Reptiles Rock!

Several weeks of training as a Docent have come to an end. Next week is the assessment. I'm quite nervous, knowing I can manage the theory, but perhaps not so well for the public speaking element of it.

For all my life, I have deliberately avoided situations and opportunities that involved any type of public speaking. And at age 27, I am feeling the consequences of it. On a positive note, it's comforting to know I have taken steps to work through it and in the spirit of doing something I love, I have conditioned myself to be okay with failing, taking feedback from the trainers and practicing it until I get it right. The other day, I was watching a TED talk and the speaker mentioned that in a survey conducted, "Death" was rated as the No. 4 fear, while "Public Speaking" was the first most feared thing that a majority had picked. That means most people felt that dying was a better alternative to giving a speech!

I can relate, actually. I recall many years back, I had to give a speech in school as one of the newly appointed Head Prefects. Back then, I would have happily turned down the title just so I can avoid giving The Speech before hundreds of people that included my family, teachers and friends, but that was not an option. With lots of help in rehearsing the lines and moral support from my best bud in school, I survived that fateful day. I could not feel my legs for most part of the speech, but that wasn't the worst part! Nearer to the end of my speech, my attention got fixated on a small child sitting at one of the furthest rows and I blanked out on my words. I made a quick comeback (I can't be too sure for how long I was gone) by repeating where I left off and got on with the rest of it, but I have not voluntarily opted to go through such an experience up until now!

Why is this a commonly occurring phobia in the human psychology? Here are some tips to help.

My highlight yesterday was getting to handle the live exhibit at our station (a small Royal Python aka, a Ball Python) while returning it to its enclosure. It was such a magnificent (non-venomous) creature that for a brief moment, I felt the selfish fascination that drives some people to go to great lengths to acquire them as pets and why the illegal pet trade still thrives. It was very pretty, soft and I was so mesmerised by how it glided so effortlessly along my hand! Part of me kept thinking please let me take it home for a day, I promise I will look after it well, but the sensible part of me reminded that the initial desire of owning one wears off and they belong in the wild in their natural habitats and not in our homes (in less-than-ideal conditions) for our entertainment.

Royal Pythons, being small-sized and docile, are sought out pets leading to much efforts by authorities to combat illegal trafficking and trade of these animals

Live animals are a great conversation starter with visitors. It is very easy to capture their attention as they are naturally curious and use it as an opportunity to educate them. They like to hear things they didn't already know about the animals. Here's an example; Why is a Royal Python also called a Ball Python? Answer: No, it's not the skin patterns, it's because they curl into a tight ball when threatened and hide the head safely inside, so that a predator finds it too big to be eaten. Yesterday, I met twin girls of about five years of age, who were highly fascinated by a stuffed crocodile specimen. They asked me, with the most serious attitude on their faces, "Does this crocodile have a brother crocodile and a sister crocodile?". For a moment there, I stumbled to think of a satisfactory answer. Trying not to laugh, I had to tell them, "Yes, he does". The experiences gained during visitor interactions can vary and are anything but predictable.

It's been great looking forward to the training sessions every Sunday. The facts I have been learning about crocodiles, alligators, gharials, snakes, lizards, turtles, tortoises and terrapins each week have been extremely interesting! And to go back each week with new knowledge of these animals and observe them for real is like seeing them through a new layer of understanding and respect. The more I learn, the more intrigued I am by the evolutionary connections they share with other species. Crocs are the closest living cousins to dinosaurs and they have not changed much in structure for over 200 million years (no need to, they are perfect as they are!). To think they are extensively killed for their hides to make handbags, shoes and the like is depressing (why aren't we humans born with naturalistic intelligence by default?). It's even baffling to learn that crocs are more closely related to birds than lizards, and how their four-chambered hearts are structurally similar to those of birds and mammals. Python skeletons have small vestigial limbs (showing that at one time in history, their ancestors walked and eventually found no use for it!). Then, some lizards have no limbs (they lost the use of them over time). Cool stuff.

Crocodilians - the ultimate mean machines of the wild, but not so appreciated for the crucial roles they play in nature as sanitation squads and in keeping prey populations under control

Ahhh, there are SO MANY interesting facts to learn and share about reptiles! I can't wait to start...

World's Dumbest

Some songs don't die easy. Here's an example:

The other day, I was sitting in the front passenger seat of a taxi when "Macarena" by Los del Rio started playing. It was like being hit in the head with a giant club of nostalgia. It is associated with strong memories of the time we got our first CD player and I made sure it was played several times a day, much to the annoyance of everyone else at home. This song came out nearly TWENTY years ago and "the macarena" has gained status as a popular dance move to this day. Not only that, it sits at #5 on Billboard's All Time Top 100.

Recently, my mother - using my father's account - had done a critical check on my Facebook profile and had a suggestion for me (well, there were other comments too);

"Change that display picture to something nicer and age appropriate, will you, something where you look like you actually combed your hair? You look like a school child."  [OH-Kay mom, that picture will be staying longer than intended now.]

Parents are now 'friends' with their children on Facebook. This new reality is a major advantage for parents, mostly overly-attached mothers whose children live far away from their grasps. They can now stalk whereabouts, analyse thought processes, scrutinize actions, review friendships, judge photos, and form opinions and comment on nearly everything related to their children whose lives are pretty much open books on Facebook. For me, I prefer they keep up that way than me having to actually update them personally.

Another interview today. Damn, I feel like I am getting better at this. With each passing one, I feel a little less nervous and more confident of playing the cards of the "Interview Game". That is not to say I wasn't nervous at all, but it wasn't anything my latest power anthem (below) could not cure.

After taking a very scenic ride in the bus, I arrived just a little earlier than 9am for my interview [Sheesh, that was pretty early for one]. In my opinion, it went well. I didn't stumble on or utter anything stupid like I tend to do a lot when I am nervous. Even though my heels were killing my feet, I left quite satisfied at having performed averagely well. In this game, it does not suffice to put your best effort to look professionally acceptable, or be confident and pleasant, or communicate clearly, or appear interested through body language that is in sync with what is said, or ask a ton of questions, or market your strengths and abilities while cleverly masking any weaknesses or even observe the interviewer's body language to see what ticks them and adjust the tone of the responses accordingly. The last move of the game is to send a "Thank You" note to your interviewer to show appreciation for the interview opportunity, sell your strengths a little more [Shuri was selling strengths such as ability to learn quickly, adapt and being detail-oriented during the interview] and express interest to work for them. This is compulsory.

When this was sent, I realised to my horror, that my email contained an attachment that I didn't attach. This was a map of the building that one of my previous interviewers had sent with a lovely red arrow pointing to interview area. As the situation become clearer, I realised this happened because I used the same email thread I used for my previous interviewer to modify my "Thank You" response to this interviewer. Of course, irrelevant correspondence was safely removed, but I missed removing that map. [Good job, Shu. This manager will be completely at ease knowing that you'll be sending wrong attachments to customers and forgetting to check your emails properly before you send them out]. 

So my final move (extended) read as follows:

Dear Ms Doe,

My apologies for the unintended attachment, kindly ignore it.
Have a good evening.

Regards,
Shuri

In light of today's turn of events, the award for the "World's Dumbest Interviewee" for shooting herself in the foot AND possibly losing the job opportunity goes to.... none other than.... *drum roll*.... SHURI.

[Afternote: No surprises, I didn't get the job!]

When in Rome

Believe it or not, we are now global citizens. If you think about it, outside of official travel documents, we are no longer comprised of one nationality; we have acquired bits and pieces of many nations thanks to improved global communications and the nomadic tendency for finding better opportunities.

There goes a famous saying, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”.

That's exactly what I try to do. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn't. For example, when I lived in a predominantly Chinese culture, I tried everything within acceptable limits, from eating sticky rice balls, drinking flower teas and eating sea weed, to throwing litter in designated bins and asking restaurants to pack the leftovers of what I dined in for take-away. Now, in a predominantly Arabic culture, I tried the shisha, drinking exotic teas and getting henna paintings on my hands. It is sometimes impossible to isolate oneself from traditions unfamiliar to you when living in foreign country surrounded by these. It is an accepted idea that with trying out these, one is able to better appreciate foreign cultures and foreign counterparts, with whom you share a particular period of your life with.

Some time back, not so long ago, I went for a haircut (which normally costs about 70 in local currency). I was soon enticed to take up a limited period offer by the lady who gave me the haircut. It was the perfect deal; for 150 local currency, one would get to enjoy one main service (plenty to choose from!), and get two complimentary smaller services. My haircut being one of the complimentary services, I had to pick one main service and one smaller service. Getting hair highlights or a full body wax didn't appeal to me at the time. The lady was quick to recommend a "Moroccan bath" to me when I looked clueless and lost for choices. What the hell, I thought, my mom has made me have baths in various concoctions of boiled leaves, tree bark and dried roots, it can't get any worse than that! As for the smaller service, I picked a "30 minute shoulder massage" as I was suffering from a strained neck and shoulder at the time.

The day arrived, I was the first customer at the salon. I sat in the front couch, waiting to be called in and with no idea what this was going to be like. An elderly lady brought me a small cup of what looked like tea [What if this is spiked with something? Nevermind Shu, just gulp it down] which I drank hesitantly. It was actually herbal-ish and nice [There might be a tub full of this tea somewhere at the back, in which I'll probably have to soak in. This must be just the start to the experience]. Still waiting [Damn, I should have Googled this before I came. Why did I not think of it before? Oh wait, let me check with my sister]. I called my sister and asked her what they do and what I am supposed to do (she is a very reliable source of information on feminine issues). I was mortified when she told me "You'd be lucky if they let you keep your pants on" [WTF!!!]. Just when I was about to make a run for it through the front entrance, I was called in [HELP!].

Specific details of what happened next have been selectively wiped off my memory. I'll keep it short by saying, although I was lucky (by my sister's definition), I was scrubbed off of about 300 grams of dead skin cells (the horror!) by an elderly woman, old enough to be my mother. It was a thoroughly embarassing experience and even the soft and supple skin (that's how marketing materials word it, I believe) I had afterwards was not enough to counter the feelings of being nearly violated.

I wasn't going to pay absurd prices to a shrink to discuss this experience, that's why I had to blog about it.

"Madam, would you like the massage today as well?" [Are you freaking kidding me?? That's enough touching for a long, long while, thank you very much.]

My sister thinks I am overreacting, but I am certain that is the last Moroccan bath I will try (or the last Japanese public bath I will never try). I guess I won't be visiting that salon again either.