It’s early morning Malaysia time – I’d say the joys of jetlag but to be honest I normally wake at 5:00 in the morning and can’t get back to sleep. So deciding to get up at 5:15 is more because I have early meetings this week coming and I want to hold off a bit on fully adjusting to the timezone. So I got up, made my coffee (Hummingbird I bought with me) and went to sit in my favourite chair looking out towards the Towers. And as I sat there, the dawn call to prayer for the Masjid Wilayah Persekutuan (Federal Mosque) started. A new day begins.

When I first arrived in KL I still remember my first sight of the Masjid as we drove into Mont Kiara. Our visit to it the year or so after I arrived will always be one of my stand out memories. During the week day the call to prayer can be lost in normal daily traffic noise – its first thing in the morning and the weekend that it marks the start and passing of the day.

This morning it prompted me to go and grab my laptop and capture the memories of the trip as I suspect that will be the most exciting thing that happens for the next two weeks 🙂 I can already see where the challenges could lie.

On Wednesday morning I woke up to a light frost and an incredibly clear country morning. I took some photos of my spring garden around my 100 year old wooden villa to send to a friend. Thursday morning I woke up at Rydges Wellington Airport, Friday morning a transit hotel in Changi and this morning in my alternate life at 22 floors in a 300 m3 Mont Kiara condo I have a clear view out to the Genting Highlands.

I remember over 35 years ago flying to London with two small children, spending three days in Singapore in transit. Everything was in paper – our tickets had layers for each segment and our kids didn’t have their own passports – they were in both mine and Nick’s. At Heathrow all the visa work was in paper. That is about the closest experience I have to checking in on Thursday. Air New Zealand Wellington had a list of what we needed including our copy of our negative PCR, and approval to enter Malaysia. Despite our paperwork being checked and boarding passes issued we needed to go through it all again at Singapore Airlines in Christchurch.

In Christchurch it was negative test, approval letter to enter, evidence of vaccination, transit arrangements in Singapore and quarantine hotel booking in KL. What would normally have taken fifteen minutes (they usually want to sight my Malaysian visa so I often need to be checked in) took 45 minutes. They had a country by country list of entry requirements and every check in was double checked (as in another staff member had to verify the first person’s work). When boarded we were the only passengers in our cabin class and there would have been maybe 30 passengers on the flight. From our conversations in the transit lounge we were going to at least six different onward destinations, (France, Hong Kong, Indonesia, China, Phillipines, Malaysia)

On landing we were met by four to five people in PPE and all got a green ribbon tied loosely around out wrist (one tip – don’t tighten the clip to take up some of the slack, it get’s really annoying after a few hours) then we were escorted (as in following someone crocodile file) to the transit lounge. Where our documentation was checked again and we had to sit and wait to either be escorted to an onward flight or, as in our case, to a transit hotel. The great moment was sitting in transit and checking our home quarantine application for Malaysia to discover it was approved.

Changi was a like being slapped in the face by the pandemic. Walking through Terminal 3 past gate lounge after gate lounge with all the seats wrapped in plastic and closed off, the eerie silence while all the electronic billboards continued to flash through the advertisements for Duty Free luxury goods. There were a few things open in Terminal 1 which we went through on the way to our transit hotel, but transit passengers couldn’t access them. The transit lounge in the evening had a small kiosk and there was a Uber Eats style arrangement where you could order something from Terminal 1 via an app and it would be delivered to the Transit area. We were tracked pretty much every minute and couldn’t move anywhere without an escort. Once checked in to our hotel room we were not allowed to leave it until we were due to move to the transit lounge for our next flight.

One of the signs of the restricted number of flights was using one of the big international gates for what is a typically a one hour regional flight to Kuala Lumpur. Once through security, as well as every second seat being wrapped the lounge was tightly segregated (a flight to Hong Kong was departing within 30 minutes of ours) As passengers with green ribbons we were segregated within the segregated and boarded first. We did get tea/coffee/juice on the flight though which startled me a bit after a Level 2 NZ domestic flight with no service.

And then we got to KL – off the plane into another largely silent airport. It wasn’t quite as controlled but as we got to the terminal transfer train everyone had to scan a QR card with My Sejahtera that triggered a form opening. The form requested travel details, and vaccination status which then triggered a red band on the app that said home quarantine. The helper (there were two or three) told us to screenshot that as we needed to show it at the next step. The usual staff checked the screenshot and passport and let us on the normal train.

Immigration was set up with all the quarantine arrangements before you got to passport control. Home quarantine went one way which we followed. The person who did our details had a printer we could print our letters to so the paperwork was complete and this time the required paper was negative PCR, evidence of vaccination and the home quarantine approval letter. From that we got pink wristbands with our port of entry, passport number and quarantine dates written on them (this one is plastic). Plus the paperwork (two copies) and through to Covid test where we lost one copy to go with our tests.

Then it was through to the station to check we had receipts for testing and hotel quarantine (which as we no longer needed they gave us the form to request a refund) They also ordered our driver and that was almost the longest wait as we chatted while we waited for the driver to be assigned. Next step – follow the foreign passport lane where approval to enter letters were checked and stamped. It got slightly weird as we got into the next room and an immigration officer took our passport and approval letter into another room and told us to wait. After a few minutes we were called up to the desk for the typical photo, fingerprint, stamp – we didn’t get the approval letter back just our passports. We left there and then went through the single open passport gate where he just checked they had entry stamps before letting us through.

It took long enough that our bags were off the conveyor built and waiting, so it was a straight walk through customs and out to where our driver was waiting for us. He loaded our bags and then put on a protective suit to drive us home. Our condo has a SOP for home quarantine but they were pretty relaxed about us arriving. We notified the office that we were vaccinated and had negative tests and anything we order has to be delivered to our door.

So we are home 🙂 And despite Nick’s estimate that it would take 3 hours and my worst case scenario of four – it was 90 minutes from the time we got off the plane to when we got in the car – which is actually close to typical!

Sometimes I think the trickiest days of not having a “job” are the public holidays when Nick is home having time off. It is OK if we use the time to go away as we did a couple of weeks ago to meet our new grandson in Brisbane, but when we are just blobbing out at home it is hard to know what to do. At the moment while I am trying to focus on getting back into work it emphasises how much I miss the routine of working.

The last few months have been marked by a certain degree of frustration with delays in the process for a new visa which would give me the option to work here in Malaysia. I am not sure that I want to do that – but I would like to have the choice.

Having spent a number of years contracting or on fixed term assignments I should be a lot better at making the most of my time when I am not working. Instead I find myself treading water rather than taking positive action. One thing I have been trying to move towards the last few weeks is to pace myself with what I want to achieve. A few weeks ago a passing comment about “finishing something one of your existing projects before you start something new” made to my daughter had me reacting quite strongly at an emotional level as this is a criticism I have heard all my life alongside and the people who make it never seem to make the connection to the comment often in the same conversation “you get so much done”.

There is no doubt that for most of us having too much on the go at the same time adds a level of stress to our lives. But I think it is also true that there is an element of temperament in there as well. I am a global rather than a linear thinker – I see the world in webs and patterns of interaction rather in straight lines and consecutive processes. So its logical for me to have multiple options available to me whether it is books to read, craft projects, writing. At any given moment there are so many things I want to explore or make and I really hate it when someone suggests “one thing at a time”.

Interestingly enough coming to that awareness seems to have actually slowed me down to being a bit more thoughtful about what I start (and what I focus on to finish) It was as if by understanding why I don’t stick to one thing at a time and accepting that I will always have heaps of things in process I began applying more of a work discipline of mapping and prioritising to my projects. And I am consciously countering the self talk about having too many projects in process is a bad thing.

I also came across a comment on LinkedIn about rather than judging ourselves for being lazy or procrastinating we should unpack what are the reasons/ feelings about the task that are stopping us getting on with it. As I am also feeling annoyed with myself for not progressing on things like sorting out my CV and updating my profile on job sites that also lead to some soul searching about how I feel about effectively jumping in the cultural deep end of working in another country. I have been working on visualising not only what I want to do but what that experience might “look like” and what I might be able to offer.

And like a shadow – or the haze today which stops me being able to see the Highlands from our balcony – there is the undercurrent of the last ten years where planning, having goals or a future vision all seems a bit pointless as life will take us where it will. So any planning is being done lightly and like my multiple projects I have multiple pathways I am looking down when I envisage what next.

The first time I flew internationally was over 32 years ago and the first arrival stamp in my first passport was at Changi immigration. While I would have preferred not to have an arrival stamp last night (My Auckland – Singapore flight was late so I missed my connection to KL and was overnighted in Singapore) the efficency and usability of this airport is always so impressive. Even though some of the gate numbering is a bit random at times (E7 comes after E11 and 8?) you just need to trust the signage. It’s big and clear and the walking time estimates are real 🙂

When I first flew to Kuala Lumpur at the beginning of our expat adventure, the sheer size and business of Changi felt a bit overwhelming, especially as I knew I had to switch terminals. I think the reason so many travellers like Changi is it has taken the web usability mantra “don’t make me think” to heart. At almost any point an anxious tourist is likely to think where do I go now there are massive screens you can check your flight against which tell you the terminal and gate number. And as in Changi I have never left from the same terminal I arrived in, as soon as you realise you need to change terminal you look up and there are big signs telling you which way to the other terminals and options to get there.

Everything is written in deep gold on black at a massive font size for readability with the biggest font used for the most important information (terminal number) the next biggest for the next important (gates) and so on. I also realised fairly quickly that if you were heading out of the airport the signs for taxis, hotels etc were blue, so getting to my hotel was just a matter of ignoring the yellow and following the blue. It is a huge airport but the attention to helping people move around it smoothly is a massive contributor to the atmosphere and how people think about it as a hub.

 

 

And I will be on the plane again – this time for the last trip back to KL after my 17 months of living with a foot in two places.

I think if anything at the moment I am feeling a bit cautious about anticipating what next. The last few years have been so totally unexpected that trying to predict what the next 12 months will bring just seems rather pointless. In the meantime I am hoping my two bags are not overweight, that my unaccompanied bag arrives ok and that I haven’t forgotten anything critical. My list of tasks is down to buying a driving lesson voucher for my youngest, dropping my coat off to the dry cleaners and getting someone to collect it for me and cancelling the contents insurance.

The main thing that has thrown my planning off is the sudden onset of Wellington summer when my dressing plans for this last week was a final cycle of winter clothes that could be washed and donated. Instead I have had to find some of the summer things that were packed.

While its difficult to be saying goodbye to many friends, I am looking forward to being home again and picking up the threads of my expat life. I am in a different mental space after the career successes of the last few months and it will be interesting to see how I make choices once I have re-settled.

The movers are here, and this time they are packing up our lives – furniture, books, kitchenware, crystal, art, photos, even the Christmas decorations. Nick’s contract has been renewed and which had a flow on effect on our apartment lease. Our landlord not being amenable to negotiation we went hunting in the same condo block and when presented with two lovely unfurnished options we decided to explore having our furniture moved rather than have the company keep paying for storage. Which is why I am sitting listening to the rustle of paper and rip of tape as the international shipping packing standard is applied to all the crystal and kitchenware.

The words “shit just got real” keep going around in my head. Our dipping our toes into the adventure of an expat assignment two years ago has transformed into a life choice.  Leaving New Zealand this time two years ago there was a degree of uncertainty about what living in Malaysia would be like and how we would handle living there. Now we are looking at being there – or if not there, not in New Zealand for the foreseeable future. Somewhat unexpectedly even though I have lived most of the past 15 months in New Zealand my sense of home has changed – Wellington feels constricted and small. I frequently remind people that, evidence to the contrary, KL is where I live and I am only here for a short while.

I am grateful for the last 15 months of living a long distance commute. Apart from the family reasons behind the choice, it has contributed to my feeling comfortable with the prospect of the next few years. I have had the freedom to explore career options I would not have been able to had we stayed here. And having seen what Nick has been doing in Asia it is clear that there was never going to be those kind of opportunities in New Zealand.  It has also ticked off a lot of boxes – refreshing my experience for when I am able to job hunt in KL, ensuring my residency meets superannuation criteria when we get back to New Zealand, re-building my confidence having been pretty burnt out when we left. The ability to step back and look at what I do and how I work has given me some surprising insights.

This time two years ago I would have never anticipated that this was where I (or we) would be two years later – yet the fact that we have survived and to some degree thrived with meeting the challenges gives me confidence for the next two.

 

 I don’t think there is any space like a supermarket which says “we’re not in Kansas anymore” when you  are visiting a different country. In theory a supermarket is a known quantity – typically laid out in a familiar pattern with differences usually relating to scale. Fruit and vegetables, bakery, dairy, meat, fish around the border and then as you move into the centre aisles there are frozen foods, drinks, breakfast cereals, baking etc.

And yet they are a culture shock waiting to happen. I have been in supermarkets across the United Kingdom, Hawaii, California and multiple Australian states before I came to Malaysia. There is always a moment when you go to a section and just stand bemused, not so much because you are expecting to see the same brands etc as in New Zealand but  because you expect to see at least a similar product. Cheese is a case in point – not special cheese, just a bog standard   1 kg block that is a  supermarket trolley staple chosen from a wide selection depending on the week’ special. And which doesn’t exist like that in Australia, or now it seems, in KL.

I am kind of relieved I don’t have small children to feed this time around, because  standing looking at a supermarket shelf filled with totally unfamiliar breakfast cereal or no recognisable brand on peanut butter is not sending me into a mind numbing panic the way it has done in the past.

On the flip side there are the moments of affectionate recognition – not only Tip Top ice-cream but Kapiti as well, Watties frozen peas, NZ Gala apples, NZ lamb, plus tucked away at the bottom of the shelf – some Whittikers chocolate.

Before I sound like a whinging expat there is the fascination of some much food diversity. I have never seen (or could have imagined) so many varieties and brands of rice, the spice shelves in even the smallest supermarket are extraordinary, and I realised on Friday that when you live in the middle of the world trade routes, European cheese which is very expensive in NZ is about the same as  the imported NZ cheese.

Nevertheless I am reminded of my friend Ismail talking about the process of refugees and new migrants settlement, and how even the most adventurous personalities in their own culture will retreat into the safety of the familiar when they are having to deal with change on every front. Which probably makes sense of Nick’s dinner request,  standing in a huge supermarket with food from every corner of the world. He wanted macaroni cheese, sausages and peas – which in the context of his spending a week on site in Indonesia having to a try and manage with chopsticks, is probably understandable.