Muddling through South East Asia

Getting out of Malaysia proved more difficult than getting in. We purchased tickets to the airport from a private company operating a berth at the main KL bus station. Be at the platform at 7.45 they said, and we duly obliged. At 8.15 there was still no bus. What had gone wrong?
-The bus is gone
-But we’ve been waiting here for 30 minutes
-It went from outside
-When?
-2 minutes ago
-Why didnt you tell us?
Shrug
-When is the next bus?
Shrug, afterthought
-Talk to the man, he come to take people, I dont know
The man is a 20 stone lumbering fathead who hates his job and clearly didnt come to the platform to pick up the passengers for the bus, which is exactly his job. The fathead wont talk to me, nor to another man, who speaks his language, and has the same problem.

Star Shuttle; Actual buses may vary

Slowly the platform fills up with a number of other airport bound passengers with similar queries. Many with different departure times and different stories as to when they were told the bus would be leaving. Fathead wont engage with any of them, he will not answer questions nor say when the bus is, or even if he knows when the bus is. He will just sit on his lardass chain smoking.
Some time later fathead struggles to his feet and says “Airport”. That was it, he then started lumbering away as all the passengers tried to grab their luggage and catch up with him. The heart attack waiting to happen had only one gear forward and no reverse, and was easily spotted as he torturously manoevered himself through an intersection outside the station, so we all caught up. We boarded a standard school bus, rucksacks and suitcases piled in like satchels and we looked to be back on track. As the bus hit the freeway and we were only on our second chorus of the “the wheels on the bus” it inexplicably stopped. Just pulled in, blinkers on and stopped. Fat head as usual was unavailable for comment. He just sat in his double berth and ignored the questions. For 15 minutes we waited. My true lies moment was coming, if only I’d packed that shotgun…..
“Change Bus” Fathead lumbered off to smoke, and we all carted our baggage to a coach that pulled in behind us. We were now 1 hour 15 minutes behind our schedule. Luckily we had set ourselves an hour ahead of standard times so we were really only 15 minutes behind, on a 2 hour check in window. We’d be fine, but not everyone would be so lucky. Some dashed from our bus like greyhounds and could be seen chasing an Boeing 757 down the runway minutes later. Never use Star Shuttle from KL to the Airport. And just for emphasis,  Never use Star Shuttle.

There is not a lot to eat in KL airport late at night, everywhere is shut and the credit card machines are on go slow. We had no ringadingdongs left so we were boned. It was tired and hungry we boarded our Air Asia flight to Melbourne. Initial signs were good though. It was on time, clean, tvs and game consoles for all seats. I am one of those rare types who usually enjoys his airplane food. Bangers and mash, re heated fry, reconstituted ham, I am your man.  We had pre-ordered the Malay food choice and were looking forward to a Nasi Goreng.

Air Asia; run by cartoon characters

On a 1.20am flight it is important that the food comes early. Eating and sleeping is all anyone wants to do. Thankfully it was the first order of business. And I scoffed it, every last grain of it. Yum. Then I popped a sleeping pill, plugged my ears, donned my eyemask (such is my flight ritual) and kicked back. No. No I didnt kick back. I tried to. The seats did not recline. I checked and re-checked. I checked Elaine seat, neighbours seats, I walked the plane for a reclining seat. None. Non reclining seats are fine on a 50 minute Ryanair hop to Manchester, but an 8 hour red-eye? It is not possible that a company who can buy an aviation license can be that stupid.
I tried to sleep in the upright position but it just didnt happen. 2 hours of mind numbing frustration later I thought I’d give in and watch a damn movie. Its 30 MR for a headset. Thats 8 euro to you and me, but I dont have any cash left to pay the ridiculous fee, and no sir, we dont accept visa. The seat still doesnt recline. Where’s the whiskey?

Air Asia you are thumbs down. You may have fancy advertisments all over asia, your hostess’s may be polite, your pilots may even have real stripes on their shoulders, but I say No Air Asia, bad dog!

Simon Cowell would send you home. Anne Robinson would kick your ass. You are the weakest link, Goodbye.

KL, we soon discovered, is extremely easy to navigate. Intersecting monorails, light rails and suburban trains cris cross the city like a capilliary system delivering workers and shoppers to their desired organs. Our first monorail experience was very much anticipated. We had been bursting into Simpson-esque song “Monorail” for days. We climbed the station steps at Times Square Shopping Complex (fresh out of the Vegas style book) and waited all of 3 minutes for the next northbound unit. Tickets were an easy purchase, assisted by a helpful diagram depicting the cost of travel to each station from the station we were at. How easy is that? The monorail trains are only 2 carriages long, very frequent and zip along with wonderful efficiency. 2 floors up, weaving between skyscrpaers (do we still call them that?) is a great, and impressive way to see a city.

The monorail at night

On this occasion we weren’t going far. The monorail was actually an unnecessary treat, for a journey we could have walked. But hey, life is for living. The destination was the KL aquarium. Now that we are practically professional Scuba Divers all aquatic attractions are oddly attractive to us. The aquarium is a big and clearly well funded and well supported establishment. Situated in the bowels of the KL Convention Centre, it is downtown central and easy to get to from all directions.

lionfish; my National Geo pic

It features many large tanks, imitating different aquatic environments, butterfly and bug displays as well as reptiles and snakes. One large tank holds some of the largest freshwater fish in existence. The highlight is an 80 metre “undersea” tunnel that cuts through a number of different sea environments.

10,000 leagues under the sea

The feeding tank

We watch 2 divers feeding large stingrays and turtles by hand in a very playful display. What we thought would be a 5 minute scavenge was a really well executed 30 minute display where the main actors clearly held some affection for the divers.

Stingray

The feeding frenzy happened in another tank when a few dead fish were dropped into a family of 200 piranhas. It lasted about 10 seconds and was all a blur.

Hungry red piranha

Later that night we treated ourselves to some steak and a nice bottle of red at the Outback Steakhouse. The occasion to break the budget was our 3rd anniversary and we figured it would be a nice touch to spend it at an Aussie grill shop headed as we were, to see the wizard.

The Outback; Meaty goodness

We both ordered with no nonsense flair and 2 rare steaks with mashed potato and veggies were not long in appearing at our table. The stunning doorsteps of meat were red and juicy and much more of a fillet than a sirloin (yum). Paired with my favourite wine (Argie Malbec) we toasted the past, the future and remembered to enjoy the present. We won’t be young and beautiful for ever you know!

The foyer at Times Square

Later in the week we decided to do a few days prep work for Oz. There were interview clothes to be bought lest I believed my charm would carry me through in a pair of raggy board shorts and flip-flops. I was also hoping to pick up a net book for writing this blog, and of course borrowing movies from the great movie database in the sky. I figured dress trousers and some nicely cut shirts might do the job. Elaine persuaded me into dress shoes also. Potential employers might frown upon my hiking shoes as i wooed them with an Irish jig.

Looking up in Times Square

Shopping in KL is big. It’s a national pastime. Shopping centres are like football stadiums,  hold  a similar number of designer duds obsessed people and thousands of shops apiece.  The neo classical foyer of Times Square, the casino-esque beast mentioned earlier, houses 3 restaurants. Thats just the foyer. When I say big I mean BIG! The centre also features an indoor themepark, complete with rollercoaster somewhere in its mezzanine attic floors. I managed to pick up shoes, 2 pairs of trousers (tailored), 3 dress shirts and  a leather belt for under 90 Euro. This made me happy enough to splash 300 on a nice little netbook (250GbHD, 2GbRAM). This made me happier still. Who ever said that you can’t buy a little happiness now and again?
Elaine for her part purchased a little also, in the form of a very swish handbag at a knockdown price. What else.

You talking to me?

Before leaving we made sure to visit the Zoo. A monorail ride to the outer reaches and a taxi to the gates, easily organised and pretty cheap. The Zoo was triple the price that the tourist guide noted which annoyed us but we paid our money and cooed at the animals.

KL Communications Tower

We decided to get the public bus from the Highlands to Kuala Lumpur for 22.50 ringadindongs. The tourist bus available at the hostel was 37 MR and it was a minibus. The public bus was an aircon coach. Go figure! The young manager at our hostel was very disappointed that we weren’t using his tourist bus and tried making a derogatory joke about our “friends” in room 117. It didnt work so we just thanked him for his meagre facilities and headed to the bus station, dignity intact. There is a sign on the wall at Kang Travellers lodge  “F*ck the Lonely Planet”, placed there after a particularly bad review. They’re really improving things.

5 hours-ish on the bus was not too bad. Its hardly the stuff of legend, and it was was on super highways. The roads in Malaysia are so much better than the other countries on our route. They put the road network in Ireland to shame also. I read up on Kuala Lumpur (or KL as everyone calls it) and earmarked a few things for us to do. The famous Petronas Towers, the aquarium, the zoo, the planetarium, shopping, blogging, chinatown, downtown KL. We were going to be busy. Chris & Kathrina were to fly to Auckland in a few days but we were to have company for our tourism until then. I’d like to point out that while I was doing all this research my lovely Elaine was having a snooze, as was Kathrina and Chris was heavily engrossed to some computer game about marauding chickens. You just can’t get good help these days….

Robbed from the web

We arrived in KL with a fair notion of where the hostels were located and after 2 or 3 viewings we found ourselves a very nice spot, Casavilla, bang in the middle of the city. The hostel comprised of 3 or 4 old town houses, joined together as one. It had a nice open veranda style lobby, with 2 TVs and sitting areas, 2 pool tables, and stacks of pot noodles. Room rates were pretty reasonable and the whole place seemed well looked after. Happy enough to dump our stuff and head for food, we agreed to reconvene in the lobby in 15 minutes.

Read the sign!

We headed off to Chinatown in search off some lunch and found ourselves on Jalah Petaling. This is chinatown hawker central. Enough fake watches, bags and pirated DVDs to keep the fraud squad tied up ’til Christmas. The restaurants off the sidestreets were overcharging tourists in search of a bargain. Oh sweet irony. A hawker offered me DVDs, which I declined and he enquired as to my nationality (a common trick to keep conversations going). He guessed Scottish, then Irish, which I conceeded. “Ahh, thats why you no want DVDs” and he left us. What is it about the Irish that we dont want DVDs? This one I couldn’t work out. Upstairs next to the greasy foodcourt of a run down shopping mall, we saw our first “Over 18″ internet cafe. There were banks and banks of seats, like an airport boarding gate, and low light, just the monitor glare on the faces of the anoraked (i supposed) ones. Thankfully I had nothing pressing to check my email for.

We ended up eating in MickeyD’s. This is a painful admission from me, so please, no disparaging emails or texts. The blood sugar was low, we were starting to bicker, IT HAD TO BE DONE!

Old and new

After (ahem) lunch, we continued our little stroll through the city, slowly leaving the chinese hoardings behind us, transitioning to high street phamacies, mosques and monorails. Then there were the rather large buildings, banks in the main. We hadn’t seen these close up in quite some time. As we progressed north around KL Park more and more the wealth of KL came into evidence.

Newer and newer

Expensive looking shopping malls, larger newer cars, towers rising on all sides and fancy public transport systems whizzing past us. Upmarket restaurants in the business districts still maintained the look of middle ranking fastfood outfits like TGI Fridays. We had seen this a lot in Asia where American “finesse” is interchangeable with upmarket. Someone really needs to market Paris to the Asians.

Mosque in the city

Razor sharp architecture

Pushing on, through the KLCC business district, we eventually got to within sight of the Petronas towers.

Getting close

Evening was coming on and we elected to keep walking in the hope that on arrival at this KL landmark darkness would have taken hold and it would be lit for all to see. They are immensely proud of the towers in Malaysia and I hoped with good reason. Photographs on the tourist maps look very impressive.

Closer

Wow !!!!! I apologise for the overuse of exclamation marks but holy god!

Closest

Front elevation

I have been to Anghor, to Florence, Rome, Paris. Nothing bowled my over like the Petronas Towers. Fully lit and impossingly close, beautiful, sparkling like a christmas tree. You’d have to be there to know what I mean. The towers are fantastical. They are not even that high (less than 100 floors), but no less lovely for it. We were all quite awestruck, which tells its own story I suppose.

More KLCC

When we finally returned to the hostel, we had been walking around the city for 5 hours. Having hiked for a similar time the day before our feet were killing us but more importantly we were parched. There was nothing else for it but Star Movies, and a few well earned cans of Tiger.

Early morning, 5.30am, the 7-11 on Lebuh Chulia with a pot noodle in one hand and some butter biscuits in the other, I smell the blood of an Irishman (or more precisely, woman). Nobody is up at this time if they are not getting the 6am bus to the Cameron Highlands, and low and behold, doesn’t it prove true. There’s a very chatty Cavan woman by the name of Kathrina and her beau on the bus. It was to be another hour of non stop back and forth banter before I discovered that the beau was actually a German named Handsome Chris. His Cavan English is impeccable!

Kathrina and Handsome Chris

The 4 of us hitched up in the Highlands about 10am and booked into the very basic Kang Travelers lodge and went about finding some Roti Canai and Teh Tarik for breakfast. A quick walk through the town of Tanah Rata disclosed that rather than the  “Highlands Resort” town, as promised by the slick-toed lads at Malaysian Tourism, there was simply nothing here. A few basic restaurants, a bus station, a post office and a few hostels. We were too tired to go hiking today after the early start and bus journey. Unfortunately there really was nothing else to do here. There were tours for RM 98 (ringadingdongs, thank you Chris) that stopped at a vegetable farm, a viewing point, the biggest ugliest blossom in the world and a strawberry farm where wait for it…. you can pick your own strawberries! Imagine that. The ridiculous price meant that not a single backpacker took this tour, when for half the price they probably would have had 6 or 7. So what to do then? We were ready to rock on the morning of day 2 (with a map and everything) but it was still only 1pm and there was nothing to do and nothing to see. Chang has the answer.

chang has the answer

A shocking afternoon of chang, tiger and the blackest of Irish humour ensued, and ensured a good traveling bond between the four of us. There may have been moments when other rather bored looking backpackers looked to join us but we kept the “laughter rule” in place. If you’re not funny you’re not getting in. On account of that our only extra head was Tobias, a little gay Jewish boy. Not that he was terribly funny himself, but in a country that refuses to let Israelis enter, and outlaws homosexuality, the boy truly deserved some kudos. All “Chang”ed out by 9pm and too tired to watch a movie, we all retired early.

The Cameron 4

Up, showered and dressed for the fields we hit the road. Damn it, we need to make a stop for breakfast. The oddest thing about Kang hostel, is that in a town of very little choice, when most of the backpackers are staying at their meagre facilities, they don’t do food. Why sell to ready customers? That’d just be crazy. A rice porridge later, up, showered, dressed for the fields and FED, we hit the road.

There are about 14 numbered and mapped treks in the area. We were following trek 5 to the waterfall, beyond to the watchtower and around the peak of whatever small mountain was closest. Chris couldn’t believe his luck. Kathrina had him convinced that Irish people simply didn’t hike, trek or even walk uphills and as such she was patriotically obliged to refrain from such activities (all the while he was chomping at the bit for a bit of mountain climbing). So the truth was out. There are at least 2 Irish people not afraid to pull a calf muscle or sprain an ankle. Kathrina’s world was in tatters.  To begin with the track follows a nice bricked pathway and I was worrying that it was a stroll we were getting.

At the waterfall

After the waterfall things started to look up. Literally. The climb to the watchtower had a sign saying “Path Closed” but it didn’t exactly have a locked gate. Having decided upon a route we then claimed it as our “Traditional” route and like ants and Orangemen we let nothing deter us in the following of that route, so up we started to climb, and then up some more. Every top was just a resting spot being overlooked by the next hike.  There wasn’t even much of a view, surrounded by trees as we were. With more false dawns than Liverpool FC the hills just kept going up.

It wasn't all this flat, or pretty

We passed the broken down watch tower, that had promised so much, but it was collapsed in a heap, well below the tree horizon. There was no option but to keep on climbing. Lay on Macduff, And damn’d be him that first cries.

Resting or Posing?

The hiking route was fun, lots of roots and fallen trees to cross, mucky stream beds to descend and cross, hill slides to avoid, that sort of thing. We successfully found our peak, and negotiated a descent. A good days wholesome fun. There was but one viewing point along the route, not at the summit either! From here we could see tea plantations, mists and hill chalets like German boarding schools, and though I couldn’t see the tear in his eye I could hear the shake in his voice when Chris asked me for a hug. The poor fella’.

The "View"

We were almost back to town and making our way through somebody’s market garden, specifically eying up the cabbages, when the heavens let loose their fury upon us. It was punishment for the bad jokes thrown at every race and creed over the 5 hours of our trek and we knew we deserved it.

A little rain

Gods wrath tasted good.

We got to Malaysia after a mammoth 15 hours travel from Phangan. A boat and 3 different buses. At Surat Thani one of the travel agents tried a new scam on us. They told us that the Malaysian customs would check that we had at least 300 Malaysian Ringitt with us and would not allow us to enter if we didn’t. The agent could change our Thai baht for us (what decent folk) and 300 MR was 5,500 Baht. What they didn’t know was that we had already checked the exchange rate and knew that 300 MR is 3000 Baht, so they were looking to make 2500 Baht on the transaction (50 Euro). Scammetry indeed. I told them that I didn’t believe them, having read nothing of this rule and they insisted that I would not be allowed in. I told them they could send me back. There was of course no such rule. Scam merchants.

We crossed the Penang bridge at about 9pm. Its a very impressive piece of engineering (designed by a local man) that is a stunning 13.5Km long and joins the island province to the mainland. Penang is the second smallest province but one of the most populous. Georgetown, its capital was a major centre for the British East India Trading Company and so flourished during the 19th century.

Penang Bridge is rather long

We had reservations at Banana Guest house on Lebuh Chulia. When we arrived they were on the street touting the room to other travelers. It was the only room they had left and weren’t going to keep it, as we were nearly 2 hours late. Not a great start. Still they had internet access, people were sitting around eating & reading and looked fairly content so it couldn’t be all bad. They showed us the room. It had a bed. Not one more stick of furniture. The walls were the “click-in” walls of a porta-cabin, a larger room having been divided in 3. Still it was cheap so we weren’t too worried. The shared bathrooms were not the Saviour of banana. 3 cubicles in the mens, all squatter type with the showers directly over them. Where to stand then while showering? No hooks or shelves for towels or clothes, so no real viable way to shower. 2 sinks with mirrors but again, not a bench, shelf or hook. The facilities were totally inadequate. If you are hosteling in a shared bathroom situation, they have to be good. But it was late, we were wrecked so we stayed and slept.

New Banana Guesthouse was inadaquate

First thing the next morning I went on a tour of the other hostels. The fourth I tried, “Crystal” was much better. Western toilets, good hot showers, a mirror and sink in the room, a table and a television with cable. When a lady who worked at Crystal pointed to the boss with the words “Talk to the Fat Man, he’s the boss” we knew we’d take the room. All done early, we  set out to enjoy Georgetown.

The view of Georgetown from Penang Hill

The city has an old grace, dignified despite its incontinence. Character and decrepitude all at once. Clint Eastwood naked. The basic buildings are much grander than those of Vietnam or Thailand. The spaces large and open plan. Deep open drains for the rains (and unfortunately rubbish) line each street and they are not a place you want to slip your foot into. Most of the footpaths are within the buildings, like walking through arch after arch beneath the balconies of the homes above. Modern buildings speckle the outlying areas of the city, like Komtar, the 6th highest in Malaysia where there is a 360 degree view from the bar on the 60th floor.

The Townhall

We explored Little India, with a food guide in hand seeking out the best of everything. Mung bean and coconut milk soup from a recipe handed down through generations, not to be had anywhere else in world. Tuna samaos at the most famous samosa food stall, charcoal toasted bread with Kaya, an egg jam, and Teh Tarik, tea with condensed milk that is “stretched” as it is long -poured between containers. Fantastic foods all available for pennies, and made with a smile.

On Love Lane (named for the Chinese matchmakers who once resided there) we found the “Little Angel Cafe” for traditional Malay foods such as Rice Porridge with toasted sesame oil on top, Laksa  spicy soup with noodles, fish sauce and pineapple gratings. Little Angel also did the best coffee since Vietnam.

Typical Georgetown

We got ourselves on local bus number 204, which took us 10Km into the suburbs to the funicular station at Penang Hill. This is an 850 metre mound in the centre of the island, with great views and Georgetown and its environs. The tickets were 4 MR return, less than a Euro each and the 2 train journey took about 40 minutes including switching tracks.

View from on high

The carriages included women in Burkas, headscarves, shorts, heels, white, Malay, Arab, Chinese. What a huge mix. The impossibly young married Muslim couple next to us on the first journey were very touchy feely which I was gladdened to see but I also noticed what looked like a severe cigarette burn on the inside of her wrist, which looked ominous. Everyone has settled in Penang through the years.

City Centre Mosque

At the Penang State Museum we followed the stories of the Burmese, Ceylonese, Sumatran, Chinese, Indian & British settlers. The growth of a mixed Malay identity with the absorption of so many traditions is the key message in the nicely kept Museum.  The Vietnamese Curators could learn a thing or two from these guys. From the top of the hill the views are fantastic. Watch the city apartment blocks blend into the valleys, reaching out like concrete arteries.

Looking down on Buddha

Temples and Mosques are all visible dotting the hills, and one of each sit atop the hill itself. The bridge disappears off to the distant mainland at Butterworth and the bigger boats wait patiently beneath for their turn to pass. Its such a simple little attraction, a funicular and a view but it cost a few pence and seemed a lovely way to spend the afternoon.

At a Hindu Temple on Penang Hill

We walked to an Aviary Garden at a hotel on the hill and saw lots of exotic birds, but felt terrible after paying in and helping to enclose the lovely birds. They were kept in small enclosures and were clearly going demented. They place was also infested with large mice scurrying here and there about there business. They were quite entertaining.

There are interesting buildings and histories dotted around the city. Fort Cornwallis is the original British Administration centre on Penang. A star shaped fort on the north easterly headland, the town of Georgetown stretches out from this focal point.

At Fort Cornwallis

There is not a lot of it left, but they have restored the walls and there is a fair attempt to tell the story of the birth of Georgetown. The day we walked around was incredibly hot and the aircon in the old cells (now the display rooms) wasn’t working which made it very difficult to follow the history. We noted a lots of crows crowing in the area of the fort. We hadn’t heard one since leaving Ireland over 3 months before and wondered why here? in this bastion of British Colonialism?

-Old Bean, What say we discharge a few rounds in the grounds of the Fort?

-But Dear Boy, we are in Georgetown,  it is frowned upon to shoot the natives.

-JEEVES!

-Yes Sir.

-Send for crows, dispatch the ship immediately. We shall civilise this country yet!

The Clock Tower

The Victoria Clock Tower stands 60 metres high, next to the fort, in commemoration of Queen Vicki’s 50th year.

There is a lot to Georgetown when initially it could be easy to brush it off. Go looking for Canni Roti and Nasi Goreng. Drink Jaz beer. Follow the street food. Relax.  Eat in Halal restaurants and discover they are no different. Allow yourself to wonder how so many communities seem to happily live side by side. Watch out for the big ass spiders.