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bantha_fodderI'm from a small island in South-East Asia, and a couple of months ago I went to visit the rellies (and shop). I'm feeling a bit unwell, so rather than doing anything productive, I've been sorting photos. Please find a handful (with attached stories) under the cut.
When the tsunami came last year, it washed many of the houses in this kampung away. The death toll in Malaysia was much higher than international media reported: according to K, the government didn't want the tourists to be scared away. The reason why no tourists got washed out to sea was because the hotels are on a higher part of the island, and the staff could see the wave coming and called the tourists all in from the water. The part of the island where many people were washed away is about two kilometres from the tourist stretch, and much lower down, and they weren't warned. Not that it would have saved them.
It was lucky, says K, that the tsunami hit at daytime, when everyone was out, rather than at nighttime, when they would have been in their homes.
This mosque is built out on the water. When the tsunami came, it had to wash over and under the mosque to reach the kampung. Yet it still stands. The local Muslim community says this is because god saved the mosque. The local non-Muslim community is pretty skeptical.
I will never send an actual post card to postsecrets. But if I did, it would feature a woman in hijab, and it would say, "when i see them, i feel ashamed (but i wear short skirts anyway)."
Watermelon juice. This is quite possibly my favourite drink in the entire world. One of the things I miss most is the juice, and the fruits. I can never get watermelon juice in Australia, except when I juice it myself. And I can never get rambutans, mostly because they just taste so different here.
Drinking warm tea from a glass is the weirdest sensation, but this photo is here mostly because I like it, not because it's anything I have a story about.
This is the street sign out front of where my parents used to live. My father was in the RAAF, so they got to live in this spiffy little house an hour's drive away from the base. They loved living in Tanjong Bungah. They always used to say, after my sister and I had grown up and left home, that they would move back to Tanjong Bungah.
I honestly don't think that's going to happen now.
This is their old house. Please note the security bar around the lower storey. They came home once, and there was a man in the house. He'd climbed up on the roof, and through the tiles to get into the house, but the ceiling was so high he couldn't get out again, and the bottom was so locked up that he couldn't get out that way. He'd tried piling chairs on top of the table, but still hadn't been able to get out.
Just on the left hand side of the photo is the other half of the duplex. The lady who lives there now is the same lady who lived there when my parents did, and she was telling us how someone broke into the house and was hiding in the roof cavity. She'd called the police and they'd wandered around downstairs and said it was clear, but she insisted they check upstairs, too, and they found the guy hiding.
These are the reasons why I think my parents will never return to live there.
My grandmother lives in an apartment with three of her children. My parents get comments, sometimes, asking why my sister still lives at home, and it is because it is common for children in Chinese families (and others of Asian descent) to remain at home until committments - marriage or work or whatever - take them away. So my aunt and two of my uncles still live with their mother, and it is the same for just about every family in this apartment block.
The red blob in the upper right corner is a small house altar, and this is the view down the path from my grandmother's apartment.
And finally, this is me in my new dress. It has nothing to do with the small SE Asian country, because I bought it yesterday. The front is okay, I suppose, but I really bought it for the view from behind. Five dollars well spent, I feel.
this post brought to you by livejournal's new 'insert image' function.
When the tsunami came last year, it washed many of the houses in this kampung away. The death toll in Malaysia was much higher than international media reported: according to K, the government didn't want the tourists to be scared away. The reason why no tourists got washed out to sea was because the hotels are on a higher part of the island, and the staff could see the wave coming and called the tourists all in from the water. The part of the island where many people were washed away is about two kilometres from the tourist stretch, and much lower down, and they weren't warned. Not that it would have saved them.
It was lucky, says K, that the tsunami hit at daytime, when everyone was out, rather than at nighttime, when they would have been in their homes.
This mosque is built out on the water. When the tsunami came, it had to wash over and under the mosque to reach the kampung. Yet it still stands. The local Muslim community says this is because god saved the mosque. The local non-Muslim community is pretty skeptical.
I will never send an actual post card to postsecrets. But if I did, it would feature a woman in hijab, and it would say, "when i see them, i feel ashamed (but i wear short skirts anyway)."
Watermelon juice. This is quite possibly my favourite drink in the entire world. One of the things I miss most is the juice, and the fruits. I can never get watermelon juice in Australia, except when I juice it myself. And I can never get rambutans, mostly because they just taste so different here.
Drinking warm tea from a glass is the weirdest sensation, but this photo is here mostly because I like it, not because it's anything I have a story about.
This is the street sign out front of where my parents used to live. My father was in the RAAF, so they got to live in this spiffy little house an hour's drive away from the base. They loved living in Tanjong Bungah. They always used to say, after my sister and I had grown up and left home, that they would move back to Tanjong Bungah.
I honestly don't think that's going to happen now.
This is their old house. Please note the security bar around the lower storey. They came home once, and there was a man in the house. He'd climbed up on the roof, and through the tiles to get into the house, but the ceiling was so high he couldn't get out again, and the bottom was so locked up that he couldn't get out that way. He'd tried piling chairs on top of the table, but still hadn't been able to get out.
Just on the left hand side of the photo is the other half of the duplex. The lady who lives there now is the same lady who lived there when my parents did, and she was telling us how someone broke into the house and was hiding in the roof cavity. She'd called the police and they'd wandered around downstairs and said it was clear, but she insisted they check upstairs, too, and they found the guy hiding.
These are the reasons why I think my parents will never return to live there.
My grandmother lives in an apartment with three of her children. My parents get comments, sometimes, asking why my sister still lives at home, and it is because it is common for children in Chinese families (and others of Asian descent) to remain at home until committments - marriage or work or whatever - take them away. So my aunt and two of my uncles still live with their mother, and it is the same for just about every family in this apartment block.
The red blob in the upper right corner is a small house altar, and this is the view down the path from my grandmother's apartment.
And finally, this is me in my new dress. It has nothing to do with the small SE Asian country, because I bought it yesterday. The front is okay, I suppose, but I really bought it for the view from behind. Five dollars well spent, I feel.
this post brought to you by livejournal's new 'insert image' function.
