Blog 15 KL to JB

On January 4^th 2015, I awoke aware that a huge part of my life was coming to a close.

Although I had only spent three weeks in the association of the devotees I had been able to immerse myself into a culture that I had previously only viewed from the outskirts.

I had lived, eaten and theoretically worked beside people who's very existence and purpose for life evolved around their love of Krsna.

At the temple I took part in the Sunday program, listening intently to the lecture about the importance of association and chanting.

I had planned to leave by noon but by 3pm I was still sitting quietly.

Time no longer held importance.

The peace and tranquility I was experiencing was enough to maintain me and so I sat some more.

I roused myself as the sun began to dip. I paid my respects to the Deities, slipped on my backpack bulging with all my new clothes and silently walked away from the temple.

I didn't look back. I didn't say goodbye.

When the time was right I was sure I would return.

In KL I booked myself into a small room near to Sentral Station. The room was basic, yet it had all I needed and it was literally across the road from my morning departure point.

It was still quite early so I wandered into Brickfields for a walk.

The dresses called out to me from their rails outside the shops, but I resisted. The bangles shone under their spotlights but I walked past.

I ate at a mad Indian cafe where smells, shouts, dishes and drinks positively flew around the place in some organised mayhem of seeming chaos.

I returned to my room but it was still too early to sleep. Venturing back onto the streets I entered a beauty parlour two doors away from the hotel.

My feet were still stained a mild shade of orange from the Farm, my fingernails were all different lengths. I had a few hours to kill and money in my pocket so I treated myself to a facial, manicure and pedicure with some threading of the eyebrows and upper lip thrown in for free!

Two hours later I re-emerged glowing!

My finger nails had been cut to the bone by the enthusiastic beautician but I reasoned they would grow in time, my upper lip stung from its threading but I reasoned it would calm by morning, my feet however looked amazing!

I checked my e-mails in the foyer of the hotel (as internet didn't reach the fourth floor) and retired to bed.

At 8am I would catch my train through the heart of Malaysia to Johor Bahru.

I had received a message from Apple , my next host, with directions and with any luck I should be there by mid afternoon.


I looked at my bulging bag and vowed NO MORE SHOPPING.

For a three week exploration into spiritualism and non materialistic living, I hadn't done too bad!!

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The train ride through the hills of Malaysia proved to be more interesting than I imagined.

My attempts at photography through the smudged window of the train as it raced past plantations and villages proved to be not that successful yet the six hour journey flew past as we stopped at tiny stations along the way.

I took great pleasure in tracking the route through the station signs.

As we pulled into each station, large signs displayed not only the current location but also the previous and next destination. Having learnt the name of the next stop I began to anticipate our arrival and experienced a sweet moment of happiness when the next stop was indeed what it said it would be on the sign??

Some times it is the little things in life that bring us the most pleasure??

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At JB the entire train emptied as those crossing the border into Singapore walked through the immigration hall while the rest of us stepped through the Exit door that led straight into the shopping mall. Air conditioning to a temperature below freezing assaulted my senses, I pulled my shawl from my bag and wrapped it around my shoulders as I search for the way out. Four floors of shops with signs directing you to the lift, stairs, toilets, food courts and information desks abounded but no where did it say Way Out!

I worked my way to the ground floor thinking I had a better chance of finding the exit at floor level but when I did find the door the No Walking sign directed me back up two stories to the bridge that crossed the road!

As I emerged into the heat, sweat broke out on my forehead as my body tried to balance itself between the two extremes of temperature. Two flights down and I reached the bus stop just as the bus I required departed. The memory of the calm tranquil life I had lived at the temple faded into a distant corner of my mind and dropping my over stuffed bag to the floor I enquired about the next bus.

For the next hour I sat patiently watching the world pass by. Buses belched fumes onto the pavement, barbers shaved passing strangers on tiny stools in tiny openings called shops. Boys sat around smoking strong cigarettes while running their fingers through their shining oiled hair, watching women with children on their hips and overloaded with shopping struggled by.

Everywhere I looked there was movement, noise and colour.

As my bus arrived I pulled out the MRT card I had bought in Kuala Lumpa plus the address I needed to go to. A wonderful lady beside me translated as the driver refused the card!!

KL and JB may be in the same country but unlike Singapore, (which to be fair is not a large country like Malaysia) each area had its own specific card. I popped the card back into my bag and rummaged around for some cash!

I thought the driver had understood my request to be told when to get off but an hour later only he and I remained aboard. He looked at me, I smiled at him. “Where you go?” he asked. I showed him the paper. He pulled over and told me to get off!!!

A wee bit confused I wandered over to the taxi rank to get directions. Ten minutes later having refused about twenty offers of “I take you there” I text Apple with my location and asked for advice. “Stay there, I come” was the return text.

I happily a rested in the shade by the fun pool pleased that my phone was working again now that I was so close to the Singapore border.

Apple arrived in a few minutes and bundled my bags into her car before entering the heavy tea time traffic. Her school was a short drive away and the two other Workaways were looking after the nursery while she fetched me.

As we drove she clarified my duties as I was not there to teach but to help out. If I was willing, I would cook lunch for the teachers plus organise the children's morning snack, I could clean and mop each morning before school and I could help take the smaller children to the loo when needed. In exchange I would receive a place to stay at the school and my food.

It all seemed perfect. When Apple asked how long I could stay I promised only until the end of the week as I needed to go back to see Lisa. Miss bump was now due in just over a month and my main reason for coming to this part of the world had been so that I could care for Lisa. If Lisa was fine I would be happy to return for another week but until I made the journey on Friday I could make no promises.

Rhianne from England was teaching an afternoon class when I arrived at the Nursery so I was introduced to the other Workaway from Sweden, Theresa, and told to make myself at home.

The school was made up of three classrooms upstairs with attached bathrooms plus a large hall/lounge area downstairs with an office and cooking area. Bars covered the windows and doorways, padlocked into place for security. A small bookcase sat in one corner with tiny stacked chairs in another. Two blue tables sat in the middle of the room while a white board hung on the wall opposite the door. The school felt bare in comparison to the UK nurseries I had helped at but Apple was enthusiastic about her new venture and I reasoned that each country had its different ways and this was why I travelled.

That evening, as I sat with the two girls, I listened to their stories and experiences from the school. Lessons started at 8am and finished at 12.30 with a 15 minute break at 10am. Teaching was done through rote, over and over again. There was no play involved, no games, just study with books.

As we went to bed that evening I was glad to be the helper/cleaner and not a teacher!

By the time school opened the next morning I had had cleaned everything! The kitchen had been re-designed into a system I could work with, every room had been washed down, each of the bathrooms had been scrubbed. Mats and clothes hung out in the sun drying and I was content.

That first morning I just observed for an hour. The term had only started the day before after the Christmas break and a new boy had joined the class. A three year old from a Tamil back ground he stood by the bars of the gate crying for his Momma and Papa. His arms strained through the gate as he pleaded in his own language to go home.

I asked Apple if I should do something. I was told he didn't speak English or Malay so there was nothing any of us could do. If we left him, she reasoned he would eventually stop. I sat for another half hour until the boy put his hands together in a pray like stance and continued his pleas. My heart was breaking, the class was being disrupted so I walked over and picked him up.

The crying changed to heart felt sobs as I nursed him on my knee. We sat like that for about ten minutes until I needed to go and make the food for the morning break. As soon as I placed him on one of the seats he immediately ran to the bars and began his heart breaking sobs.

I served the food as the other children joined us for break. The school had only eight children ranging from four years old to six years, plus Apples two girls who were off school for a week due to the flooding.

My little Tamil boy continues his cries through out the break and once the classes broke into their age groups once again I picked him up and tried to comfort him. We read a book, and for a moment or two he was content but as soon as I finished he grabbed his bag and headed to the bars again begging to go home. I tried pencils and paper for drawing but he couldn't hold a pencil and the tears continued.

As the children returned to the hall before home time he calmed enough through some play activities to sit on my knee. He listened in silence as the children recited their tables but then spotted his father at the main gate and dived once more for the bars. With his sobs disrupting the rest of the children, class was abandoned and the doors were unlocked.

I served the lunch meal and asked Apple what she wanted to do about the boy. Again she shrugged and said he would stop in a few weeks, her daughter had cried for an entire month, it was normal!

Over the next few days I learnt a lot more about a culture quite different from my own. Education is seen as a prized privilege and children are pushed relentlessly to achievement. In Malaysia seventy percent of school places are awarded to native Malaysians, fifteen percent to Chinese, twelve percent to Indians and the rest to others. Competition for these places is high and parents will do anything needed to ensure their child's chance of success.

Even those children who had achieved entrance to the schooling system were sent for afternoon lessons or even evening lessons to boost their chances of success. We had one boy who rose at 4am so that he could cross the border into Singapore where he had achieved a prized school placement. Once school finished in Singapore he was dropped by the school bus at the nursery where he received his lunch and then more private lessons until 6pm!

Apple had been taught in the same way, as had all the other children in the region, this was the norm. I reminded myself again that I traveled to experience different cultures but I found my time in the school hard.

As a host Apple was marvelous, we visited the local garden center where she explained the principles of 'Lucky' plants.

She treated us to some incredible foods!

She took us out to dinner with her family and to the night market where we had the chance to try deep fried rotten tofu - I kid you not!!

We went to the shops, ate frozen ice with sweetcorn and peanuts (?) cycled around the area on push-bike, walked and explored.

Again I was amazed at how much I achieved in only four days!

On the Friday afternoon I hoisted my bag onto my back and headed for Singapore to see Lisa and Steve. I had experience of the bus now and my journey was simple. The border crossing was swift now that the holidays were over and by 6pm I was sitting with Lisa and Steve at the apartment.

Although I had enjoyed the experience of the Workaway with Apple, my time at the school had upset me.

I understood the reasons and acknowledged the cultural differences but after a long chat with Lisa it was decided I would not return. Lisa would appreciate my company now that Steve was back at work and some assistance around the apartment would be of a huge help as she was now very big and tired.

I messaged Apple thanking her for the chance to experience a different lifestyle but added that my daughter needed me so I would not be returning.

As I settled down to watch TV Apple messaged back thanking me for my help and saying she understood.

Another stage was complete.