Whenever I travel alone, I keep myself occupied with planning for the sights I intend to visit, reading the map and familiarising myself with it, keeping an eye out for my belongings and indulging myself in people-watching as I soak in the whole experience of a new and different city/country/culture/environment. The following are some of my observations from the recent trip:
# 1: In Stockholm, a couple and their small girl entered the diner I was in. He hardly held the door for her and was oblivious to her struggles with the door and the pram They headed for an empty table close to the entrance and the little girl walked out of her pram and went to one of the child seats – and dragged it back to the table all by herself. The mother was already seated and looked exhausted. The father did nothing to help the girl as he discussed the menu with the mother. Then I saw the father held out his hand for money for the meal from the mother. That was not the first time I saw an Indian man making his wife fork out the money for expenses. A few times here in KL, I’d observed with some surprise Indian men making their wives foot the bill.
#2: A good-looking man boarded the airport bus in Sofia. After a while, I discerned that he was with a lady – she could be his wife, partner or even sister. The seat beside me was vacated shortly after they boarded and he sat down. And by doing so, his rating in my eyes dropped immediately – for he was selfish, inconsiderate and thoughtless enough to claim the seat as his own instead of offering it to the lady. She looked frustrated at having to continue to stand and hang on for dear life and mildly annoyed and embarrassed by his lack of courtesy. And somehow I gathered that that was not the first time that he did not try to be a bit more considerate to her. Of course this happens all the time here and I should no longer be surprised – chivalrous honnête homme are endangered species now – but I always thought that European men are more chivalrous that their Asian counterparts, well, until that morning of course.
#3: While strolling the streets of Vienna, I was aware of a group of young people gathered together. They clearly knew each other and most of them were sitting on the pavement except for two who were standing. Nearby, a little toddler was playing by herself. She clearly looked like she was the child of the standing couple. I wouldn’t have given the scene much thought except for one disturbing thing: the girl was playing in the dirt. There was a small area which looked like it was under repair cordoned off to pedestrians and that was where the girl was playing - with the sand, gravel and asphalt – less than a metre away from her parents who were more intent on conversing with the rest of the gang and enjoying the sunshine than paying any attention to her. I wasn’t the only person who was looking at the scene in growing horror; a mixed couple (she was white and he was black) with their small child also kept glancing back to see whether the toddler playing in the dirt would actually put something, anything, into her mouth and wondering what kind of parents she had.
#4: A lot of people in uniform always act like they are superior than the hoi polloi, and especially so if you are a foreign girl travelling solo. I lost count of the number of the times I had my passport being scrutinised and flipped thoroughly repeatedly for reasons I didn’t know. It normally happened at the immigration but it happened once while I was checking in and the girl behind the counter called the border police or whatever they were called who proceeded to study my passport as if to memorise the pages. I actually asked, ‘Is there any problem?’ and the girl assured me that there was no problem. I wanted to scream and demand the reason why they were so interested in my passport but decided not to bother. Sometimes I wonder if the immigration people or border police think they have x-ray vision to read invisible code in my passport (not that there is any); I dread to think how they would have reacted had my passport borne the stamps of Iraqi, Iranian, Afghan, North Korean or even Cuban immigration. I generally think Bulgarians were very nice people with two exceptions: the chap on the bus above and the immigration girl-in-uniform at the airport. She was so bloody rude and treated me patronisingly, so much so I couldn’t resist saying sarcastically ‘So friendly!’ as I picked my passport that she shoved back and stalked off.
#5: Eastern Europeans are generally more wary of strangers and foreigners. I’d be stopping in my tracks studying my map and no one could be bothered to stop and help. Generally, they also smoke a lot (I especially notice this because I am sensitive to cigarette smoke) and have an unapproachable and hard look. I don’t know if they behave and act as they do because they don’t see too many foreigners or because they dislike foreigners. I tried not to think that they were xenophobic but there were times when I couldn’t help wondering. Maybe they were not comfortable to talk to strangers; maybe they didn’t know enough English to help; or maybe due to their circumstances they were just wary by nature. Of course I did receive help from the chap in Bucharest who was overly kind but that was the exception rather than the norm.
#6: Europeans can also be quite ignorant (so don’t worry if you don’t know the map of Europe!). Those friendly enough would almost always ask where I’m from and when I say I’m from Malaysia, they’d all look surprised as if they’d been expecting me to say I was from the Middle East, Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran or even Pakistan. It’s frustrating to say I’m from Murgh–lay–sheer (I never pronounce it as Murgh–lay–zee–ah) and getting blank responses and having to explain where Malaysia is. I always have to add, ‘It’s south/north of Thailand/Singapore. Do you know where Thailand/Singapore is?’. Sometimes they’d get embarrassed and tried to act as if they just realised where Malaysia was - when I know they didn’t have a clue.
#7: Observation on self: I think I did pretty well on my own, alhamdulillah. Not only did I manage to read maps and converse with the locals, I also managed not to lose or misplace tickets, room keys and such (this is a great achievement for scatterbrained me). But I notice that I became less alert when Lin came to visit. I know that whenever I travelled with her, I was less careful with things and more absent-minded. On my own, I only have myself to rely on and somehow I became more alert and aware as I couldn’t afford to be ditsy.
Enough of my trip observations: I have one experience to share. As I was walking to the Emirates Stadium on my return visit, a black lady stopped me and asked me something. I must have looked confused because she then showed me a book and asked if I would be interested in studying it. I looked at it: it read ‘The Bible’. I declined politely, thanked her and said, ‘I’m Muslim’ before continuing on to the stadium. Except for an earlier encounter with a bloke in front of Selfridges preaching loudly to those who cared to listen (and nobody really was, they were more intent to finish their shopping) about how near the end of the world was and why we should save ourselves quickly through by following Jesus, I didn’t expect a direct religious approach, not in London at least. And surely, with my scarf, she should be able to tell that I’m Muslim? After all, the city has more than its fair share of veiled Arab women thronging Oxford Street and Queensway and it was the only city on my trip where I could walk without feeling that I stuck out like a sore thumb, never mind that I don my head cover differently.
And those are just some of my observations and experiences that had me feeling appalled, shocked, annoyed or amused even.
# 1: In Stockholm, a couple and their small girl entered the diner I was in. He hardly held the door for her and was oblivious to her struggles with the door and the pram They headed for an empty table close to the entrance and the little girl walked out of her pram and went to one of the child seats – and dragged it back to the table all by herself. The mother was already seated and looked exhausted. The father did nothing to help the girl as he discussed the menu with the mother. Then I saw the father held out his hand for money for the meal from the mother. That was not the first time I saw an Indian man making his wife fork out the money for expenses. A few times here in KL, I’d observed with some surprise Indian men making their wives foot the bill.
#2: A good-looking man boarded the airport bus in Sofia. After a while, I discerned that he was with a lady – she could be his wife, partner or even sister. The seat beside me was vacated shortly after they boarded and he sat down. And by doing so, his rating in my eyes dropped immediately – for he was selfish, inconsiderate and thoughtless enough to claim the seat as his own instead of offering it to the lady. She looked frustrated at having to continue to stand and hang on for dear life and mildly annoyed and embarrassed by his lack of courtesy. And somehow I gathered that that was not the first time that he did not try to be a bit more considerate to her. Of course this happens all the time here and I should no longer be surprised – chivalrous honnête homme are endangered species now – but I always thought that European men are more chivalrous that their Asian counterparts, well, until that morning of course.
#3: While strolling the streets of Vienna, I was aware of a group of young people gathered together. They clearly knew each other and most of them were sitting on the pavement except for two who were standing. Nearby, a little toddler was playing by herself. She clearly looked like she was the child of the standing couple. I wouldn’t have given the scene much thought except for one disturbing thing: the girl was playing in the dirt. There was a small area which looked like it was under repair cordoned off to pedestrians and that was where the girl was playing - with the sand, gravel and asphalt – less than a metre away from her parents who were more intent on conversing with the rest of the gang and enjoying the sunshine than paying any attention to her. I wasn’t the only person who was looking at the scene in growing horror; a mixed couple (she was white and he was black) with their small child also kept glancing back to see whether the toddler playing in the dirt would actually put something, anything, into her mouth and wondering what kind of parents she had.
#4: A lot of people in uniform always act like they are superior than the hoi polloi, and especially so if you are a foreign girl travelling solo. I lost count of the number of the times I had my passport being scrutinised and flipped thoroughly repeatedly for reasons I didn’t know. It normally happened at the immigration but it happened once while I was checking in and the girl behind the counter called the border police or whatever they were called who proceeded to study my passport as if to memorise the pages. I actually asked, ‘Is there any problem?’ and the girl assured me that there was no problem. I wanted to scream and demand the reason why they were so interested in my passport but decided not to bother. Sometimes I wonder if the immigration people or border police think they have x-ray vision to read invisible code in my passport (not that there is any); I dread to think how they would have reacted had my passport borne the stamps of Iraqi, Iranian, Afghan, North Korean or even Cuban immigration. I generally think Bulgarians were very nice people with two exceptions: the chap on the bus above and the immigration girl-in-uniform at the airport. She was so bloody rude and treated me patronisingly, so much so I couldn’t resist saying sarcastically ‘So friendly!’ as I picked my passport that she shoved back and stalked off.
#5: Eastern Europeans are generally more wary of strangers and foreigners. I’d be stopping in my tracks studying my map and no one could be bothered to stop and help. Generally, they also smoke a lot (I especially notice this because I am sensitive to cigarette smoke) and have an unapproachable and hard look. I don’t know if they behave and act as they do because they don’t see too many foreigners or because they dislike foreigners. I tried not to think that they were xenophobic but there were times when I couldn’t help wondering. Maybe they were not comfortable to talk to strangers; maybe they didn’t know enough English to help; or maybe due to their circumstances they were just wary by nature. Of course I did receive help from the chap in Bucharest who was overly kind but that was the exception rather than the norm.
#6: Europeans can also be quite ignorant (so don’t worry if you don’t know the map of Europe!). Those friendly enough would almost always ask where I’m from and when I say I’m from Malaysia, they’d all look surprised as if they’d been expecting me to say I was from the Middle East, Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran or even Pakistan. It’s frustrating to say I’m from Murgh–lay–sheer (I never pronounce it as Murgh–lay–zee–ah) and getting blank responses and having to explain where Malaysia is. I always have to add, ‘It’s south/north of Thailand/Singapore. Do you know where Thailand/Singapore is?’. Sometimes they’d get embarrassed and tried to act as if they just realised where Malaysia was - when I know they didn’t have a clue.
#7: Observation on self: I think I did pretty well on my own, alhamdulillah. Not only did I manage to read maps and converse with the locals, I also managed not to lose or misplace tickets, room keys and such (this is a great achievement for scatterbrained me). But I notice that I became less alert when Lin came to visit. I know that whenever I travelled with her, I was less careful with things and more absent-minded. On my own, I only have myself to rely on and somehow I became more alert and aware as I couldn’t afford to be ditsy.
Enough of my trip observations: I have one experience to share. As I was walking to the Emirates Stadium on my return visit, a black lady stopped me and asked me something. I must have looked confused because she then showed me a book and asked if I would be interested in studying it. I looked at it: it read ‘The Bible’. I declined politely, thanked her and said, ‘I’m Muslim’ before continuing on to the stadium. Except for an earlier encounter with a bloke in front of Selfridges preaching loudly to those who cared to listen (and nobody really was, they were more intent to finish their shopping) about how near the end of the world was and why we should save ourselves quickly through by following Jesus, I didn’t expect a direct religious approach, not in London at least. And surely, with my scarf, she should be able to tell that I’m Muslim? After all, the city has more than its fair share of veiled Arab women thronging Oxford Street and Queensway and it was the only city on my trip where I could walk without feeling that I stuck out like a sore thumb, never mind that I don my head cover differently.
And those are just some of my observations and experiences that had me feeling appalled, shocked, annoyed or amused even.
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