Pulau Perhentian, Malaysia
Thinking about my stay here, I have to think about the line from the famous song by Phil Collins:
"It's just another day for you and me in paradise."
After my stay in Taman Negara was unexpectedly cut short I decided to follow the general flow of travelers here, a fairly newly developed group of islands in the northeast of Malaysia (I know, my route is slightly stupid going back north). I planned to stay here for about five days if the weather was nice here (sceptical voice) and then move on. Like in the song I ended up extending and extending my stay a day at a time until four or five nights had become almost twice as much.
And paradise it really is and was. If ever I saw one. The weather: gorgeous - there's no other word to describe it. Imagine brilliant sun every day, blue sky, mere whisps of white clouds and towards evening sometimes a slight breeze to cool things down a bit. The islands were no less amazing: Crystal clear water (literally!) that when viewed at an angle appears azure blue or tuquoise green, white sand, palm trees (beware the coconuts!) and in between a few chalets (the smaller island is not so developed yet, so things are beautifully basic). It took my breath away the moment I stepped off the boat at the jetty and first surveilled Coral Bay. I'm sure there were little bells tinkling. And the great thing is: if you're not an enthusiastic diver there is not so much to do, so you can't fill your day with activities and that forces you to relax.
And that was exactly what I came here for. Kayaking along the coastline of the island (exercise!) I spotted even more amazing beaches - the literal deserted strips of sand that you fantasise about when you hear about tropical islands. I couldn't resist stripping off and enjoying the sun for a while - au naturel. Well, it didn't all go smoothly. The beaches here suffer from similar problems as the ones on Kho Lanta: rubbish. Left by irresponsible tourists or careless locals. In the end I couldn't stand it any more and loaded some of it into my boat on the way back. Then once when approaching the beach I underestimated the current and surf I had to pass through and my little boat capsised dumping me unceremoniously on rocks and shallow water (no worries, just a few scratches). A bathing couple just stared.
I also went snorkeling which is just amazing in this kind of water. We saw sharks, swift and elegant, great turtles, majestic, and swarms of colourful fish against the backdrop of coral reefs. And all that just a few meters under the surface! The marine life is dazzling. The downside we felt and saw when at night our boat hit something in the water when just the day before we had seen a turtle with an injured flipper. The local boatmen gun their craft at such speeds that neither turtles nor boatmen have a chance to avoid the collision. It might do well to have that regulated.
Then, on my final day, I even gave in to all the people telling me about it and went scuba diving. This was an introductory lesson to get a taste of diving. The teacher was Steffen, who's a really competent professional when it comes to diving and teaching, and a fun person to chat with also ("divers, move your ass, please"), so I want to recommend his school. We just went around the jetty but it was still a step into another world. After being a bit uncomfortable under water I got used to it and was already a bit disappointed when it was time to go back on land (and tired because on land the gear is f**king heavy!).
What else? Oh yes, even though after my last big piss-up in China I should have known better I went for drinks again. Vodka this time - alcohol is limited because this is technically a strictly Muslim state. I don't know which devil rode me (a German expression) but some way through the fourth bottle (between the five of us) I remember sitting and drinking, then nothing, then retching in the sand, then nothing, then coming back to with someone calling my name. At that point I was lying spread-eagled in the sand. People needed me to light the way back with my torch. Not easy if you have an alcohol-induced emotional crisis. Sorry people! The next day I felt to way I looked, everything felt slow and mellow. I ate cautiously and swore (like before) never to drink again. This later became "never to drink vodka again", which then a few days later became "never to drink that much vodka again". When we had another drinking evening. Honestly, I drink for sociable reasons, I truly loathe vodka.
Finally, a word to those that claim October is too late to come here because everything will be closed or the weather shit. Wrong and wrong. Come here during the first three weeks of October and things will be quiet since there are much fewer tourists, prices will be lower (almost by 50%), the weather, as mentioned above, is still breath-taking and there are enough places open to be able to choose. I know from now on I won't do high season ever. October is the month! And if you don't know where to stay then stay at Maya Chalets (Karimah and her husband are very nice) and go for the diving tour with Matt, Karimah's brother-in-law. 'Nuff said.
I've rarely on this trip been in a place and with people that grew on me so much. In the end, I would announce my leaving in the morning and change my mind after breakfast. Then I gave up announcements and just stayed. Nine and a half days.
Thursday, 23 October 2008
Monday, 20 October 2008
Crafty Buggers
Pulau Perhentian, Malaysia
I can't believe I'm having animal problems again. It seems to be happening at least once per country I visit now. They're also getting cheekier with every time.
Here, it started with a packet of Tiger biscuits I had left opened on the table in my room. When I returned I found the packet on the floor. Had I dropped it? Then I saw that the biscuits hadn't broken, they had been nibbled on. And the packet had been torn open much further. I guess it's not surprising: I'm in a wooden chalet, it's hot, so I leave my window open and this island is small, so the jungle starts pretty much outside my window.
I put the biscuits outside. It didn't take long for the perps to return: several squirrels started fighting over my Tiger biscuits.
But they don't stop there. My iron rations, packets of instant noodles all the way from China (mmm, 牛肉面), were in my big backpack. They were still sealed and under layers of clothing. The next time I went to get a new T-shirt I found crumbs all over them. The packets of noodles had been torn open - torn open by little claws and teeth from the looks of it. And the noodles inside had been munched on, too. The little shitheads must have somehow smelt the noodles, They crawled into my bag, through the clothing, found the packet, tore it open and started eating their way in. It really looks like nothing is safe from them now. I'm also impressed at their intelligence. You have to hand it to them: I'll have to get up quite early (figuratively speaking) to make sure I eat my food and not them. On the down side I'm not entirely happy at squirrels digging around my bag. Who knows where their paws have been.
I can't believe I'm having animal problems again. It seems to be happening at least once per country I visit now. They're also getting cheekier with every time.
Here, it started with a packet of Tiger biscuits I had left opened on the table in my room. When I returned I found the packet on the floor. Had I dropped it? Then I saw that the biscuits hadn't broken, they had been nibbled on. And the packet had been torn open much further. I guess it's not surprising: I'm in a wooden chalet, it's hot, so I leave my window open and this island is small, so the jungle starts pretty much outside my window.
I put the biscuits outside. It didn't take long for the perps to return: several squirrels started fighting over my Tiger biscuits.
But they don't stop there. My iron rations, packets of instant noodles all the way from China (mmm, 牛肉面), were in my big backpack. They were still sealed and under layers of clothing. The next time I went to get a new T-shirt I found crumbs all over them. The packets of noodles had been torn open - torn open by little claws and teeth from the looks of it. And the noodles inside had been munched on, too. The little shitheads must have somehow smelt the noodles, They crawled into my bag, through the clothing, found the packet, tore it open and started eating their way in. It really looks like nothing is safe from them now. I'm also impressed at their intelligence. You have to hand it to them: I'll have to get up quite early (figuratively speaking) to make sure I eat my food and not them. On the down side I'm not entirely happy at squirrels digging around my bag. Who knows where their paws have been.
Sunday, 12 October 2008
S is for Sweat, L is for Leeches ...
Taman Negara, Malaysia
I could probably do the whole alphabet like this, e.g. A is for Animals, B is for Boats (or Bats), C is for Caves, D is for Disappointment, E is for Expectations, etc., and so describe my entire visit here but I'm sure people would be bored out of their wits. So, I'll do it in prose instead.
I'll start with E above: Expectations. I arrived at Malaysia's number 1 forest reserve ("Taman Negara" literally means "National Park") with certain plans and hopes. Since this is the world's oldest virgin jungle I wanted to spend as much time in it as I could. Reading up in advance I had spotted the possibility of doing a jungle trek all the way to Gunung Tahan (Mount Tahan), with 2000-something meters height the park's highest peak. This trek would take around seven days there and back and was the longest you could do. So, the first thing I did when I arrived was to start asking the local agencies for this. I was referred to the park headquarters. There I was met only with astounded looks. Gunung Tahan? They consulted their big book of - visitors maybe? Nobody for this month. Nobody for next month. Last month there had been a group. Which brings us very smoothly to D. Alternatives were short "Real Inner Jungle" experience treks. There were two day, three day and four day treks. So, I began asking for the longest, a four day trek. More apologetic looks. They only offered two-day treks. As it turned out only very few people spend more than a few days here, especially now during low season. Would I be interested in a two-day trek? Teeth grinding I considered my options. I could see the length of my stay reducing drastically. I had planned up to ten days but now it looked more like less than half that. After annoying people with repeated questions about extending and other options I finally settled on a two-day trek. Make the best of it and smile.
I started my stay with a guided night walk of one and a half hours through the jungle near the headquarters. This walk had, I would like to think, a Russian commentary. There were four Russians of who only one woman spoke English, so she would translate and comment everything to the others. I'm not actually sure. Only that they were constantly talking about something. Drove me nuts! What was more: we didn't actually see much (except some big spiders). Makes me wonder even more what they were talking about. Of course, there's the darker side of me that blames them for the animals not coming out.
Then came the "inner jungle" trek. I won't go into too much detail to avoid boredom. We'll start with S. I've rarely sweated that much. I believe part of it was due to natural moisture in the air (the place is not called "rain forest" for moot). The rest was pure sweat from marching, climbing up and down hills and over roots and rivers. The terrain was muddy and treacherous, so I didn't actually pay that much attention to the scenery. It consisted of trees mostly anyway. That's why it's called "inner jungle", right? Water and mud seeped into my shoes, splashed onto my trousers. After about an hour of this I was soaked in every possible sense of the word and every possibly imaginable place. Then there's of course L. When they hear jungle people always worry about mosquitoes. Malaria is the buzz word (no pun intended). What they forget to worry about it the little worms sticking out of the muddy ground, lashing around frantically, sniffing for something alive, trying to latch on, then climbing stealthily up your leg until they find a bare spot, then dig in and draw blood until they are full. This can take ten minutes or you can pluck them off first. You'll then bleed for some time until the effects of their saliva that stops blood from clotting wear off. Some guys in the group got spectacular blood stains in their socks like that. I pulled my socks over my trousers and avoided all but one bite (little bastard hit when I had taken my socks off).
We explored a bat cave where bat sh- excrement was almost ankle deep and more seemed to be dripping from the ceiling. "When you look up close your mouth", our guide advised. We slept in a large cavern that reminded me strongly of the mines of Moria in Lord of the Rings. There were no bats but a room that had been used as the human toilet and smelt like that. And we got to swing on a vine across a little stream. A French girl in the group let go to early and crashed into the slope rather than landing on it. Maybe because of that I completely forgot to do the Tarzan yell. Coming back on the second day I've rarely wanted (or required) a shower that badly. Sadly, we saw lots of green and little (read: no) wildlife.
On my third day, after a long rest, I went on the famous canopy walk, apparently the highlight of the park. You walk along rope-bridge-like walkways built into the tree tops. I was surprised that my fear of heights never kicked in. Maybe because most of the time you don't see the ground - only leaves and more leaves.
Finally, on the last evening I wanted to stay overnight in one of the observation hides and try to spot some animals at last. That also fell prey to the letter D when park rangers upped the time it would take me to get to the hide and when I set off it turned out to be too late. So, I went on the "night safari" (not to be confused with the one offered at Singapore Zoo). This is driving around palm oil plantations in a 4x4 pickup with the guide on the roof using a mega-strong search light to spot animals. The theory is that he'll then use that light to blind animals, so that the buggers will stand still while everyone takes a photo. We successfully did that with a sleeping bird and a tiny, harmless (and probably scared shitless) snake. People's cameras flashed duly. Other animals wouldn't come out to be blinded. The bird remained the biggest thing we saw. If I were an animal in that plantation I wouldn't come out either. That light was seriously strong! But I discovered that I have the same musical taste as our driver Faisal. Even his mobile phone ring tone was by Slipknot. Rock on!
So, after too much of D, I finally gave up on animals and activities and headed back to Jerantut after only three days. At least that leaves time for me to head to some islands and lie in the sun some more.
I could probably do the whole alphabet like this, e.g. A is for Animals, B is for Boats (or Bats), C is for Caves, D is for Disappointment, E is for Expectations, etc., and so describe my entire visit here but I'm sure people would be bored out of their wits. So, I'll do it in prose instead.
I'll start with E above: Expectations. I arrived at Malaysia's number 1 forest reserve ("Taman Negara" literally means "National Park") with certain plans and hopes. Since this is the world's oldest virgin jungle I wanted to spend as much time in it as I could. Reading up in advance I had spotted the possibility of doing a jungle trek all the way to Gunung Tahan (Mount Tahan), with 2000-something meters height the park's highest peak. This trek would take around seven days there and back and was the longest you could do. So, the first thing I did when I arrived was to start asking the local agencies for this. I was referred to the park headquarters. There I was met only with astounded looks. Gunung Tahan? They consulted their big book of - visitors maybe? Nobody for this month. Nobody for next month. Last month there had been a group. Which brings us very smoothly to D. Alternatives were short "Real Inner Jungle" experience treks. There were two day, three day and four day treks. So, I began asking for the longest, a four day trek. More apologetic looks. They only offered two-day treks. As it turned out only very few people spend more than a few days here, especially now during low season. Would I be interested in a two-day trek? Teeth grinding I considered my options. I could see the length of my stay reducing drastically. I had planned up to ten days but now it looked more like less than half that. After annoying people with repeated questions about extending and other options I finally settled on a two-day trek. Make the best of it and smile.
I started my stay with a guided night walk of one and a half hours through the jungle near the headquarters. This walk had, I would like to think, a Russian commentary. There were four Russians of who only one woman spoke English, so she would translate and comment everything to the others. I'm not actually sure. Only that they were constantly talking about something. Drove me nuts! What was more: we didn't actually see much (except some big spiders). Makes me wonder even more what they were talking about. Of course, there's the darker side of me that blames them for the animals not coming out.
Then came the "inner jungle" trek. I won't go into too much detail to avoid boredom. We'll start with S. I've rarely sweated that much. I believe part of it was due to natural moisture in the air (the place is not called "rain forest" for moot). The rest was pure sweat from marching, climbing up and down hills and over roots and rivers. The terrain was muddy and treacherous, so I didn't actually pay that much attention to the scenery. It consisted of trees mostly anyway. That's why it's called "inner jungle", right? Water and mud seeped into my shoes, splashed onto my trousers. After about an hour of this I was soaked in every possible sense of the word and every possibly imaginable place. Then there's of course L. When they hear jungle people always worry about mosquitoes. Malaria is the buzz word (no pun intended). What they forget to worry about it the little worms sticking out of the muddy ground, lashing around frantically, sniffing for something alive, trying to latch on, then climbing stealthily up your leg until they find a bare spot, then dig in and draw blood until they are full. This can take ten minutes or you can pluck them off first. You'll then bleed for some time until the effects of their saliva that stops blood from clotting wear off. Some guys in the group got spectacular blood stains in their socks like that. I pulled my socks over my trousers and avoided all but one bite (little bastard hit when I had taken my socks off).
We explored a bat cave where bat sh- excrement was almost ankle deep and more seemed to be dripping from the ceiling. "When you look up close your mouth", our guide advised. We slept in a large cavern that reminded me strongly of the mines of Moria in Lord of the Rings. There were no bats but a room that had been used as the human toilet and smelt like that. And we got to swing on a vine across a little stream. A French girl in the group let go to early and crashed into the slope rather than landing on it. Maybe because of that I completely forgot to do the Tarzan yell. Coming back on the second day I've rarely wanted (or required) a shower that badly. Sadly, we saw lots of green and little (read: no) wildlife.
On my third day, after a long rest, I went on the famous canopy walk, apparently the highlight of the park. You walk along rope-bridge-like walkways built into the tree tops. I was surprised that my fear of heights never kicked in. Maybe because most of the time you don't see the ground - only leaves and more leaves.
Finally, on the last evening I wanted to stay overnight in one of the observation hides and try to spot some animals at last. That also fell prey to the letter D when park rangers upped the time it would take me to get to the hide and when I set off it turned out to be too late. So, I went on the "night safari" (not to be confused with the one offered at Singapore Zoo). This is driving around palm oil plantations in a 4x4 pickup with the guide on the roof using a mega-strong search light to spot animals. The theory is that he'll then use that light to blind animals, so that the buggers will stand still while everyone takes a photo. We successfully did that with a sleeping bird and a tiny, harmless (and probably scared shitless) snake. People's cameras flashed duly. Other animals wouldn't come out to be blinded. The bird remained the biggest thing we saw. If I were an animal in that plantation I wouldn't come out either. That light was seriously strong! But I discovered that I have the same musical taste as our driver Faisal. Even his mobile phone ring tone was by Slipknot. Rock on!
So, after too much of D, I finally gave up on animals and activities and headed back to Jerantut after only three days. At least that leaves time for me to head to some islands and lie in the sun some more.
Monday, 6 October 2008
You're a Winner
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
My grandfather often says: "There's an entire category of people that spend all day thinking about how to best get at your money." I may not like it sometimes but the world keeps proving him right. Here's what happened to me.
I was browsing Bukit Bintang's shopping complexes looking for a suit of a special design that I had fallen in love with years ago on my first visit to Malaysia (apparently that's called the "mandarin collar"). I was just outside Sungei Wang when a young man pushed a leaflet into my hands. I was going to fold it and stow it as "adverts to be thrown away later" when he stopped me asking: "Don't you want to see if you've won anything?" Yeah, why not (as if!). I tore open the secured bit. It said something and that wasn't "better luck next time". All of a sudden the boy became very excited. "You're a winner", he blurted. He couldn't believe it. I couldn't either. This had never happened before, he told me. He'd been here all day and everyone else had just drawn blanks. I was skeptical but then the whole thing might just be a promotion of one of the shopping centres. To support his claim he produced a stack of torn open envelops all of them indeed containing blanks. Mine, he insisted, was a winning ticket. I would now enter a final draw with a minimum guaranteed prize of a short trip to somewhere near Malaysia (worth 10,000 RM), the first prize being a new car worth much more. He waved the listing in my face. I told him I was traveling, I had no use for a car. That was no problem either: there was a cash alternative for all prizes. Now, the first thing to do was to call his boss to confirm the winning ticket. I don't know what made me humour him; maybe it was the vague hope that it might just be legitimate and I might just get something for nothing. Besides I had nothing to loose - as long as I didn't sign anything they couldn't make me do anything. So, moments later I found myself talking to his manager telling her: "yes, it does say 'winner' on the ticket." That done, he said the final step was only to follow him to their offices and collect the prize. Where were their offices? Nearby, we could walk. So we started walking. I noted we were not entering the shopping complex but started making our way around it into a side street. I wondered quietly what their offices would be like.
He was still babbling excitedly about the fantastic prizes that would soon be mine. A thought struck me. To clarify, I told him, I wasn't in the position to buy anything from them. I reminded him I was traveling and had little money. Once again he assured me this was no problem. No purchase was necessary. I would even receive two free promotional items of the company - a vacuum cleaner and another thing I can't remember. I reminded him again of my traveling status. I had no way of transporting those things. "No problem!" His trademark answer. The law just required me to pay tax for these items.
Do you know the moment in comedy films when something goes wrong and the happy music suddenly grinds to a screeching halt? That's what happened to me that moment. I stopped dead in my tracks. It took him a moment to realise I wasn't with him anymore and he came back for me. Tax? How much? 2000 RM but, he continued immediately, that was nothing since I'd still have 8000 RM left of my minimum guaranteed winning. He would repeat this last sentence many more times. He emphasised all the right words like "8000" and "guaranteed". I stopped him again. Why did I have to pay tax for items I didn't want? It was the law, he said. Well, then I should pay it to the government, shouldn't I? No, I should pay it when I collected the prize and the company would transfer the money to the government. I persisted that this was no procedure to pay tax and he insisted that this was the procedure we had to follow. He kept reminding me of the fantastic prizes - to fuel my greed and cloud my judgement, I suspect. He hadn't realised that he had effectively lost me already. I was just interested what else he would try. I suggested the tax be calculated into the prize money and they should just give me 8000 RM. No, that was impossible. I had to pay the tax first. He calculated it in US Dollars for me to show me how little money it really was compared to my winnings. I asked him, did I really look like someone who'd carry that much money in my pocket - in Ringgit or US Dollars?! He suggested almost timidly that I could go to a nearby cash machine and withdraw the money. I didn't have a valid card anymore. He offered waiting while I found a money changer. He really didn't leave anything untried. He gets an A for effort. But this was where I drew the line. It wasn't going down like this, I told him, I was not going to pay anything in advance. Full stop. He grew frantic: But then I couldn't collect my prize. He launched into a description of the fantastic (literally) prizes again. I said it again slowly both in English and in Chinese to make sure he understood. I. Was. Not. Going to. Pay. Anything. In. Advance. Then I turned to leave. He shouted after me. Was I sure? Did I really want to forfeit my prize? I told him I didn't want it anymore. He couldn't believe it. He continued shouting for a while but I stopped listening and continued walking.
I wasn't actually disappointed or angry. I don't think I had believed in the prize in the first place. I had merely confirmed my first impression. The only thing I had lost was a bit of time. I guess these kind of scams exist everywhere. Here, of course, they try to prey on trusty or naive tourists. I wonder if it's worth it. How many people are actually stupid enough to fall for this? Who would pay the "tax" before collecting the "prize"?
My grandfather often says: "There's an entire category of people that spend all day thinking about how to best get at your money." I may not like it sometimes but the world keeps proving him right. Here's what happened to me.
I was browsing Bukit Bintang's shopping complexes looking for a suit of a special design that I had fallen in love with years ago on my first visit to Malaysia (apparently that's called the "mandarin collar"). I was just outside Sungei Wang when a young man pushed a leaflet into my hands. I was going to fold it and stow it as "adverts to be thrown away later" when he stopped me asking: "Don't you want to see if you've won anything?" Yeah, why not (as if!). I tore open the secured bit. It said something and that wasn't "better luck next time". All of a sudden the boy became very excited. "You're a winner", he blurted. He couldn't believe it. I couldn't either. This had never happened before, he told me. He'd been here all day and everyone else had just drawn blanks. I was skeptical but then the whole thing might just be a promotion of one of the shopping centres. To support his claim he produced a stack of torn open envelops all of them indeed containing blanks. Mine, he insisted, was a winning ticket. I would now enter a final draw with a minimum guaranteed prize of a short trip to somewhere near Malaysia (worth 10,000 RM), the first prize being a new car worth much more. He waved the listing in my face. I told him I was traveling, I had no use for a car. That was no problem either: there was a cash alternative for all prizes. Now, the first thing to do was to call his boss to confirm the winning ticket. I don't know what made me humour him; maybe it was the vague hope that it might just be legitimate and I might just get something for nothing. Besides I had nothing to loose - as long as I didn't sign anything they couldn't make me do anything. So, moments later I found myself talking to his manager telling her: "yes, it does say 'winner' on the ticket." That done, he said the final step was only to follow him to their offices and collect the prize. Where were their offices? Nearby, we could walk. So we started walking. I noted we were not entering the shopping complex but started making our way around it into a side street. I wondered quietly what their offices would be like.
He was still babbling excitedly about the fantastic prizes that would soon be mine. A thought struck me. To clarify, I told him, I wasn't in the position to buy anything from them. I reminded him I was traveling and had little money. Once again he assured me this was no problem. No purchase was necessary. I would even receive two free promotional items of the company - a vacuum cleaner and another thing I can't remember. I reminded him again of my traveling status. I had no way of transporting those things. "No problem!" His trademark answer. The law just required me to pay tax for these items.
Do you know the moment in comedy films when something goes wrong and the happy music suddenly grinds to a screeching halt? That's what happened to me that moment. I stopped dead in my tracks. It took him a moment to realise I wasn't with him anymore and he came back for me. Tax? How much? 2000 RM but, he continued immediately, that was nothing since I'd still have 8000 RM left of my minimum guaranteed winning. He would repeat this last sentence many more times. He emphasised all the right words like "8000" and "guaranteed". I stopped him again. Why did I have to pay tax for items I didn't want? It was the law, he said. Well, then I should pay it to the government, shouldn't I? No, I should pay it when I collected the prize and the company would transfer the money to the government. I persisted that this was no procedure to pay tax and he insisted that this was the procedure we had to follow. He kept reminding me of the fantastic prizes - to fuel my greed and cloud my judgement, I suspect. He hadn't realised that he had effectively lost me already. I was just interested what else he would try. I suggested the tax be calculated into the prize money and they should just give me 8000 RM. No, that was impossible. I had to pay the tax first. He calculated it in US Dollars for me to show me how little money it really was compared to my winnings. I asked him, did I really look like someone who'd carry that much money in my pocket - in Ringgit or US Dollars?! He suggested almost timidly that I could go to a nearby cash machine and withdraw the money. I didn't have a valid card anymore. He offered waiting while I found a money changer. He really didn't leave anything untried. He gets an A for effort. But this was where I drew the line. It wasn't going down like this, I told him, I was not going to pay anything in advance. Full stop. He grew frantic: But then I couldn't collect my prize. He launched into a description of the fantastic (literally) prizes again. I said it again slowly both in English and in Chinese to make sure he understood. I. Was. Not. Going to. Pay. Anything. In. Advance. Then I turned to leave. He shouted after me. Was I sure? Did I really want to forfeit my prize? I told him I didn't want it anymore. He couldn't believe it. He continued shouting for a while but I stopped listening and continued walking.
I wasn't actually disappointed or angry. I don't think I had believed in the prize in the first place. I had merely confirmed my first impression. The only thing I had lost was a bit of time. I guess these kind of scams exist everywhere. Here, of course, they try to prey on trusty or naive tourists. I wonder if it's worth it. How many people are actually stupid enough to fall for this? Who would pay the "tax" before collecting the "prize"?
Sunday, 5 October 2008
The Epiphany of Puduraya
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Standing at the side of the road tonight I was trying to make up my mind what to do. Suddenly, something, like a little bundle, near me hit the ground with a hollow smack. I looked and it turned out it was a cat that had fallen off the top of the nearby building. It's back was bent in an unlikely way. After a moment of stillness, it slowly, as if in slow motion, tried to lift its head, eyes staring as if in shock at what had just happened. A paw moved very slowly, then the head sank back. I think it knew that this was it. I walked on but still felt compelled to turn around once more. It seemed its gaze had followed me as its head bent forward a bit. I stood there watching the little creature die until I believed its eyes had gone dim.
Now I think, is this a sign? An omen? Life is short and you never know what might suddenly happen - in the same way as this cat with all its grace did not expect to fall. You might think you're on top of things and get complacent, take those things for granted, and then before you know it everything is gone in the blink of an eye.
Standing at the side of the road tonight I was trying to make up my mind what to do. Suddenly, something, like a little bundle, near me hit the ground with a hollow smack. I looked and it turned out it was a cat that had fallen off the top of the nearby building. It's back was bent in an unlikely way. After a moment of stillness, it slowly, as if in slow motion, tried to lift its head, eyes staring as if in shock at what had just happened. A paw moved very slowly, then the head sank back. I think it knew that this was it. I walked on but still felt compelled to turn around once more. It seemed its gaze had followed me as its head bent forward a bit. I stood there watching the little creature die until I believed its eyes had gone dim.
Now I think, is this a sign? An omen? Life is short and you never know what might suddenly happen - in the same way as this cat with all its grace did not expect to fall. You might think you're on top of things and get complacent, take those things for granted, and then before you know it everything is gone in the blink of an eye.
Friday, 3 October 2008
Traveler Sense Tingling ...
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
I never thought any further about this but I believe I spot a pattern here.
Way back in Phnom Phen I met two women from KL, Malaysia who were very talkative, just chatting me up in the central market. They asked where I was from and on hearing Germany they became excited and one wanted to introduce me her sister or niece who was going to Germany to work. That niece/sister relative was very nervous she said and it would be good for her to hear about Germany first hand from a local. I agreed and they wanted to go straight away but at the time be it out of wariness, be it because of other plans I declined. We agreed to meet later but in the evening I couldn't find them at the agreed place.
I never really gave it another thought until this afternoon a woman offered me help with directions and also started to chat. Germany - she had a sister going to Germany to work. It began the same way. Come to think of it, the two women even looked similar, were of similar age. This struck me as strange. I didn't really want to continue the conversation and left before finding out what it was about. There's something fishy about this coincidence. Maybe next time I'll indulge her purely for reasons of curiosity. I now really want to find out what this stuff is about. Anybody heard of this before?
I never thought any further about this but I believe I spot a pattern here.
Way back in Phnom Phen I met two women from KL, Malaysia who were very talkative, just chatting me up in the central market. They asked where I was from and on hearing Germany they became excited and one wanted to introduce me her sister or niece who was going to Germany to work. That niece/sister relative was very nervous she said and it would be good for her to hear about Germany first hand from a local. I agreed and they wanted to go straight away but at the time be it out of wariness, be it because of other plans I declined. We agreed to meet later but in the evening I couldn't find them at the agreed place.
I never really gave it another thought until this afternoon a woman offered me help with directions and also started to chat. Germany - she had a sister going to Germany to work. It began the same way. Come to think of it, the two women even looked similar, were of similar age. This struck me as strange. I didn't really want to continue the conversation and left before finding out what it was about. There's something fishy about this coincidence. Maybe next time I'll indulge her purely for reasons of curiosity. I now really want to find out what this stuff is about. Anybody heard of this before?
Thursday, 2 October 2008
The League of (Elderly) Gentlemen
Georgetown, Malaysia
When the Lonely Planet said that the 75 Travelers' Lodge in Georgetown is popular with travelers I was expecting the usual crowd of 20-something backpackers swapping stories of how they trekked across Laos or Australia. Well, stories were swapped but those were ones from tens of years ago. Older than your average backpacker. The patrons almost all seem old enough to be relics of English Imperial times, left-overs from the colonial days of Georgetown. All older men from various countries. It feels a bit like walking into a local pub (Stammkneipe) full of old regulars somewhere in Germany talking about the politics from Adenauer's days. And they seem like they've lived here for ages. Quirky types that spend all day indoors writing things or shuffling around seemingly checking if everything is in place. Makes me wonder if they have no other place to go, been kicked out of their house. Or are they here to make sure that the Imperial heritage gets treated with respect? In the Her Majesty's service? In contrast to more common hostels where I usually turn out to be older than the average, this place positively made me feel young.
When the Lonely Planet said that the 75 Travelers' Lodge in Georgetown is popular with travelers I was expecting the usual crowd of 20-something backpackers swapping stories of how they trekked across Laos or Australia. Well, stories were swapped but those were ones from tens of years ago. Older than your average backpacker. The patrons almost all seem old enough to be relics of English Imperial times, left-overs from the colonial days of Georgetown. All older men from various countries. It feels a bit like walking into a local pub (Stammkneipe) full of old regulars somewhere in Germany talking about the politics from Adenauer's days. And they seem like they've lived here for ages. Quirky types that spend all day indoors writing things or shuffling around seemingly checking if everything is in place. Makes me wonder if they have no other place to go, been kicked out of their house. Or are they here to make sure that the Imperial heritage gets treated with respect? In the Her Majesty's service? In contrast to more common hostels where I usually turn out to be older than the average, this place positively made me feel young.
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