Truly, Sergio: 2020

Monday, August 10, 2020

'Ma kasih!

My first apartment in Malaysia was in the Ukay Heights neighborhood of Selangor, up on a hill with a panoramic view of downtown Kuala Lumpur. Nearly every night I would take a moment on my balcony to admire the lights of the Petronas Twin Towers and the changing colors of the Menara KL Tower as a backdrop of splashy sunset (and probably pollution) painted the sky.

It wasn't long before construction in the foreground slowly blocked these iconic structures one by one, until my view was nothing more than that of a "generic city," created by some stock-photo media outlet with the objective of creating a non-distracting but obvious metropolis.

And then I moved.

My third international post and first in Asia has taught me many things. It has also been five years that completely spanned my mid-30's, an arguably formative set of years in anyone's life. A lot of those lessons are tied together and many are like that disappearing cityscape. It's bright, shiny and nice to look at, but once it's out of sight, you start to see what remains.

I've learned to appreciate what is in front of me more and to take my time. Five years has been a lot of time to see a lot of Southeast Asia, and while there is so much left, I'm glad I didn't rush. I'm grateful for the time spent sitting in a coffee shop in Jogyakarta or making multiple trips to Georgetown (oh, hey ChinaHouse!); staying in KL for Chinese New Year holidays; using running as a way to see different parts of the city or region; or sitting in a jungle hide at the edge of a clearing in Taman Negara for an hour at dusk to catch a glimpse of an Asian elephant.

I've learned to explore on my own and lean less on what others have told me to look into. For every Bali or Krabi, there's a Raja Ampat or a Mulu. Some of my favorite experience in Malaysia and the accompanying region have come not from recommendations or crowd-sourcing, but by pointing at a map and thinking: let's find out what's there. There is so much more to Southeast Asia than hippie beaches and elephant pant tourist meccas. This is one of the most biodiverse and culturally rich places on the planet. For me, hiking to see orang-utans in the Bornean jungle or watching Buddhist monks chant in the New Year in Chiangmai were worth skipping the beach sunburn.

I've learned to make the effort to learn about a culture and not expect it to drop into my lap. Latin America was easy to get to know; it immersed you like a giant wave, sometimes with an accompanying undertow. The language, the food, the spirit of the people - there was no way to avoid any of it. It enveloped you and pulled you in. One of the most shocking things coming to live in Malaysia was how easy it was, as a foreigner, to avoid that immersion. And I refuse to live abroad that way. I want lei cha for Sunday lunch at the local mamak. I want to buy the singing monk bowls from the artisan himself, even if it means wandering down some narrow, unmarked alleys in a Bangkok suburb off the tourist map. I want my "abroad" to be a little uncomfortable, confusing, and with mistakes. For an English-speaker, Malaysia is "expat lite." One needs a chisel, at least, to get below the surface here. Sadly, I will leave here with few new language skills and even fewer local friends.

The home I've lived in the past three years is closer to work and the city center. It's got a decent amount of vegetation in and around the complex which is a nice reminder that I'm still in the tropics. Like the eventuality of my hillside first apartment, I cannot see the cityscape from my window here either. I know it's there, though.

Malaysia is a lot like those "vanishing" towers. The rich and diverse culture is always there, but you have to make the effort to look for it. It's far too easy to exist here, comfortably in a bubble, wilfully removed from any cultural risks.

As I leave Malaysia I relish many things. The flavours of a Ramadan market, the shophouse architecture, vibrant Malay batik patterns, greeting the cleaning ladies with a cheerful "pagi!" in the morning, catching a potent whiff of roadside durian, and the daily soundtrack of calls to prayer will all be looked back upon with a sincere sense of nostalgia.

Terima kasih dan jumpa lagi, Malaysia. Thanks and see you again soon.

Friday, July 10, 2020

A Walk in the Park

American naturalist and engineer of some of the world's first National Parks John Muir once wrote:

"The world is big and I'd like to have a look at it before it gets dark."

While Malaysia has currently 22 National Parks and many more State Parks, Marine Protected Areas, and places designated as Wildlife Sanctuaries, Forest Reserves, and Conservation Areas, fast encroaching oil palm plantations and development continue to put pressure on the sanctity of these places for the organisms that live there, increasing their importance.

The Taman Negara ("National Park" in Bahasa Malaya) encompasses over 4,000 square kilometers in the middle of peninsular Malaysia, existing in three different states. Protected since the late 1930's this old growth rainforest is home to many now-threatened large animals that once had great ranges throughout Malaysia and Southeast Asia including the Asian Elephant and Malayan Tiger, the later of which is considered to be critically endangered and estimated to number less than 200 individuals.

The easiest and most popular entry point is to cross the river from the village of Kuala Tahan, on the southern end of the park. From there the well marked and board-walked trails take you along the river, through a swamp, or into the hills. The further from the entry point, the more wildlife (or evidence of wildlife - hello, giant elephant droppings!) one is to encounter.

Male Horsfield's Baron butterfly. This species is sexual dimorphic; the females
are much less flashy with colouring to camouflage with dead leaves and bark

While quite common, the Malayan lascar butterfly is stunning to look at - if it
sits still long enough!

While not my favourite primate in Malaysia, this
mother and baby long-tailed macaque posed
nicely for me near the Kuala Tahan park entrance.

After waiting nearly an hour in a high hide at the edge of a clearing at dusk,
this stunner emerged silently from the edge, ate some grass, tossed dirt on it's
back, and wandered off into the forest again. Even with the zoom on my DSLR
working hard, the fear of him hearing the shutter and leaving was there.
Definitely a high point of the visit!

The "darkness" Muir speaks of is almost certainly open to interpretation, however, looking at it from the point of conservation and not a eco-tourist's checklist, puts the emphasis on maintaining places where these organisms can continue to exist safely for generations to come, possibly expanding into other areas and reestablishing the much-needed biodiversity of the region. National Parks anywhere are important and visiting them ensures their future and the future of the flora and fauna within them.

Thursday, July 2, 2020

No Crabby Pants Here

Most of Malaysia's islands are known famously for their beaches, diving opportunities, and resorts. Pulau Ketam is not one of those.

Situated a short boat ride from the port of Klang about an hour from Kuala Lumpur on the western coast of the peninsula, the "Crab Island" community lives almost entirely on stilted houses and raised sidewalks. No cars are found on the island and the preferred mode of transportation is your own two feet, a bike, or scooter. The island itself is almost entirely mangrove swamp, which, if developed would likely cause the little bit of land to wash away entirely. Thus, living just off the shoreline and above the water level is ideal for the - mostly Chinese Malaysian - residents who make their living off of tourism and fishing.

A particularly flashy crab greeting the morning arrivals at low tide.

It's not Venice but it has its charm!

Here for the main event.

And some spicy prawns (also fresh!)

Even the temples have a nod to the local staple.

While there aren't any swimming beaches or reefs to explore, the town does have a few legit hotels, as well as a host of home stay options should one wish to spend the night. However, a day trip is easy and sufficient time to eat your fill and get in a good peddle around the narrow "streets" before heading home, fulfilled.

Sunday, February 2, 2020

Just Keep Swimming

"My sport" has always been swimming. Despite finding success as a distance runner later in life, the sterile scent of chlorine and the sound of waves lapping into a gutter always bring me home. When I left the US in 2007, I did so knowing that I wasn't likely to engage much in competitive swimming, especially as a coach. Not until arriving in Malaysia did the opportunity present itself and I am forever grateful.

The swim team at ISKL is more than a family. It is an extended lineage; a collection of overlapping stories that are at one similar and new. In five years I have seen two graduating classes grow and develop as athletes and human beings from silly, nervous Freshmen to confident and inspiring Seniors. From my first day on the pool deck for training to my last IASAS Championship Meet, the team has welcomed me in ways that make the long hour hours, bus rides, endless weekend meets, and stress of making team cuts and tough calls all worth it a thousand times over.

Every year as the end-of-season awards night, I always end up saying that most of my favorite people at the school are in this room." Every year I saw it, and every year it's true.

This post isn't about itemizing moments or attempting to capture in words the depth of bonds formed and joy exuded by this group. It is an album of sorts, a blogged time-capsule to collect a few images and memories of time spent with some of these favorite people I've gotten to meet and work with in the last five years.

2015-2016:

Welcoming Committee
As a new coach, these two Seniors made it their missions to integrate me
into everything that "Swim Fam" was, including matching hairstyles!