Sunday, February 22, 2004
February 22
Loopty-loop around Malaysia: Bridget and I went to Cameron Highlands, a four hour bus ride up into a hilly area where the temperature is much colder! I had forgotten what it was like to be outdoors and not sweaty! Our trip was full of gossip and playing the game of “where is X today?” Bridget knew a lot more about high school classmates whereabouts than I did—and she was also able to tell me about elementary school classmates from Regina.
We did a tour of tea plantation and its factory, a butterfly farm, a rose garden, a honey bee farm, a strawberry farm, and a Chinese temple (which even had its own badminton court within the temple grounds!). We wanted to get from Cameron Highlands to some location along the “jungle railway,” but were told that there was no public transit that way yet because the roads weren’t so good. Our options seemed to be to hire a jeep or to see if a tour guide guy we met had any connections that could help us out (a friend who needed to take medicine to someone or a delivery truck of flowers or something going in that direction)…we considered hitchhiking, but given that it’s not common here, gave up that idea. (Bridget has a great story about hitchhiking across Eastern Europe to Berlin with an Australian guy in a race against another Australian who had to go back up and around Scandinavia to get to Berlin, avoiding Poland where he couldn’t get a visa. Part of the trip was in the back of an ambulance.)
In the end, we realized that we could travel up to Kota Bharu, on the northeast coast of Malaysia near the Thai border on an overnight bus and not lose much time. I had assumed that the distance was greater and the time to get there un-doable. Luckily we figured out it would work before we dished out too much money or gave up entirely. Everything worked out perfectly. We caught a local bus down the mountain, changed buses to Ipoh, hung out a few hours there, and then were two of three passengers on this VIP coach that had two drivers (including one that smoked a pipe). The front two seats we sat in reclined and one of the drivers gave us blankets. We left at 10 pm and arrived at about 4 am. We hung out a bit at the bus station and then made our way to a hostel, hoping it would be open. About a block from the place, we met the guy who was on his way to open up the place. Everything worked out miraculously. We were going to take the jungle railway the next day and even managed to squeeze in another city.
Kota Bharu is in Kelantan State, which is one of two that is controlled by a much more Islamic political party (PAS). The city is pretty small and has more personality than KL. Street signs are in Malay and Arabic, not English. The area is known for batik, kite-making, bird-song and top-spinning contests. Unfortunately, the Cultural Center there didn’t start its exhibitions and demonstrations till mid-February.
Bridget had been attacked by bedbugs in her hostel in KL and all over her body were big, red bites that looked like welts. She handled it far better than I would have! We hadn’t slept much since we were on the bus, but managed to get a day of wandering the city in. We went to a few museums (where I learned about how princesses had to put the placenta of their babies in coconuts and keep it for 40 days, among other things) and took a local bus to the beach to have a look for 15 minutes.
The hostel workers were a little concerned that Bridget would bring the bedbugs with her here, so we put all her stuff up on the balcony and she planned to wash all her clothes. I thought my stuff was in the clear, but then noticed bugs near my stuff—it turned out they were ants because I had an open package of cookies, but that was enough to scare me into washing my clothes and taking my stuff to the roof as well. She bought hard-core bug spray and a hairdryer and went all along the seams of her backpack, where the bugs might be hiding.
The next day we took the jungle railway at 7 am, arriving to Jerantut at about 5 pm. Along the way we saw remote villages, many of which are only connected by the train, not by road. We saw rivers and jungle. It made me remember that Malaysia isn’t only the glitzy, glam malls of KL. A good realization that endeared me to Malaysia.
That evening we wandered around Jerantut, which is a small town where everybody seems to know everyone. There was basically one main street in the old town (reminded me of Lone Tree or West Branch), but a ‘new town’ had also sprung up with greater development and traffic through the town. I had lemon juice at a restaurant, where the owner made me sit with him, his wife and daughter. They told me not to pay, but to come back in the morning for breakfast. When I did, the woman was wearing a headscarf, though she hadn’t been the night before. It is this kind of thing that surprises me—and also confuses me. I suppose wearing the headscarf could be like wearing a Christian cross necklace—one doesn’t have to do it everyday. But my understanding up till now was that if you veiled, you should wear long sleeves and do it everyday. That doesn’t seem to be the case here. Bridget, having spent some time in Senegal where it is also lax in this regards, and I had different reactions to this—she didn’t find it as strange as I did.
That night, we were ultra-paranoid about bedbugs. We eyed our sheets and the edges of the walls closely—which kind of frightened us, actually, because it wasn’t a clean room and there were spiders in the corners of the ceilings. We sprayed the bug repellant around the edges of the room, lit a mosquito coil, and slept with the lights on. Ever since I saw Bridget’s problems, I could periodically get itchy—but it was paranoia. Even in the shower, when I felt a trickle of water run down my leg, I would temporary feel as though it was a bug! We survived the night unscathed, ilhumdulilah.
Bridget and I continued our tradition of ordering roti canai (an Indian bread served with dahl, which is lentils) and teh tarik (tea with milk and sugar that is poured back and forth from up high so that it gets frothy) at least once daily. If we didn’t drink teh tarik, it was lemon juice (though it’s annoying when you accidentally suck up seeds in the straw!). (sidenote: Bridget and I went to a food stall one night in KL that had Malay food. We were sitting near to where the food is laid out and the spice in the air was enough to make me cough and nearly choke! Thankfully we were there just for drinks! I guess I never described that most of the restaurants/hawker stalls have food sitting out in silver pans dining-hall-style and you usually point at what you want or serve yourself. More often than not, the food is just warm, not hot. So I usually go for ordering something from a menu or that has to be specially prepared. Somehow the rule about food poisoning doesn’t seem to apply here! :D )
Back to Jerantut: so the reason we went there was to be able to go on the jungle railway and to go on an agricultural tour of rubber tree, cocoa tree, and palm oil tree plantations. Plus we got a rattan place thrown in for free (like bamboo kind of). This was really interesting—but maybe because we’re Iowa girls! I felt like it was a 4H or FFA type thing to do. I learned a lot, but I didn’t take notes so I can’t remember it well enough to share it with you. But here are bits and pieces: The rattan is collected by orang asli (indigenous people). They boil it in diesel so that bugs won’t eat through it or cause problems later. It’s super-bendable, so great to make furniture out of. Touching the rubber as it oozes out of the tree, it turns sticky and felt like dried glue between my fingers. The rubber is ‘dirty,’ meaning it has leaves and bugs in it, but goes through a cleaning process at the factory before being used. The cocoa bean comes from inside a yellow shell on tree. Our tour leader (it was just me and Bridget on the tour) had us try a bit by cracking one open and giving us a piece of whitish-colored stuff we were supposed to suck on…it tasted a little bitter and I realized later that I took it with the same hand I had touched the rubber with. But, a week later, it doesn’t seem to have an effect, thankfully! Next up was the palm oil, which is a market that is growing because the farmer can make more money from this than from rubber trees. They build birdhouses to attract owls, so that they can keep the population of jungle rats down…there are also poisonous snakes that like to hang out in the area, too. Our guide, Meng, told us prices and wages and things like that, but like I said, I didn’t write them down! (Erika and I plan to go to a tropical fruit farm in Penang for a similar tour, so I’ll be sure to take notes there!)
So, tourists always go to Kota Bahru to get to famed Perhentian Island (paradise like, with good coral) and to Jernantut to get to the National Jungle to go trekking. Bridget and I went to both locations and did neither of those things! I think people thought we were crazy. So once we figured that out, we made sure everyone knew we weren’t part of the normal circuit. (Though I do hope to get to Perhentian Island and back to KB for some more cultural stuff! I’ll get my fill of the jungle in Borneo when I go in July…)
Erika arrives!
So, I was late to meet Erika at the airport, so I was kind of flustered, especially when I saw the crowd of people at the arrivals gate. I was worried Erika had already come through and I’d have problems finding her…I looked around for a few minutes and then she called…I was at the arrivals gate…but had failed to notice I was at the domestic arrivals gate…opps…
Over dinner we made a list of things to do while she’s in town…I’ve realized I’m a major list-maker and planner. Not always and I can be flexible, but it makes things easier and more efficient…
We ended to two touristy spots: Central Market and Chinatown (Petaling Street with it’s many stalls of cheap things for sale…Erika claims there are six things are sale there: fake watches, fake bags, fake sunglasses, lighters, ugly t-shirts, and strange unrecognizable fruit). Of course in crowded areas like Petaling Street, I’m always very careful about my purse. Well, this day I got a shock: a hand grabbing my butt! I was shocked, this was the first time I had been grabbed like this. Not a mere brush-by, but a full-out hand cupped kind of thing. Without thinking, I had turned around and said (well, more loudly that said…maybe more like shouted): EXCUSE ME!?!? and glared at the culprit, an Indian man who was at least 40 years old. He had been walking towards me and after passing, and reached back with his hand. After my…exclamation, I sort of kept walking. I think he may have said sorry or something. Ha. I felt as if the seas had parted and everyone had sort of backed away from me a bit. I hope that after I left someone else back there gave him a hard time and scolded him. I know other women who have been groped (mostly in Egypt) and always envisioned using that as an excuse to punch or slap the man if it happened to me. But when it did, I didn’t even have time to think. My gut reaction was simply to confront him, call attention to it, let him know it was not okay and that I wasn’t just going to pretend it didn’t happen. Hopefully next time he’ll think again…
On our second day, we went up to the 41st floor of the big towers that are featured in Entrapment, though I had already been up to the 82nd back in November! Then we went to do batik…so much fun! I had not planned to do it because I’m so un-artistic. But they make it easy: you pick a pattern or picture from a bunch of folders, then trace it. They put the wax on top (which is harder and could be screwed up). Then you get to paint it. The beauty is, it’s even easier than coloring and having to stay in the lines because the wax acts as a barrier and doesn’t let the paint bleed into another part! I did a design of a traditional shadow puppet warrior. It cost 25 RM (about $7 US) to do on silk and have framed. When we went back today to pick them up, we decided to do another! I did a matching shadow puppet princess! I’m going to go back all the time now—it’s so much fun! Unfortunately, I was a klutz today and knocked over the red paint…it hit the side of Erika’s pants! Now she keeps bringing it up to make me feel guilty!
Then we went to the Asian Xgames, but not for the rollerblading or motor X jumping. A friend of mine (whom I’ve referred to as Gorgeous Guy to some of you before) is the bassist in a band that was performing there. So we went to check it out. The lead singer—who didn’t know I knew LC—was throwing posters, tshirts, and stickers to the crowd throughout. At one point, he pointed ME out of the crowd and said to come to the front for one! He threw it to me—I caught it thankfully—and said, “Thanks for coming to Malaysia. See, we’re not all terrorists!” Then, throughout the rest of the concert, he tried to throw posters in our direction, for Erika, though his aim wasn’t that great. She didn’t even try to catch one, but the people all around us were jumping and pushing about to try…We’ve nicknamed him the Poster Pelter.
Sidenote: LC’s great grandfather is Mohawk Indian from Canada. He became a sailor and when he was in Malaysia, met a woman, converted to Islam, married her, and lived his life here. I didn’t realize that Mohawks became sailors way back then…LC is actually a Mohawk name meaning ‘lone-wolf’ that he got from his great-grandfather’s journal; his given name is ZM.
After that, we went to the International Buddhist Pagoda to hear some chanting. It turned out to be more like a service. Everyone was really nice and they invited us to join in a lineup while a procession of offerings went by. We were all supposed to touch the offerings, so then they were from us too (otherwise, if everyone gave offerings every time, they’d be too much and it’d sort of be a waste…at least, that’s what I understand from it). There were flowers, individually wrapped hard sucky candy, other food (though I’m unobservant, I realize and can’t tell you what. Erika claims cheese and crackers, but I’m not sure), incense. When we entered the…hall?…the people would kneel on their knees, put their hands together a bit above their heads and then lower their foreheads to the crowd. They repeated this three times. Of course it struck me as similar to part of the movement a Muslim makes while praying, from kneeling to putting the forehead on the crowd. I hate to admit it (but will) that I have no idea what language they were even chanting in. The orange-robed monks on stage were all Indian, with shaved heads and their right shoulder exposed from how the cloth is wrapped. The…congregation?…was mostly Chinese, though there were also Indians.
On Saturday, Erika and I went to the Bird Park (among other things). We were headed to the exit, not 5 minutes away from it, and Erika got hit by a bird from above! Ewww!
Loopty-loop around Malaysia: Bridget and I went to Cameron Highlands, a four hour bus ride up into a hilly area where the temperature is much colder! I had forgotten what it was like to be outdoors and not sweaty! Our trip was full of gossip and playing the game of “where is X today?” Bridget knew a lot more about high school classmates whereabouts than I did—and she was also able to tell me about elementary school classmates from Regina.
We did a tour of tea plantation and its factory, a butterfly farm, a rose garden, a honey bee farm, a strawberry farm, and a Chinese temple (which even had its own badminton court within the temple grounds!). We wanted to get from Cameron Highlands to some location along the “jungle railway,” but were told that there was no public transit that way yet because the roads weren’t so good. Our options seemed to be to hire a jeep or to see if a tour guide guy we met had any connections that could help us out (a friend who needed to take medicine to someone or a delivery truck of flowers or something going in that direction)…we considered hitchhiking, but given that it’s not common here, gave up that idea. (Bridget has a great story about hitchhiking across Eastern Europe to Berlin with an Australian guy in a race against another Australian who had to go back up and around Scandinavia to get to Berlin, avoiding Poland where he couldn’t get a visa. Part of the trip was in the back of an ambulance.)
In the end, we realized that we could travel up to Kota Bharu, on the northeast coast of Malaysia near the Thai border on an overnight bus and not lose much time. I had assumed that the distance was greater and the time to get there un-doable. Luckily we figured out it would work before we dished out too much money or gave up entirely. Everything worked out perfectly. We caught a local bus down the mountain, changed buses to Ipoh, hung out a few hours there, and then were two of three passengers on this VIP coach that had two drivers (including one that smoked a pipe). The front two seats we sat in reclined and one of the drivers gave us blankets. We left at 10 pm and arrived at about 4 am. We hung out a bit at the bus station and then made our way to a hostel, hoping it would be open. About a block from the place, we met the guy who was on his way to open up the place. Everything worked out miraculously. We were going to take the jungle railway the next day and even managed to squeeze in another city.
Kota Bharu is in Kelantan State, which is one of two that is controlled by a much more Islamic political party (PAS). The city is pretty small and has more personality than KL. Street signs are in Malay and Arabic, not English. The area is known for batik, kite-making, bird-song and top-spinning contests. Unfortunately, the Cultural Center there didn’t start its exhibitions and demonstrations till mid-February.
Bridget had been attacked by bedbugs in her hostel in KL and all over her body were big, red bites that looked like welts. She handled it far better than I would have! We hadn’t slept much since we were on the bus, but managed to get a day of wandering the city in. We went to a few museums (where I learned about how princesses had to put the placenta of their babies in coconuts and keep it for 40 days, among other things) and took a local bus to the beach to have a look for 15 minutes.
The hostel workers were a little concerned that Bridget would bring the bedbugs with her here, so we put all her stuff up on the balcony and she planned to wash all her clothes. I thought my stuff was in the clear, but then noticed bugs near my stuff—it turned out they were ants because I had an open package of cookies, but that was enough to scare me into washing my clothes and taking my stuff to the roof as well. She bought hard-core bug spray and a hairdryer and went all along the seams of her backpack, where the bugs might be hiding.
The next day we took the jungle railway at 7 am, arriving to Jerantut at about 5 pm. Along the way we saw remote villages, many of which are only connected by the train, not by road. We saw rivers and jungle. It made me remember that Malaysia isn’t only the glitzy, glam malls of KL. A good realization that endeared me to Malaysia.
That evening we wandered around Jerantut, which is a small town where everybody seems to know everyone. There was basically one main street in the old town (reminded me of Lone Tree or West Branch), but a ‘new town’ had also sprung up with greater development and traffic through the town. I had lemon juice at a restaurant, where the owner made me sit with him, his wife and daughter. They told me not to pay, but to come back in the morning for breakfast. When I did, the woman was wearing a headscarf, though she hadn’t been the night before. It is this kind of thing that surprises me—and also confuses me. I suppose wearing the headscarf could be like wearing a Christian cross necklace—one doesn’t have to do it everyday. But my understanding up till now was that if you veiled, you should wear long sleeves and do it everyday. That doesn’t seem to be the case here. Bridget, having spent some time in Senegal where it is also lax in this regards, and I had different reactions to this—she didn’t find it as strange as I did.
That night, we were ultra-paranoid about bedbugs. We eyed our sheets and the edges of the walls closely—which kind of frightened us, actually, because it wasn’t a clean room and there were spiders in the corners of the ceilings. We sprayed the bug repellant around the edges of the room, lit a mosquito coil, and slept with the lights on. Ever since I saw Bridget’s problems, I could periodically get itchy—but it was paranoia. Even in the shower, when I felt a trickle of water run down my leg, I would temporary feel as though it was a bug! We survived the night unscathed, ilhumdulilah.
Bridget and I continued our tradition of ordering roti canai (an Indian bread served with dahl, which is lentils) and teh tarik (tea with milk and sugar that is poured back and forth from up high so that it gets frothy) at least once daily. If we didn’t drink teh tarik, it was lemon juice (though it’s annoying when you accidentally suck up seeds in the straw!). (sidenote: Bridget and I went to a food stall one night in KL that had Malay food. We were sitting near to where the food is laid out and the spice in the air was enough to make me cough and nearly choke! Thankfully we were there just for drinks! I guess I never described that most of the restaurants/hawker stalls have food sitting out in silver pans dining-hall-style and you usually point at what you want or serve yourself. More often than not, the food is just warm, not hot. So I usually go for ordering something from a menu or that has to be specially prepared. Somehow the rule about food poisoning doesn’t seem to apply here! :D )
Back to Jerantut: so the reason we went there was to be able to go on the jungle railway and to go on an agricultural tour of rubber tree, cocoa tree, and palm oil tree plantations. Plus we got a rattan place thrown in for free (like bamboo kind of). This was really interesting—but maybe because we’re Iowa girls! I felt like it was a 4H or FFA type thing to do. I learned a lot, but I didn’t take notes so I can’t remember it well enough to share it with you. But here are bits and pieces: The rattan is collected by orang asli (indigenous people). They boil it in diesel so that bugs won’t eat through it or cause problems later. It’s super-bendable, so great to make furniture out of. Touching the rubber as it oozes out of the tree, it turns sticky and felt like dried glue between my fingers. The rubber is ‘dirty,’ meaning it has leaves and bugs in it, but goes through a cleaning process at the factory before being used. The cocoa bean comes from inside a yellow shell on tree. Our tour leader (it was just me and Bridget on the tour) had us try a bit by cracking one open and giving us a piece of whitish-colored stuff we were supposed to suck on…it tasted a little bitter and I realized later that I took it with the same hand I had touched the rubber with. But, a week later, it doesn’t seem to have an effect, thankfully! Next up was the palm oil, which is a market that is growing because the farmer can make more money from this than from rubber trees. They build birdhouses to attract owls, so that they can keep the population of jungle rats down…there are also poisonous snakes that like to hang out in the area, too. Our guide, Meng, told us prices and wages and things like that, but like I said, I didn’t write them down! (Erika and I plan to go to a tropical fruit farm in Penang for a similar tour, so I’ll be sure to take notes there!)
So, tourists always go to Kota Bahru to get to famed Perhentian Island (paradise like, with good coral) and to Jernantut to get to the National Jungle to go trekking. Bridget and I went to both locations and did neither of those things! I think people thought we were crazy. So once we figured that out, we made sure everyone knew we weren’t part of the normal circuit. (Though I do hope to get to Perhentian Island and back to KB for some more cultural stuff! I’ll get my fill of the jungle in Borneo when I go in July…)
Erika arrives!
So, I was late to meet Erika at the airport, so I was kind of flustered, especially when I saw the crowd of people at the arrivals gate. I was worried Erika had already come through and I’d have problems finding her…I looked around for a few minutes and then she called…I was at the arrivals gate…but had failed to notice I was at the domestic arrivals gate…opps…
Over dinner we made a list of things to do while she’s in town…I’ve realized I’m a major list-maker and planner. Not always and I can be flexible, but it makes things easier and more efficient…
We ended to two touristy spots: Central Market and Chinatown (Petaling Street with it’s many stalls of cheap things for sale…Erika claims there are six things are sale there: fake watches, fake bags, fake sunglasses, lighters, ugly t-shirts, and strange unrecognizable fruit). Of course in crowded areas like Petaling Street, I’m always very careful about my purse. Well, this day I got a shock: a hand grabbing my butt! I was shocked, this was the first time I had been grabbed like this. Not a mere brush-by, but a full-out hand cupped kind of thing. Without thinking, I had turned around and said (well, more loudly that said…maybe more like shouted): EXCUSE ME!?!? and glared at the culprit, an Indian man who was at least 40 years old. He had been walking towards me and after passing, and reached back with his hand. After my…exclamation, I sort of kept walking. I think he may have said sorry or something. Ha. I felt as if the seas had parted and everyone had sort of backed away from me a bit. I hope that after I left someone else back there gave him a hard time and scolded him. I know other women who have been groped (mostly in Egypt) and always envisioned using that as an excuse to punch or slap the man if it happened to me. But when it did, I didn’t even have time to think. My gut reaction was simply to confront him, call attention to it, let him know it was not okay and that I wasn’t just going to pretend it didn’t happen. Hopefully next time he’ll think again…
On our second day, we went up to the 41st floor of the big towers that are featured in Entrapment, though I had already been up to the 82nd back in November! Then we went to do batik…so much fun! I had not planned to do it because I’m so un-artistic. But they make it easy: you pick a pattern or picture from a bunch of folders, then trace it. They put the wax on top (which is harder and could be screwed up). Then you get to paint it. The beauty is, it’s even easier than coloring and having to stay in the lines because the wax acts as a barrier and doesn’t let the paint bleed into another part! I did a design of a traditional shadow puppet warrior. It cost 25 RM (about $7 US) to do on silk and have framed. When we went back today to pick them up, we decided to do another! I did a matching shadow puppet princess! I’m going to go back all the time now—it’s so much fun! Unfortunately, I was a klutz today and knocked over the red paint…it hit the side of Erika’s pants! Now she keeps bringing it up to make me feel guilty!
Then we went to the Asian Xgames, but not for the rollerblading or motor X jumping. A friend of mine (whom I’ve referred to as Gorgeous Guy to some of you before) is the bassist in a band that was performing there. So we went to check it out. The lead singer—who didn’t know I knew LC—was throwing posters, tshirts, and stickers to the crowd throughout. At one point, he pointed ME out of the crowd and said to come to the front for one! He threw it to me—I caught it thankfully—and said, “Thanks for coming to Malaysia. See, we’re not all terrorists!” Then, throughout the rest of the concert, he tried to throw posters in our direction, for Erika, though his aim wasn’t that great. She didn’t even try to catch one, but the people all around us were jumping and pushing about to try…We’ve nicknamed him the Poster Pelter.
Sidenote: LC’s great grandfather is Mohawk Indian from Canada. He became a sailor and when he was in Malaysia, met a woman, converted to Islam, married her, and lived his life here. I didn’t realize that Mohawks became sailors way back then…LC is actually a Mohawk name meaning ‘lone-wolf’ that he got from his great-grandfather’s journal; his given name is ZM.
After that, we went to the International Buddhist Pagoda to hear some chanting. It turned out to be more like a service. Everyone was really nice and they invited us to join in a lineup while a procession of offerings went by. We were all supposed to touch the offerings, so then they were from us too (otherwise, if everyone gave offerings every time, they’d be too much and it’d sort of be a waste…at least, that’s what I understand from it). There were flowers, individually wrapped hard sucky candy, other food (though I’m unobservant, I realize and can’t tell you what. Erika claims cheese and crackers, but I’m not sure), incense. When we entered the…hall?…the people would kneel on their knees, put their hands together a bit above their heads and then lower their foreheads to the crowd. They repeated this three times. Of course it struck me as similar to part of the movement a Muslim makes while praying, from kneeling to putting the forehead on the crowd. I hate to admit it (but will) that I have no idea what language they were even chanting in. The orange-robed monks on stage were all Indian, with shaved heads and their right shoulder exposed from how the cloth is wrapped. The…congregation?…was mostly Chinese, though there were also Indians.
On Saturday, Erika and I went to the Bird Park (among other things). We were headed to the exit, not 5 minutes away from it, and Erika got hit by a bird from above! Ewww!
