This entry is a link to a blog by friend Carola C. Reuben, who describes an amazing banquet with the Sultanah of Kedah on Langkawi island in Malaysia. Thanks to her, I got to attend as well. See her Earthy Reporter blog for feature stories about her travel adventures.
Earthy Reporter: Dancing Queen: Sultans Legacy for '1 Malaysia'
2010-09-19
Connecting in the 21st Century
It's a big, big world - made considerably smaller by the many ways it is possible to connect now in 2010. I sit here in my new apartment on a tropical island in Malaysia, looking out over the bay where ferries, yachts, and small fishing boats thread their way between small sailboats apparently engaged in a sailing class. All the vehicles for travel to and from this island -- small, medium, and large -- are represented. In the same way, the means available in 2010 of connecting with others function at and represent multiple levels. I can connect with my new neighbors one-to-one and face-to-face locally, or I can attend meetings, concerts, or classes and trade business cards and plug new numbers in my mobile. Now, too, I connect with family and friends and make new contacts online. Their families and friends may connect as well -- all these connections -- small, medium, and large -- ripple out to shape a much broader world.
Living so far from my family and former circles of workmates and friends, whenever the internet connections go down, I experience 'isolation anxiety.' This was far worse in the days predating the internet. I remember being in Japan in 1991 when my (now-ex) husband back in New York was going through some difficult times. The telephone connections were tinny and expensive. A letter would take 3 weeks. I sent a telegram that chased him over several states. The distance between us felt enormous and I felt so useless when trying to help from afar. These were days when I found the Japanese culture around me to be so alien and my sense of 'culture shock' acute. To comfort myself, I would go to American movies shown in English (with Japanese subtitles) as a way to alleviate that sense of isolation and to spend some hours 'inside' my native culture with people I think I understand.
TV and movies have been around all my life, though not so for my parents' generation (I wonder how my perceptions of friendships, connections, the nature of the world around us differ from theirs). The characters onscreen have a deceptive transparency. I think I know them. I often catch myself thinking of them -- and the actors that play them -- as "friends." Clearly, I am not alone in this nor am I unaware of the extremes -- couch potatoes still in their nightclothes staring at "the boob tube," on one hand, stalkers and the 'paparazzi' who haunt the celebrities on the other -- both cross the line into irrationality. I am not so far gone as that but living in a foreign culture (or in an uncomfortable situation when home in your native culture), these "friends" and their situations acquire an importance. Recently, I indulged in an "American Idol" addiction watching a rerun of the whole 8th season (they are now doing the 10th). Adam Lambert will be performing in Kuala Lumpur and Hong Kong next month and I find myself trying to figure out how to get to the concert. I have come to "care" about him. It's a deceptive and false connection between fan and celebrity but it does satisfy some essential need for connection.
Startlingly, social media, especially Facebook, has also provided reconnections with the past. I have heard from people I knew as far back as kindergarten. Having moved a lot, I completely lost touch with them. Now I hear they remember me as I once was -- do I still resemble my childhood self in any way? I really enjoy reading the wall entries. This enables me to know a bit about what people I care about are thinking or doing or seeing (photographs often communicate even more)-- but I don't have to reply or write an email or a letter (does anyone still write letters?) The past, present, and the future all compress in these entries. Distance disappears.
Reading and writing blogs, websites, emails, tweeting, posting videos on Youtube, and so much more -- the possibilities for connections seem to expand exponentially day by day. Who knows what the generations to come will employ? At this moment in history, ten years into the 21st century, I take real pleasure in the shortening of distances and time. I am comforted by the options to stay connected with the world-at-large and those I care most about.
At the same time, I have isolated myself on an island. I am concerned about crime, loss of privacy and identity theft as we all should be. I have much that I wish to share in my writing but I am also sufficiently thin-skinned to be concerned about criticism and spamming -- the hurtful side of these new media. When distance and time no longer serve as protection, shutting down and cutting off become the best defense. So my current questions touch on the psychology of connections: What are the best ways in 2010 to share and connect without leaving yourself open to attack? What are the most important things that we need to learn from the ever-changing environment shaped by the new media? How do we deal with the perceptual changes in distance and time? And perhaps most importantly, what do those of us alive now have to tell -- or even teach -- the next generations?
Living so far from my family and former circles of workmates and friends, whenever the internet connections go down, I experience 'isolation anxiety.' This was far worse in the days predating the internet. I remember being in Japan in 1991 when my (now-ex) husband back in New York was going through some difficult times. The telephone connections were tinny and expensive. A letter would take 3 weeks. I sent a telegram that chased him over several states. The distance between us felt enormous and I felt so useless when trying to help from afar. These were days when I found the Japanese culture around me to be so alien and my sense of 'culture shock' acute. To comfort myself, I would go to American movies shown in English (with Japanese subtitles) as a way to alleviate that sense of isolation and to spend some hours 'inside' my native culture with people I think I understand.
TV and movies have been around all my life, though not so for my parents' generation (I wonder how my perceptions of friendships, connections, the nature of the world around us differ from theirs). The characters onscreen have a deceptive transparency. I think I know them. I often catch myself thinking of them -- and the actors that play them -- as "friends." Clearly, I am not alone in this nor am I unaware of the extremes -- couch potatoes still in their nightclothes staring at "the boob tube," on one hand, stalkers and the 'paparazzi' who haunt the celebrities on the other -- both cross the line into irrationality. I am not so far gone as that but living in a foreign culture (or in an uncomfortable situation when home in your native culture), these "friends" and their situations acquire an importance. Recently, I indulged in an "American Idol" addiction watching a rerun of the whole 8th season (they are now doing the 10th). Adam Lambert will be performing in Kuala Lumpur and Hong Kong next month and I find myself trying to figure out how to get to the concert. I have come to "care" about him. It's a deceptive and false connection between fan and celebrity but it does satisfy some essential need for connection.
Startlingly, social media, especially Facebook, has also provided reconnections with the past. I have heard from people I knew as far back as kindergarten. Having moved a lot, I completely lost touch with them. Now I hear they remember me as I once was -- do I still resemble my childhood self in any way? I really enjoy reading the wall entries. This enables me to know a bit about what people I care about are thinking or doing or seeing (photographs often communicate even more)-- but I don't have to reply or write an email or a letter (does anyone still write letters?) The past, present, and the future all compress in these entries. Distance disappears.
Reading and writing blogs, websites, emails, tweeting, posting videos on Youtube, and so much more -- the possibilities for connections seem to expand exponentially day by day. Who knows what the generations to come will employ? At this moment in history, ten years into the 21st century, I take real pleasure in the shortening of distances and time. I am comforted by the options to stay connected with the world-at-large and those I care most about.
At the same time, I have isolated myself on an island. I am concerned about crime, loss of privacy and identity theft as we all should be. I have much that I wish to share in my writing but I am also sufficiently thin-skinned to be concerned about criticism and spamming -- the hurtful side of these new media. When distance and time no longer serve as protection, shutting down and cutting off become the best defense. So my current questions touch on the psychology of connections: What are the best ways in 2010 to share and connect without leaving yourself open to attack? What are the most important things that we need to learn from the ever-changing environment shaped by the new media? How do we deal with the perceptual changes in distance and time? And perhaps most importantly, what do those of us alive now have to tell -- or even teach -- the next generations?
2010-09-15
Why Asia? Simple economics.
For the past five or so years, I've been living in various places in Asia. Friends 'back home' in the 'States' and new friends met here have questioned my choice to live away from my native culture as well as my family and friends. The answer -- at a profound level -- is, in part, simple economics.
Currently, my home is a very comfortable and almost elegant apartment on a tropical island in Malaysia. It's a bit pricey for Asia but still nearly affordable. Thanks to a friend visiting from the U.S. who fell in love with the island and decided to stay for several months, we've been able to share the cost of a penthouse overlooking a gorgeous bay and deep green rainforest. I'm not certain I'll be able to stay here forever but in the meantime, it is a real pleasure to be surrounded by such beauty.
Here's the thought: to live on a tropical island in an exotic location is actually much more affordable than a small apartment in a city suburb nearly anywhere in the U.S. The rent is comparable to a one bedroom "hole in the wall" back in the U.S. The daily cost of living is so much lower and the food much fresher! There are surprising conveniences -- water delivery for pennies, taxis arrive within 5 minutes of your call, housekeeping and laundry services are cheap and usually easy to find.
I find myself wondering why any reasonable person would choose to live a life of poverty in a so-called "First World" country when life in the "developing world" is so much more affordable. Further, living in poverty in the U.S. is agonizing. Increasingly, Americans are facing the effects of 'the economic downturn' both financially and emotionally. Bombarded by the media which daily reports disasters, it seems the atmosphere in the U.S. is charged with fear. People are depressed -- and they too often get more so as there seems to be such a general spirit of despair. We Americans seem humiliated when we have less 'spending power.' I have been there -- sneaking into the local foodbank because there was less than $10 left in the bank. We seem to be in a daily struggle with the question, "Is my net worth all there is to my self-worth?"
On the other hand, most people in Asia are much poorer than many empoverished Americans but there's a much more uplifting spirit here. People seem to have more fun! They have festivals and community gatherings to attend, riding their motorcycles or bikes or walking if they can't afford a vehicle. In most Asian countries, people are used to being poor and have strategies to cope.
Some years ago, my life in the U.S. was turned upside down by illness. I had to withdraw most of my retirement funds to meet daily expenses. Unable to work, I was very lucky that I was able to receive various kinds of federal and state support to cover the many medical visits and keep some food on the table. I will be forever grateful for the social services provided in the U.S. that got me through that difficult time.
One happy day, a friend called me and said he had started an English language school in China. Did I want to come teach? It took me 5 seconds to get over my surprise and say, "Yes!"
I found myself a few months later in the desert of north China teaching in a hospital and a graduate school of a medical college. The doctors and nurses in my classes hauled me around to both Western and Chinese traditional doctors -- and I began to get a bit better. I'm told I must deal with chronic illness for the rest of my days, but I can now get up in the morning, feed and clothe myself, even part-time share knowledge and experience in classes. The real surprise, though, is how much better I feel not having to struggle with the intense anxieties around not having enough money to support myself. As a result, I am less stressed and therefore less ill. This is because the costs to meet the basic survival needs are so much more reasonable in most parts of Asia than in the U.S.
So here's the real question of the day: Has the cost of living in the First World simply gotten too high for the survival of the Middle Class? Creative, artistic, intelligent, well-educated people are dying -- some at their own hands -- because the struggle to survive is too stressful. Baby Boomers like me are quickly reaching 'retirement age' but cannot afford to stop working. Do we work ourselves into the grave or is there another, more reasonable way to live? What other assets do I have besides my tiny bank balance? I'm living in Asia these days in part to see if I can find some answers to these questions.
Currently, my home is a very comfortable and almost elegant apartment on a tropical island in Malaysia. It's a bit pricey for Asia but still nearly affordable. Thanks to a friend visiting from the U.S. who fell in love with the island and decided to stay for several months, we've been able to share the cost of a penthouse overlooking a gorgeous bay and deep green rainforest. I'm not certain I'll be able to stay here forever but in the meantime, it is a real pleasure to be surrounded by such beauty.
Here's the thought: to live on a tropical island in an exotic location is actually much more affordable than a small apartment in a city suburb nearly anywhere in the U.S. The rent is comparable to a one bedroom "hole in the wall" back in the U.S. The daily cost of living is so much lower and the food much fresher! There are surprising conveniences -- water delivery for pennies, taxis arrive within 5 minutes of your call, housekeeping and laundry services are cheap and usually easy to find.
I find myself wondering why any reasonable person would choose to live a life of poverty in a so-called "First World" country when life in the "developing world" is so much more affordable. Further, living in poverty in the U.S. is agonizing. Increasingly, Americans are facing the effects of 'the economic downturn' both financially and emotionally. Bombarded by the media which daily reports disasters, it seems the atmosphere in the U.S. is charged with fear. People are depressed -- and they too often get more so as there seems to be such a general spirit of despair. We Americans seem humiliated when we have less 'spending power.' I have been there -- sneaking into the local foodbank because there was less than $10 left in the bank. We seem to be in a daily struggle with the question, "Is my net worth all there is to my self-worth?"
On the other hand, most people in Asia are much poorer than many empoverished Americans but there's a much more uplifting spirit here. People seem to have more fun! They have festivals and community gatherings to attend, riding their motorcycles or bikes or walking if they can't afford a vehicle. In most Asian countries, people are used to being poor and have strategies to cope.
Some years ago, my life in the U.S. was turned upside down by illness. I had to withdraw most of my retirement funds to meet daily expenses. Unable to work, I was very lucky that I was able to receive various kinds of federal and state support to cover the many medical visits and keep some food on the table. I will be forever grateful for the social services provided in the U.S. that got me through that difficult time.
One happy day, a friend called me and said he had started an English language school in China. Did I want to come teach? It took me 5 seconds to get over my surprise and say, "Yes!"
I found myself a few months later in the desert of north China teaching in a hospital and a graduate school of a medical college. The doctors and nurses in my classes hauled me around to both Western and Chinese traditional doctors -- and I began to get a bit better. I'm told I must deal with chronic illness for the rest of my days, but I can now get up in the morning, feed and clothe myself, even part-time share knowledge and experience in classes. The real surprise, though, is how much better I feel not having to struggle with the intense anxieties around not having enough money to support myself. As a result, I am less stressed and therefore less ill. This is because the costs to meet the basic survival needs are so much more reasonable in most parts of Asia than in the U.S.
So here's the real question of the day: Has the cost of living in the First World simply gotten too high for the survival of the Middle Class? Creative, artistic, intelligent, well-educated people are dying -- some at their own hands -- because the struggle to survive is too stressful. Baby Boomers like me are quickly reaching 'retirement age' but cannot afford to stop working. Do we work ourselves into the grave or is there another, more reasonable way to live? What other assets do I have besides my tiny bank balance? I'm living in Asia these days in part to see if I can find some answers to these questions.
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