Hermosa Beach

This is probably the last of my US travelogues...

Since I had a 9 hour stopover at LAX on the way home, I decided to do something more productive than just sitting in the airport lounge. There were not many options. Earlier I had entertained the thought of dropping by Malibu or Hollywood, but alas, Jessica Alba said she wasn't free to pick me up from the airport, so I had to do the next best thing: take the bus. Well, there was another fella who offered to take me on a "tour" of LA. He came up to me at the arrival hall, amid the chaotic crowd, and started speaking in Mandarin, the very biao jun tongue-rolling thick accent type. I guessed he was from Taiwan. Anyway, I probably looked every bit the traveler on transit, so he offered to take me on a quick tour around LA. He said we could go to Hollywood, Sunset Boulevard, Mann's Chinese Theater, the Walk of Fame, and a number of other famous landmarks. But I was getting suspicious. He didn't look like an authorized tour guide. Finally I asked him how much. He charged per hour... $35 per hour, minimum 3 hours. Negotiable. I said maybe I'll think about it, and promptly went downstairs to look for directions to the bus.

Destination : Hermosa Beach, about 10 miles south of the airport. Hermosa means "beautiful" in Spanish. Hermosa Beach is sandwiched between Manhattan Beach and Redondo Beach. Bus fare: $1.

The bus station

LAX is a very busy airport. At one point, I saw five planes all queuing up to land, just minutes apart. The bus driver said he once counted 12 planes lining up in the sky to land. No margin for error.

The Pacific Ocean at the end of the road lined with expensive beach villas


The bus driver told me that these little ocean-view houses cost > $1 million.

The first thing I saw when I got down from the bus

The beachfront promenade called The Strand. The sea is more than 100m away.

The Strand at Hermosa Beach

A statue in memory of some surfer dude who contributed much to the development of Hermosa Beach

Baywatch?!

Hermosa Beach pier.
I would have walked to the end if not for the fact that I had all my luggage with me. I probably looked like a fish out of water. All the folks around me were in their beach attire, and there I was, towing my wheelie suitcase. There is no luggage storage service at LAX, coz they are afraid people might leave bombs behind. There were a few companies that provided the service of collecting your luggage and taking it off-site for storage, and bringing it back to the airport when you called them. All for $10 per piece of luggage. But I figured that was too much of a hassle.

Hermosa Beach is the beach volleyball capital of LA. I saw more than two dozen courts set up on the beach, which was really wide.

My dinner of swordfish pasta, at Scotty's

I took some shots while waiting for the last bus at 8PM. If I missed this bus, I would have had to take a taxi, which would have done some serious damage to my wallet.

Can you see me?

Since I was the only passenger on the half-hour ride back to the airport, Kevin the bus driver and I had an interesting time chatting about stuff... he asked me about my camera, I asked him about the Governator. Kevin said life wasn't easy in LA. The cost of living has gone up, gas (petrol) prices have gone up, property prices have skyrocketed, but salaries remain the same, and many double income couples are finding it difficult to make ends meet.

Back at the airport bus station

Back at the terminal

A bunch of Taiwanese high school students going home after some sort of field trip to LA. Same flight as me, since we were stopping in Taipei.

Taking off into the moonlit night

Merdeka reflections

Merdeka/National/Independence Day this year came and went with not much fanfare, at least on my side. My past three Merdekas were spent in Pulau Perhentian. So this is the first time in four years that I was in KL for the occasion. I was at Putrajaya for the fireworks show. The pyrotechnic display by the Japanese team was dazzling, although I was hoping for a few big bursts instead of many small flashes. It took two hours to get home, thanks to the traffic jam. I didn't know Putrajaya had such a bad traffic dispersal system.

My brief reflections the nation as we pass the 50th anniversary of independence from the British:

1. Malaysia has done far better than other developing countries, but the point is, we could be doing better. We shouldn't make direct comparisons with Ghana, which achieved independence on the same day as Malaysia. They have their issues to grapple with. We shouldn't compare with others just to feel smug about ourselves. We should benchmark against ourselves, and see how much higher we can actually jump.

2. I still can't get over the fact that ordinary Malaysians could be owning Toyotas, Hondas and Nissans, if not for Proton. A Vios would be the entry-level basic car for the man on the street, instead of being a dream. I don't believe in status symbols. Cars should never be status symbols. What's the big deal about having a national car? A Perodua is essentially a Daihatsu. A Naza is a rebadged Kia. A Proton used to be a Mitsubishi. Do you think Americans are any less patriotic just because they like Toyota more than Chevrolet? And I wonder if Malaysia's auto industry could ever catch up with Thailand's.

3. A lot has been said about the issue of freedom of religion and speech. All this is the result of the weakening of social institutions and political structures brought about by the lopsided policies of the past administration, and conveniently continued by the present regime. The development of human capital and civil society were overlooked in the headlong rush for modernity. So now, with things slowing down a bit, and FDIs being channeled elsewhere, it's time to ask where we're going next. Siapa makan cili, dia rasa pedas. You reap what you sow. Granted, Malaysia is not in immediate danger of sinking, but the ship is definitely leaking in critical areas.

4. After all the hype about the IT boom, we're still short of real IT engineers. Industry still complains that the education system is not producing the people they need. And suddenly we've realized that we have neglected agriculture. Like, we can eat computer chips? But developing agriculture is not just about building a research institute here and there, only to be staffed by foreign researchers. It's about growing our own technology. In plantation crops, Malaysia is a world leader. But in food crops, I'm afraid we're playing catch-up with other "less developed" countries.

Now now, it's not all gloom and doom. I'm still glad to call this place home. I mean, where else in the world can you get durians and sambal petai udang? It's just that, this home could do with some improvement. How?

1. Register as a voter and make sure you make your point in the next elections. Some of the present politicians have exceeded their shelf life and should be replaced before we get into further trouble. We need to give them a run for their money, since they are making us run for ours.

2. Be part of the solution, not the problem. Deal with the log in your eye before harping on the speck in your neighbour's eye. Mix with your friends of other races and cultures. Convert the extremists with your broader-minded thinking. This is a global village. There's no room for isolationist thinking. Stamp out your own prejudices. Well, if only it were that easy. Truth must be spoken in the streets, not swept under the carpet. Speak the truth with love. I believe in affirmative action. When someone does well, we should affirm them.

3. Say no to corruption, and yes to integrity. The rule of law must prevail. Fine, if you want to drive above 110 km/h, go ahead. But please pay your dues when you're caught. The problem with bribery is that the highest bidder wins. So, who's gonna defend you one day when the crooks can pay the higher price? On that note, buying pirated DVDs is an indirect way of funding criminals. I know, this is a tricky issue. Should you give your money to the rich fat Hollywood studios, or to the scrawny peddler on the sidewalk? The web thickens.

4. Pray for righteousnss and justice to prevail at the highest levels of the government. The fear of God is lacking among certain sections of the ruling elite, sad to say. And after you have prayed, act on it.

Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go practice what I preach. :)

NUS dreamin'

Lots of things to blog about, but not enough time to write.

Anyway, I had a weird dream early this morning. Dunno why, dreams are usually weird. This is one of the few that I can remember... and even now, the memory of it is quickly slipping away. Better jot it down before I forget.

I somehow found myself at the National University of Singapore which happened to be in Jurong (weird?). I think I sneaked in, and I was wearing a fluorescent reflective safety vest, like those that construction crew wear. Next I remember, I was sitting in a lecture hall, listening to an Indian guy delivering a lecture on some ground-breaking innovation (can't remember what). He was very lively. After the lecture, the whole hall erupted in applause. I looked around and saw that the hall was only half full, with mostly Chinese Singaporean university students chatting in Mandarin. Then I walked out the front gate. Later I returned because I had accidentally taken something (I think it was a football) which I had to return. There was a group of students playing football at the entrance, so I just passed the ball to one of them. Then I walked away. And I woke up.

So, there you go.

Georgia Aquarium

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Assam Laksa Atlanta

There was a Chinese-looking guy sitting right at the back at the workshop in Atlanta. The workshop sessions were rather business-like, and there was not much interaction between the 50+ participants, except those who sat near each other. So, for the first three days of the workshop I was wondering where that guy was from. I figured he wasn't from China or Taiwan, based on his accent. He spoke differently from the other Taiwanese-Americans. And the spelling of his Chinese name just sounded so familiar... So I finally went to introduce myself to him on the fourth day, and guess what, I found out that he is a Malaysian living and working in the US. His name is Francis. He was born in Kuala Terengganu, grew up in Kajang, but is now firmly rooted in the US because he likes it there. The only thing he misses is Malaysian food... and durians. I later found out why he settled in the US. He is married to a Kazakh woman. They met while studying in college in Oklahoma, and are now living in Arkansas with their two young boys. On a related note, he can't stand the corruption and inefficiencies of the Malaysian government, so he left, but still maintains his Malaysian citizenship. (On the flight back from LA to KL, I also met another two Malaysians with US green cards.)

In true Malaysian fashion, Francis belanja'd me dinner at none other than the Penang restaurant, about 6 miles north of downtown Atlanta. He had been eating dinner there everyday since arriving in Atlanta. Apparently there are much fewer Asian restaurants back home in Arkansas, so he had to satisfy his gastronomic cravings as much as possible while he could. Earlier, I had planned to eat some really local American Southeast cuisine for dinner that day, but since Francis had a rented car, and offered to also take me out for a jalan-jalan tour, I ditched the local food and joined him for Malaysian food. How ironic. I had assam laksa, which tasted very authentic. For dessert, we had ice kacang, with real gula melaka, but no santan. Still, it was more than passable.

Heading north on I-85 out of Atlanta

On the road, 6 lanes in one direction.

The noodles were a bit too chewy, but the overall taste passes the test.

Dun play-play, Atlanta also got ice kacang. Better than some KL ones.

Inside Penang


Penang
4897 Buford Hwy Ste 113
Chamblee, GA 30341-3667
Phone: (770) 220-0308


American Civic next to the rented Rio. Georgia requires licence plates only on the rear of vehicles.


Then we checked out Lenox Square, which is the premier shopping mall in Atlanta. But it still can't beat the monstrous Mid-Valley Megamall or 1-Utama in size.




A walk along one of the swankier parts of suburban Atlanta

After Lenox Square, we walked over to Phipps Plaza, which is even posher, hosting only branded high-end boutiques. But I went there to use the washroom.

The outside of Phipps Plaza

Atlanta skyline at night

All things

I was thinking of writing some sort of epilogue to my travelogue, but that might take a bit more time. I need to go through the photos first. The final photo count is 2001 shots over 11 days -- 6.7 GB of jpeg images at maximum resolution. I'm not that crazy. Wedding photographers typically shoot up to 1000 shots in half a day.

I went to hear Joni Eareckson Tada speak at Wisma Eagles earlier this evening. What an inspiring message of perseverance and purpose in the midst of suffering. She is a living example of joy and strength overcoming depression and disability. Despite being a quadriplegic after a spinal injury in her teens left her totally paralysed from the neck down, she has risen above the gloom of self-pity and bitterness, and radiates an inner joy and abundance of life.

It is when we are weak that God can truly display His strength. The rest of the time we are just too caught up in our human pride and self-sufficiency that we think we can live without God. Joni reminded us that God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble (James 4:6 and 1 Peter 5:5).

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose (Romans 8:28). In ALL things. Good and bad things.

Well, for me, "all things" includes being hit from behind by an Altis. And most ironically, it happened as I was on my way TO Joni's talk. Argghhh. It was along Jalan Tujuan right after the Kesas flyover into USJ. Sigh. I was stuck in the usual stop-and-go USJ crawl. I braked because the car in front of me braked (like, duh). Obviously the guy behind wasn't paying attention, because I heard a loud "thud", the car got thrown forward a bit, some of my CDs were strewn out of their rack, and for the first time in my life, the inevitable happened... my car was rear-ended by an Altis driven by a Mr K. He was nice enough to get down and assess the damage. In order not to hold up the traffic, we pulled over to the inner road in USJ 2. It turns out Mr K lives in USJ 2, of all places. I think he was trying to change lanes to get home when he hit me, coz the right front of his car hit the left rear of my car. My car bumper was pushed in a little. The lights were not broken, but it's a bit loose now. The boot lid looks OK. The left rear fender is probably knocked slightly out, coz the gap between the boot and the sill on the left is wider than on the other side. Sigh. It's no consolation that Mr K thinks his car sustained more damage. Credit to Toyota though, nothing external was broken on both cars.

I got Mr K's number and address. He offered to pay for the repair (yeah, like, he has a choice?!). It was too dark to fully inspect the damage. I hope there's no major internal damage. The car is just 7 months and 2 days old... Tomorrow I'll see what the mechanic can do. I am a bit wary of getting the entire bumper resprayed... unless he can do a good job of matching the colour. You know, sometimes a cheapskate touch-up is worse than just leaving a few scratches alone. Mr K hopes that the repair bill won't be too high. I just hope he learns his lesson. I guess this is part of life. I just didn't expect to happen to me. What an irony. First, I got whacked, and then I got to hear a sermon on enduring hardships. Sigh. Amen.

3rd Floor, Atlanta Room

In case any of you were ever in doubt about whether I'm on holiday or actually attending the workshop, I hereby attach a photograph as evidence that I was/am in the room participating in the workshop. I'm sorry my face is not in the picture, since I took the picture. You just gotta trust me. The instructors are the world experts on the program. They can program in C++ and Fortran, and understand all those complex chemistry equations and models. They speak in acronyms. And they are funny too. They might have PhDs from Princeton, but I wouldn't know unless I ask them, because they go by first name basis. Such are Americans.

Peachtree Street at noon on Monday

Martin Luther King Jr, 1929-1968

On Sunday I went to visit the neighbourhood where Martin Luther King Jr (MLK Jr) grew up. The son of a Baptist preacher, ML, as he was fondly called, earned his PhD in Systematic Theology from Boston University in 1955, but even before that, he already began serving as pastor at Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery, Alabama, in 1953 at the age of 24.

MLK Jr was the leader of the civil rights movement fighting for equality of all races, the right to vote and work, and abolition of racial discrimination. MLK Jr organized and led marches for blacks' right to vote, desegregation, labor rights and other basic civil rights. Most of these rights were successfully enacted into United States law with the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965. In 1964 he became the youngest recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize for his leading of the non-violent resistance to end racial prejudice in the United States. He also opposed the Vietnam War. He was assassinated on April 4, 1968 in Memphis, Tennessee.

Ebenezer Baptist Church where MLK Jr's father was pastor. MLK Jr later returned in 1960 to co-pastor this church with father.

I heard part of a sermon by MLK Jr last Sunday. The building is now a National Historical Site managed by the National Parks Service. They play recorded sermons of MLK Jr throughout the day. He was a fiery preacher.

Names of church members who donated money to build the church in 1922, before MLK Jr was born.

The tomb of Martin Luther King Jr (1929-1968) and his wife Coretta Scott King (1927-2006)

A display of MLK Jr's personal belongings.

Dr Martin Luther King Jr was influenced by Gandhi's principle of non-violent persuasion and civil disobedience, and by Henry Thoreau's essay On the Duty of Civil Disobedience.

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character

MLK Jr's delivered his famous I Have a Dream speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to more than 200,000 civil rights supporters on August 28, 1963 during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, which was a defining moment in the American Civil Rights Movement. The speech ranks as the greatest American speech of the 20th century.

MLK Jr's birth place, January 15, 1929

Paying tribute

Auburn Avenue, where MLK Jr grew up

This road is named in honour of MLK Jr. The USA has very few public holidays, yet one of the national holidays is Martin Luther King Jr Day celebrated on the third Monday of January. A fitting tribute to a man who shaped modern American history.

This is Auburn Avenue further down from from MLK Jr's neighbourhood. Auburn Avenue passes through a semi-ghetto between downtown and the MLK Jr historical site. There were gangsta-looking youths loitering around... for a while I thought I was in the wrong place, coz the tourist guide told me to walk straight down Auburn Ave... I mean, that's like DBKL telling foreign tourists to walk down Chow Kit in order to get to PWTC. If I had known earlier I just might have tried taking an alternative parallel route. Anyway, nothing happened to me except that on the way to the MLK Jr historical site I had to pay off another homeless man by the name of Michael who self-appointed himself as my "tour guide". Now I'm more aware of their tactics. At first I thought they were just being helpful, but how naive of me to assume that that was all they wanted to do. Wikipedia has a summary of this practice called panhandling, which is American-speak for begging. I should have read this earlier. But then, I would rather err on the side of charity than on the side of doubt. It's better to have a false positive result than a false negative...?

And this is Joe. He's 60 (so he says), and his wife is 59 (so he says), and they live under this Interstate 75 overpass (which means flyover in English-speak). He "bumped" into me as I was walking back from the MLK historical site. As you can see, I was in no danger. But I was beginning to get a bit tired of being Jabatan Kebajikan Negeri Georgia (Is there a neon sign over my head?!). I have a compassionate *ahem* heart but I was starting to think whether I should strategically avoid such street people. It's hard to say no to them once they've started talking. And they have various strategies to hook you, e.g. asking if you need help and offering before you even get to say anything (see the Wikipedia link). And I can't afford to keep donating Malaysian Ringgit-converted US dollars, even if it's just a little here and there. Well, so I made Joe work a bit for his dinner (how cruel of me). I asked him to "escort" me a few more blocks down the street, past the semi-ghetto area where some young gangstas were hanging out. He said he is a Christian, and that my reward is in heaven. Amen. And he don't got no job coz he old, and he don't got no education, and ain't nobody gonna hire him, yo. So how could I say no to him? I just hope he bought dinner for his wife and himself, and did not spend the few dollars on drugs or booze. He looked pretty bona fide to me. But it was sad to see that part of this area so near downtown was still so economically and socially depressed. A bit like Chow Kit in KL, but not that bad, I think. Every city has its dark side, even a former Olympic host like Atlanta. From my hotel window I can see some homeless people sleeping on the sidewalk across the road. And so the struggle for socio-economic justice continues... in the land of the free.

Hello?

To make my journey more interesting, I decided to take a series of photos of telephones... and now to make your life more interesting (as if it isn't already), I've put them up here and you can guess where they are located. Happy guessing!

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