Friday, February 13, 2015

Old Protestant Cemetery in Georgetown

Happy Valentine's Day from Georgetown's Old Protestant Cemetery in Penang, Malaysia. 

I decided to do a little experiment so I took this photos with my iPhone and edited them in LINE camera. I am amazed at  how the different lenses complete change the mood of the picture.

This was a really fascinating cemetery, with tombs of mostly Christians from Europe, and a few Chinese graves as well. It was in major disrepair when I visited, and I stopped taking photographs when I saw that there were several homeless men living there. They had a cloth strung up between two tombstones and huddled underneath it while cooking over a small fire. I noticed the smoke first, then I realized that they lived in the cemetery, so I quietly made an exit. This is the only place in the world where I have found people living in cemeteries. 















Thursday, February 12, 2015

Photo Diary: Best of Georgetown, Penang

It sure is hard to take a bad picture in Georgetown. And it is even harder to edit those photos down to something the represents the best of the city. Georgetown is so picturesque, but something about it was fabulously gritty ad that was the part I loved. 


































Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Privilege without Borders


The author of this post does not know this person 
and would never sit on an armchair grave




I want to talk about white privilege. 
And I want to talk about it using this photo of a white woman. 
She is pictured sitting on the alter of a Chinese grave in a Thai-Chinese cemetery. The design of this particular tomb is known as an “armchair grave.” She is sitting on the alter of the grave, a place where flowers and incense would normally be. I would like to give her the benefit of the doubt, and say that perhaps she was confused and thought this grave was, literally, an armchair, because I don’t want to believe that a member of my own race, or possibly my own country, would be so crass, insensitive, and entitled, as to desecrate an alter for the deceased by rubbing her ass on it and posing for a photo.

As a graveyard photographer, I can find a lot wrong with this image. She is touching the grave, sitting on the grave, and improperly clothed in a sacred place (and for those cries of sexism I hear, men are also required to cover their shoulders and knees inside temples, cemeteries, and sacred spaces in most of Southeast Asia). I have the same nauseating reaction to this photo as I did when I saw tourists pose lovingly next to bullet-riddled tanks at the War Remnants Museum in Vietnam. I wrote about the disassociation that people have with time and place. A murder scene looks like a Hollywood set through the eyes of those living in comfort and safety. There is some amount of disassociation in this photo, but disassociation alone doesn’t send someone’s ass onto an alter.
Ignorance does.
Entitlement does.
Entitlement to be ignorant.

I have been traveling around SE Asia for six months and I have seen some shit. In general, it is my belief that most people are poorly behaved when on vacation. Didn’t we leave rules and responsibility behind at the office? Isn’t that why we took a holiday? But this excuse only holds so much weight, and its weight became much lighter when I watched a white woman smoke a cigarette at Angkor Wat, then rub the butt of the cigarette out on the “No Smoking” sign.

This behavior speaks of the entitlement to be ignorant. Something of this nature:
“I am tourist. I am a foreigner. I am paying for this experience. So I don’t have to learn your language, know your customs, follow your rules. And without apologizing, you have to forgive me.”

If you thought that the privilege and entitlement white people experience in America, or England, or Australia, gets left behind at the airport when they board flights to Bangkok or Bali, you are unfortunately mistaken. Maybe you thought that the experience of being a racial or ethnic minority in another country (such as, say, a white person in Thailand) would give them some perspective or empathy. It does for some, and not for others.

Of course we all know that being a minority in a foreign country is not the same as being a minority in your home country. What one learns, being a minority in a foreign country, is what it feels like to be unable to hide, and what it feels like to be treated differently (sometimes for better, and sometimes for worse) based on one’s physical appearance. Unless one grew up in, or lived for a long period of time in, a country with am institutional system of discrimination against foreigners or certain groups to which one belongs, one cannot compare their experience with say, that which POC experience in the United States.  Being targeted as a non-local and scammed or ripped off really sucks, but most white people in Asia can go home afterwards - to places where such incidents do not happen to them.
That, in and of itself, is a privilege.

Once when I was in Japan, I was walking through the red-light district of Tokyo wearing sexy clothing. I was on my way to a bar to meet friends, talking loudly on my cellphone in Japanese. I had not walked one block before I was stopped, and accosted, by two police officers. They demanded to see my identification (I had none), to know where I was from, what I was doing, where I was going, and whom I was meeting. You see, they thought I was a prostitute. Because I was white, because I was dressed sexy, because I was speaking Japanese, and because I was walking through the red light district at midnight. Honestly, when the police began questioning me, the first thought that came into my head was a quote from Wanda Sykes “Biggie Shorty” in Pootie Tang:
“Just cuz a girl like to dress fancy and stand on the street corner next to some hos, you automatically think she’s hookin?” Unfortunately I couldn’t translate this fast enough for the officers, but after some questioning they let me go, and to the bar I went, riled up and infuriated and all ready to claim that I was a victim of discrimination.

“This would have never happened in America!” I cried.

I used to think that statement showed how discriminatory Japan was, but in fact, it only showed how privileged and entitled I was. This – being accosted by the cops for no reason – who have never happened to me in America because I am a white woman. This does, however, happen all the time in America - to women of color.

I would argue that white people cannot escape white privilege anywhere on this planet, because white privilege is not defined by borders. It is not merely an institution that is policed by one country’s regime. It is internal. It is within us. The sense of entitlement is something we carry in our suitcases and in our minds and it follows us to every corner of the globe. Even when we whites are the minority in a foreign country we expect to be treated with fairness, at equal level with local people. This is apparent in our  surprise at being ripped off by street vendors or accosted by police. Even when we whites are guests and visitors in a foreign country we expect to be exempt from the customs and norms. This is apparent in our flagrant disregard for rules. Trespassing, smoking, littering, loitering, molesting, and vandalizing. I have seen it all, and I am not innocent. I did not stop it. I enabled it. I enabled it by being there and doing nothing about it. 

Some people might argue with me, say that this isn’t about white privilege and that some people are just poorly behaved, that’s all. Sure, we can find examples of ill-behaved people of all backgrounds. That’s true. But what makes white privilege real is not that some white people behave badly, it’s why they behave badly.
To the white guy who I caught writing “fuck” on the walls of the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum:  “What made you think you could, and did, get away with that?”

Sunday, February 8, 2015

Rainy Evenings: Reflections from Penang



I ducked into a Chinese café to eat egg tarts and wait out the rain. It was only a drizzle then but soon it began to pour like bucket of marbles hitting a tin roof.

I ran to the other side of the street and took shelter in another café, sat down, and promptly ordered food. The rain sounds like thousands of hands of an audience clapping vigorously. I had my back turned to the stage. I wondered how long I would be trapped in the cafe. There is no possibility of  walking in that rain. Those slick bullets would tear right through an umbrella, bounce off the ground and come at you from below. Better to stay under the tin roof, no matter how much it clamors.

After haggling for an umbrella the sky cleared up immediately. Oh well, I’ll use the umbrella as a parasol. I love this city. This is, perhaps, the first place I have been thus far on my trip that I have truly loved. I could spend days walking around Georgetown’s painted streets, eating food from the hawkers stands and passing the long hot afternoons at cafes. There are more cute cafes here than I could even sample in weeks. Quiet mornings. Hot sunny afternoon. Rainy dark evenings. This could be my life. 

Saturday, Oct. 18, 2014 Kaffe Kafe, Penang

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Photo Diary: Street Art in Georgetown

The street art in Penang has become so famous there are even tourist maps showing where you can find this artwork. Around the more famous pieces  are crowds of tourists waiting to be photographed beside the artwork. Despite this commercialization of Penang's graffiti, I had a few happy discoveries of my own. This is a collection of photographs of all the street art work I found in Penang, some of it very famous, and others obscure. 
























Monday, February 2, 2015

What Did I Eat in Penang?

Malaysia is not known for its good food. Sorry, Malaysia. For a while, I thought that I was the only one who failed to have a memorable meal in Malaysia, until I met other travelers who shared similar stories. Once I met an Italian man who had been living in Thailand for 15 years, and he said that Malaysia had the worst food in all of SE Asia. The main industries are petrol and banking, he said. "Nobody goes to the fields." Sadly, I found his observations accurate. The food at fine restaurants in cities like Kuala Lumpur is uninspiring, expensive, and tasteless. The food on the street is appalling. I'm not a picky eater by any standard, but I would prefer starvation to any of the street food I saw in in Malaysia...with one exception.

Penang.

This island is the cuisine capital of Malaysia, and home to the country's only decent food. All of the good meals come from the streets. There are typically a few carts set up along side the road, with tables and chairs beside them. These carts world together in kind of a hawker-center - without the actual building. This means that if you sit at one of the tables, you can order food from any of the carts. In more well organized food centers, people will walk around and take your order like waiters, but be careful - they may charge you prices that are higher than the actual price you would pay if you ordered directly form the cart. So I recommend going up to the cart to buy your food, then sitting down and order a drink from one of the "waiters." Once you order your food with a cart, there is no need to go back and pick it up. They will deliver it to your table and collect your money at that time. How they remember who you are, what you ordered, and where you are sitting, is a mystery to me. But every time I did this, I got exactly what I ordered each time.

One word of caution. You cannot bring outside food and drink into the food centers. If you sit down at a table in one of these places, you are expected to order all food a beverage from the corresponding carts that serve that food center. Sometimes two food centers will be located right next to each other, so it is hard to tell which carts serve which tables. Ask first. Don't make the mistake of ordering food from a cart that doesn't serve your table, or the servers in the other carts will be quick to berate you!
Yeah, not the best customer service in Penang. But good food. Really good food.


Clockwise from top: 
Assam Laksa (noodle soup)
Char Kway Teow (stir-fried noodles)
Rice rolls with Shrimp
Oh Chien (oyster pancake)
Chicken Wings
Wanton Mee (pan-fried noodles)

Leopard nights

Bought this leopard coat at a thrift store in LA about 8 years ago. I loved it when I found it - I had been looking for that exact coat for ...