Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

And with the flames shooting out of the stadium, songs, and mass choreographed dances a little bit too reminiscent of what occurred in Beijing 2008 (albeit with a Western, kitschy rural British twist), that once-in-four-years spectacle begins once again in a city that some London residents ( including many of previous year’s LSE students ) have already left behind, while others painfully adjust to the suddenly inflated costs dished out by opportunistic shop and real estate owners.

The warehouse at the quiet, industrial part of the town started as, literally, an empty concrete shell, with no furniture, no goods, no ventilation, and no sign of life.  Truckloads of item and upholstery shipments later, combined with more than 12 hours of continuous work by more than a dozen cheaply hired foreign moving men, the new warehouse is finally looking like a warehouse, with the shelving racks, desks, and chairs arranged in their proper positions, and shifted items ready for unpacking.

The prominent-looking bar/club on a busy side-street of Bukit Bintang, the premier inner-city shopping district in Kuala Lumpur, has a colorful sign perched on top of it, looming large over the skyline of the narrow street crammed with hawker stands and attracting attention from all passersby.  The sign prominently features young East Asian songstresses clad in miniskirt, skimpy tank-top uniforms, making the usual suggestive poses, in a way largely ( or perhaps not at all ) inappropriate for the conservative culture of this Muslim country.

A quick 30-minute stroll through any residential neighborhood in Singapore can make one understand why so many foreigners love the tiny island city-state. Food is everywhere and cheap (just like here in Malaysia), the public transit system modern and all-around impeccable, the streets well-manicured and completely free of litter, and there is just no sign of poverty whatsoever (no beggars, no run-down shantytowns, not even a single truly dilapidated building). As modern as Malaysia sometimes seems to be, the level of physical modernity is absolutely shocking in comparison.

Living in Malaysia , a purported Islamic state where Islam is clearly defined as the state religion within its constitution, one is often left to wonder just what really an “Islamic state” really means in the Malaysian context.  From the alcohol sold everywhere to the ever-so-subliminally sexual K-pop being blasted everywhere, to the clear Westernization in all aspects of life from fashion to food, the country simply has very little in common with the imagination of non-Muslims when it comes to the words “Islamic society.”

Having a quick chat with my Iranian landlord regarding the tripartite racial divisions here in Malaysia , he remarked that the Malays and Indians here are much more welcoming of foreigners and all around more open, warm, and friendly than the ethnic Chinese here.  Two weeks into my life here at Kuala Lumpur, and despite being ethnic Chinese myself, I am becoming more and more inclined to agree with him (and many other foreign expats I come across at work) that this notion is indeed true.  The Chinese here really are less friendly than the other two races.

"So, do you get paid in Ringgits or Euros?" a coworker casually asked over a quick lunch at the local hawker stand outside the office building.  The nonchalant air he tried to project as he suddenly blurted out the question betray a damning curiosity that is nothing but nonchalant.  Indirectly, he just spoke volumes about the internal division within the company: the difference between foreigners and locals working in the German company here in the remote corner of Kuala Lumpur is not simply a matter of skin color and national origin, it is a matter of financial status that could have deep ramifications.