Malaysia, 18 March

Kuala Lumpur Railway Station 1920´s

Water Colour Painting by Kasim Abas

Unfortunately, my lone (dead) cockroach was not "lone" after all. I was up early to wash my hair and now they were everywhere, merrily rushing across the wall and lazily sleeping among my underwear. Yuck. I decided to think for a while before saying anything. I had breakfast in the right place this time. Isn't it amazing how once you are inside one of these large rooms inside a hotel, without windows, round tables, tablecloths down to the floor - well you could be anywhere?


The World Meeting took place in the Ritz Carlton Hotel, joined-up with the Marriott. There were several interesting speeches. Fredric Härén had us all in stitches with his thoughts on innovation and copying, being a "developing" nation or a "developed" one. Some amazing stories from Asia, where "developing" means just that - and at a breathtaking pace. I bought his book. He very kindly donated his fee! The most moving talk of the day came from a girl who lives in Japan. She told us a little of her and other SWEA families' situation. I think everyone cried. We took a little comfort from hearing that SWEA takes good care of its members.


A little aside now, folks. I plan to write more here, for this blog, once I have finished my tale from Malaysia and it will not contain the word "SWEA" every day - or even every week. Promise.


Lunch was in one corner of the huge conference room. It was good. Just me, suspecting peanuts everywhere. Maybe I'm not even allergic to them now? I haven't dared eat one since I was fifteeen.


Afternoon. Workshops. Only just a little chaotic, but good. Good that the ordinary Swea had her say. Let's hope the outcome does not get filed away, but taken to heart and used.

For over forty years, Hakka restaurant has been serving food to tourists and "natives" This is not a smart or elegant place; the food is the most important part, described as "Chinese food  - the Malaysian way". For those of us who were staying at the JW Marriott, it was easy to get there. Escorts stood in the lobby and took small groups on a short walk, across the street, past the Pavilion shopping center, through the pedestrian area – and then we were there. We sat at big round tables, with a spinning device in the middle, so that all could reach the food (a "lazy Susan" - I have always wondered who this lazy lady is). We sat under the stars in the hot and humid air that we had become accustomed to as being the normal atmosphere in Kuala Lumpur. But pretty soon a few drops came from the sky, and lo and behold, there was a ceiling which was rolled out so that we were protected, but still outside, if you see what I mean. Thousands of small lights lit up the room.

At my table sat old friends and SWEA members who I never met before. Stockholm, London, Rome, Seattle, Orange County, Hong Kong ... ... Just as it should be at a SWEA dinner.

In a predominantly Muslim country, alcohol is, of course, an unexplored area. This evening, and later, during the Borneo trip, we saw that knowledge of wine was nil. Several at my table ordered beer, and this arrived quickly. But I and my friend (who lives in Italy) and one other Swea wanted to drink wine. But it was not so simple. The waitress did not want to take the order; it was someone else's job. It took probably five reminders before that person arrived. The unknown-to-me Swea ordered a bottle from the wine list, which we, being high and mighty, laughed at a bit, misspelled and pompous as it was. Cheteau instead of Chateau, "pacate" instead of "palate" and so on. After a good long wait a small bottle arrived, about the size of those you get on flights - and a completely different kind from what she had ordered.  The unknown Swea pointed out the mistake and was told that what she had ordered was "a BIG bottle." Explanations - she would share it - were offered and the bottle arrived. Well, what am I saying by this? Maybe I just want to introduce a maxim, not at all new, but one I will attempt to live by: “When in a strange land, empty your mind of preconceived notions! "

The food was good, some a bit spicy, some not. Chicken, pork, vegetables, noodles, rice, fruit. The evening's funniest part was when we "competed" with a group of local men, who made a terrible racket away in a corner of the main dining room. "Ooooooohhhhhh" they shouted, stood up and shouted. Poor things. They did not know who their opponents were. A resounding chorus of "Happy Birthday" to a birthday Swea, followed by, I fear, some Swedish drinking songs – it was essential that everyone know the words – at least at times quieted down the guys in the corner.We walked home in the velvet dark humid night; along the way is a glass fountain that changes colour. Quite fairy-like. It was a good evening.

(The above, about my Hakka restaurant visit, is a translation of an article I have written for the SWEA home page. I translated it using Google translate; it made me laugh quite a lot. I corrected it and probably spent more time on it than I would have done doing the translation myself. Anyway, if it differs a bit in style and typography from the rest, you´ll know why).

During the day I had decided to say something about the you-know-what to the President of SWEA KL, a thoroughly stylish, friendly and competent young lady. When I arrived back from Hakka, a delightful letter was waiting for me in my room, saying how sorry they /the hotel management/ were about my recent "unpleasantness." There was a huge bowl of fresh fruit and a plate of the most delicious chocolates. I never saw any c:s again in my room. Heaven knows what they did.