When I first got back to Malaysia, I really struggled with my attitude. It seemed that no matter what I told myself—about how this was a good opportunity and my choice and I could handle it—there was another part of me that argued against all that with equal vigor. Finally, it passed. I think that the absurdity of my situation—responsibility but no authority, a client who is always being, well, a client—and my slow change in attitude--to not taking things so seriously, and not “listening” quite so intently when my emotions demanded attention—all this contributed.
Beyond that, I made some decisions that have helped. I determined, and have, gotten out of the hotel. Hotel rooms, even in the nicest hotels, start to close in after a while. Mine was shrinking, becoming a cell—a nice cell, but a cell nonetheless. So I tried to get back the same condo I lived in before. But no matter how patiently I walked toward that goal, something always came along that slowed me, interfered with my progress. It’s a long story, but the final straw was finding out that the landlord hadn’t paid the utility bills in a long time, and that, should the utilities get turned off, it often takes up to a month to get them back on. Now a month without power, in the Malaysian heat, does not sound good. And I found all this out as I was on the way to pay my first month’s rent and the deposits. Whew!
So I started looking for something else, and found this great house. So, from the incredible-shrinking-hotel-room I’ve moved into a 4 bedroom house. Almost from too small to too big! But it’s ok, I’ve definitely got some breathing room. Fantastic! One of the great things about it is that it’s fully furnished. What’s more, the owner built the place and never moved in. The house, and all the furniture, is brand new. Apparently his plan to use it just didn’t work with his family’s busy schedule, and he was trying to sell it, but like home, the market here is sluggish. The house is actually half o what we would call a duplex, but here they call them “semi-d,” for semi-detached. They’re very common here.
The owner is a really nice guy (a far cry from the continual strangeness of the owner of my old condo) and has helped me get the internet at the house, and also said it was ok if I built, you guessed it, a fish pond!
So indulge this little digression I call:
THE FISH POND, PART II.
--THE POND AREA BEFORE--
There’s a walled yard around the house, and an open grassy spot in the front, right next to the cover car park, about 20 feet on a side. I could see myself sitting, rain or shine, day or nite, under the cover of the tiled car park, watching “the boys” (Part II as well). A dream was born.
So I took the garden hose, and started “imagineering,” planning the shape by laying the hose on the ground.
--DAY 1 AND DAY 2--
Then came the work. First, the digging. I had learned from my previous adventure in pond ownership, that a kolum (Bahasa for pond) will be better for the fish if it’s deeper than a foot or so. But my last pond was built on a rooftop, and stacking bricks and wood and rocks over a foot high was nearly impossible. But now—haha!—I could dig. By digging down about a foot, and piling the excavated soil around the rim of the pond, I could get a 2 foot deep pond. Sweet! One area I even dug a little deeper, so the koi would have a place that nice and deep. Of course, there is some corollary to Murphy’s Law that says, when you dig in the yard, you ALWAYS, end up digging where they dumped and buried the refuse from building the house. Stones, bricks, pieces of roof tiles—all nicely embeddedin the red clay of Malaysia. Gee, this is fun!
And while I dug, my new driver, Azreen, tried his hand at a little rough carpentry. Between the 2 of us we built a couple of wooden boxes: one 2’x2’x 4’, one 4’x4’x2’. These would form the frame for the waterfall.
--DAY 3 AND DAY 4--
The kolum took shape, as I dug and mounded soil. Then came the rocks. I don’t know how many trunk loads of rocks Azareen and I hauled home, 8 or 10? A lot, that’s certain. He faithfully and patiently picks up rocks from the big pile behind SunPower, from the roadside, from where ever I stopped, and stacked them in the trunk. Once home, he helped me unload them. I’ve gotta admit he’s a pretty good guy-I doubt any of that is in his job description. Then came the fun part (ya, right!) taking the hose and washing all the mud and debris off the rocks. Washing and scrubbing, scrubbing ands washing. Rock after stinkin’ rock. They say people get hobbies to take their mind off work, the fill their free time, and that it reduces stress. Or maybe the just have bats in their belfry’s, or rocks in their head in my case!
--DAY 5--
--DAY 6--
One of the contractors said he could get me a piece of rubber roofing to use as a liner, and I was ready. The day came when I picked it up, and I was so excited—like a big kid. We carted it home, and I unfolded it and drug over to the hole—too small! Aiyahhh! I was heartbroken. So I checked, and the 5 x5 meter liner was 5 x3 meters. He had gotten it for me for free, and I was so grateful for that, so it was little difficult to make the call and say “Dixon, it’s too small.” He was stunned, said he had 2 different guys confirm to him that it was 5x5. He offered to take it back, and added on to it. Wow, was that good of him.
So the project hit a bit of a stall. All I had was a hole in the ground, a big stack of rocks, and a couple of ugly wooden boxes. I could place the rocks, because they would be used to hold down the edge of the liner around the pond, as well as built the waterfall. After last year’s experience, I wasn’t taking any chances with the waterfall—I had spent enough hours rebuilding and rebuilding and trying everything I could think of to keep the first one from leaking—to no avail. I needed the liner to create the backing for the waterfall, and I had determined not to skimp on that backing this time. No more cheap plastic sheeting (and as I remember it really wasn’t that cheap). So, the project hit a bit of a stall.
--INTERMISSION—
As luck would have it, I had also decided to get out of town, as well as out of the hotel, in order to work on my flagging attitude. Of course, by now, my attitude was greatly improved, but getting away always seems to be a way of declaring “this is my life, darn it!” and asserting my independence for the almost ceaseless ties to work that come with an overseas assignment. I mean, if I’m not actually working, I’m socializing wit my coworkers, working at home, and (be it good or bad) thinking about work. So getting away helps. Physical distance helps me to gain some of that mental distance, that objectivity, that had been lacking previously.
Again, as luck would have it, the Grind Prix was coming to Singapore. Tickets were still available, and while not cheap, were no worse than any other major sporting event.
What’s more, as luck would have it, a friend had a coworker who had a ticket and couldn’t go. So I got a better ticket (twice as good if price is any measure), for less than the cost of the ticket I was contemplating buying.
--SINGAPORE AT NITE--
Finally, as luck did have it, I found a decent (barely I would learn) hotel room at a reasonable cost. With the Grand Prix in town, they definitely up their prices, so I felt pretty fortunate.
--THE RACE FAN, AND ABOUT 50 LAMBOURGHINIS JUST HANGIN OUT--
So I went. Now, people who know might say that they didn’t think I was a car racing fan. And they’d be right. But when you’re far away from home, you do different things for fun. And trhe Singapore Grand Prix is held on the streets of the city, and at nite. It is one of the few city races, and the only night race. And when I was a kid, I had those little electric slot cars all over my bedroom. I just loved the movie “Grand Prix.” I fantasized about being a Grand Prix driver (ya, right, I think I was already pushing 6 feet in 4th grade!). And there aren’t many races of that caliber in Portland, or really even close.
THE RACE--VRROOM!
So off I went. And it was great! The noise was deafening, the crowds intense, the heat stifling—it was excellent! And if you really want to see the race—watch it on TV. But there was a vibe—in the crowd, in the air—that you’ll never get in your easy chair. I really enjoyed it. The hotel was, well, “faded glory,” at best. Probably a nice place once, but a little dowdy these days. But it had warm water, a shower, and a decent bed. Perfect! And it was a very short walk from one of the major MRT (subway) stations, which made getting around a snap.
I also bopped around the city—it wasn’t just a weekend of cars screaming by at impossible speeds. I bought some paints, and easel, and some canvas—I’m determined to start painting again. God knows I’ve got the time, and the pond work won’t last forever. I went to my favorite bookstore, and Sunday nite, the nite of the race final, I took myself to Morton’s Steak House and indulged (maybe even over-indulged a bit) in some “comfort food.”
[Aside—while writing this, Malaysia has won the gold medal in both men’s singles and doubles in badminton at the Commonwealth Games in Delhi. Sweet! And believe me, they will probably dance in the streets—badminton is serious sport here! Watching play at that level, it is amazing—fast, clever changes of tempo, movement all over the court, and a far cry from what we play in the backyard at home.]
THE FISH POND, PART II (PART II)
So, it was back to Melaka, and later that week the new liner arrived. Once again, I was giddy as a school boy. We took it home and I unfolded it—yes, big enough! Now it must be said that a 5 meter by 5 meter sheet of EPDM rubber roofing is an interesting thing to try and wiggle into position. I unfolded it, rolled it up like a carpet, drug it here and there, and finally got it where it needed to be.. But this one was thick—much thicker and less flexible than the last one. I let it sit in the sun all the next day, thinking it would soften up a bit, and maybe it did, but not much. So, by pulling and tugging and spreading and flattening I got it in place. I worked like the dickens to get all the lumps and folds out of the bottom, and after about an hour can to realize that it was time to accept things as they were—which was pretty good—and live with a could lumps and areas where it was less than perfectly smooth.
--THE LINER--
Then came tacking it down with rocks, trimming away the excess, more rocks, and more trimming. Now the waterfall. Stack some rocks, get the basic shape formed and understood, and place the first layer of liner—big and wide. No leaks! Then more rocks, more forming, and another layer of rubber. More rocks—it’s starting to rise, and take shape, and of course, more liner. Finally it was starting to become real. A few last rocks, some smaller pieces of liner, like a series of shingles, and then the finishing stones--hiding all that rubber, all that hard work. Almost a pity. But hey, it looks great.
Then Aziz, my buddy from the fish store, came and installed the pump, finalized the piping, installed the UV light (kills algae), and the filter. Now here’s a funny story: Afizul, my driver from last year, kept the filters from my old pond. They’re about 4 feet long—big blue fiberglass boxes that you fill with filter media (sponges they call it here). So he gave one back to me (he wasn’t using it—I guess the “bug” didn’t rub off on him completely), and Aziz installed it, like the return of an old friend.
--AZIZ, AND ALMOST FINISHED...--
And the water began to flow, slowly at first, the tumbling down the waterfall just as I’d imagined, just as my tests with the hose had shown. Hooray!
It’s done. The fish are in. their little community is growing in numbers and variety. I got some lights and it’s lovely at nite.
Cool!
It’s done. The fish are in. their little community is growing in numbers and variety. I got some lights and it’s lovely at nite.
Cool!
--FINISHED! AND THE WATERFALL--
--THE GARDEN SPOT, AND THE NITE VIEW--
--THE BOYS IN THEIR HAPPY HOME, AND AZREEN'S SEAL OF APPROVAL--
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