I mentioned in my last post that the chikenz and I undertook a train trip from Singapore to Butterworth. I should mention that in hindsight the trip was not actually that bad.
Yes, this post is partly in response to the chikenz having read the previous post, but, as they say in the classics, it’s based on a true story. We started in Singapore at the Woodlands Station and with our train departing at 8:45, we had to arrive at least 30 minutes early in order to clear customs and immigration.
The chikenz was rather excited by all this, largely because there was a dog involved. The dog was a sniffer dog that we saw through a glass window as we were lining up for customs. The chikenz is extremely fond of dogs and pointed excitedly to the rather feeble looking black labrabor sitting patiently next to its handler. I agreed with a straight face that it would indeed be wonderful to be sniffed by a dog, but over the next forty minutes or so as e wound our way through two sets of immigration official, one set of customs official, the railway platform staff and the railway train staff, we never saw that dog again. I contemplated explaining to the chikenz that the dog was not in fact a sniffer dog after all, but was a stew dog and that we would have the opportunity to meet him close-up in small heatproof containers. I am pleased to report that I resisted this urge.
The chikenz had originally wanted to book us on the cheapest train tickets available. This would appear to have been about three classes below economy class, in abject-poverty-class. The chikenz claimed that it would be an adventure and would be a way of getting to know what Malaysia was really like. I countered that this was discriminatory against those Malaysians that chose to fly to Penang rather than catch a train. Especially those Malaysians that chose to fly business class. I challenged her to set aside her prejudices and really connect with those business-class-flying-Malaysians that she had hitherto scorned. The chikenz gave me one of those looks that the chikenz excels in giving and we agreed that we would catch the train, but would travel in first class.
I have travelled by train in Japan quite a bit, on occasion over quite long distances. The most notable of which was a journey from Tokyo to Hiroshima that began with a rather extraordinary trip on the N’ex.
I can report that the similarities between the Japanese Shinkansen and the Malaysian Ekspres do not extend particularly far. They are certainly both trains in the broadest sense of the word. They both cover rather large distances too. However the shinkansen is sparklingly clean, incredibly fast and remarkably smooth. Travelling across the Japanese countryside at nearly 300 kmh, there is really no perception of the speed. The noise is a background hum and the train sits comfortable steady, the only time the motion of the train is really apparent is as you pass through one of the sweeping bends that gently sway you toward one side of the carriage. That, or one of the long, long tunnels that you pass through which reflect the noise and provide a close up of the tunnel walls that remove all the tricks that parallax plays in lulling you into a sense that you are really not going that fast after all.
The Ekspres is not like this. Not at all.
Malaysia is an exciting and interesting place. It’s not as poor as say the Philippines or Vietnam or even Indonesia. In many ways it’s quite developed and in certain regards the peer of any country in the world. Visit the Petronus Towers in Kuala Lumpur for example and you would be hard pressed to nominate a more impressive structure anywhere in the world. It boasts all the luxury brands and a sophisticated and diverse clientele.
On the other hand, Malaysia is clearly not as wealthy as Singapore. The difference when you cross the border from Singapore into Johor Bahru (universally known simply as JB by Singaporeans and Malaysians alike) is quite stark. While it’s hard to think of much that exists in Singapore that doesn’t exist in Malaysia – there are gleaming buildings, beautiful gardens, sophisticated technology and all the other trappings of big cities in both – it’s the universality of these things in Singapore that makes all the difference. It’s difficult to find a run down building in Singapore or a beat up car. Even street hawkers, those guys that would once have sold you a dodgy satay stick on the side of the road, have all been rounded up, trained, licenced and assigned shiny new, permanent premises in controlled environments patrolled by health inspectors and the tourist police all working very efficiently to ensure that no one is poisoned or overcharged for said satay stick. In Malaysia they just sell you a dodgy satay stick from the side of the road.
The Ekspres runs through Malaysian jungles and shanty towns and through seemingly endless palm oil plantations. There are often huge, green mountains in the distance and there are often fields of crops that I can’t identify.
The train itself reminds you of what train travel used to be like. And I mean that in both a good and a bad sense. Food service is a guy in car 2 selling dodgy satay sticks and mystery curry on rice. There is no in-seat entertainment, no Ekspres Traveller’s magazine and no complimentary hand towels.
We did receive a complimentary bottle of water and an item labelled as “Sardine Bun”.
A trip between carriages, say to get to the guy selling satay stacks, involves a rather thrilling view of the ground below as you move between carriages. The door in the vestibule at either end of the train says “Do not open while the train is in motion.” It says this above the door that is chocked open too. It says “Danger” on the door that houses some sort of electrical equipment. Various switches and wires and fuses and so forth can be seen as the door bangs open and closed. We finally arrived at our destination at 9:30pm and by 9:40pm I was being systematically ripped off by a taxi driver who appears to have charged me a day’s salary for a 40 minute taxi ride. It turns out that a day’s salary is about AUD40, so both of us were happy. My cabby got a handy bonus at the end of a long day and I got to my hotel where I could cheerfully lose consciousness.
Thursday 22 September 2011
Wednesday 21 September 2011
Train, Planes and Holidays
I am currently on holiday in Malaysia. If I were so inclined to use the scare quotations that seem to have proliferated recently as a lazy method of designating irony, I would use them around the word “holiday”. There, I’ve gone and done it anyway.
My holiday has been tacked on to the end of a business trip. For various reasons, none of which are very interesting to you, dear reader, a week’s worth of business commitment was cancelled. The week of commitments was to come at the end of a business trip to Japan. The chikenz has, of late, decided that I need a holiday and this proved to be the ideal opportunity. We agreed that I would extend my stop-over in Singapore, the chikenz would fly in to meet me and we would take a holiday.
The chikenz announced that this was to be my holiday. We would design this holiday entirely around ensuring that I enjoyed myself, relaxed and generally had a very good time. Although this approach made me slightly nervous, we set about planning. The chikenz asked me to describe my ideal holiday. It’s a fun exercise imagining you perfect holiday. I encourage you to think about it for yourself and post the details of your perfect holiday in the comments. To start you off, I’ll tell you about mine. In some detail.
My perfect holiday involves a warm place. Not too warm mind, but reasonably so. Temperatures in the mid to high 20s would be nice. An occasional venture into the low 30s would be tolerated. A temperate suitable for wearing shorts, but equally acceptable should one prefer long trousers. There is water involved in this holiday, but only for the purpose of viewing. I can see the water from my holiday spot you see. The water is unlikely to be the ocean, so I guess that means it’s a lake or a river. Either will do.
My holiday is largely set in a comfortable, old-fashioned sort of hotel. One with a large, shady verandah overlooking an ever-so-slightly overgrown garden, and beyond that, the aforementioned water. It probably has wicker chairs. The chairs have overstuffed cushions. The cushions are white, or cream in colour. There are tables too. They’re probably wicker as well.
My holiday hotel is over-staffed. There are far too many for the job at hand. This may be because labour is so cheap in the country where my holiday is set. The net result of all this is that there are at least two members of the staff standing to attention on the verandah even when there are no actual customers at hand. The arrival of customers would generally call for the arrival of reinforcements to the staff. The staffing arrangements mean that I never have to wait for the attention of a member of staff. I need only look toward where a member of staff should be, I will find that they are indeed where they should be, they will notice that I am looking toward them, approach and quietly ask what I would like. Apart from that, they won’t bother me.
Apart from the wait-staff, my hotel has at its disposal an impressive array of experts in mixing all kinds of drinks, pouring beer or preparing local snacks that I find unusual but delicious. My hotel not only tolerates my smoking habit, they actively facilitate it.
My hotel offers an astonishing list of activities each morning. Perhaps I will be presented with the opportunity to go trekking through local rainforests, climbing mountains, learning new water skills – perhaps skiing of snorkelling or some such thing, perhaps I will even be able to go sky-diving or bungy jumping. Each morning I will review the list of activities scheduled for that day, I will politely decline all of them and elect to sit of the verandah and read. In the afternoon, quite early, I will feel peckish and order one of the local snacks along with a slightly chilled pinot noir. Later, as the afternoon becomes warmer, I will order a gin and tonic. Later still, when the afternoon becomes early evening I will adjourn to the dining area to avoid the mosquitos, I will order a beer. It will not be too cold. It will be perfectly poured. As dinner begins to be served I will select a cabernet sauvignon, or perhaps a shiraz to enjoy with my dinner.
Dinner will be served over a foolishly long period of time. Three or four hours. It will include at least 4 courses before dessert, perhaps more. Dessert will be served with a dessert wine, perhaps a fortified. I will deliberate over whether to finish with cognac and cigars and will decide yes, I will. I will go through this routine every night.
Cognac and cigars will be enjoyed in company. Some of the other guests will join me in the library. They will be intelligent and witty. Several of them will hold opinions that differ from mine but they will express them thoughtfully and with humour. We will discuss a wide variety of topics without rancour or ill-will. They will know better than to bother me the next day while I am reading.
I will retire late, after midnight, but not stupidly late. The next morning I will be awakened by sunlight at about 8am. I will slowly rouse and then do everything all over again. On one day I will spot a particularly interesting activity and will elect to join. It may be a trek to a local temple. The trek will leave the hotel at about 11am and I will discover that by 11am I have become so engrossed in what I am reading that I will not join the trek after all. I will inform the nearby staff and return to my reading. I will be incredibly content.
==========
This is the holiday that I described to the chikenz. I may have described it in even more detail than I have here. As I recall, I had (for example) designed the staff uniforms, provided a rough layout of the garden and specified that the tabletops on the balcony should not be glass. Either marble or timber would be acceptable.
The chikenz listened to all this as it was related over a period of time. At the end she sort of tilted her head to one side and said, “right...” with a sort of drawn out ‘i’ sound and a distinct pause at the end. That was about 4 weeks ago. Since then the chikenz has been busy planning our holiday.
I mentioned that I am in Malaysia. To be more accurate, I am on the “Ekspres Rakyat” – a train that runs from Singapore to Butterworth, a trip of over 13 hours. The chikenz has planned out a rather detailed itinerary. It includes a trek to a rather interesting temple; the “Snake Temple”, a stay at a world heritage hotel near the beach in Penang, a visit to the night markets on the beach and a visit to a fruit market just outside Penang that will probably involve trekking as well. We have already “enjoyed” a day of shopping at an increasingly gargantuan series of shopping centres in Singapore.
My holiday has been tacked on to the end of a business trip. For various reasons, none of which are very interesting to you, dear reader, a week’s worth of business commitment was cancelled. The week of commitments was to come at the end of a business trip to Japan. The chikenz has, of late, decided that I need a holiday and this proved to be the ideal opportunity. We agreed that I would extend my stop-over in Singapore, the chikenz would fly in to meet me and we would take a holiday.
The chikenz announced that this was to be my holiday. We would design this holiday entirely around ensuring that I enjoyed myself, relaxed and generally had a very good time. Although this approach made me slightly nervous, we set about planning. The chikenz asked me to describe my ideal holiday. It’s a fun exercise imagining you perfect holiday. I encourage you to think about it for yourself and post the details of your perfect holiday in the comments. To start you off, I’ll tell you about mine. In some detail.
My perfect holiday involves a warm place. Not too warm mind, but reasonably so. Temperatures in the mid to high 20s would be nice. An occasional venture into the low 30s would be tolerated. A temperate suitable for wearing shorts, but equally acceptable should one prefer long trousers. There is water involved in this holiday, but only for the purpose of viewing. I can see the water from my holiday spot you see. The water is unlikely to be the ocean, so I guess that means it’s a lake or a river. Either will do.
My holiday is largely set in a comfortable, old-fashioned sort of hotel. One with a large, shady verandah overlooking an ever-so-slightly overgrown garden, and beyond that, the aforementioned water. It probably has wicker chairs. The chairs have overstuffed cushions. The cushions are white, or cream in colour. There are tables too. They’re probably wicker as well.
My holiday hotel is over-staffed. There are far too many for the job at hand. This may be because labour is so cheap in the country where my holiday is set. The net result of all this is that there are at least two members of the staff standing to attention on the verandah even when there are no actual customers at hand. The arrival of customers would generally call for the arrival of reinforcements to the staff. The staffing arrangements mean that I never have to wait for the attention of a member of staff. I need only look toward where a member of staff should be, I will find that they are indeed where they should be, they will notice that I am looking toward them, approach and quietly ask what I would like. Apart from that, they won’t bother me.
Apart from the wait-staff, my hotel has at its disposal an impressive array of experts in mixing all kinds of drinks, pouring beer or preparing local snacks that I find unusual but delicious. My hotel not only tolerates my smoking habit, they actively facilitate it.
My hotel offers an astonishing list of activities each morning. Perhaps I will be presented with the opportunity to go trekking through local rainforests, climbing mountains, learning new water skills – perhaps skiing of snorkelling or some such thing, perhaps I will even be able to go sky-diving or bungy jumping. Each morning I will review the list of activities scheduled for that day, I will politely decline all of them and elect to sit of the verandah and read. In the afternoon, quite early, I will feel peckish and order one of the local snacks along with a slightly chilled pinot noir. Later, as the afternoon becomes warmer, I will order a gin and tonic. Later still, when the afternoon becomes early evening I will adjourn to the dining area to avoid the mosquitos, I will order a beer. It will not be too cold. It will be perfectly poured. As dinner begins to be served I will select a cabernet sauvignon, or perhaps a shiraz to enjoy with my dinner.
Dinner will be served over a foolishly long period of time. Three or four hours. It will include at least 4 courses before dessert, perhaps more. Dessert will be served with a dessert wine, perhaps a fortified. I will deliberate over whether to finish with cognac and cigars and will decide yes, I will. I will go through this routine every night.
Cognac and cigars will be enjoyed in company. Some of the other guests will join me in the library. They will be intelligent and witty. Several of them will hold opinions that differ from mine but they will express them thoughtfully and with humour. We will discuss a wide variety of topics without rancour or ill-will. They will know better than to bother me the next day while I am reading.
I will retire late, after midnight, but not stupidly late. The next morning I will be awakened by sunlight at about 8am. I will slowly rouse and then do everything all over again. On one day I will spot a particularly interesting activity and will elect to join. It may be a trek to a local temple. The trek will leave the hotel at about 11am and I will discover that by 11am I have become so engrossed in what I am reading that I will not join the trek after all. I will inform the nearby staff and return to my reading. I will be incredibly content.
==========
This is the holiday that I described to the chikenz. I may have described it in even more detail than I have here. As I recall, I had (for example) designed the staff uniforms, provided a rough layout of the garden and specified that the tabletops on the balcony should not be glass. Either marble or timber would be acceptable.
The chikenz listened to all this as it was related over a period of time. At the end she sort of tilted her head to one side and said, “right...” with a sort of drawn out ‘i’ sound and a distinct pause at the end. That was about 4 weeks ago. Since then the chikenz has been busy planning our holiday.
I mentioned that I am in Malaysia. To be more accurate, I am on the “Ekspres Rakyat” – a train that runs from Singapore to Butterworth, a trip of over 13 hours. The chikenz has planned out a rather detailed itinerary. It includes a trek to a rather interesting temple; the “Snake Temple”, a stay at a world heritage hotel near the beach in Penang, a visit to the night markets on the beach and a visit to a fruit market just outside Penang that will probably involve trekking as well. We have already “enjoyed” a day of shopping at an increasingly gargantuan series of shopping centres in Singapore.
Yes, that was a lazy method of designating irony. I’m eight hours into a thirteen hour train trip.
Friday 2 September 2011
Julia Gillard is safe
I noticed that today Bill Shorten has already come out in support of Ms Gillard, saying “Julia Gillard is the right person, at the right time, for the job.”
I think that says it all. There’s more chance of Julia Gillard lining up at full-forward for the Bulldogs than there is of a change in leadership.
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