I am in a tourist shuttle bus to Kuta
listening to Arcade Fire on the iPod,
feeling a ridiculous sense of pride about live in Montreal
This huge massive feeling of well-being about my hometown
Yes, home. town.
That crazy island city with its schizophrenic weather, great bands, friendly people, mix of old and new, mass-manufactured and local craft, uber-cool uber-kitsch, amazing friends and great memories. I look forward to making more.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
MALaria
The whole machismo surrounding malaria amongst travelers is simultaneously amusing and scary. So many people have asked, challengingly, if I am frightened of it. How weak and stupid would I be in their eyes to say yes? The fact is that I am not worried about it as I am taking anti-malarials. Which many people scoff at, certainly in some places. However, I would rather take my Malarone and have less chance of getting malaria than be hard, not even wear repellent, and wait and see what else than some unsightly, itchy bites might come my way.
Ao Nang nightmares and Railay chillaxin'
After a lengthy bus journey from Malaysia through the troubled town of Hat Yai and into Krabi, where delicious night-market food eased my soul, the beaches were calling. First stop was Ao Nang, and what a mistake it was! Like the Costa del Sol on steroids, the small town heaved with tourists of many persuasions but mainly the lumpy, swollen-red variety with obnoxious behaviour and rather too much flesh on display. However the hotel room was nice – own balcony and huge bed for 400 Baht – one positive thing (although I did lose my hair brush there, quite a calamity!)
The infamous Phi Phi (say 'pee pee' and you have it right) islands are nearby – think The Beach – but ended up going to Railay Beach instead, a short longtail ride from Ao Nang but a world away. There are resorts there, but far fewer and the place has a much more laid-back feel. Here I met Joe and Erik – Canadian and American respectively who had met in the Philippines and decided to reunite in Thailand. Still traveling with Edwin, we made quite a group and many fun times were had; drinking at various bars, making trek-worthy crossings to a nearby beach (basically a combination of rock climbing and hiking over a jungley hill in the dusk, then clambouring back again drunk and sweaty), making friends with a group of Spanish girls, two very philandering Portuguese brothers and two more Canadians. As the time came to leave, the four of is decided to continue on together to Khao Sok, one of Thailand's National Parks that promised yet more adventurous times.
Khao Sok was far quieter and much sweatier than Railay and, as it was right there, we decided to go on a jungle trek. Having only my flip-flops and trainers, I thought I'd go along anyway, and it was fun! Some of the paths were really slippery (made even more so on the way back by a rain storm) and at times I was worried I'd slip and fall down the steep hillside on the other side of the narrow, sloppy path, but luckily I didn't/ The two Dutch girls we went with were rather dry but pretty nifty on the trail – unlike me who was much slower and got 'attacked' by about 10 leaches, many flies and massive coughing fits. The phlegm-ridden hacking cough I'd had since just before Georgetown was not letting up and it really hindered my breathing. One massage and a nice meal later, however, and it didn't hinder me from enjoying a cheeky spliff among friends...one that set me off an an almost hallucinogenic trip.
While everyone else was talking I started, at some point, to listen to the noises of the creatures around us and tried to pinpoint where they all came from. This then turned into a very very calm state of what amounted to near bliss and a huge sense of well-being and shininess surrounded me. Apparently when I spoke it was so quietly and mumbled that no-one else understood me (nothing new there then!) but I felt so in touch with my breathing and the frog and insect noises all about that the whole thing was like a magical orchestra playing... this then turned into some sort of epiphany moment when I came to realise that there are some things in my life I have to stop worrying about because they are fulfilled and instead put energy into focusing on getting where I want to go and start believing more in myself and that I can do these things I dream of. At the time it seemed so achievable, and now...well, a little less so but still there. I guess the real challenge is making that all work in the 'real' world with all its distractions and issues.
The next day we were all exhausted and decided to have a movie marathon, starting with the Mission Impossible series (not much on offer in Khao Sok). Due to the lack of a remote control and inability to switch languages it was watched in Thai with okay English subtitles but # 2 & 3 were unavailable for viewing. Not to be out-done, we wandered the tiny village looking for another place with a DVD player. To no avail. Many shops and bars there were open-air and just left open and unmanned.. Lovely that they are able to do that with so much trust but a little strange when you want to try to talk to someone but no-one is there so you sit at an empty bar for 10 minutes until one of the village dogs comes to sniff at you to see if you are still alive. More DVDs were procured, and Crank was first on the list. The sound was terrible but there were English subtitles too, and they were absolutely hilarious! So many terrible errors that we were often in stitches on the sweaty pleather sofa, trying desperately to cool off with numerous bottles of water and sparkling citrus beverage. Pointlessly. In Thailand (in April at least) the sweat just pours off you and you feel constantly hot. Even under a cold shower. Oh well, only another 2 months of sweltering, humid-ridden weather for me!
The infamous Phi Phi (say 'pee pee' and you have it right) islands are nearby – think The Beach – but ended up going to Railay Beach instead, a short longtail ride from Ao Nang but a world away. There are resorts there, but far fewer and the place has a much more laid-back feel. Here I met Joe and Erik – Canadian and American respectively who had met in the Philippines and decided to reunite in Thailand. Still traveling with Edwin, we made quite a group and many fun times were had; drinking at various bars, making trek-worthy crossings to a nearby beach (basically a combination of rock climbing and hiking over a jungley hill in the dusk, then clambouring back again drunk and sweaty), making friends with a group of Spanish girls, two very philandering Portuguese brothers and two more Canadians. As the time came to leave, the four of is decided to continue on together to Khao Sok, one of Thailand's National Parks that promised yet more adventurous times.
Khao Sok was far quieter and much sweatier than Railay and, as it was right there, we decided to go on a jungle trek. Having only my flip-flops and trainers, I thought I'd go along anyway, and it was fun! Some of the paths were really slippery (made even more so on the way back by a rain storm) and at times I was worried I'd slip and fall down the steep hillside on the other side of the narrow, sloppy path, but luckily I didn't/ The two Dutch girls we went with were rather dry but pretty nifty on the trail – unlike me who was much slower and got 'attacked' by about 10 leaches, many flies and massive coughing fits. The phlegm-ridden hacking cough I'd had since just before Georgetown was not letting up and it really hindered my breathing. One massage and a nice meal later, however, and it didn't hinder me from enjoying a cheeky spliff among friends...one that set me off an an almost hallucinogenic trip.
While everyone else was talking I started, at some point, to listen to the noises of the creatures around us and tried to pinpoint where they all came from. This then turned into a very very calm state of what amounted to near bliss and a huge sense of well-being and shininess surrounded me. Apparently when I spoke it was so quietly and mumbled that no-one else understood me (nothing new there then!) but I felt so in touch with my breathing and the frog and insect noises all about that the whole thing was like a magical orchestra playing... this then turned into some sort of epiphany moment when I came to realise that there are some things in my life I have to stop worrying about because they are fulfilled and instead put energy into focusing on getting where I want to go and start believing more in myself and that I can do these things I dream of. At the time it seemed so achievable, and now...well, a little less so but still there. I guess the real challenge is making that all work in the 'real' world with all its distractions and issues.
The next day we were all exhausted and decided to have a movie marathon, starting with the Mission Impossible series (not much on offer in Khao Sok). Due to the lack of a remote control and inability to switch languages it was watched in Thai with okay English subtitles but # 2 & 3 were unavailable for viewing. Not to be out-done, we wandered the tiny village looking for another place with a DVD player. To no avail. Many shops and bars there were open-air and just left open and unmanned.. Lovely that they are able to do that with so much trust but a little strange when you want to try to talk to someone but no-one is there so you sit at an empty bar for 10 minutes until one of the village dogs comes to sniff at you to see if you are still alive. More DVDs were procured, and Crank was first on the list. The sound was terrible but there were English subtitles too, and they were absolutely hilarious! So many terrible errors that we were often in stitches on the sweaty pleather sofa, trying desperately to cool off with numerous bottles of water and sparkling citrus beverage. Pointlessly. In Thailand (in April at least) the sweat just pours off you and you feel constantly hot. Even under a cold shower. Oh well, only another 2 months of sweltering, humid-ridden weather for me!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Border Crossing - Stop 10, Thailand
Penang, like Perhentian Kecil, is an island. However, this one is much bigger and connected to the mainland by a bridge. It took about 6 hours to get there, and within 10 minutes the rain started. I have never seen anything like it – the rain drops were thick and fat like in Brazil but unlike there, it was not over in 15 minutes. The streets were flooded very quickly, starting at about 10 cm from the curb but soon spreading out until the whole street was covered in a thick (say 1 foot) layer of water. Cars drove into monsoon drains, people splashed through in flip-flops, tried to shelter under umbrellas or newspapers, vehicles made waves as they drove through this newly created river.
Georgetown, like Melaka, is a melting pot of different cultures. There is a strong Chinese influence here but also Indians as well as the Malays. This means that the food is, yet again, pretty delicious. Venturing out to small street stalls you can enjoy a range of curries, rice and vegetable dishes. The best place to eat, yet again, was the night market. This time it was covered (useful with the rain) and came with live entertainment! The first night I chose laksa aram, a spicy, sour soup with fish paste – delicious! I followed this up with some great dim-sum, the best of which was thick slices of pork in a tangy yet sweet sauce, the whole melting in your mouth, washed down with beer brought to you by the beer ladies: the Carling lady wears a Carling outfit, the Guinness lady is robed in a black t-shirt emblazoned with their logo, etc. As the night progresses, the man playing a mixture of English and Chinese crooner songs on the keyboard is joined by various couples dancing different ballroom-type dances on a make-shift dance floor in front of the Western Food stall and some diners.
After nearly getting locked into a temple complex and thinking I would have to sleep on the backs of the hundreds (no exaggeration) of turtles in their pond, I get back to the heart of Georgetown and my passport is back from the Thai Embassy, visa in there like the prized fruit stickers of my youth. The next morning, I am on a bus to Thailand...a very full bus. The ride only cost R55 and was full to the brim. The diminuitive storage area in the back was packed with backpacks, the seats were full with packages and every other available seat was taken by someone. There were two other tourists (from the UK) and everyone else was Thai. At the border we all got out and the farang were questioned about whether they enjoyed Malaysia while waiting in line to have passports stamped out. Then back in the van across no-man's land to Thailand, where all of a sudden there were no real orderly lines or rules – want to line up at the drive through counter? No problem. Want to push in front of white people at the walk-in counter? But of course!
Once in Hat Yai we transferred to another bus that took us to Krabi that also seemed to act like a local bus and dropped people and packages off at houses along small country roads. I no longer understood any of the road signs or adverts – although the Roman alphabet is sometimes used in Thailand, they usually use their own which looks beautiful but is completely incomprehensible to me. Oddly enough, it sometimes looks almost square, like Russian or Korean, and other times far more ornate and flowery. A tonal language, I find it harder to pick up than Malay or Indonesian, but it is early days yet, the rain was left behind in Hat Yai and the beach of Ao Nang awaits tomorrow. First, off to find Krabi's night market for the best yet cheapest eats!
Georgetown, like Melaka, is a melting pot of different cultures. There is a strong Chinese influence here but also Indians as well as the Malays. This means that the food is, yet again, pretty delicious. Venturing out to small street stalls you can enjoy a range of curries, rice and vegetable dishes. The best place to eat, yet again, was the night market. This time it was covered (useful with the rain) and came with live entertainment! The first night I chose laksa aram, a spicy, sour soup with fish paste – delicious! I followed this up with some great dim-sum, the best of which was thick slices of pork in a tangy yet sweet sauce, the whole melting in your mouth, washed down with beer brought to you by the beer ladies: the Carling lady wears a Carling outfit, the Guinness lady is robed in a black t-shirt emblazoned with their logo, etc. As the night progresses, the man playing a mixture of English and Chinese crooner songs on the keyboard is joined by various couples dancing different ballroom-type dances on a make-shift dance floor in front of the Western Food stall and some diners.
After nearly getting locked into a temple complex and thinking I would have to sleep on the backs of the hundreds (no exaggeration) of turtles in their pond, I get back to the heart of Georgetown and my passport is back from the Thai Embassy, visa in there like the prized fruit stickers of my youth. The next morning, I am on a bus to Thailand...a very full bus. The ride only cost R55 and was full to the brim. The diminuitive storage area in the back was packed with backpacks, the seats were full with packages and every other available seat was taken by someone. There were two other tourists (from the UK) and everyone else was Thai. At the border we all got out and the farang were questioned about whether they enjoyed Malaysia while waiting in line to have passports stamped out. Then back in the van across no-man's land to Thailand, where all of a sudden there were no real orderly lines or rules – want to line up at the drive through counter? No problem. Want to push in front of white people at the walk-in counter? But of course!
Once in Hat Yai we transferred to another bus that took us to Krabi that also seemed to act like a local bus and dropped people and packages off at houses along small country roads. I no longer understood any of the road signs or adverts – although the Roman alphabet is sometimes used in Thailand, they usually use their own which looks beautiful but is completely incomprehensible to me. Oddly enough, it sometimes looks almost square, like Russian or Korean, and other times far more ornate and flowery. A tonal language, I find it harder to pick up than Malay or Indonesian, but it is early days yet, the rain was left behind in Hat Yai and the beach of Ao Nang awaits tomorrow. First, off to find Krabi's night market for the best yet cheapest eats!
Island Life
You know you've left your troubles behind when you're genuinely surprised to discover what day it is. After the historic city of Melaka and the cool heights of the Cameron Highlands, the Perhentians seem a whole world away, not just on the other side of the Malaysian Peninsula. Melaka was exceedingly humid, with raging thunderstorms a regular occurrence. Although Kuala Lumpur is a big city, a few days there was more than enough. Melaka, by contrast, is smaller but far older and it would be easier to spend longer there. Like a popular girl at a party, Melaka has been invaded and fought over for centuries – the Portuguese, Dutch and British all wanted a piece of this strategically placed pie. This in turn means that there's a wealth of historical artifacts just waiting to be uncovered by the next shopping centre erection or hotel complex development.
Museums abound, some more interesting than others. I suggest you skip the Museum of Education and head instead to the Museum of Enduring Beauty (intriguing collection about body enhancements through times and place) or take a boat ride down the river to Kampung Morten where you can see original Malay homes on stilts. Melaka also boasts a very picturesque China Town and great food abounds. Really, truly great. My culinary adventures were aided in no small way by meeting Edwin, a Dutch traveler staying at the same hostel. He had met a genuinely friendly, amazing local by the name of Carol on his bus journey to the city from KL. She took him out to many delicious eateries, generally unknown to tourists. I tagged along. The discoveries were delectable...the one rule was to try everything, My utter favourite was the soursop cendol: shaved ice covered in soursop (custard apple), some lychees, and cubes of gorgeous pink (rose) and green (apple I think) jelly. Utterly, absolutely amazing.
Is it wrong to have memories of a place so linked to food? To meeting great people, drinking later into the night and playing...a board game you never won and don't know the name of? Moving on from Melaka, three of us realised we were headed in the same direction – the Cameron Highlands – and the bus trek out started. At about 1500m, the Highlands are a cool respite from the hear of the low-lying cities. A colonial favourite, the area is replete with incongruous bungalows and mock Tudor apartment complexes, looking like a strange combination of Swiss-Austrian ski resort and silly architecture.
However, the towns are not what people usually go there for. There are rain forest jungle treks nearby, not to mention tea plantations, strawberry gardens and butterfly farms. A bit apprehensive about a jungle trek, I actually really enjoyed it, despite the rubber shoes I was given being too big, allowing mud and water to seep in. Assured there were no leaches there, I was apparently 'lucky' to find one on my finger...not sure if it came from the jungle or swimming in a very cold, refreshing waterfall pool. The trek took about 3-4 hours in total and I got to see the biggest flower in the world! It was quite fantastic...a bright orangey pinky red, its petals seemed like plastic or something unnatural with an anenome-like centre probing up to the sky. I had heard that the plant stinks (to attract insects for pollination) but the only thing I got an iffy whiff off was me!
And now I am on the the islands. Perhentian Kecil (the small island) to be exact. Edwin & I are still traveling together as our routes, for the time being, are very similar. It is odd to have someone to talk to and share experiences after traveling alone, and of course nice to not feel so isolated and be able to go and have a drink more easily and feel more secure in some places. The first day on Perhentian Kecil involved a 10 minute walk through slippery mud from one side of the island to the other to get to Long Beach – a stretch of white sand before warm turquoise water. Well, it would have been...but about 30 minutes after arriving the rain started, and didn't stop for more than an hour or so for over 24 hours. Taking shelter inside a bar that first night, Edwin & I met the bar (and local dive shop owner) in addition to 4 other guys drinking there, all Malaysian. Being plyed with free beers and a large plastic container of 'Island Baileys': whiskey with coffee and something that tasted vaguely chocolately, words flowed freely (if rather disjointedly).
After the rain yesterday, upon waking today it was clear and sunny – a last day gift it seemed! I decided to go diving but due to the recent rains visibility was not too great. However, there were lots of coral, fish, and even blue-spotted mantas to see! My second dive was rather marred by having a headache, my mask fogging up and weights being maladjusted, though I did manage to spot an unusual, bright blue creature down in the deeps. Yes... a plastic bag.
Museums abound, some more interesting than others. I suggest you skip the Museum of Education and head instead to the Museum of Enduring Beauty (intriguing collection about body enhancements through times and place) or take a boat ride down the river to Kampung Morten where you can see original Malay homes on stilts. Melaka also boasts a very picturesque China Town and great food abounds. Really, truly great. My culinary adventures were aided in no small way by meeting Edwin, a Dutch traveler staying at the same hostel. He had met a genuinely friendly, amazing local by the name of Carol on his bus journey to the city from KL. She took him out to many delicious eateries, generally unknown to tourists. I tagged along. The discoveries were delectable...the one rule was to try everything, My utter favourite was the soursop cendol: shaved ice covered in soursop (custard apple), some lychees, and cubes of gorgeous pink (rose) and green (apple I think) jelly. Utterly, absolutely amazing.
Is it wrong to have memories of a place so linked to food? To meeting great people, drinking later into the night and playing...a board game you never won and don't know the name of? Moving on from Melaka, three of us realised we were headed in the same direction – the Cameron Highlands – and the bus trek out started. At about 1500m, the Highlands are a cool respite from the hear of the low-lying cities. A colonial favourite, the area is replete with incongruous bungalows and mock Tudor apartment complexes, looking like a strange combination of Swiss-Austrian ski resort and silly architecture.
However, the towns are not what people usually go there for. There are rain forest jungle treks nearby, not to mention tea plantations, strawberry gardens and butterfly farms. A bit apprehensive about a jungle trek, I actually really enjoyed it, despite the rubber shoes I was given being too big, allowing mud and water to seep in. Assured there were no leaches there, I was apparently 'lucky' to find one on my finger...not sure if it came from the jungle or swimming in a very cold, refreshing waterfall pool. The trek took about 3-4 hours in total and I got to see the biggest flower in the world! It was quite fantastic...a bright orangey pinky red, its petals seemed like plastic or something unnatural with an anenome-like centre probing up to the sky. I had heard that the plant stinks (to attract insects for pollination) but the only thing I got an iffy whiff off was me!
And now I am on the the islands. Perhentian Kecil (the small island) to be exact. Edwin & I are still traveling together as our routes, for the time being, are very similar. It is odd to have someone to talk to and share experiences after traveling alone, and of course nice to not feel so isolated and be able to go and have a drink more easily and feel more secure in some places. The first day on Perhentian Kecil involved a 10 minute walk through slippery mud from one side of the island to the other to get to Long Beach – a stretch of white sand before warm turquoise water. Well, it would have been...but about 30 minutes after arriving the rain started, and didn't stop for more than an hour or so for over 24 hours. Taking shelter inside a bar that first night, Edwin & I met the bar (and local dive shop owner) in addition to 4 other guys drinking there, all Malaysian. Being plyed with free beers and a large plastic container of 'Island Baileys': whiskey with coffee and something that tasted vaguely chocolately, words flowed freely (if rather disjointedly).
After the rain yesterday, upon waking today it was clear and sunny – a last day gift it seemed! I decided to go diving but due to the recent rains visibility was not too great. However, there were lots of coral, fish, and even blue-spotted mantas to see! My second dive was rather marred by having a headache, my mask fogging up and weights being maladjusted, though I did manage to spot an unusual, bright blue creature down in the deeps. Yes... a plastic bag.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Kuala Lumpur, stop 9
Malaysia is very different compared to Bali. (I know there's a better way to structure that but it eludes me at the moment). Arriving at about 1:30am on a plane with only 12 passengers, of which only 2 got off at KL and only one had luggage, was a surreal experience. Walking through a nearly deserted airport that usually has a whole load of passengers, I felt like a character in some odd film.
The bliss of a 5* airline (Qatar) journey to Kuala Lumpur and the joys of my own plush airport hotel bedroom - with clean white sheets, hundreds of pillows, and a sink that didn't drain directly on to the floor, not to mention a toilet you don't have to flush with a bucket - was almost overwhelming.
I chose Kuala Lumpur over Singapore for my entry to the mainland of South East Asia primarily on the fact that I have had a rather giggly fascination with its name since childhood. Lumpy Koala...Oompa Lumpas...what would this city be like? I arrived in the city itself around noon - the worst time to be hauling a backpack around. Only 5 degrees north of the equator, KL is extremely humid and thunderstorms brew on the horizon on at least a daily basis. Hair literally drenched with sweat, I finally decided upon a very cheap, bohemianish hostel in ChinaTown. Costing only R10 per night, this non-assuming pink building holds three floors of dorms and private rooms in addition to a rooftop terrace where they feed you for free. There are fish tanks at the reception area and (fake) flowers all over the place - a little kitsch but far nicer than the prison-like concrete horrors in the area.
A walk along the 'river' (read confluence of murky brown water) turned into meeting an oldish Indian man called Sanjan who proceeded to regale me with his thoughts on life - went from practicing Hindu to money chaser to worrying about the environment, although he threw his litter all over the place - and feeding me with various Indian snacks. He took it upon himself to be my guide and walked with me to the National Mosque and Lake Gardens. I partially considered his offer of staying with him in Ipoh (Cameron Highlands, north of KL) until his tales turned to sex and how, although he and his wife are separated, many women come to his house because he "likes romance". I got the impression he maybe paid for it sometimes, but I really didn't want to ask; he was giving enough detail as it was! Nothing really lewd mind, just a bit...odd coming from this large, ungainly, elderly man.
Malaysians, on the whole, are less friendly than the Balinese. My smiling "Selamat pagi"s are either treated suspiciously or ignored, and people don't ask you the tens of questions you get in Bali, other than men of different ages. In fact this morning, at a train station, I asked a man for directions. He proceeded to walk with me towards an underground walkway...not great but was the only way I could go. He turned to me and said what sounded like "takking". At my confused response, he announced "keys". Still with no idea what he meant I told him I didn't understand. "Keys, keys" he squawked, then it all sank in as he proffered his fat, pock-marked face to me, lips puckered in preparation. My flustered laughter made his eyelids flutter open. "Keys" he said again, taking my hand. Despite his telling me to relax, I extricated my hand and he tried again - 10/10 for effort but really... His scowl as he wobbled away angered me, but then I remembered what one of the stewards on the plane had told me. Single women, as well as men, come to these countries looking for some action. Seems money doesn't make the world go round after all.
The bliss of a 5* airline (Qatar) journey to Kuala Lumpur and the joys of my own plush airport hotel bedroom - with clean white sheets, hundreds of pillows, and a sink that didn't drain directly on to the floor, not to mention a toilet you don't have to flush with a bucket - was almost overwhelming.
I chose Kuala Lumpur over Singapore for my entry to the mainland of South East Asia primarily on the fact that I have had a rather giggly fascination with its name since childhood. Lumpy Koala...Oompa Lumpas...what would this city be like? I arrived in the city itself around noon - the worst time to be hauling a backpack around. Only 5 degrees north of the equator, KL is extremely humid and thunderstorms brew on the horizon on at least a daily basis. Hair literally drenched with sweat, I finally decided upon a very cheap, bohemianish hostel in ChinaTown. Costing only R10 per night, this non-assuming pink building holds three floors of dorms and private rooms in addition to a rooftop terrace where they feed you for free. There are fish tanks at the reception area and (fake) flowers all over the place - a little kitsch but far nicer than the prison-like concrete horrors in the area.
A walk along the 'river' (read confluence of murky brown water) turned into meeting an oldish Indian man called Sanjan who proceeded to regale me with his thoughts on life - went from practicing Hindu to money chaser to worrying about the environment, although he threw his litter all over the place - and feeding me with various Indian snacks. He took it upon himself to be my guide and walked with me to the National Mosque and Lake Gardens. I partially considered his offer of staying with him in Ipoh (Cameron Highlands, north of KL) until his tales turned to sex and how, although he and his wife are separated, many women come to his house because he "likes romance". I got the impression he maybe paid for it sometimes, but I really didn't want to ask; he was giving enough detail as it was! Nothing really lewd mind, just a bit...odd coming from this large, ungainly, elderly man.
Malaysians, on the whole, are less friendly than the Balinese. My smiling "Selamat pagi"s are either treated suspiciously or ignored, and people don't ask you the tens of questions you get in Bali, other than men of different ages. In fact this morning, at a train station, I asked a man for directions. He proceeded to walk with me towards an underground walkway...not great but was the only way I could go. He turned to me and said what sounded like "takking". At my confused response, he announced "keys". Still with no idea what he meant I told him I didn't understand. "Keys, keys" he squawked, then it all sank in as he proffered his fat, pock-marked face to me, lips puckered in preparation. My flustered laughter made his eyelids flutter open. "Keys" he said again, taking my hand. Despite his telling me to relax, I extricated my hand and he tried again - 10/10 for effort but really... His scowl as he wobbled away angered me, but then I remembered what one of the stewards on the plane had told me. Single women, as well as men, come to these countries looking for some action. Seems money doesn't make the world go round after all.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
March 26: Nyepi
Balinese New Year starts with an Ogo Ogo dance parade through the main street of Kuta. In addition to the gamelan-type music played, men and boys enact stories (I think) through dance and parade huge effigies of gods and demons through the town on wooden pallets - carried by approximately 14 teenagers. I started the evening at the end of the parade, where the dance competition takes place, but the crowds were so thick that the only way to really see anything was on other people's video cameras. After waiting close to 2 hours to see so little I was happy that the night before I'd happened upon a rehearsal of one local group's effort to win the contest.
On the walk back to the hotel I met Barrie, a very interesting character and chatted for a few hours. He was very inspiring and friendly and it was so nice to talk with someone who wasn't trying to sell me sunglasses or get me to go on the back of their motorbike.
Now it is officially Nyepi, otherwise known as Silent Day because everyone stays at home and is meant to be quiet: not silent as the can talk, but are not meant to make undue noise. The thing is, that as usual, tourists are not playing by the rules. It is currently about midday. I am staying in a very cheap hotel with 3 storeys of rooms laid out around a miniscule central courtyard. From one upstairs room is the noise of people watching one loud movie, and from another two others are playing their iPod on it's loudest possible setting, possibly through speakers. It is so disrespectful, so maddening. Nyepi is all about having a quiet time for contemplation - of the year that's passed and the one to come.
It's funny and infuriating how unable we are to live even 24 hours without some external noise to entertain us. How scared we are of where our minds might go unaided, or, even worse, bored. The power of the TV has never ceased to amaze me in that respect. There are people who cannot resist, if it is sitting there, to turn it on and tune out. Then the oblivion starts. This automatic urge to plug ourselves in really gets to me, especially because whoever else is in the same room is then subjected to the same interference. But, as with everything else in life, it seems that those who are more considerate of others are going to get trampled on in some way or another by those who are not.
Yet another film's blargh blare is heard from above. It seems Silent Day won't be that silent after all.
postscript:
Later that afternoon I met a fantastic girl staying at the same hotel and we stayed up in the darkness talking, talking, laughing, being shown upstairs to see the stars and all in all having a great time! Hushed, but great：）
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