Between flights at the Singapore Changi Airport, I stopped by this convenient free internet terminal, after two young boys were finally summoned away by their father. Unlike in other places where I’ve seen these, this free internet has no strings. No ads, no pop-ups, no clunky keyboard fixed in place, no just a clean flat screen and decent little keyboard. I just passed by an electronics store with expensive Sony laptops that are tiny and cute.
Reflecting back on Malaysia, thinking about the place and what I thought of it. It’s a cacaphony of sites and sounds, of honking cars and ubiquitous billboards, it is a melding of so many distinct people and cultures: the Chinese, the dark skinned Indians, the Malays, and others like the many illegal immigrants who stream into the country for the thousands of available jobs. Workers from Bangladesh, Indonesia, Sri Lanka are just some of the people who see Malaysia as their own promised land. And in the paper I read that they are allowing millions more in legally, to do the jobs that many Malaysians turn their noses up at. Sounds familiar!
Our long flight departs here in about an hour. Eighteen hours in the air. I’m armed this time with my book, called ‘Castro’s Curveball,’ and some provocative podcasts on the Ipod to pass the hours. I am looking forward to getting back to Cindy and to Nathan and to Kate and my cafe some time on Friday morning.