FINDING OUR WAY

by Mary J. Breen

 

A few years ago, I made a trip to Southeast Asia. One of the first things I noticed in the hotel room in Kuala Lumpur was a five-inch black arrow on the ceiling. Instead of asking anyone, I decided that it pointed to the nearest fire exit-a well-placed indicator in case of a night-time fire. Even though it pointed to a corner of the room, I figured this was the direction to keep in mind after reaching the hall. Every time I saw one of those arrows, I was proud of myself for being so clever in this new culture.

Lucky for me I didn't have to test my theory. Lucky as well that I didn't pass it on to any other hapless tourists, because I was very wrong. The arrows have nothing to do with fire; they're about prayer. Since Islam is the official religion of Malaysia, Muslims need to know which direction to face when they are praying. The arrows point toward Mecca.

This mistake turned out to be just the first of many over the next weeks. I would apply my Western eyes and logic to what someone was doing or why they were doing it or what something was used for, and, often as not, I'd get it wrong.

For example, I assumed that meter maids wore masks and huge white hats because they were safeguarding their identities. Anyone who gave out that many tickets, I figured, needed to protect themselves from retaliation. I assumed some of the tallest trees in Sarawak had been given well-camouflaged metal buttresses to support them. I thought the rice farmers in Bali had placed coconut shells in the irrigation ditches so that valuable minerals could leach into the soil. (Finally, my Science degree coming in handy.) I assumed that the men in Singapore who brought their birds in lovely, covered cages to meet other men with birds in lovely, covered cages were taking part in some kind of contest. I watched them hang the cages side by side in grid formation, and then carefully move them to positions of more prominence. Or so I thought. And, when a new friend quickly set aside my gift unopened, I was sure either I had offended him, or he was signalling that he wanted little to do with me.

I turned out to be wrong in each and every case.

The meter maids were avoiding pollution and sunburn. The buttresses were the ficus trees' own silvery roots that start four or five feet above the ground to anchor these massive trees. The coconut shells were diverting water from one channel to another. The men brought the birds together to give them fresh air and companionship, and they moved them to allow birds of the same species to sing together. As for my friend, he didn't open his gift so he wouldn't appear greedy. "Your friendship," he said, "is the most important gift you brought."

Of course, my attempts to understand were not unusual. We all do it all the time both at home and on vacation; we look for patterns to help us make sense of things. When we see several cars parked outside our neighbours' house, for example, we think maybe there's been a wedding, or a death, or they're having a party, or a meeting, or they're selling their house, or. . . . At home, where we understand things pretty well, we're often right. When we're away, we can only guess.

And guess I did throughout the trip. Once in a while, I got things right, like when I realized that what looked like "bye-bye" waves were really requests to "come here," and when I broke the code in a Singapore music store and figured out how to find the CDs I was looking for. I finally understood that Nat King Cole was beside Neil Young who was beside Nirvana because they were sorted alphabetically by first names, not last! I should have realized this sooner because I already knew that Chinese and Malay surnames come first, but that's my point. As a Westerner, I filtered everything through my Western eyes.

We've all been told that travel broadens the mind. It teaches us new things, and it helps us become more tolerant of what we don't understand. But the best thing about travelling for me is that it's a bit like being a child again-one who has no idea what the grownups are talking about or why they are behaving as they are-only now we have no Mommy to ask, "Why is that man carrying a rooster?" Like a child, I have to trust that I'm on the right bus and the strange food won't hurt me and most people will point me in the right direction and help me find my way home.