Running Away (From Feb. 17, 2011)

You can run away from many things: people, places situations. But, one thing you can’t run away from is yourself. I admit, in a way, I’ve run away from home. I love my family and my children are my life. I have four good men going out into the world, anything else life gives me is icing on the cake and the cherry on top. I was not so naive to think that I would go to the other side of the world and life would instantly sort itself out, that I’d be cured and there’d be the fairytale ending. I just knew that I was suffocating under the stress of functioning in my daily life. Just being on ‘vacation’ my cognition and memory and body are not quite so challenged. I have no one else’s schedule I have to keep up with. No appointments to remember, no school forms to fill out or bills to pay. Okay, that’s not true. I do have to do the FAFSA form and the College Board financial aid forms for Alessio’s financial aid. Given what my specific deficits are, I’d rather pull my eyeball’s out of my head. That’s not far from what it feels like when I’m struggling to do the numbers. But that aside I have left the day-to-day pressure behind and during the week I’m here in the flat alone, free to do what I want. Here’s the kicker, I still had a bad morning. I’m paying today for playing last night. Elizabeth and I just went out to dinner with a couple of friends, but in spite of Provigil (or as I like to call it, “crack”) and two strong cups of coffee, I can’t pull it together. I can’t even get my brain to decide to do yoga, write, go do laps in the pool or go back to bed.

At home I feel like the rest of the world is on a merry-go-round that is going around and around at top speed, and I’m running alongside trying to hop on. Sometimes I make it and am able to grab on. With a grip for dear life, I find a balance that keeps me on the ride with everyone else for a turn or two only to just get flung off. Then I pick myself up, tend my wounds and I’m at it once again. I’m just trying to keep up. That’s not even keeping in mind the cognition issue. At school functions, or at the soccer field I can’t remember parents who I’ve met many times, I can’t pull up words when I speaking which causes a vicious cycle of the listener getting impatient, me getting flustered, my mind going completely blank and then it’s downhill from there. I go into what’s called ‘cognitive fatigue’. That’s when people with M.S. cognitive impairment get cognitively overloaded, fatigue and meltdown, not only with mental tasks but physically as well. My vision gets worse, my balance goes and those damn tremors kick up into high gear. It’s usually at that point that I go down.

Here, I can avoid that without a lot of fanfare by just avoiding situations that exacerbate my symptoms. I was at Elizabeth’s school yesterday for a Chinese New Year Celebration (yes it’s still going on). The people, the noise, the heat–I was going down and it was going to be a hard one. But the beauty is that Elizabeth, with the little time she’s spent with me in the years since I’ve been diagnosed, sensed that I was struggling. The smile never left either of our faces but said some goodbyes and slipped out. Well I peg-legged it out. We went to Zaidah’s which is right across the street. Her flat is so soothing. Some A.C., a cozy couch, legs up, water and one of Zaidah’s famous coffees and my body thanked me for it by relaxing to where I was out of that unpredictable scary red zone. I was able to go to dinner later and have a nice time. Sure at times my legs were a little dodgy, threatening to give, but it’s a small price to pay.

If I fall I fall. There’s nothing I can do. I’ve already fallen in some of the most spectacularly embarrassing situations. My husband, Frank, had a big job doing all the electrical work in a huge indoor sports center in town. It was a great job, with great people. When it was complete we were invited to a Halloween party there. Frank went in and right away of course there were lots of people for him to talk to. However, people were talking to me who I had no recollection of ever meeting. The costumes didn’t help to jog my memory either. There were lots of people, lots of noise, kids running around bumping into me. It was a recipe for disaster. At some point when I finally was able to catch up with Frank, he touched my back in a way that is always the final straw. My nerves go into overload from my head to my toes. My spinal cord feels like someone plugged it into a high voltage outlet. The floor flipped up over my head and the next thing I knew I was down. Let me tell you, I’ve dealt with walking with a cane for years, being in and out of a wheelchair, but the humiliation of falling is a unique one. My body then went into such violent, convulsive tremors that my whole body went into spasms. Even my diaphram was not cooperating with giving me the breath that I needed. I was surrounded by strangers buzzing about hovering over me in a chaotic circle no one knowing what to do. There’s a place you go when you, quite literally, crash. It’s like an out of body experience. You almost become an observer of the absurd scene, thinking this would be really funny if I could at least breathe, or if it wasn’t me on the floor.

I tried to not let the tears erupt, but I was not the boss of my body in that moment. I felt like there was literally a thread holding me from falling even further into myself, when someone embraced me. It was a warm, comforting, gentle bear hug. I had no idea who it was, but in a soothing voice he just told me, it’s okay, just breath slowly, it’s okay. He helped me into a chair. I still don’t know how because my body was stiff as a board. But he never loosened his embrace. I buried my face in his neck now crying as much as my spastic diaghram would allow, repeating over and over again, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry... His comforting words, and his protective comforting embrace enveloped me and I just wanted to stay there–hide there–forever. As I willed my body to relax enough so I could breathe, I stayed there. I didn’t know who this guy was, and I didn’t care. I was staying there and I knew by his nurturing, knowing hold that he would stay there too as long as I needed him to. I became more aware of the chatter around me and I heard someone refer to my rescuer as Mark. Mark is the owner of the arena. I hadn’t met him yet and Frank wanted me to meet him. In fact the only reason I went was because it was a client’s affair. So now it’s occurring to me that this is that Mark. When things are shitty, how much worse can it get? Besides, whoever he was, we bonded with that hug. With all this going on, and with tears still pouring out of my eyes and into his neck, I sobbed, are you...(sniff sniff)... are you...(sniff)...Mark? His body perked up, and although I couldn’t see his face with my face buried in his neck and all, I felt the big smile as he replied, why yes I am. In between sobs I said, nice to meet...(sniff) ...you. We had a whole conversation that way, about how I did ads for his wine import business when I was art director for a magazine that he advertised in.

No one else even paid attention to this scene and I was glad for once to be invisible and just have this comforting, albeit drama packed, hilarious moment with Mark. When I finally allowed him to let go of me, I saw him deep in conversation with Frank. Periodically they glanced over at me sitting in the same chair, still wracked with tremors, and trying to carry on conversations with people I don’t know. But I had a smile on my face, albeit a crooked one, for the right side of my face was drooping. When I was put out of my misery and we left, Frank told me that Mark told him that he had been married before and his first wife died of cancer. It all made sense: the knowing, gentle hug–the understanding.

I’m not going to lie. I was pissed at Frank. This is not the first time that he left me in a situation that was laden with mines that trigger a physical collapse. And in spite of my constant tutelage, he still hasn’t mastered that there are certain angles that are in my blind spot and an unexpected touch shocks my body into an intense, neurologic confusion. I know that no one can know what to do all the time. I’ve been both the patient and the caregiver. It’s not easy on either side. My anger at him is really anger at myself that I will be, at best, high maintenance for the rest of my life. I’ve been told it’s all about me. Well it’s not. But if I were blind wouldn’t there be certain precautions that people would take, like not leaving things in my path so I trip? Leading and leaving me in places that I’m unfamiliar with and full of stimuli is like not very unlike strewing objects in a blind persons path. It's a recipe for disaster. An M.S. patient needs to manage stimuli. Even some predictable order in the home is important, because even something as simple as trying to find scissors that aren’t where they should be can rev up confusion and go into cognitive fatigue. I need to be able to rest before I collapse. I need to have quiet sometimes. Most of all I just need to not feel guilty for having M.S. I didn’t ask for this. I’ve even told Frank if he wants out because it’s too much, I would understand. He didn’t ask for this and he has a choice. It wouldn’t be fair to him.

So yes, I ran away. I ran (and it was doctor’s orders) from the stress. I ran away from the constant guilt, and the constant demand of my memory. I ran away from mustering up the energy to put out the biggest 'fire' burning in the household only to collapse until the next 'fire' rages. I was caught in a vicious cycle that was becoming a downward spiral. I admit it. I ran. But I also ran to something. I ran to nurturing myself, to seeing who I really am, because I’ve forgotten. I ran to the time and distance I need to sort out how I can manage the merry-go-round. without losing myself in the process. I didn’t run away to Malaysia, I ran to me.

Hong Kong Jazz

My toes are tapping and my head’s gently bobbing. My chair is comfy and the music is incredible, a repertoire of jazz tunes old and new. To top it all off this is the best gin and tonic I ever had! It was worth the trouble it took to get here.

Sitting in the Langham Hotel in Tsim Sha Tsui, Hong Kong, the slow simmering satisfaction of a day well spent flows through me, washes over me and carries me in it’s current like the music here in this lobby lounge. The female singer, piano player and bassist could not sound any richer if they were a full orchestra. The sound coming from just the three of them is transportive. The only word I to describe them is smooth, (like my gin and tonic), which is exactly how I feel at this moment. Their velvety tones are like a rich chocolate mousse at the end of a delectable 6 course meal.

Just like such a feast, this day has had many flavors. And like a person who hasn’t had a decent meal in ages pulling up a chair to a banquet, I began this day licking my chops, starved for something I could not only sink my teeth into but that would wow my pallette. Yesterday was an “amuse bouche” and today I was ready for the main course.

A sleepless night and a three hour flight with seats that didn’t recline was more than my body could take. I had to leave Elizabeth and Melissa last night in hopping Tsim Sha Tsui to return to our hotel, The Royal Park in Sha Tin. My feet were swollen and busting out of my shoes (I’m surprised none of my toes fell off for lack of circulation), my legs were shaky and my head was dizzy with little bursts of vertigo. To have any hope of walking today, I needed to buy different shoes. Before retiring to my room I stopped in the Sha Tin Town Centre Mall, which is adjacent to our hotel, in search of shoes that wouldn’t squeeze my feet like a tube of toothpaste. I found the perfect pair that were not only comfy for walking, but super-cute too. Today involved quite a bit of walking and the shoes served me well.

Today the tour I took to Lantau, while the other two were in their workshop, returned later than I expected. With no cell phone to use in Hong Kong I had to rely on pay phones, of which there are three in Hong Kong, and one is broken! In this cell phone generation people actually laughed at me when I asked where there was a pay phone, and the younger ones had no idea what I was talking about. When I finally found a pay phone that worked, I stayed nearby so I could keep calling the hotel leaving messages for Elizabeth and to see if she left any messages for me. Figuring I would meet them in Tsim Sha Tsui, since this is where we would be for dinner and entertainment, I didn’t want to go all the way back to the hotel only to turn around again. I had no luck. I finally took the shuttle back and my pal Hassan, the bellman, told me she left to go to Tsim Sha Tsui. Elizabeth had been waiting in the lobby not in the room, therefore not receiving my calls to the room. However, several times I asked the operator and the receptionist to see if she was anywhere else in the hotel. They said no, but she was sitting right there in the lobby in full view (and they know who we are). Another shuttle was leaving to go back to the happening area and rather than spend my second and last night in bed, alone, again, I hopped on it and planned on just getting lost. By time we reached the shuttle drop off I made attempts to find my way to the Ladies Market area, but I was too tired, too confused and my feet and legs were not having it. I had visions of the three of us out on the town ‘tearin’ it up’ in Hong Kong, but it just was not meant to be.

So hear I sit here, alone but not lonely. I had no idea what I would do. I let go of expectations of what my night in Hong Kong should ‘look like’ and I landed in this luxurious, place as content as can be. I suppose when you let go of expectations you open up the possibility for enjoyable things you never even considered. The trio is playing “Just The Way You Are” by Billy Joel with their own hip take on it. It’s a blast from deep in the past – junior high, to be precise. It was part of the soundtrack of the young girl I was, yet barely remember – the girl who had all her dreams ahead. It was a time when anything was possible and ‘fairy tales’ could maybe come true–or so I thought. Sometimes what you didn’t expect is more than you even hoped for. Back then a trip to Hong Kong was as real as Prince Charming. It was more the stuff of make-believe than somewhere I would ever truly find myself. But being the dreamer that I am, I never ruled out fairy tales coming true, and still don’t.

There are adult fairy tales and I’m in one, right here in my hotel lobby lounge in Hong Kong. I don’t want to ever leave this lounge, this music, or this moment. My second awesome gin and tonic may be making me a bit tipsy, but this moment is perfect. It’s a grown up version of my fairy tale fantasy. Instead of fanfare there’s subtlety. Instead of Prince Charming sweeping in to save the day and give me worth, there’s me, and the sweetness of feeling comfortable in my own skin, even here in this foreign city.

I feel like Morgan Freeman in “The Bucket List”. I’m surrounded by luxury and excitement, but it’s what’s in my heart that is making my spirit soar. You never know where you will find a little piece of Nirvana. It can be high on a hill in a monastery with a Buddha that can be seen from miles away. Or, it can be in a cozy spot in a Hong Kong hotel listening to good music while just feeling comfortable in your own skin.

I don’t even want to write anymore. I just want to float on the lilt of the piano and the singer’s agile voice, to give in to the melodies that are sweeping me away in my cozy corner of Hong Kong.

Apple, the singer with the trio. We got to chatting in between sets.
I had my cab drop her home on my way back to the hotel.
A beautiful girl with an incredible velvety voice.

Weekend In Hong Kong

Architectural detail Po Lin
Monastery

The gloomy, chilly mist of the Hong Kong morning matched the way my body felt after a sleepless night and a sleepless flight. Elizabeth and I chose not to sleep the night before since we didn’t trust that we’d be able to get up for a 4:30 am pickup for our ride to the airport. The flight left at 6:45 so we figured better to just stay up and sleep on the plane. Little did we know that the extra legroom emergency exit seats on the Air Asia plane do not recline, making a nap rather impossible. Also onboard was Melissa, Elizabeth’s coworker, who was also attending the workshop on higher order thinking. The poor girl had just flown back from the U.S. two days before and now was once again changing time zones.

Since I’m a veteran of physical pain, the knotted-up-chilled-to-the-bone-dead-tired ache I was feeling was par for the course. I have meditative imagery techniques that I’ve come up with over the years to just hang on when the pain is bad and there’s no promise of relief in the immediate future. I just needed to hold on until we got to the hotel and checked in before I could begin to address pain relief. As we rolled along the highway, my first impression of Hong Kong was not a good one. In fact just as I was trying to grin and bare the pain, I thought I would just have to grin and bare Hong Kong. It was Friday morning and we were only there until Sunday. I can do it, I thought. I hadn’t even packed a jacket for this whole trip because I was more worried about staying cool in Malaysia. Although Hong Kong is cooler than KL, I believe this was an especially cool and rainy weekend. As it usually goes, the one thing I could have used, a jacket, I didn’t pack. I warded off a full blown anxiety attack, something I’m prone to, when I felt the telltale tightening in my chest and my breath getting shallow and quickening. I took hold and slowed my breath into ‘three part’ breathing. My outlook on the rest of the weekend wasn’t good, but I was ready to just get through it. Little did I know what surprises Hong Kong had in store for me.

The hotel was very nice and in a nice location with a shopping mall connecting to it. The bellman was a tallish, gawky Pakistani man with a brown bellman uniform and a cap which sat askew on his head. His ill-fitted uniform made me think of the Wicked Witch’s flying monkeys in the Wizard of Oz. He insisted on helping me with me little rolling carry-on, (which I assured him I could handle no problem), by pulling it in a tug of war with me to the point of almost knocking me over in the effort. I have to constantly be reminded that there is no tipping in Asia, but even though the bellman Hassan almost sent me rolling backwards down the escalator, pissed Elizabeth off with his unbridled persistence and was a bumbling fool for the most part, I couldn’t stop myself from tipping him. It was a reward for his enthusiasm. Other aspects of the hotel made up for some confusion that dragged out our check-in and Hassan’s awkard welcome. The interior was designed in a modern zen. I loved the barn door for the bathroom. It’s a design application for a small space that I had been dying to use somewhere in my own home remodel. After the first compulsory tours around the room, checking everything out, we put our legs up for a bit. Then, soon enough we were off to the adjacent Mall to grab a bite to eat before checking out the city.

I must admit that the first day is mostly a blur with certain moments peeking out of my hazy memory. I know that we got some food (I got a bowl of noodles with veggies and pork–I think) at the food court. It warmed us and fueled us to take on venturing out into the damp gloom and begin getting acquainted with Hong Kong. After all, we didn’t have much time–especially Elizabeth and her co-worker, Melissa, who would be in the workshop for the next two days. Luckily there was a free shuttle from the hotel to Tsim Sha Tsui, the leaping point to most of the hotspots of Hong Kong. We wandered around somewhat aimlessly, stopping for coffee and peering into windows of Gucci and Prada and getting our bearings as best we could with our sleep deprived brains. I pushed ahead... and pushed...and pushed. It seemed like forever, but we were still in a two-block radius of where we were dropped off by the shuttle. I finally had to throw in the towel and head back. I would have the whole next day to explore. Collapsing in the middle of Hong Kong on the first day would definitely put a damper on things for the other two.

Elizabeth and I in front of a Chinese New
Year Tree decorated with Ang Pows.

I wanted so badly to go on to the Ladies Market, an outdoor Market that is touted to have some great deals on almost anything. I have gotten better at letting go of missing out. You have to do what you have to do. Seeing anything in Hong Kong is more than I’ve seen before, so it’s all good. Once I get over that hump of disappointment and adjust my perspective of the situation I can let it go and rest with hopes that the next day will be better. It’s only recently that I find I can let go of the expectations and just be ready for whatever happens next.

Elizabeth came back with a nice surprise for me from the Ladies Market: a pair of black super light weight cotton drawstring pants with wide loose legs. Just the thing I wanted to look for the Kuala Lumpur climate. It was so nice of her to think of me. She got a great deal on a bag and we laughed while she told me story about bargaining it’s price with the stall owner. I’m sure she was a formidable match for the seasoned market vendor. I was happy hearing about her adventures with Melissa in the market and happy that I made the right decision to come back to the hotel so they could enjoy the evening without worrying about me.

The next morning Elizabeth was up and out early for the workshop. I rested and took my time making it downstairs just in time to grab breakfast before they stopped serving. With brochures in one hand and my coffee in the other I decided that I would do an afternoon tour to Lantau, the largest outlying island that takes the Ngong Ping cable car up to the Po Lin Monastery where there is a huge bronze seated Buddha, one of five such statues in China. Once I made the decision to go my adrenalin levels rose so much I felt I could feel it rushing like a river running through me. I was off, choosing to seize this once in a lifetime opportunity to just go and take a little bite out of Hong Kong. I must have be some type of adrenalin junky. I was excited and nervous. The more nervous I got, the more I looked forward to venturing off alone. Well, not entirely alone, there were other people on the tour and the tour guide. And yet, I felt like I was off to discover new lands. The lands are well charted, but what was the unknown was how I would be able to handle the tour physically. There were steps and walking involved and I wouldn’t know how difficult it would be until I got there.

The cable car rose from the chaos of the city up into the mist and over the lush mountainous island of Lantau heading towards Ngong Ping. I am so happy that I happened to be seated in the gondola with some very nice people. There were two young men from Saudi Arabia, two other men who seemed to be from Indonesia and last but not least two Indian couples. One was from England, the other from India. They had just attended a wedding in India, (of which I was treated to viewing some video on one of my companions iPhone, to my excitement), and were on a little trip. Hong Kong and then off to Thailand, or was it Singapore. The men, one a little older than the other were funny. Especially the older one, whose name I later learned was Sabash. He was just a happy camper and his commentary on the way up was fun. Being a bit of a buster myself, I had to get in on it.

Boris and I. 

The real icebreaker was the little pocketsize HD video camera I bought just an hour before in Tsim Sha Tsui from Boris I had no idea how to use it and it’s diminutive size was a challenge to my clumsy hands. Nonetheless, I played with it, switching from still camera mode to video mode. It was a talking point and that was the how I met my new travel companions. The other man, Rakesh, was taking video of our ascent with his iPod. We got into a friendly debate over which device was better. The iPod or my little gadget. While the two men stood watching our ascent and making cute comments along the way, the women seated opposite smiling at me whenever I glanced at them. I got a good feeling from them and as these things happen, it was the beginning of being ‘tour mates’. Or maybe they just felt sorry for me because I was alone. Either way, we connected and I am so grateful that we were together in that little compartment together.

Ngong Ping Village

Tian Tan Buddha

Two of the 6 Devas

The design and architecture of Ngong Ping is one of an enchanting village which reflects the peaceful and contemplative spirituality of the island of Lantau. Nearby is the Po Lin Monastery. There, seated in meditation atop a lotus flower, is the giant Tian Tan Buddha with his hands in abahaya mudra signifying reassurance, blessing and protection. The left hand is palm up in the gesture of giving, or dhana, and his soft gaze of deep meditation emanates a peace that permeates the hilltop. Many devout Buddhists visit walking around the statue with hands in anjali mudra, prayer hands, stop periodically to bow to the Buddha and leave offerings of food, bowls of water, candles and incense at the altar inside the base. I consider myself a Buddhist in the sense that I have studied Buddhism and find that the Buddhist philosophies fit my outlook on life. I try to approach life from a perspective of compassion and finding the ‘middle way’. Unserstandably,  after years of learning about Buddhism, to find myself in a ‘real’ monastery (albeit touristic) was profoundly moving. Images of this Buddha and others are plentiful, but to be standing there feeling the peaceful hush that fell over the mountaintop and the outlying thick, green hills and valleys filled me with a quiet joy and stillness. The statues of the 6 Devas surrounding the Buddha are on their knees holding out offerings which represent the 6 traits one needs to achieve enlightenment and enter Nirvana: charity, morality, patience, zeal, meditation, and wisdom. I prayed and relished the moment.


 I could have stayed much longer at the monastery, but this being a tour we were off to the next stop. In fact, this was the second time that the tour guide had to come and accompany me to the bus. At least this time I was not last one. My physical pace is not ideal for a group tour.

Entrance to the Monastery Temple

A short bus ride carried us down the winding mountain road to Tai O, a quaint colorful fishing village. This was authentic and made me feel like, okay, I have seen a small piece of Hong Kong. For me when I’m in a new place I like to see real people. Now this village is on the tour itinerary, and yes, it the tourism tide bringing in waves of tourists, but the residents seemed nonplussed by all of us. They are just going on about their lives. The narrow streets are lined with open air shops selling mostly a plethora of dried fish, live fish, cooked fish, grilled corn on the cob, and of course souvenirs from the tacky to the one of a kind handmade treasures. I sampled fish balls (not what it sounds like) on a skewer and bought some dried fruit that I didn’t recognize but tastes sweet and was delicious. I snapped many pictures with my new video/still camera, but really what the weather-etched faces, hand-painted signs and small colorful boats stirred within me was to sit and sketch and paint. I started a new fantasy of returning to just stay in this small village with it’s double personality of village and tourist stop, and paint it. It was almost painful to not be able to. Although I am inspired just by looking around me this was something else. Something I haven’t felt in years.  The tour guide called and with no time to fulfill that urge. I promised myself that I would make a point to take advantage while I’m here in the East to break through my creative block and just start sketching. Sketching for me. I want to scope out some spots where I can just park myself with no worries of time or finished product and just get back to the basics of seeing. I was sad to leave this town that reignited that deeply burning fire I haven’t felt in so long. I missed it. And although chances that I'll ever make back to Tai O to just spend a length of time painting are slim to none, it will have a secret and important place in my heart for giving me the gift of my creative juices back to me.

From there a ferry was our vehicle back into the hustle and bustle of Hong Kong Island and then we were on our own from there. Of course something had  to go wrong and I realized that I forgot my bag with some things I bought at the monastery on the bus. My new friend Aruna and I found the tour guide on the ferry and he said he would contact the driver and if was found, would have sent over to the hotel. I bought a Buddha and pendants for my traveling companions Elizabeth and Melissa. Again the anxiety came knocking and I had to just let it go. What could I do. It’s not about the stuff, it’s about the experience. It was dark now and the energy and crowds picked up. A Saturday night brought out the locals as well as the throngs of tourists to Tsim Sha Tsui. I have problems with being neurologically over-stimulated in crowds. I lose my balance and fall, become tremulous and the list goes on. Let’s just say it’s not pretty. With my new friends, however, as tired and confused as I was by this time I just followed them until it was time to say goodbye with hugs and promises of keeping in touch, which I have every intention of doing.

Tian Tan Buddha        
 Po Lin Monastery      
 Hong Kong

Of Mosques and Temples

Masjid Wilayah Persekutuan, the Federal Territory Mosque

    

THE MOSQUE

The smooth marble floors were cool to the bottoms of my feet as Zaidah and I quietly moved through the enormous terrace surrounding the Masjid Wilayah Persekutuan, the Federal Territory Mosque. Although I have been hearing several Imams from several mosques throughout Elizabeth’s area singing the call to prayers, or adhan, several times a day, to hear the prayers being sung so close up was moving in a way that I find difficult to articulate. With such proximity, the nuances of the notes and tones of the Imam’s voice, which flowed smoothly like a length of fine silk in the breeze, rang and resonated throughout the portico with it's high arches and tall columns. With our heads covered Zaidah explained the different parts outside the mosque while I snapped pictures, repeatedly asking if it was okay.

We peaked into the interior. Cool air-conditioned air greeted us while worshippers began to slowly wander inside, answering the call to prayer. I love the idea of the amplified call five times a day. Although I am not Muslim it reminds me to stop, take a breath and be thankful for all that I have. That’s something that is enriching to anyone of any faith, especially in these days of lightening-speed information and the induced ADD it causes. In a mosque, the men and women have separate worship areas. When you see that the prayers, as most of us non-Muslims have at least seen on T.V., are done shoulder to shoulder and are very physical, it makes sense. We saw that we could sit in the back. There weren’t many people there. They were all men actually, until we spotted two women walking across the mosque, cloaked in a white tudung, or hijab and loose white flowing robes. They seemed to float across the vast carpeted mosque, the proportions of the architecture dwarfing them. When one woman turned to us and headed our way, I thought perhaps she was coming our way to reprimand me for taking a picture. I admit I tried to get the woman and her companion, who also veered in our direction, in the shot. I found them to be so beautiful. But I tried to be slick and now my Catholic girl guilt kicked in. I was sure I would get in trouble. I thought they were Muslim nuns. Why not? Catholics have them, Buddhists have them, Baptists have their “church ladies”, why not Muslims. They may in fact have them in Islam. But these lovely woman were volunteers. They were there to give tours to visitors like me. They sat with us and answered my questions. They had that beautiful glow and peaceful demeanor that some truly faithful women get. Afterwards, Azizah, the one who came over first, invited us to the office to chat. She gave me my own Qur’an, in English of course. I was so happy, because I’ve been meaning to read it. I was so proud that at first she thought I was Iranian, a fellow Muslim woman. But also, the Iranian women I know are absolutely beautiful. Even in religious matters my vanity comes shining through. Now I know that Christians don’t corner the market on trying to convert people. Azizah didn’t give me the hard-sell, but I sensed that she was selling nonetheless. And to give her the benefit of the doubt, she may have been as interested in me as I was in her. We had a lovely chat and took pictures outside where I also made friends with some adorable school children. I was riding high because I had gotten to visit the mosque during prayers (of course there are five opportunities), and now I got to get some “girl time”.  What more could I ask for?

From there Zaidah brought me to see her home. It is directly across the street from the Mont Kiara International School where Elizabeth teaches. It is a warm, lovely flat which is bright and inviting. Zaidah’s husband is Italian, so she not only has Malaysian treasures, but Italian ones as well. We had a lovely visit sipping Bellini’s and getting to know each other a little more. I met her younger son Omar, who is 13 and very polite with a sweet smile. Then she gave me a ride home.

The next day I was tired, but I pep-talked myself to get moving. I am determined to get my daily yoga practice to be more consistent and I have little else to be responsible for so that when I go home I will be more able to maintain it in the face of the busy reality of life in a household with 4 sons. The time slipped away, so rather than do yoga and then the Powerplate, I did yoga on the Powerplate. Then I took my book to the pool where I cooled off and read while I walked laps in the pool. Since it’s too hot for me to walk outside and balance is an issue I made good use of the beautiful pool. It was mult-tasking at it’s best–I walked for exercise (but without fear of falling), stayed cool (as one must do with M.S.) and read the story I was so engrossed in. I am taking full advantage of the freedom I have to focus on myself. Elizabeth hates that I call it “being selfish” or “self-centered”. Those carry negative connotations. I try to change the perspective and use the words “be kind to myself”. In the old days when people had chronic illnesses, they went to an asylum, where they could rest, eat well, exercise and recover the strength that daily living drained from them. With so many new chronic illnesses cropping up, it’s a wonder that the asylum hasn’t made a resurgence. One can go to a spa, but they tend to be more luxury oriented and super expensive. Those of us with chronic illnesses already have so many necessary treatments, medicines and supplements that aren’t covered by insurance and add up.

Later, after Elizabeth’s workout we went looking for a yoga studio that came recommended. After some searching we found it, but it’s only for the resident’s of the local condo developments. So the search for a good yoga studio near Bukit Utama (Elizabeth’s condo development) continues. To console ourselves we went to one of the more traditional Malay neighborhoods for a Thai massage. Any massage is a good thing and this one was nice. But coming from a culture where getting regular massages is a luxury, it was interesting to see where regular people go to get an inexpensive massage. I can get used to a culture where you can drop in and get an hour massage (Thai massage is dressed) for about $10.00. When I got home, before dropping off to sleep (which is something I do here that I haven’t done in years), I resolved to get out in the morning and get into the city on my own. I would take a cab to a spot that I could manage on my own and go for it. How hard could it be?

THE TEMPLE

Never being one to shrink away from new experiences (I tried vegemite in Australia after all), I was excited to break out on my own without relying on or burdening anyone else. This is real life for Elizabeth. She has work and her own routine. If I were here for a week it would be one thing, but basically I moved in for two months. (Does that mean I should offer to split the rent?) The first week is a visit, after that, not so much. I know she worries about me being the good friend, mother and teacher that she is. I was determined to show her there’s no need. I’m capable and if I have a problem, I still some common sense to figure out what I need to do. I found the hop-on hop-off bus (just like in other major cities) which is a great way to get an introduction to a new city. I planned on taking a cab to the National Museum, which was one of the first stops that I could pick up the sightseeing bus. I checked out some of the places that would be good for my first sojourn downtown, cross-referencing between the guidebook Frank gave me for Christmas and the internet. Plans are a great thing until they don’t go as planned. I had already called for a cab and got myself to Bangsar another neighborhood, to meet Zaidah a couple of days before. But this try at calling for a cab didn’t go as smoothly. I decided to go down to drop off a check at the Manager’s office for Elizabeth, and call for the cab on the cell I’m using. The cab came in five minutes time the last go around. This time however when I called I couldn’t understand the dispatcher’s English. She was getting annoyed with me–that I understood. I told her my address, I told her Bandar Utama, the neighborhood, where I was going – whew, almost there – then she asked me the question that was the deal killer, my telephone number. I am using a phone that Tomisku, Elizabeth’s son used when he visited. The numbers here are very long for a good memory, but one of my worst deficits is remembering any lists of more than 3 things, especially numbers. And, in my well-thought out plan, I forgot that knowing the number of the cell phone would be not only handy but necessary. I was put on hold and after several minutes, another woman, who spoke much better English, got on and told me, “no more cab”. In all of Selangor, KL, Malaysia there are no cabs? I was dumbfounded. All I could do was repeat incredulously one time too many, “no more cabs?” Finally fed up with me the dispatcher exited with a loud click! My legs were already shaky. There’s a small but rather steep incline that I had to go up, plus several sets of steps, then the elevator to go back up to the condo to retrieve the number that was on a post-it on the refrigerator. Without it I wouldn’t be able to get a cab. They need to be able to call to confirm. I plopped down on a bench and started working myself into a little hissy fit, which helped me to further meltdown physically. The heat, and the little hill were already taking a toll. So I stomped back to elevator, swiped my security card, punched in the floor number way harder than necessary and mumbled to myself. Since I gave up swearing (swearing excessively and gratuitously anyway) for my New Year’s resolution, I can’t imagine what I was grumbling. I would have been worthy competition for a three-year-old’s temper tantrum. Since there was no one to hear my frustration, I resorted to the next best thing – facebook. My status read: Having a meltdown. Hot. Desperate to get out and see the city. Can't even get a cab. Is it not meant to be? Going to try again. Just want to 'get lost' in KL for a while. But what it really said was: Waaahhhhh!!!!

Petronas Towers up close and personal.

Once I got that out, and before I could regret posting that for all the Facebook world to see, I sat myself down and had a talking-to with myself. Once I was onto ‘plan B’, my phone rang and it was Zaidah. She had just left the hospital where she visited a friend who is very ill. She asked if I wanted her to come and we could go into town together. I’m pretty sure she saw my post with her iPhone. Nonetheless, that’s just how sweet Zaidah is. She just met me and was taking me on again. She came and we went to the Petronas towers, or as I call them the 'twinkling towers' since they appear to twinkle in the view we have from Elizabeth's terrace. We ate at the food court there (don’t tsk at me, a least I had Malaysian food not Subway) and then had a coffee at an outdoor cafe on the park at the base of the towers. It’s really nice spending time with Zaidah. She’s comfortable to be with. I was happy to be with her and to finally be in the city itself. On the way out we stopped at the craft area and looked around a bit at the wares, but I’d rather buy the items directly from the artisan. Like any other touristic spot, local crafts cost more in the gift shop. I’d rather go to the kampungs (villages) where they make the crafts to buy them and if I pay more, pay it directly to the artist.

The piece d’ resistance was when Zaidah asked if I would like to pop into a Chinese temple that we were passing. Of course I did. Little did I know that my Chinese New Year wish would be answered. The temple was decked out in red lanterns and there in front of the temple was a group of drummers and not one but two lions doing the traditional lion dance. I was so excited. I was so worried that I wouldn’t get to see a proper lion dance. This was better than just the dance. It had the best backdrop ever of the colorful temple awash in red, the color of good luck. Children and elders alike, (as well as crazy Americans like myself), were thrilled by the lions. I was in my glory and couldn’t thank Zaidah enough. It was an unplanned thing, and one of the best so far since I’ve arrived. Gong xi fa cai! I love Chinese New year!

A Warm 'KL' Welcome

The beautiful cupcakes Zaidah so graciously brought

I’m still recuperating from our Chinese New Year party. We hung the classic red lanterns at the entrance to Elizabeth’s flat and on the terrace. Candles were in abundance in the entrance vestibule, throughout the flat and on the terrace. The lights of the city and surrounding neighborhoods with the random bursts of fireworks large and small popping up around the panorama, added to the whole festive ambience. The final touch was the view of the brightly twinkling Petronas Towers in the distance. They have a mesmerizing effect on me.

With Zaidah

The first guest to arrive was Zaidah, a very dear friend to Elizabeth. I contacted her on Facebook before I came and was anxious to meet her. Besides Elizabeth’s loving description of Zaidah, there is a kindness that even comes through in her photos. She saved us from the dilemma of what food to serve by picking up a selection of Chinese dishes that have nothing in common with what we find in our local Chinese restaurants in the U.S. Zaidah is a beautiful petite woman with style and grace and warm glow that is infectious. I immediately felt like we were already friends.

With Zaidah was Rani, another beautiful woman with a warm glow about her that draws one in. I briefly spoke to Rani prior to coming to KL one time when Elizabeth called me. She is an intuitive and has given me messages that give me comfort that the road I am on in my life is the correct one.

Shortly after other guests arrived. As I met Nora, beautiful and bubbly, who read and commented on my blog as soon as I posted it, her unabashed hug and extra little squeeze helped wash away any nervousness I was having about meeting all of the new people who now flowed in at a steady pace.

There were friends from Spain, Argentina, Scotland, England, Venezuela, Canada, the U.S., Chinese Malaysians, Indian Malaysians, and Malays. All were welcoming with no pretenses. I never felt so comfortable in a room of strangers. I started the party boldly with no cane and was so comfortable that when my “convulsive” tremors reared their ugly head I just did what I had to do with no shame or embarrassment. And when I finally needed my cane I used it with my head held high.

I spoke with Dr. Sanjeev, a nero-ophthalmologist, and Dr. Rishi, a neurlologist who treats M.S. patients. Multiple Sclerosis is a new phenomenon here.  Rishi believes that it was always present as a disease but due to the limited medical technology in the past, it has only been identified recently. I question why there are any cases here. The diet is one that is ‘good’ for M.S. patients and geographically Malaysia is in a zone where there should be very little M.S. It is documented that the location relative to the equator determines the rate of M.S. Since a vitamin D deficiency is related to M.S. it is believed that is why sunnier climates have less M.S. I wonder if the fact that the influx of western products and especially junk food, (the McDonald’s nearby not only has a drive-thru, but they deliver!), has been a factor in the appearance of M.S.  I have a theory that all the ingested crap that especially my generation has grown up with, fluoride in the water, hormones in the chicken, toxins on produce, etc., is the reason for increased autoimmune diseases in our country and the cropping of new ones like Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatique Syndrome. Of course my theory is only based on all the information I’ve gathered over the years and it is my uneducated, unproven theory. Since no one yet knows what even causes M.S. I guess it’s open season for theories. Rishi asked if I would mind sharing my experiences with his patients and of course I enthusiastically agreed. My experiences are only mine. M.S. is so different for everyone, but I have been through the wringer with doctors and treatments, so I guess I could be a good resource for other patients who are scared for their future with M.S. Anything that I can do that is useful in this world I am happy to do. For me having an iota of help to offer makes me feel purposeful.

Rosa, a Spanish woman who is married to Jason, a Chinese-Malay, brought and prepared the Yi Sang, the traditional Chinese New Year dish. Each ingredient in the dish is a different color and represents either prosperity, abundance or happiness. While all the guests stood around the dining table, Rosa explained the ingredients and their meanings one by one as she added them to the large platter. At the end she, Elizabeth and I did the traditional tossing of the Yi Sang noodles into the air mixing all the good wishes for the coming New Year. Afterwards, all sampled the noodles in hopes it would bring them all good things.

The rest is a blur of good food, beautiful surroundings and most of all good people. The energy here is amazing. I really haven’t ventured out much yet, but there is something about this place. My interest about the people and the culture is peaked in a way I didn’t expect. There is a diversity here that is different from that which one finds in the U.S. There are very particular religions (Malaysia is officially a Muslim country). But just in our little sampling of the locals we had Chinese-Malay, Muslim-Malay and Indian-Hindu-Malay as well as Catholic-Chinese and Catholic-Indian-Malays. (Confusing I know. Try it with cognitive impairment.) All are physically racially different, their worship is different, their religious holidays are different, even their accents are different. Yet they happily celebrate each other’s traditional holidays. And they do it with gusto! Now I know my personal experience is less than limited, but this is my observation. While the local mosques sing the lilting prayers simultaneously with the ubiquitous fireworks, drums and lanterns during this 15-day Chinese New Year

period, we celebrate the year of the Rabbit with the anticipation of Prophet Mohammad’s birthday approaching for yet another celebration on Febuary 16^th. Such a scene leaves a very big impression on a stranger. 

Elizabeth, Zaidah and I

P.S. I stole these pictures because I still must get a cable to upload pictures from my camera. It's on the list for tomorrow.

The KL Mash Up

Red lanterns hang for the Lunar New Year, the Thai girls at the Thai massage place greeted us with the Buddhist greeting of prayer hands and 2 mosques are singing the prayers.

I love it.

The Dawn Of The Year Of The Rabbit

The dramatic sunrise over the hills surrounding Kuala Lumpur has broken into a hazy morning light. The grips of jetlag are clenched pretty tightly and yet I have fared much better than I expected considering how far the flight here pushed me into a kaleidoscope of M.S. pain. Elizabeth's home is on the 36th floor of a beautiful condo building in a development that looks more like a tropical resort than a year-round residence. I still can't believe I'm here. Besides going to the pool for some exercise, I have just been recovering from the trip and enjoying the company of my dear friend. Her mantra is "easy breezy".

Last night was the eve of Chinese New Year. We sat on Elizabeth's terrace watching bursts of fireworks sprouting up all around the neighborhoods in the valley and the surrounding hills. Elizabeth has an incredible view. She is not directly in the center of the city, which is great because the views of the city skyline, with it's twinkling Petronas towers is breathtaking. We saw red paper lateens taking flight like fiery spirits floating higher and higher into the night sky. I am so immensely fortunate that I could watch from a vantage point where I could enjoy a taste of the festivities without being amidst the fray. Kuala Lumpur is multicultural made up of Chinese, Indian and Malay people. From what I've seen everyone gets excited for the Chinese New Year and celebrates whatever race they are. Today we will go get the red paper lanterns, tangerines and 'ang pow', the money-filled red envelopes given to children as a token for wishes of prosperity. Elizabeth has invited friends over tomorrow night for a New Year celebration. I am looking forward to meeting some of the people I've been hearing so much about. It will be a virtual U.N. From what I understand there will be people including Malay, American, Scottish, Spanish and Chinese. I'll be in heaven with a palette of people and cultures. The New Year celebration lasts several days and I hope that I will be able to see a dragon and some revelers up close and personal over that time. It would be a shame to not have a closer view. In the end, what I've seen already was incredible.

I will have to post my own pictures at a later time since I don't have the cable to upload the pictures to my computer. If Elizabeth doesn't have one I'll go buy a new cable in a few days.

It seems apropos that I visit begins with the spectacular celebration of Chinese New Year (Lunar New Year). The celebrations reflect the excitement I feel personally at this bold move of mine to take stock, regroup and regain my footing. As far as my health, it's been weird. Not the worst, but I keep hitting these proverbial walls and when I hit, I hit 'em hard! I am taking my time and trying not to be hard on myself to just let my body do what it has to do and support it. Worry equals stress and stress equals exacerbation. Not a good equation. Without my daily stressors surrounding me, and yes I have to say honestly suffocating me, I am taking the opportunity to begin to get some balance. It's going to be a long road to get where I would feel comfortable being, but I know now this is the place for me to do it. I have the love and support of my friend, the beauty of my surroundings, and a setting that is not the rat race I've arrived from. I have to really make an effort not to get carried away with desires to do too much. I have a whole list. Go to the market and sketch people, swim laps everyday, get my home yoga practice to be more consistent, take a batik class, take a Malay language class, see some of the smaller 'Kampungs' (villages) surrounding KL, etc, etc. I am good at winding myself up with all kinds of ambitions when I have a little energy. It's a tricky trait to have. On the one hand it's good to be motivated and not just curl up and give up. But to not cause self-imposed anxiety over expectations of everything I want to do will only lead to disappointment and that evil thing called stress. inside my head is a constant streaming pep talk from me to myself. Right now the message is "one baby step at a time". I've been having some awesome pain. I know what I have to do to at least try to help myself in as natural way as possible (meds are great but carry their own price). So, because I am a good girl, I will take one baby step after another towards my yoga mat and give my body as gentle a practice as it needs.

Peace.

NOTE: I did I nice slow heart opening yoga practice while listening to celebratory bangs and clangs of drums and boom, crackle and pops jumped up from the neighborhood below. Ahhhh.

Chinese New Year in Malaysia, 2011 Year of the Rabbit (I was born in year of the rabbit)