The reader

I was taking a rehydration break, a bit longer than the ones I saw during the World Cup, comfortably seated on a promontory in the modern sculpture section of the Kuala Lumpur Botanical Garden. A welcome break after walking in the sweltering, humid heat. Lower down in the shade, comfortably seated on a backless bench, a young woman from the Middle East was, unusually, reading a book. She was settled in, her bag on one side, a water bottle on the other, book in hand, head bent and engrossed. The minutes ticked by as she read. I gazed at the distant landscape, slowly sipping my sugar-free Pepsi (for lack of anything else), taking in the sculptures, the greenery, and the skyscrapers, the city's signature.

I find it touching to see these young Asian women traveling alone. We see them regularly, something unthinkable not so long ago. The traditions of discipline and submission to male authority are deeply ingrained there.

Then I continued on my way, and as I passed her, I said, "It's very nice to see you reading." I was expecting at most a polite thank you; back home I'd be considered a lecherous uncle, but no. "Thank you," yes, but with a charming smile, and the conversation began.

When I tell him I'm from Canada, his smile widens. Very nice! (As an aside, I'd like to point out that everywhere I go, when I mention where I'm from, the reception is generally very positive.)

She's Malaysian and loves reading. She had this book set aside and is eager to finish it. I leave her to her reading and continue on my way.