By Martha Groppo

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Being force-fed bean ice cream, tearing leeches off of someone’s ankle and burning the heck out of your leg might not sound super enjoyable, but I had a great time in Malaysia.

I only spent three days there, but you can fit a lot of living into that time — sort of like you can fit a lot of variety into a small country. Malaysia was lucky country No. 13 on my trek around the world.

I spent most of my time at a homestay with a traditional Malay woman who made her opinions about everything abundantly clear to me even though she couldn’t speak English. Turns out the word “come” is really all you need. Screaming at me in Malay and slapping me took care of the rest. It also turns out that I don’t know anything. At least according to Mama Latipa.

I didn’t know that knee length shorts are scandalous. She shook her head and gave me a hijab and a dress that looked something like an orange snuggie.

I didn’t know that Malaysian leeches can basically jump onto your legs. You figure that out quickly.

I didn’t know that I needed to eat more. All of the time. Mama Latipa’s glares from across the table made calories seem suddenly insignificant.

Then there were the things I didn’t know how to do. I didn’t know how to pick out a fish at a market that looked like the entire cast of “Finding Nemo” had been brutally murdered and laid out on tables. I didn’t know how to eat a fish fried whole and served to me without utensils. I didn’t know you could kill a coy by feeding it a bread chunk that is too big. Oops. Am I sounding like an idiot? Because that’s how I was feeling.

Somewhere along the way, I realized that Mama Latipa was right. I didn’t know anything — at least not about her world.

I splashed hot oil on myself making plantain dumplings, made too deep of a cut on the rubber tree when tapping it, didn’t know to pour tea into my saucer to cool it down, didn’t catch a single fish with the net I was given to cast and burned the living daylights out of my leg getting off of her motorcycle in a skirt.

A few days in Mama Latipa’s world reminded me that there are different kinds of life knowledge.

Straight A’s don’t help you when trying to figure out how to use a traditional toilet without something horribly embarrassing happening. And killing tests won’t get you far in a Malay kitchen.

The good news is, women like Mama are happy to teach. And isn’t a big part of traveling learning how stupid you are?

I may not have known a lot going into Malaysia, but I learned. Most importantly, I learned I’ll be coming back.

Martha Groppo is a journalism and history senior. Follow her blog at www.muliebrousmartha.wordpress.com.