I love open-air Asian markets. It’s fun for me to join the throng of a gentle crowd, moving slowly among the tables (or wares displayed on the ground), each radically different from the previous one, maybe a local food, or craft. As I compare my retail experiences in American shopping malls with this moment I recall the cool, disinterested distance between myself and others. But here in this street market I am flooded and enveloped with a sensory contact with other human beings. The locals flow past me, shopping for family needs for the coming week, or looking to mingle, drink coffee, or hang out with friends. It’s not just shopping; it’s a community event.

This Sunday morning market in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah displays the eclectic mixture of cultures living here, each happily coexisting with each other and thriving in the economic emergence of twenty-first century Malaysia. Even the inconsiderately cleavage-exposing Western tourist is tolerated without hostility, despite the presence of some local women in modest Islamic clothing. But the market people don’t mind; tourists spend big money, and that’s just fine with them.

Occasionally in the fish-shoal experience of navigating through the market stalls  I’ll lose Yui, as something interestingly edible catches her sharp, almond-shaped eyes. I happily wait to one side of the ambling crowd, people-watching until she re-emerges into view clutching a new discovery, no doubt some fried rice something, or a banana leaf-wrapped goodie. Then we continue on in that non-goal frame of mind, wandering in blissful silence amidst the hustle and bustle.

It’s been many years since my nervous system has been this relaxed, I now realize. My emotional body began unwinding over the past fourteen months since leaving San Francisco for Hawaii, but it is here in the market that I am deeply aware of the impact left on my auric system of twenty-five years living in America. The dialectical motifs of US culture - “Right” versus “Left”, conservative versus liberal, support-the-troops versus tell-the-truth, corporate agendas versus the needs/legal rights of the citizen - continually erode meaningful human contact, sadly encouraging a soul-sapping suspicion about other people. While this cultural distancing clearly supports the corporate and political agendas in the United States, it doesn’t make for an ideal life for their citizens. Here in this simple, open-air market the populace is happy. Islamic woman walks safely by Christian man, Borneo tribal man walks respectfully by Western woman, and life goes on in a wonderful way. When I leave the market I am filled with the sights and smells of all humanity. I am enriched, and at ease.

Maybe I’ll stay awhile.

After several days in Japan, and a few weeks hiatus from my healing practice, we are now in the eastern Malaysian State of Sabah. I used to tell my friends it was the northwest tip of Borneo (which it is) but most people associate Borneo with, well, the end of the earth. True enough, we had to fly via Seoul from Japan to get here, but arriving at Kota Kinabalu airport was a frequent traveler’s delight. Those of you who have jetted into a relaxed and tropical vacation airport (minimal security and hassle) know what I mean.

The local East Malaysian people are wonderful, and the food is great. Our taxi driver was born to a local tribe and assured us his people had stopped head hunting a while ago. Good tourism move, local people.

The economy here seems to be good (despite high inflation and a recent petrol hike), because the shopping malls are full, day and evening. Or, like me, maybe people are desperately seeking air conditioning and a cold drink. I suspect both are true. The financial investors around here must feel bullish about Sabah’s future, because there is a huge Hypermall (1Borneo) almost completed just north of Kota Kinabalu. This thing looks like the size of a small American town. Oh, boy.

Yui, of course, is in Asian food heaven, buying up every local delicacy - sweet or savory - she can get her hands upon. Occasionally I will make the mistake of parting my lips during one of our market outings, and she will attempt to sneak something unknown past the guardian taste buds in my English mouth. Before I know it I’m chewing on something suspiciously lime green, vaguely moist, and covered in coconut flakes. I contemplate the sensation a few seconds, and then decide to take a chance and chew, usually finding it not so bad after all.

Curious? Of course you are! Go here for some photos of Sabah and Sarawak.

I’ve resumed my private telephone healing practice, and the phone lines to the rest of the world are as clear as if I’m calling from Japan. Despite a twelve hour time zone difference between Bor.., I mean, Sabah, my working life is back to normal. Now I’m here it seems the end of the earth is no longer so far away.