Fine Feathers and Tibetan skin boiler

(no, I will not abandon this blog...no worries :-) my recent -and only recent- infrequency here merely marks my growing understanding of truly busying Singaporeans..do I turn into one?)(a very late Football world cup addon: two originals...one from Bangkok, bought by my friend Christoph for the incredible amount of 5 Eur and the one from Germany, where you can add another 55 there *sigh*. There are slight differences recognisable though...but one can see that they spent some effort on making it look right...but to differentiate enough to prevent ANY copyright discussions, of course..)

FINE FEATHERS MAKE FINE BIRDS

I feel quite blessed to work in the IT department of my company. It enables me to show up in a very casual look most of the times...which means t-shirts (mostly Infineon or Qimonda-branded of course) and Jeans. Only yesterday I decided to wear my best combination again...finest Bangkok custom made trousers and shirt with cuff-links to impress some HR Ladies I was supposed to meet for lunch :-)

(what a nice way to hang out during the day...just take an armchair, place it somewhere in the landscape and enjoy slow Malaysian lifestyle; Pictures in this post are still mostly impressions from Malacca, MY)

Well, my tired brain already noticed a change in the morning when I was on my way to office (tired because with shirt one has to leave a bit earlier than normal...arriving only at 9 in office would mean to show considerable sweat marks because of the omnipresent heat). People suddenly look different and even longer than normal and I can almost see the question in their eyes 'What position might he have?'.

Entering the MRT at 8.15 in the morning is like being among Managers only..all men are in nice shirts and trousers...90% of the women still have wet hair from their morning showers and keep checking themselves so eagerly as if this was the first day in a new job. It was only in Singapore that I became aware of how wonderful and sexy Business look can be. Fierce competition indeed produces incredible outcome. (ok, but this is still nothing against a typical Singapore mall on Sat afternoon, some of which often act as public stage and catwalk at the same time).

(well...I am sure something would definitely come up on a brainstorming about what a HOT BLAST therapy might be..I definitely do NOT know..)

It was crazier in the evening when I decided to have a little walk after work to a food stall, still in my finest combination. I have not felt so scrutinised in a long while (ok, it is flattering..but considering my real position as a student and intern it is ridiculous at the same time). This amplifies and suddenly I catch myself walking down a pedestrian crossing in a played statesmenlike stride just to see what happens. And yes, women's looks are suddenly like glue and I wonder how more superficial this can ever be...it felt simultaniously hilarious and sad..

INHALING THE EXPERIENCE

Still back in Malacca (Malaysia) about two weeks ago I decided to go for a foot massage on one evening (I do have knee problems while running since then..maybe it was not soo conducive after all). It was already 8.30pm that night and I caught the 40ish year old Chinese heritage guy just leaving the place. Good Business man as he was, he quickly decided to reopen and ushered me in.

(a signboard found inside a foot massage place -YES, only foot massage-; the left and right character means 'careful', the upper and lower 'cheater'...so it says: 'BE CAREFUL, CHEATER'!..The owner told that once a nicely dressed Arabic guy came in to book massages for 6 wealthy customers who where waiting down the street. They wanted to go for dinner first though and could not pay because the restaurant would not accept any credit card. So the owner 'borrowed' him 100 Ringit..about 20Eur and the guy never came back..)

The place had enough space to serve 5-6 customer simultaniously, but I was the only one then. It felt a bit weird in the beginning but I decided to follow my still positive belly sensor. He did not even want me to clean my feet before (was he into smelly odour?), but I insisted. It was still a relaxing thing...and the fact that he was a guy and only doing a foot massage minimised the danger of inappropriate offers (minimise, but not avoid..I have to add. Of course, he wanted me -as a fine and of course happy customer- to come back the next day and receive a special full massage skillfully conducted by one of his female associates).

A special add-on for the massage provided my final approval on using a miraculous, green tibetan powder on my feet and legs. He was so excited about it that I finally had to try..However, I was not so sure if they were from Tibet though..for a price of approx 2 Euro this could still be, but I guess that's just what I paid for the little Placebo. What it finally caused was to heat up my skin after he wrapped my feet and legs in seperate towels...felt like my outer skin was boiling and made me wonder whether there would be any skin left below my knee to massage the next day.

(We are in Muslim Malaysia after all...prayer rooms can be found in many places. Please mind that there is strict gender seperation)

Finally, I really had to insist on my NO (with an easy heart) regarding his repeated offer to provide me with pure oxygen during the foot massage..I already had to bite on my lips when he tried to persuade me by telling about Michael Jackson's habit of sleeping with pure oxygen all the time (yes, this guy is indeed a positive example!). But I could not believe my eyes when I turned around in my seat and looked at what he pointed with his finger so encouragingly: a McGyver like 1.8m high gas cylinder...badly overpainted with beige color and saying in thick, blue handwriting 'O2, REAL PURE OXYGENE'. Would ANY sane person put on the oxygen mask that leads to this tank? Good Lord, I wonder whether I would have discovered a black/yellow skull, if I only had scratched a bit on the bottle where the paint looked extra thick...

Funniest thing though was that he always claimed that his BOSS was watching all the time (via numerous cameras in the room...which I thought were all fake). That was probably to make his customers feel safer, but even more to give himself a good excuse why he could not do any price negotiations himself. After my request to see his boss he only replied that he was very shy and did not want to see customers tonight...haha...I limped home then with my pulsing, boiled legs.

Maik

(the door to a tiny tatoo studio in Jonker Street, Malacca)