In Malaysia

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.