11 Days!

If you have been reading and yawning, it is soon over. Only 11 days left in my life in Kota Tinggi.  The vacate is moved ahead one day. More stupidity with the company. What can I say.  But in any case - 11 days.  This week is turning into farewells everywhere. Even the restaurants I trust know I am on my way. They tell me I look not well. They tell me I look so tired. They are right on both accounts.  And interestingly, they are some of the most difficult ones to say good bye to.  I am not sure, but I dont think most people build a relationship with the restaurants they attend. My servers ask me to give my e-mail address. They want to stay in touch. Why? So we can plan the next time I drop in for a meal?  But I give it.  If these people show up in Canada I would be proud to show them my home. Just wear a jacket. These people graciously serve me and feed me foods I can tolerate, always with a smile and kind word.

Today I was clever. I went to the pos laju after work and bought a couple of boxes.  My shoes and a few things need to go home and I dont want carrying heavy bags to and fro. The shoes can take the slow scenic route home and arrive after me.  But boxes are a thing of 'great mystery' here. Pos Laju has boxes, but they are for Pos Laju.  Those words mean something akin to Fed Ex, but Malaysian style. For that reason I am assuming the parcel arrives in its own good time, not at all, or is lifted by the locals.  It also means a hefty price tag. I asked a ball park figure. One box, if filled to capacity would cost me RM1500 to send.  That works out to $500CAD.  No box of shoes is worth that.  So, with a room full of customers I picked out one who looked like she spoke English. She did. After explaining what I wanted and several attempts at her trying it out on the clerk, I got my answer.  I wanted to know if I could use the pos laju box but send snail mail. I can. I bought two. I will. But first have to pack the boxes.

My HM at the Chinese school where the library came to rest still has not written the letter for my own country tax office. I need something to cover the taxes I pay in two countries.  I finally realized on my way to the school - she does not know what to write but cannot ask.  Shoot, I should have just written the letter and taken it to her. But very wise this old bird is. I got there. I was right. No letter. I asked if I could use a computer. I did. I typed the letter, then found someone to show me where to print it. Oops, printer on the blink.  But he was a good critical thinker. He transferred to his own flash drive, which needed to be cajoled and coddled in order to stay connected to that computer, then tried again. Ooops, still no print. He went around the various offices and found some printer that liked his flash drive and brought back the printed letter. Madam signed it. Now all I have to do is gather the courage to talk nicely to my scanner and get it scanned into my own computer.  Please, please oh great scanner of Kota Tinggi, scan one more document for the white lady.

I was having very good luck with the car rental poobah until I pointed out that the person who is trying desperately to take as much money off me as she can,  has a title at the car rental office and at the company where I work. I am guessing no one has ever pointed out that observation before.  Shoot again. I should have kept my mouth shut. Not worth having them exposed and crawling back into their caves to save face.  Shoot, will I never learn.  It was fun to poke though.  I will think of that incident as one more example of intercultural communications.  Which brings me to my own learning halls. I need to set up the next set of course before I leave. No sense in changing my money to CAD and then using a visa to pay these guys in ringgits all to give the banks and cc companies extra bucks.  But that nightmare of going to the bank, lining up like a bus depot, and getting fingerprinted to transfer funds to a university is more than I can face right now.  Maybe this can wait until next week.

So, tomorrow is another school.  Pos Laju, pos office, and whatever else falls in my lap.  I did manage to collect the certificates (left behind) because of  my school that did not attend the shindig. OMG.  We left them (well technically I guess - I - left them) in the party room. We escaped quickly because the bloody rain was pelting down and thunder was rocking the building. No certificates in my hand. Probably a good thing. They would have been wood pulp again with that rain. I was sure they were gone forever. But my bud said no way - they will be exactly where you left them. They were. Amazing.  I consider this one of the good features of those who do nada.  It worked for me this time.

I think I will just show up at the JB car rental office - unannounced. That way, they cannot be prepared for me wielding bats, hammers, and clubs to trash and smash my car in order to justify it needing repairs while in my custody, because after all, in my custody means my responsibility for repairs no matter what the cause.  Maybe that can be Friday's entertainment.

wish me luck