Who ever would have thought that I’d end up shivering my first night in Cambodia in the middle of the summer? And yet that’s exactly what happened in the wake (pun intended) of a boat tour of the nearby floating village last night. After passing by the houses, mobile shops, fishing skiffs, floating institutions (hospital, police station), and even a floating basketball court (which my guide took pains to emphasize) my boat stopped briefly on the vast expanse of Lake Tongle Sap. By then, at the horizon, charcoal clouds met milky brown water. A few slender bolts of lightning flashed in the distance.

After a few minutes, the boat left the lake to pause at a floating crocodile farm: this was to be my vantage point for viewing the sunset. I’m afraid that the crocodiles themselves are destined for the shop across from the guesthouse in which I’m staying and that the snakes held up from floating basins by children shouting “one picture, one dollar!” may suffer a similar fate. (Apparently, the number of children making money in this way used to be higher until the local government established a free– floating– school.) At any rate, the sunset was not to be: about half an hour before the colors should have appeared through the clouds, the clouds released their rain.

So I didn’t see the sunset; I did, however, between downpours, see a rainbow.

Both the crocodile farm and the boat were covered, so despite a bit of splashing, this was not when I got drenched. That occurred on the ride back: to save money, you see, I had hired a moto-dup, a motorcycle taxi. The driver sped past rice fields, trying to outrun the storm that rumbled and flashed over them, but it was no use, for the storm was heaviest in town. The roads had flooded– so deep that, in places, the rain came up to my thighs.

I ended up in my room chilled and wishing that the shower’s hot-water setting meant something higher than lukewarm. Still, I wouldn’t trade this experience away: watching the storm gather over Lake Tongle Sap and roll over the fields gave me a moment of the sublime. I also had the immense privilege of witnessing, even if only a little bit, how people in very different circumstances from mine live.

(Expect pictures on my Flickr account soon; Internet access in Cambodia is slow, though not as slow as I had imagined.)

The most exciting thing that happened today occurred in a temple in Chinatown, just off the commercial hubbub of Petaling street. I’d gone into one of the temples and was attempting to take a picture of burning incense coils from beneath when some ash fell directly in my eye. Fortunately, my worst fears did not come true: a few minutes of tearing up cleansed my eyeball, leaving behind no apparent damage. I will say, however, that I now consider falling ash from incense to be a greater hazard than the aggressive monkeys I saw yesterday at the Batu Caves.

Yesterday, incidentally, was a lesson in managing expectations. I expected the Batu Caves, apparently the main Hindu site in Malaysia, to be a little more, well, more. It only consisted of a few large chambers and soem scattered statuary. My disappointment was tempered only by the array of vegetarian restaurants in the vicinity. On the other hand, I was thrilled with the view from the Eye on Malaysia ferris wheel, though I hadn’t expected much.

Kuala Lumpur has a highly appealing skyline. Even the modern skyscrapers involved traditional elements. The shapes of the Petronas Towers, for instance, come out of traditional Islamic design. Not only does this add an element of coherence to the image of this city, it also makes it a bit different from what I’ve experienced in other countries where I’ve travelled.

Though Malaysia is a largely Muslim country, the overall impression I have is of a syncretic culture with influences from all directions and many different religions. I’m afraid that a week is insufficient to form any deeper ideas.

I spent today traipsing around Kuala Lumpur’s Lake Garden Park. I started out at the National Museum. Unfortunately, half the exhibits were closed. From there, I followed the sometimes confusing signs to the Bird Park; because it consists of a large aviary with space for flight, I expected birds kept in relatively free conditions. Unfortunately, many were kept in cages within the larger space; the raptors in particular seemed ill-pleased. I watched a parrot show: the birds seemed wholly disinterested in the tricks. I could see that all they could think was, “now can I have my seeds?” This bothers me quite a bit: I believe that the only performances that should be encouraged in animals are those that, of themselves, give the animals delight (or at least health).

The highlight of today was the butterfly park. I’ve never been able to get so close to butterflies before. I even witnessed one approach a hibiscus only to be frightened off by an emerging dragonfly.

After that, on my way past the National Mosque, I was accosted by an aggressive taxi driver. (I should note that I mean aggressive by the standards of what I’ve witnessed so far in Kuala Lumpur; he would fit in well in China.) As I approached the spot where he had stopped his taxi, I responded to each of his several may-I-help-yous with no. Finally, I made an ‘x’ with my forearms– to which he asked, “Where are you going?”

“I’m walking.”

“I can help you.”

“No, you can’t. How can you help me walk? Are you going to carry me?”

This morning, I attempted to visit the Petronas Towers, the tallest twin buildings in the world. In fact, I made it to the towers half an hour before the ticket office was supposed to open. Strangely enough, there was no lineup there: only a sign stating that all the tickets for the day had been given out. How they managed to give all the tickets away before opening the ticket office remains a mystery to me, though I suspect some sort of deal with tour operators.

With that plan foiled, I wandered around the KLCC park until Aquaria opened. Though rather small, this aquarium contains several fascinating species of manta ray, shark, and grouper (among others) living in one large tank that can be viewed from a tunnel with an automatic walkway. I also found a nearby ice cream stand that sold a few non-dairy varieties. They only had fruit flavors, so I got a mango cone, but it had been a long time since I last ate ice cream.

After that, I headed for the KL Tower. Soon after I reached the observation deck, rain and lightning rolled in across the sky. Despite the announcements apologizing for the limited view, I was actually pleased with this development, as I think the clouds add an interesting texture to photographs. During a break in the rain, I made my way down via the ear-popping elevators and then hiked through Bukit Nanas, a 10-hectare rainforest in the middle of the city, to the nearest monorail station. On the way, I heard branches crashing down and looked up to see the silhouettes of monkeys racing across the canopy. Unfortunately, they were too far away for me to photograph with the lens I had with me.

Now I’m sitting in the front room of the hostel where I’m staying, listening to the downpour and uploading images that will eventually find their way to my Flickr page.

After spending yesterday traipsing through parks and gardens in Shenzhen, I made my way to the airport by subway and shuttle bus this morning. Outgoing customs was the typical lax Chinese setup with no one actually at the customs counter; the check-in line made up for it, as it turned out that one person in front of me was a tour guide representing eight overweight businessmen who had to repack their checked baggage several time to meet weight requirements. Passport control was orderly but neither overly fast nor slow.

Boarding at Shenzhen airport requires going down a long ramp and taking a bus out onto the tarmac; add to this the unassigned seats that Air Asia uses, and I’m frankly surprised that no blood was drawn in the stampede. Nonetheless, I managed to get on the first bus of people who had not payed extra for the privilege of early boarding and to secure an aisle seat.

Unfortunately, it took about half an hour for the rest of the passenger to board. Then, it was another two hours before the plane could takeoff, apparently due to bad weather, though there was only a light rain as far as I could tell. Air Asia provides neither free food nor drink, and I had not planned to buy either, but thanks to the delay, I knew I needed something. Fortunately, they were selling vegetarian noodle cups; I got the last one in stock.

On landing, we disembarked onto the tarmac and had to walk to the arrivals hall. It wasn’t very far, but it did require crossing between service vehicles. Passport control was the most relaxed I’ve ever gone through: no forms to fill out and just a few simple questions. Then, I hopped on  a shuttle bus, transferred to the subway and finally found the hostel where I’m staying. I haven’ t had a chance to see much yet, but I did have an interesting interpretation of soba noodles (hint: it involved pad thai sauce). I’m also finding it strange not to have people constantly staring at me, shouting hello and laughing.

Early tomorrow morning, I’ll be leaving for my summer trip. While I should have Internet access at various points, posting may be erratic until September. In the interim, take some time to view the current issue of CRIT Journal. This is definitely the best issue yet with work from Ashok Niyogi, Aria Abraham, Mark Cunningham, and more.

I’ve always found the sort of padded bras that maintain a rounded shape even when there are not breasts in the cup to be a bit strange. It turns out that baby bats, by contrast, think that such bras are quite comfortable. The young woman who eventually found the bat in her bra likely would have noticed its presence while dressing had it not been a padded bra; the bulk disguised its presence. This young woman is also fortunate that the bat did not become frightened and bite her.

This story actually reminds me of an incident that happened at Camp Sealth when I was 10-years old. One of my cabinmates reached into her boots to retrieve her socks. She flatly stated, “oh, a bat” and threw something onto the floor. Just as the rest of the girls turned to look, that something started to lift its wings and cry. Later, we would learn that the girl had thought someone had put a rubber bat into her boots, but at that moment, no conversation was possible due to the screaming of my cabinmates.

Our counselor brought a towel to carry the bat in and eventually convinced everyone it was cute. Soon after that, it was able to fly away on its own.

Yet another program of domestic spying in the US, bearing a strong resemblance to the TIPS program that sparked so much outrage, would bring together police, firefighters, medics, utility workers, and others to work as “terrorism liaison officers”. One of their job functions, however, would appear to be art criticism:

a draft Justice Department memo on the subject says that such things as “taking photos of no apparent aesthetic value”

There is no word as yet as to what sort of training these officers will undergo in order to qualify them to judge the aesthetic value of photographs. Moreover, they will find themselves with a much more difficult task than faced by standard art critics, as they will have to make their initial judgments based not on the work of art produced through the mechanism of the camera but from the circumstances under which the initial part of the process occurs. I wonder if they will be taught to consider the lighting as well as the subject and to look for color and contrast rather than just subject matter.

I wonder what “terrorism liaison officers” would think of photographs like these. (What would you think of them if you were such an officer?)