Saturday, October 14 - Do you hear what I hear?

This is just one of many species of hibiscus, the national flower of Malaysia. Michelangelo couldn't have done better!
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I don't often think about the fact that I'm in a foreign country. Somehow the Asian faces around me have taken on a familiar look... American, almost. I know they're not (obviously), but I guess they've begun to look a little less foreign to me.

But I do still think about it from time to time. Oddly enough, the time that I find myself thinking consciously about the fact that I'm not in the U.S. is when I'm in the bathroom.

I realize that I probably sound kind of strange for saying that, but let me tell you why I said it before you decide that I'm a total nut. :-)

Two photos spliced into one: the Petronas towers are as beautiful reflected as they are in real life!
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Besides occasionally noticing that my shower has no shower curtain (or any of its own defined space, for that matter), I think it's actually the noise that makes my daily experience of Malaysia unique from the U.S.

I keep my bathroom windows open all the time, which does let in the occasional mosquito, spider, or gecko – there was even a praying mantis the other day! - but it's worth it to feel the cool (okay, cool-ish) morning air wafting in while I'm getting ready for each day.

But it also allows the sounds of the alley below to drift in, and that's when I'm especially aware that I'm "not in Kansas anymore."

So...how does this work?
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Every morning, I hear the clink-clink-clinking of someone cooking in the kitchen on their back porch. Children across the alley shriek and laugh and cry and shriek some more. My air con chugs relentlessly as it battles the tropical air sneaking into my bedroom. A man snorts and hacks to clear the pollution from his lungs and sinuses.

Traditional music from a range of origins rises on a slight breeze. The sound of falling water echoes as it splashes onto a bathroom floor, and I know my neighbor is having a shower. All day long, conversations in various foreign languages are shared by the families living around me.

There are, of course, the usual sounds as well - birds cawing and chirping, dogs barking, car alarms and horns blaring, the din of traffic from the nearby road. But the truth is, there are simply more sounds here. People don't seal themselves and their families behind closed doors, and so the sounds get out.

A young pianist races through her exercises, her notes – and her laughter - drifting out of her open windows and doors. A washing machine plays a cheery tune, sounding the alert that the load of laundry is finally clean. An evening meal sizzles in my neighbor's wok.

Day after day, it all floats freely across the alleys and through the windows of my little third-floor bathroom. And I feel it...an acute sense that I am somewhere different, somewhere "other," somewhere that is not home.

I am in Malaysia.