE INDIA

The scents of incense, jasmine and curries filled the air. Bright saris beckoned from the store windows.

Pulling ourselves away from the bollywood-style music emitting from the streets, we stumbled upon an affordable hostel (only $20 Singapore dollars a night) called The InnCrowd Backpacker’s Hostel located in the heart of Little India on Dunlop Street.

We were in luck – enough beds for all. Paul shared lunch with us in Geylang where he told us about his plans to start his own business in New Zealand. Despite only having met him hours before, Paul explained his plans to open an alternative fitness center. He also revealed his passion for helping kids with difficult pasts. He told me this center will hopefully one day include programs to help troubled kids. (Good luck to you Paul.)

This time our random meanderings had gained us a friend for a moment. Traveling brings the most unlikely people together. (Read more about Little India later this week.)

CLARKE QUAY

After a few hours, Adelaide and I said good bye to Paul, leaving us to more meandering. We set off for an area near the Singapore River known as Clarke Quay (pronounced "key" not "kay," thank you Adelaide).

After walking in circles looking for the Singapore History Museum, we learned it had been demolished long before we arrived.

In our explorative meandering I spotted a sign advertising River Cruises (something outlined in the guidebook). After two days of constant walking, both of us agreed some sitting down time was more than overdue.

The cruise was well worth it. I had not realized how westernized Singapore was, yet at the same time how unique. Parts of the boat trip reminded me of Paris, others San Francisco, and others London.

For $18 Singapore dollars Adelaide and I were able to see parts of the city we would have never found on our own.

TURKISH DELIGHT

One benefit of traveling far away from home is the ability to eat dessert for dinner.

Still full of Chinese food from Geylang Road earlier in the day, Adelaide and I decided ice cream would be a great alternative to dinner.

While on our way to Haagen Daaz, I spotted a Turkish ice cream stand. Adelaide’s eyes were wide. She moved forward, drawn by the small cart with silver bells hanging over gold-colored lids.

I had never even heard of Turkish ice cream. To Adelaide, this was the best random encounter she could have imagined.

Turkish ice cream is very different than American-style ice cream. Instead of a milky or icy feel, this feels more sticky and creamy. When Turkish ice cream melts it stretches instead of pooling into watery goo. The result? Melted Turkish ice cream taste almost better than when it is frozen.

An obviously Turkish man with a small vest, decorated with gold thread put on a small red hat and grabbed a long handled shovel-like spoon with gusto.

With a hum, he stabbed the cylinder of ice cream and placed it on an empty cup with a smile. He then shook his head, dropped the cream its container and scooped up a sizeable amount. With the ice cream still on the end of the shovel, he banged the bells above his head.

I cringed. What was he doing? Wouldn’t the ice cream fall off?

Then I realized one other characteristic of Turkish ice cream is its stickiness. The glob stuck until he mystically plopped the scoop into my bowl.

I learned part of charm of Turkish ice cream is the show.

As an international city of immigrants, part of experiencing Singapore is dappling into the customs and products of the minority communities.

The main difference between Hong Kong and Singapore?

Singapore has street signs, but no tourist directories. Hong Kong has tourist directories, but hardly any street signs. The result?

I get lost in both cities. Well, maybe I got lost in Singapore a little bit more.

*Images from top to bottom: 1) The dragon-seahorse stands as the symbol of modern Singapore. 2) A couple sits on the banks of the Singapore River in Clarke Quay. 3) One of the many bridges cupsing the Singapore River. 4) The Turkish ice cream man scooping up some strawberry ice cream in Clarke Quay.

The backpacking begins

I'm heading south for the winter.

After nearly a month of studying, adjusting and exploring in Hong Kong, my friend Adelaide and I will be traveling in Singapore and Malaysia for the next two weeks.

Hong Kong's winter lasts for less than a month or so. Without indoor heating in the dorms, it has been very cold. Forty degrees Fahrenheit may not seem that cold for a short period of time, but after a while the cold seems to seep into your bones.

Singapore, my next destination, boasts warmer weather of 70 degrees Fahrenheit. The small country is no larger than three times the size of Washington D.C.

Malaysia's weather should be much higher in the 90s. Instead of worrying about how to stay warm from the cold wind, I will most likely be spraying myself constantly with DEET infused bug repellent to ward off any mosquito-borne diseases.

I only know a few facts about Singapore:

• The country has some ridiculous laws about spitting out gum (meaning you will get arrested, if caught) among other things.
• There is a sizable ethnic Chinese population there with a great China town.
• It is thirty degrees warmer than Hong Kong right now.
• It is known for great shopping, a night zoo and its economic strength.
• Malaysia and Singapore split apart in 1965.

I do not know much more about Malaysia:

• The country is predominately Muslim.
• It's primary exports are rubber and palm oil.
• The dominant language is Malay.
• The two tallest buildings in the world are in the capital city of Kuala Lumpur.
• Ethnic Indians are facing difficulties as the minority right now (See story below).

My friend Adelaide has been teaching me a few Malay greetings. She even equipped me with a word list. I am finding Malay five times easier to learn than Cantonese.

With a power converter tucked away in my backpack, I will do my best to update my blog regularly. I am not sure how often I will have access to the Internet.

Here are some links to stories in the news about Singapore and Malaysia:

Ethnic anger on the rise in Malaysia

Malaysia bans books for misrepresenting Islam

MM Lee says S'pore and Malaysia will benefit from closer connectivity

Malaysia's PM says about to call for polls - report

Singapore shares close higher after choppy trade

MM Lee says Singapore must find fourth generation of leaders soon