Lif Bomba

We're finally here in our new home!  It is so beautiful and green here in Malaysia, a tropical paradise that contrasts starkly to dry central Texas.  We are all adjusting well to our new home, which right now feels more like a fancy, modern hotel suite with ocean-views than our place to live long-term.  We are just so happy to be in one place for awhile, after staying in five different hotel rooms over the past two weeks.  Rachel enjoys going places as long as mommy is right next to her, preferably carrying her, though she doesn't much like the humidity.  She has frequently gotten stopped by locals wanting to take her picture due to her pretty blond hair!  Abigail loves having her own space, and has already meticulously put away the few belongings she has.  (Most of our things will arrive via cargo ship in another month; won't that be like Christmas!) 

Just one quick story to share for now.  We have had to go shopping daily for basic essentials, and navigating malls is sometimes unfamiliar.  We learned the hard way that we should never take an elevator labeled "lif bomba".  As it turns out, that means service elevator, which was next to terrifying for my poor son Mark, who already has a fear of elevators and dark, confined spaces.  It was right out of a horror movie, where the big, black, metal doors clang shut, followed by a lurching motion, and a very slow descent.  It opened to some restricted place, and we were forced to get back in again.  The poor child was shaking so badly!  Mark, of all of us, is having the hardest time adjusting to his new world.  He is missing his toys, his friends, playing outside for large chunks of the day, and familiar American foods.  It will be much better when school starts, and he can make some friends . . .