Marquees are Waiting

I think the celebration day is tomorrow for Malaysia Day.  I received some hand delivered invitation in my mail box, but have no idea what it says. Yes, I could get a dictionary and decipher the words, but I am pretty sure it is an invitation to some gathering at a neighbour's.  I think this because on Friday I watched a marquee being set up down the way from my own house.  That means party.  For the weekend, the neighbours in that direction all get to drive through this portico enroute to their own homes.  I probably should show up at some point. I was invited.  But knowing that I cannot read the invitation, I also know that I will have difficulty communicating with the group.  And I will not be eating the food.  Maybe just a drop in on my way to downtown to the nice lady that does alterations for me.

Finding the alteration lady was funny.  I had purchased a pair of Berkenstocks shortly after arriving here. They were not selling - I wonder why?  They were white. They had buckles over the foot and around the ankle. They were very large.  Yes, that was why.  But they were only RM8.  That means they were about 2 bucks.  A nice pair of shoes to wear when hosing down my patio, right?  Well, the cute old guy who runs the shop tried them on my feet. It was hilarious.  My feet are not tiny, but they looked miniature in these large white soles, and the ankle straps left gaps big enough to drive a car through even buckled onto the last hole.  Not to lose a sale, he took the shoes off, found a hole punch and popped holes into the straps about half way up the strap.  Now the shoes could not fall off my feet, as long as I slid my feet on the ground.  I bought them and they have serve me well on the patio hosing days.  The blinding white has mellowed to a dirty greyish white so that worked too.  For a while I donned them, buckling the straps and sliding around the patio. I finally bought a pair of heavy duty scissors and cut off the straps that were dangling off my ankles and made a pair of slip ons.  Maybe not perfectly matched on the trimming, but works for me.  So, now to the alteration lady.  I had picked up a belt from the Pasir Malam one night because it was inexpensive and leather.  When I got home, I looped it through my jeans that drive me crazy because they seem to be made these days with a zipper so short I wonder why they even bothered. This short zipper means the jeans hang off your rear leaving you with a lovely plumber butt so I needed a belt to hoist up the pants.  Now, this new belt fell into the same category as the Berkenstocks. You see, the locals tend to be built rather square. That means their feet are almost as long as they are wide. Hence the fat footbed of the sandals works for them. They just cannot afford the cost, so they shoes sat until I came along. Their bodies are the same shape. The belt, that could have bound a car shut, was a hot seller, and I happened along and bought it. But even my chubby waistline was no match for the amount of leather offered in this belt.  It could wrap around my middle a couple of times. I was not going to give up on this. Back to the Berkenstock man after I realized I had nothing to cut through the leather or make a hole in the belt to make it fit. Berkenstock man could do it, he has done similar in the past.  He speaks Chinese. He speaks Malay.  I speak English. No common ground.  When showing him the belt, showing him how it does not fit, he raised his arm and pointed to Mecca.  What the heck? I pointed behind his desk where the elusive hole punch lived. Again he pointed to Mecca, but this time with a kind of u turn.  Finally, knowing he was not willing to help, I began to leave the store and was heading for my car.  He scurried out the front of the shop and made noises to get my attention. Again, pointing in the other direction and kind of u turning his finger.  His shop is near a corner of sorts that leads into a sort of alley.  What did I have to lose? I started off that way, and like a mother watching their child walk to school for the first time, he stayed in position and kept an eye on me.  Once I reached the alleyway, he began his vocal directions again with the u turn signal.  I looked back and then entered the alley.  What the heck, there was some little cubbyhole of a shop that was so full of stuff I did not know how to get in.  But, there were belts, bags, and whatnot hanging everywhere and toward the back I could see a sewing machine.  I found the belt hole puncher!  It worked.  The fee was RM3.  The belt now made the jeans stay up, but being usual construction over this way, the piece that holds the buckle in place was made of some painfully thin piece of leather that fell apart in about 3 wearings. That's ok, I went back, and had her rebuild the belt, using the belt itself to anchor the buckle.  Now, this cheap belt has cost me a grand total of RM23.  (RM15 for purchase, RM3 for hole punch, RM5 for repair).  Still cheaper than a leather belt back home.  Cheap yes, but the equivalent of 8 bucks makes this belt rather pricey over here. This weekend I am taking some dresses for alterations to her.  I wonder what that will cost?