Continuing some of the past weekend's activities, on Saturday morning, we take Mike to see Dr. Lim because he's had a nagging cough for weeks. As usual, she gives him several different weapons to combat the germs: lozenges, syrup and pills. Then we're off to Chinatown. On the way we meet Peggy (work colleague). She's also planning to go to Chinatown later to see all the activity surrounding the New Year's festival. However we know it will be too crazy to try to meet up with anyone. Later I find out she went to Bukit Timah on Sunday and we very nearly wound up going there ourselves on that day. Would have been very funny if we'd seen her at Bukit Timah. When you keep having coincidental meetings with people it usually means you have a karass with them.
We visit the newly opened main branch of the public library and browse around the interesting collection there. One great innovation they have is a machine to let people check out their own books. Sybil makes a few photocopies and a schoolgirl lets her use her copy card, refusing reimbursement. Then, along the way, we meet Steve, an older gentleman who used to work for the Civilian Defense. He kindly offers us a ride to Chinatown and we get to meet his cute little dog Sugar. Steve gives Mike a very nice Singapore Police sticker-a major yogi. People can be extremely nice here!
As expected, Chinatown is mobbed. We do manage to get some dim sum while sitting outside on the sidewalk. Then Mike gets his first taste of durian at our favorite stand. I take a humorous picture of Mike eating durian that Sybil may use on the Expat Singapore web page. We show him the wet market and he gets to take cool pictures of fish heads and frogs and meat entrails to impress his kids. We make our way over to Amoy Street to see the temples there. Along the way we check out the action at the many stalls set up just for the holidays. Then we stop by the small temple next to ABN-AMRO and wind up popping next door to say hello to some people Mike and I both know.
We walk back to Mike's place at the Merchant Court Hotel and have time for a quick swim at the excellent pool there before a wonderful dinner at Nonya and Baba's Restaurant (fabulous place for authentic Peranakan cuisine) with Gary and Sam (another ABN-AMRO guy).
On Sunday, we make plans with Mike to go to Sungei Buloh Nature Park. Just as we're getting ready to leave, my ex-boss David Oyler fortuitously calls. He's just arrived in town and has nothing planned so he joins us. Sungei Buloh is well worth this second visit. This time the tide is out so the water level is very low. This means we see less birds and less crabs but far more mudskippers. Some of these mudskippers grow to be quite large and they are humorously territorial about their little mud pools. They puff up their fins and chase off anything that comes close to their area.
Once again we see plenty of large spiders and monitor lizards. At one point I chase one of the latter along a trail near a fence by the prawn farms. Of course I have no real wish to actually catch one of these monsters but there's little danger of that because they are quite fast. I do gain on this one though because he foolishly keeps trying to poke through the fence at points far too small for his fat body. These big lizards are not very bright. When I start to get somewhat close to him he finally gives up on the idea of going through the fence and dives back into the swamp.
"Cold is good in Singapore," I tell Mike, in explanation for why the Jacuzzi at the Merchant Court is not heated. I say the same thing when we're given cold hand towels to refresh ourselves after a meal. Actually, I think they take this idea too far here. For example, many buildings are overly air-conditioned and drinks often have too much ice. A cool Jacuzzi doesn't quite cut it either. However, I do prefer cold showers now for the first time in my life.
Tuesday, most everyone in town has a half-day of work on this day before the long New Year's break, but what will Cold Storage do? Everyone is predicting a ¾ day based on past experience. However, just at the last minute they go along with the crowd and make it a half day. Great, but it would have been a lot better if they'd just scheduled this all along so we could plan for it.
Sybil and I have been planning on heading up into Malaysia, just to see where we can get to during this time of ridiculously overcrowded travel. We have tentative plans to go to Gunung Ledang (Mt. Ophir) and do some jungle mountain climbing. Sybil has been working for the company I contribute articles to (Expat Singapore, found at http://www.expatsingapore.com/index.htm) and has typically thrown herself into her work. So, when I call her ("Let's go!") she wants to finish up what she's doing and eat first.
I'm not happy about this but it I figure the Causeway will be jammed anyway so a few hours won't make much difference. I head over to the Expat Singapore office and wind up helping her with computer stuff. I'm ticked over this busman's holiday, as I usually hate to do computer stuff outside of work. I normally won't go near a computer outside of the office. We're both testy and we quarrel. It's too late to eat now and even too late to leave for Malaysia because I don't want to travel at night.
Trying to turn a negative into a positive I suggest we go see the Leonardo DaVinci exhibit at the Art Museum, which is leaving soon and we've both wanted to see this. The exhibit is good-lot's of fascinating information about DaVinci and his times. They don't have a lot of original DaVinci artworks, but the presentation is great. We're both distracted by the museum and finally get to eat at the food stalls next to the library.
Then, inexplicably, we start up our quarrel again. Not only that, we build it up into a huge row, fanning the flames into conflagration. This is a really nasty fight that lasts long into the night. We're still fighting when the New Year's fireworks go off at midnight. The tumultuous Year of the Tiger comes in scratching and clawing.
I hardly sleep all night and have stomach cramps the next morning. I head out for a run at sunrise. For some reason this often helps me when I feel like I have food poisoning. I can barely walk at first and feel like vomiting, but get better as I move along. I run up to the top of Fort Canning Park and relish the quiet solitude. Rows of frangipani trees waft their heavenly scent towards me. The lush green park spurs me on. Feeling better as I jog down the hill, I hear the strange sound of a caterwaul. I take it as a sign that I'm now healthy enough to face this Tiger year.
Returning home, I grab Sybil and we shower together, washing away the tears and anger of the night. We've started anew but we're too tired to travel straight off. After a nap and packing it's about noon and we're finally ready for our trip.
Not quite ready though, where are our passports? We look everywhere for them in vain. Sybil says she always puts the passports in one of two places. She says she's very rigid about this procedure, so she's sure the passports are not in the apartment. She claims they must be at Mike's hotel. On Saturday, we had gone to open a bank account just before visiting Mike at the Merchant Court Hotel and therefore had our passports with us. We left our stuff there while we went swimming. Mike had asked if we wanted the passports in the safe in his room. We both think we declined the offer but now Sybil thinks Mike may have put them in.
I can't remember exactly what the sequence of events was at the hotel but Sybil's explanation seems plausible. I call Mike at his office. He can't remember either but promises to swing by his hotel and check. Fifteen minutes later, Mike calls back and says the passports are not in the safe. Sybil is talking to him on the phone and she has him check with the hotel management. Perhaps they were lost at the hotel and someone found them.
Meanwhile I'm looking everywhere for the passports. I'm looking in all the impossible places there is no way they could have gotten to. The hotel management does not have the passports. Sybil is sadly saying goodbye to Mike when I find the passports in her sewing basket. She has no idea how they could have gotten there. I don't care, I'm just glad we have them and can go. I pick up my backpack and walk towards the door.
Just then the mother of all storms comes blasting in out of nowhere. A fierce wind whips up and knocks over the mattress we had placed on the balcony for airing. Torrential rain pours through our chickie and onto the kitchen floor. The world is ending! I take this as a divine signal warning us not to leave. I'm somewhat deflated but then suggest we take a walk in the downpour. Sybil and I both like to do this and it's just the type of crazy thing that best distracts us.
We just walk around outside and get soaked. It's raining so hard that the three-foot drain gutters on the corner are already overflowing. The guy at the gas station on the corner thinks we're nuts to be out in this deluge ("You like? You like??"). We don't care. It lets up after a bit and we return home and warm up with some good tea. I suggest we opt for an easier trip to Melaka instead of tackling Mt. Ophir. It's now after 3:30 and I'm being negative about the time. Sybil really wants to go backpacking though. She says we should just go for it and let things work themselves out. I have visions of sitting in the jungle in torrential rain but finally agree.
We're off! Once we're out the door Sybil and I can be amazingly good at getting from point A to point B. We're over the Causeway in a flash and soon get to the Larkin bus terminal in JB. We don't really know how to get to Gunung Ledang though. We think we'll have to catch a bus to Melaka and then arrange from there. We're checking for Melaka buses when Sybil thinks to ask about buses to Tangkok, a small town closer to the mountain. There's a bus that goes there! Down on the end. We walk over and hear a guy saying "Tangkok, Tangkok." The bus is leaving now! We buy our ticket and are hurriedly escorted all the way out to the road outside of the terminal towards a big blue bus curiously labeled "007 Express."
It's nearly full and we're one of the last people aboard. Sybil and I are both lucky travelers, so together we catch amazing breaks. We'll be in Tangkok tonight and can take a cab out to the mountain tomorrow. This bus stops at Muar first so it's a bit slow but the seats are comfortable.
We soon realize this is a special, added bus. I start wondering why it wasn't parked in the station. Just now, I'm beginning to realize it was almost certainly some private outfit that was operating independently of the regular bus companies, just to cash in on the New Year's traveling crush. These entrepreneurs even start up a James Bond movie on a small screen at the front. So that's what the bus name meant. Not only that, it turns out to be the current James Bond movie, Tomorrow Never Dies, which is still showing in the theatres! We're wondering how they managed to do this when we see a shadow stand up in the middle of the movie and walk out. The shadow later returns to his seat. These guys somehow videotaped the movie inside the theater and are showing the tape on their bus! Like I've said before, anything goes in JB.
Night in Tangkok, will we find a room for the night? We buy some water and a guy tells us there are two hotels in town. Someone says something to him and he realizes there are three. We head for the first and find it. A guy coming down the stairs says "finis" to us as we go up. We take this to mean they are full for the night but must go up to the third floor and check anyway. Yes they are full-the other hotel is down the road. We find the other two hotels down by a night market. One is full. Down to our last option. Fortunately there is a room at the last place-the Eastern Hotel. We grab it and go out to the night market. Here we have a cheap, tasty meal under the stars. One of the vendors is watching the X-Files on television. When it ends the weather comes on and I learn we are due for thunderstorms the next few days.
As forecast, it is raining the next morning. We actually found an open store the night before, so we have provisions. We stop by one more time to buy some lighter fluid that we will use as cooking fuel. It's expensive, a higher price than in the States and that is unusual for Malaysia. Amazing we found some though. After waiting around a bit we finally catch a taxi. He seems put off when we tell him where we want to go and demands 20 ringgit. This is probably a bit too much for the 14km ride, but it's raining and this is a holiday. We take it without bargaining.
We're there! Standing at the foot of the beautiful mountain with backpacks on our backs. So what if it's raining! Let us at that jungle! First we have to walk by a nearly deserted resort. Then it's up a stone stairway past some waterfalls. Very few people are around but two guys want to take our picture. It turns out they just want to get a picture of themselves with Sybil. Some of the men here have a warped view of Western women. We let them take a few shots though.
We head up the trail towards the summit. Wait a second, is this the trail? We've heard stories of Singaporeans lost for days around here because they've strayed from the path. I've been told that some were even attacked by crocodiles. Our friend Yew Chong has been here and also told us to stay on the trail. This is certainly not the right trail. We climb down and look again. Seeing some paint marks on a tree, we follow them but they also turn out to be false. Finally, we find the right route and up we go.
Turns out there are all kinds of trails around here and many different markings on trees. It's easy to see how someone could get lost but it appears that several different "correct" paths seem to converge at different points to get you up the mountain. It's doubly hard for us to find the way because it's pouring rain the entire climb. This also makes the path treacherous. Sybil slips and scrapes her knee.
Out of the blue I say to Sybil: "Watch out for leeches, this is where you can get them." Now, up until this point I haven't had a thought in my head about leeches. In fact, I don't even know at this point if they have them here, so I can't explain why I said that. I must have sensed something though because not five minutes later I look down and see a leech on my arm. I try flicking him off but he's stuck fast. We pour some of the lighter fluid on him but he holds on strong. Finally, we spray a lot of 100% DEET on him and he lets go. Yuck, I really hate leeches but they're not as bad as ticks.
We find a huge overhanging rock and get to have a dry lunch. Despite the rain and the scrapes we're having a great time. We're very experienced backpackers but jungle trekking is new and exciting to us. We're seeing all kinds of bizarre insects and strange plants. The waterfalls seem to get larger and more spectacular as we climb. We take a side route once and find a lair with the strong musky scent of a large animal. We know there are tigers here but I'm thinking they are too shy to have a lair anywhere near where people go. We don't poke around too much by the lair though.
The trail is almost vertical in some places and we find ourselves climbing up ladders made from the many tree roots that cover the ground. We see no one else along the path to the summit. Eventually we come to an open area along a river that is littered with the debris from many campsites. This would truly be a paradise on earth if it weren't for all the human garbage. Even with the horrible trash it is very pleasant. We think we are near the top so we decide to camp here for the night.
We're used to hanging our food but the trees here are impossible to get a line over a branch. We wind up using one of the many ropes left here by campers to hang clothing. We fall asleep to strange jungle noises and more rain.
The rain eases a bit the next morning and even stops sometimes. We scramble up the path to the top and discover it is quite a bit further than we'd expected. There's a legend about a fairy princess who supposedly lives on this mountain and as we near the top we find ourselves in an eerie mist that makes this believable. After a long hike we find ourselves coming down on the other side of the mountain so we turn around and return to our camp.
Late afternoon, we're hanging around by the river when three guys from Singapore pass by. They are with a Malay Indian woman. By this I mean she's Asli or from some other Malay tribe, not that she's from India. This woman is in bare feet and carrying a baby! Amazing she could do the climb this way. They say they are with a ranger who is following just behind them. The woman is his wife. They say there is another way up to the summit, a short cut that is only 30 minutes away and gives a great view of a large waterfall. We decide to grab some things and follow them after a bit.
On the way back to our campsite we run into the "ranger." Turns out he's just a local guide who is also a Malay Indian. We spend some time trying to communicate with him but it's difficult because his English is very basic and we still have very little Malay. Actually, Malay is a second language to him as well so it's very hard to talk to him. He seems to be saying that he'll meet us the next morning and porter our stuff down. Or is he offering to pack our trash out? Obviously we don't want either. He does seem quite concerned that we're wandering around up here without a guide.
We grab some water and try to find the path the others took. It's even harder to find than the other trails. No wonder the Singaporeans hired a guide. We learn later that they also have a map. Since we have neither, it is very tough for us to pick out this trail. It is far less trodden than the ones we've followed so far. I'm getting good at finding the way though. At some points I have to resort to looking for fresh footprints but we feel we are going the right way.
Even accounting for our laborious pathfinding, there's no way you can get to the summit in 30 minutes. We're out for about an hour when we come across some large tarps and a campsite deep in the jungle. It's the guide with his wife and baby. He lives here! His name is something like Zaiji. We talk with him some more and learn that what he really wants is to yogi our extra food. If there ever was a proper time to yogi out something, this is it. The poor guy has to hike all the way down the mountain to bring up food for his wife and baby. We agree to leave him our food. I also wind up leaving my Chicago White Sox T-shirt. He says he's just started a job at the resort guiding people around the mountain. His wife gets a leech on her and shrieks. She then tries various methods of killing it, eventually doing it in by throwing it in fire ashes and stabbing it.
At first Zaiji tells us it's another two and a half hours to the summit from here. Then, inexplicably, he says one hour and twenty minutes. The three Singapore guys are on their way there now. He shows us the trail but it's now about 17:30 so there's no way we can get up and back before nightfall and we would be sure to lose our way in the dark. We both hate to turn back but we've hiked quite a bit this day so we're content to return.
A guy with a bunch of kids is camping down stream from us. They are just here to play in the water and make a lot of noise. After another rainy night, we're slow to get going the next morning. Zaiji comes around with his wife and kid. I play with the child a bit, letting him grab my finger. His mother can only say two phrases in English. One is "My name is Lina_____ ______ ____." Sorry, but her name is extremely long and almost impossible for me to pronounce, so of course I've forgotten it. The other phrase is "I don't speak English." She tries to get the kid to call me "uncle" and wave "hello" to me.
The Singapore trio comes tromping through our camp. Sybil teasingly chastises them for telling us it was only 30 minutes to the summit but they are dazed and confused. Turns out they spent a wet, cold, miserable night on the mountain and hardly slept a wink. They march off like zombies.
Finally we're ready to go. Sybil's been a bit worried about the steep climb down on her bruised knee but we soon get the hang of it. It stops raining and we finally get a perfect day for hiking. We're also better at finding the trail so we're quickly down the mountain. What a difference the weekend makes! There are many people around the waterfalls near the base of the mountain. Sybil and I contemplate cooling off with a quick swim. On the one hand we know Sybil will be gawked at and the almost entirely male crowd will take pictures. On the other hand we feel like a swim and don't care what other people think. We try to compromise by having Sybil wear a T-shirt over her bathing suit. Doesn't work though-guys still take pictures of her butt and ask if they can pose for pictures with her. This time, she curtly refuses and we leave.
I don't get off the mountain unscathed. Somehow I managed to severely aggravate an incipient rash I had on my hand before the climb. It spreads down both my arms and even along my back and sides, all the way down my legs. I'm getting the same kind of pus-oozing blisters I had last year during a severe bout with poison oak. Perhaps some kind of allergic reaction? In any case it is maddeningly itchy and my arm looks like that of a third degree burn victim.
We learn there is a local bus stop out near the intersection so we hike out there and catch a bus back to Tangkok. This bus is legitimate so it takes us to the bus terminal, which is off the main road and previously unknown to us. It's 13:00 on Saturday. Now Sybil is the one who is concerned about lack of time. She wants to catch a bus to JB now because everyone will be returning home from the holidays tomorrow and buses will be hard to catch. I want to risk it and spend a day and a half in Melaka. I'm thinking there will be extra buses and we'll be able to get something. Just then a local bus is leaving for Melaka! Once again adventure wins out.
We're thinking the ride should only be about 45 minutes to Melaka, but since this is a local bus it stops every few feet and it takes over 2 hours. Once in, we quickly find the long-distance bus terminal (not far from the local bus terminal) and are able to buy tickets to JB for tomorrow at 18:00. Perfect!
Everything is going great, so what is our problem? We start bickering about where to stay and once again escalate this into full-blown argument. Actually, argument is not the right word because I quickly give in to Sybil and we stay at a very expensive place (Metropole Hotel) that turns out to be truly awful (avoid it!). We're just extremely antagonistic towards each other, seemingly out of the blue.
Finally we get over it and get out to see the famed historic town. We wander around the older sections of Chinatown admiring the great mixture of Deco and Peranakan architecture. We're hungry though and everything is closed for the holiday. We finally find a little local noodle shop and gratefully get some grub.
A gnome-like guy, sitting at the next table drinking Guinness and smoking a cigarette, starts up a conversation with me. He reminds me a bit of Yoda from the Lucas Star Wars films. His name is Peter T.K. Khoo. He's the type of character I enjoy meeting and we quickly get into an interesting conversation about politics and philosophy. He asks for our ages and our Western zodiac signs. I write it out on a piece of paper and later have him add in our Chinese signs. He calls my sign "buffalo." The paper winds up looking like this:
| Tiger | Sybil | 35 | Capricorn |
| Buffalo | Matt | 36 | Sagittarius |
I make the comment that Buffalo and Tiger are always fighting and he gets very serious about this. Peter tells us we can't worry about who's right about this thing or the other. Life is short and all argument is useless. I know this but am really learning from this guy anyway. I can sense this is a HEN karass thing. Seemingly chance meetings like this that turn out to be significant to one's life contain lessons to be learned-so I'm paying attention. He says the keys to a successful relationship are patience and prayer.
I agree with what he's saying but I ask him if he's married. Peter smiles in appreciation of the question and admits he's not. However, he insists he knows what he's talking about and I feel this is true. He asks me if I'm a Christian (he's a Muslim). I tell him my religion is HEN and that it is a very small religion. He's never heard of it and is curious. Do we go to church or to other building to pray? No, we don't have a special building for prayer. Do we have a book that we use for guidance? Yes, we have this. It's good that he's asking questions because it's basically the only way I can tell him about HEN without proselytizing. Finally, he understands me to be some sort of "free-thinker."
Then we talk about politics for awhile. He says he is a great student of politics and likes to keep in touch with what's happening all over the world. I also like to do this so I enjoy talking politics and philigion with him. When we finally leave he gives me his address and asks that I mail him a post card. I certainly will. {OK, I've done this. I usually keep my road promises.}
Wandering around on the other side of the river we find a very pleasant Dutch and English graveyard. Then we climb up the hill to the ruins of St. Paul's and look at the tombstones there. Many tourists are around this area.
We have to change rooms three times at the Metropole Hotel before we get one that is both clean and has a working shower. Outside, an obnoxiously loud carnival blasts bad music late into the night. Breakfast at the Metropole the next morning consists of a fried egg, some beans and a hot dog. All are ice cold, straight from the fridge. When Sybil complains she's told that "Asian people prefer it that way." More cold is good? In this case I think it's just a bad hotel. We take a pass.
We walk over to Jalen Tun Tan Cheng Lock to admire the famous Peranakan architecture. We want to visit the Baba-Nonya Heritage Museum but it is still closed for the holidays. Sybil starts to make some trivial comments about the ornaments. I misunderstand her and cut her short. She promptly sits down on a stoop. I see her as sulking but much later she explains she is only frustrated at our miscommunications.
Not another fight! No, wait, we win respite because a jolly local woman strikes up a conversation with us. She thinks Sybil sat down to admire the architecture. Her name is Linda and she lives in Singapore. She is on the way to visit her cousin and invites us to see his Peranakan home. We gratefully accept her invitation.
On the way to her cousin's house we meet him in the street. He lets us in and then goes out for an errand. Linda shows us the wonderful furniture in the front altar portion of the house. The front part of these houses traditionally holds a shrine where offerings are made and prayers are said. We're thinking this is the extent of the tour when her cousin returns and beckons us further inside.
His name is Gim Chye. He has a cleft in his lip, which impedes his speech, but it is fairly easy for us to understand him. Both Gim Chye and Linda are true Straits Chinese, a dwindling breed. Their culture is distinctly different from their Chinese and Malay ancestors. Gim Chye and Linda don't even read Chinese and English is their first language. They tell us they tend to associate with their own small Peranakan community.
Gim Chye is amazingly generous towards us. Not only does he go out of his way to show us every single room in his amazing house; he also offers us drinks, oranges, a banana and some cookies. He gives us a postcard that includes a picture of the front of his house. He's really a great guy and we are fortunate indeed to meet him.
I'll try to give you a sketch idea of what a Peranakan house is like. They're great! If I ever obtained a lot of money and wanted to settle down I'd love to get a house like this one. Of course these long narrow buildings are designed for tropical climates with very high ceilings and several open-air courtyards, but that could fit into my fantasy.
After the altar room comes a small sitting room. I think this is where guests are supposed to wait for reception after arrival. Then comes a large, formal meeting area. Gim Chye has a large table here and another altar. All the furniture here is very large and well made out of dark wood. Most pieces are divided into eight or nine sections and all of them have even numbers for their measurements. This is done for good luck. The walls are covered with pictures of his relatives. Most are photographs but a few are paintings, true pieces of art. Next comes a small, enclosed area that served as living quarters for female servants. Male servants slept on the floor in the next area, a large open-air courtyard that is sunken to drain the rainwater that falls in. Gim Chye has a washroom here that originally used only captured rainwater.
Moving on (yes we're still heading in the same straight direction) is a kitchen-cum-washing area with a huge ceramic washing bowl and several sinks. After that is a storage area. Some lower level Peranakan homes would end here, with the upstairs being one long string of bedrooms, but Gim Chye's place is L-shaped so there are more rooms to the left. Even fancier Peranakan homes would be double the width the entire way, not just in the back like this one.
So, off to the left we have large rooms for dining and for a family room. The dining room has several large crawlspaces. Linda says the family hid in here during parts of the Japanese Occupation. He also has a narrow courtyard that is setup as a playground for his four young children. Finally, he has a narrow passageway that leads out to a back door opening onto another street. There are many bats in this passageway! They squeak and fly about when the light from the opening door hits them. I tell Gim Chye that bats are very lucky to have around the house. He agrees but says they only eat the mosquitoes in their passageway, leaving plenty around to bother the rest of the house.
A spiral staircase near the reception room and a steep wooden stairway in the family room provide access to the second floor. Aside from a large storage area, where he has a computer setup for his children, the second floor consists of four roomy bedrooms. At several points, peepholes in the floor allow a look at the floor below. One of these peepholes looks outside so you can see who is at the door. (I mention that you could also pour water on the heads of people you don't like.) Under the floorboards of some of the bedrooms are crawlspaces for hiding valuables. Gim Chye's family lost a lot of things during the Second World War but was able to retain many antiques.
What an incredible tour! Better than a museum and we make some new friends. We leave feeling incredibly fortunate. But then I make a reference to Sybil's sulking right before we met Linda and she snaps right back into thinking she's been slighted. I can't believe it! Despite all our incredible luck and two fortuitous meetings with new friends in Melaka, we can't seem to stop quarreling. I'm really at a loss to explain this.
Patience and prayer. We do eventually work it out. We walk over to St. Francis and then back to the old Dutch cemetery where we sit down and hash things over. A hug dissipates a lot of bad feelings. A few fights are not the end of the world. Better now, we can continue our exploration of Melaka.
We walk through a side gate and find ourselves on the grounds of a palace. Turns out to be a replica of the Sultan's palace. It is built without nails, in exactly the same way as the original. We're thinking there is normally a charge to get in here. A free day? No, turns out we accidentally snuck in. The charge is minimal anyway. We decide to see the museum while we're here. Not a huge number of exhibits but they give a good glimpse of what life was like for the Sultan.
Next we visit the nearby Proclamation of Independence Memorial. This has many exhibits and a lot of detail about Malaysia's history leading up to their Declaration of Independence. I like all the details and Sybil does too, up to a point. By the time we're atop the second floor she's tired and hungry. (Remember our pathetic breakfast?) They do go on a bit here so I understand what she means. I know when to stop; we search for food.
First, we hit a poh piah stand to tide her over. I've learned that if I can get some food in her quickly it makes my life a lot easier. Turns out I'm overprecautious because we're able to find a place that's open fairly quickly. We'd actually walked by it the night before but they were closing. They were assiduously cleaning the place and I took this as a good sign.
We have good noodles and drink a lot of juice in the shade of the restaurant. Feels great to be out of the hot sun. We're both content. All is well with the world. We mosey across the street to a funky looking art shop with loud John Coltrane music. A local artist went to New York, had some success in a French competition but didn't really make it big. So he returned home to setup this art house. He mostly sells original T-shirts. His stuff is decent. He's talking with some people so we don't get to chat with him though.
We spend the rest of the day seeing temples and poking through the many antique shops in town. We also stop in at the Jia Sheng Art Gallery and have tea and red bean soup in the back room of this converted Peranakan house. We chat with the pleasant owner, Jason Yoong, about Chinese stamps and salvage hunters. Jason has a big pile of pottery fragments pulled from land reclamation sights. He's able to recognize the ancient pieces from the dross.
Time to leave. Almost everyone we met in Melaka was very nice to us, unusual for such a touristy town. We'll definitely return. We pick up our bags and get to the bus station early because we've heard the buses don't wait around.
Where's our bus? The guy says it's coming but he gives off a suspiciously nervous laugh. We've read in the paper about a riot at the JB bus terminal just after we'd left there for Tangkok. The buses never showed for one of the bus companies and people got hostile. Now we have a similar scene in the making as a crowd of people waiting on our bus starts to get restless.
Sybil saves the day by her attention to detail. She notices that this company has another bus heading for JB. It's here and isn't quite full yet. She manages to prod one of the bus company managers at key moments so that he lets us grab the last two seats on this bus. Major yogi! We don't get to sit next to each other but we are out of town far before the people waiting on our bus.
Traffic is terrible! So many people returning home from the long holidays. The highway to JB is very modern but traffic and several accidents slow us down to a crawl at several points. No movies on this bus but I do get some great views of Gudong Ledang, the mountain we climbed. Seems so large from down here! I also see an enormous rainbow far to our south, home to Singapore. I take this as a very good sign.
When we finally make it to JB it's my turn to keep us moving. As Sybil is just waking up from a nap but I notice a 170 bus filling up as we come in. I rush my groggy Sybil over to it as quickly as I can. The bus is full and the conductor looks at us, considering whether to let us on. He asks us where we are going and Sybil says "home!" He considers some more and she adds: "we live in Singapore." He takes pity and waves us aboard, the last two on, crammed into the front steps. As we leave I notice a huge crowd of people waiting for this bus. In our hurry to get there we had accidentally jumped the queue. Sorry to do this but I'm glad we're heading home.
There's another huge queue for buses at the causeway so we walk across. Strangely, traffic on the causeway is not so bad. The new causeway on the west end is open now so maybe that is the explanation. Drivers might be taking advantage of the new route while the bus riders are still using the old way.
We get home about midnight, which is amazing considering the circumstances. We've been telling people around here about traveling during the New Year and they are amazed we were able to get around as expeditiously as we did.
The next night we say goodbye to Mike and Gary. David was also supposed to join us but a series of snafus prevented that. Too bad, but I'm glad we at least got to see Mike and Gary. They are having some problems with the project they are working on here so there isn't much spare time for them before they leave.
We exchange stories and many of their adventures are great tales. I'll relate two short ones. Mike and Gary went to see the Super Bowl last Monday morning at a very American looking bar called Rednecks. When they emerge into the bright of day after watching a close game they see a place across the street called "Brooklyn Bagels." A bizarre sight for Singapore, but hey, this must be a Western section of town or something. They get some bagels with cream cheese and chives and go to work.
At work they notice an awful smell. At first they think it is from some old garbage but then they notice it emanates from their bagel bags. As Mike tells it, someone from the office picked up their bagels, sniffed it, and declared "dorian!" He means durian, but Mike has been consistently mixing this up. So, if you get a craving for durian chive cream cheese on your Brooklyn bagel, you know where to get one.
Story number two has Mike and Gary with a bunch of other people at a fancy Chinese restaurant during the New Year. Wanting to follow tradition, Mike gives one of the waitresses a red hwang bao with money in it. She is very happy. Mike tries to practice his minimal Chinese skills by awkwardly imitating her xie xie (thanks). Then he tries to show off one of his only other Chinese phrases by saying wo yao (I want). Oops, major faux pas, she takes this to mean he wants to get something from her for his money. She points to her ass, shakes her head in anger, and walks away insulted.
We have a great time talking with Mike and Gary and will miss them. Mike does us a favor by taking our Mao vase along with him. He will display it in his trophy case while we are doing our long distance travels. On loan from our museum!
Big tragedy on Friday-they butchered the trees in front of our apartment! Two beautiful trees reduced to bare branches. My sensitive Sybil was in tears. When she went to find out why this was done she was told it was because snakes were coming out of the trees and going towards some of the apartments. Seems like a very lame excuse to us. Even if there are snakes I doubt they are poisonous. The view out our balcony is spoiled.
Friday night we have dinner at our place with Paul Hellander and Peggy Wong. Peggy (of the 2nd Pulau Ubin trip and chance meeting with Mike) is our DBA for three months as she migrates her way from Hong Kong to Australia. Paul hails from Australia and is in town to update the Lonely Planet guide for Singapore. Even though I hadn't met Paul in person yet, I've crossed his path on the Internet a few times. From Marc Brosius's journal, I knew he had a translation company that Mark's wife Karen helped setup a web page for. I've also read his brief account of his trip to Albania. I've had an interest in Albania because I used to have an interest in Communism. When I was living in China, many people there who could only name about three European countries were sure to include Albania among them because they were once one of the few hardcore Communist allies of the P.R.C.
It was interesting to learn from Paul how Lonely Planet pays their writers. Basically, they figure out how much they will make from the sale of a guidebook and give the author(s) a percentage of the profits. This is good in the sense that it encourages them to travel cheaply but I would also think it makes for great inequality among LP author pay. I would guess that a very popular destination or a very cheap destination to travel in would be greatly preferred over an unpopular destination or one in which expenses were very high.
Saturday, I'm at the Clementi HDB area when a little girl grabs my rash inflicted arm and asks her mother (in Chinese) what is wrong with me. Be careful what you touch little girl. Actually, it's finally starting to clear up a bit.
Also on Saturday, Sybil tries to yogi a nice shopping discount brochure out of the Tourist Board. You're only supposed to be able to get these overseas but she's trying hard anyway. Turns out they don't have any more but as a consolation they give us tickets to the Chingay parade. We'd been contemplating going to this anyway so having tickets to the seated area cinches it.
After seating ourselves we discover that this parade is a bit different from what were used to. Instead of just marching by and performing, each group marches to a specified area before doing a performance routine. They do this for the television cameras. Nice for the people who happen to be seated just at that point, but what about the rest of us? We quickly move and wind up sitting on the ground in front of everyone at this key spot in order to get a good view. Too many acts to describe but near the end they have an elaborate Disney float filled with all the saccharine characters doing their little spiel. I think whoever organized this parade had a sense of humor because directly after the all too cutesy Disney float comes a wild Mardi Gras type float filled with wildly gesticulating Western women in thong bikini wear and tail feathers erotically dancing to pulsating rhythms. Truly a bizarre contrast!
So what does Chingay mean? I have no idea and no one I've asked seems to know either. Because of the over-the-top costuming, I suggest to Sybil that it is a Chinese Gay parade, but I say this in jest because this is unlikely in Singapore. I do know this is the 26th annual running of this parade.
Sunday, we go bike riding at East Coast Park along the pleasant bike trails there and then further north along the dirt trails past the golf course. Afterwards, we have an excellent supper of Chili Crab and Pepper Crab at a seafood restaurant there. As I've mentioned before, these dishes are delicacies here and justly so. Big hint for travelers: if you want to go to these famous East Coast eateries on a weekend, you'd better get there early like we did. The waiting line was very long indeed when we left.
Monday night, met with Henning, a German guy in town looking for a job. He may do something with Expat Singapore while he looks for something more substantial. Not only is he a nice guy but it turned out to be a HEN type fortuitous meeting for several reasons. First, just the day before, Sybil and I were talking for the first time about the Indonesian island of Flores and whether we wanted to go there. Henning brings up the subject himself while we're drinking sweet lassi after dinner at Zhujiao Center! He gives it a thumb's up so we're inclined to add it to our list.
Second big coincidence is that for weeks Sybil and I have been wondering when the Hindu festival of Thaipusam was going to start. This festival has many aspects to it but is most infamous to outsiders because of the abundance of flesh piercing and the trance-like state devotees work themselves into while performing a type of ritual penance. More on the festival in a bit, but coincidentally we find ourselves in Little India with Henning when we see a truck go by with one of the preparations for Thaipusam. We start to note flower wreath makers and ask someone when the festival starts-tomorrow morning!
So, thanks to our HEN luck we wake up early the next morning and head over to Chettiar Temple because we've learned this is the terminus for the procession. From very early in the morning until late at night, devotees walk from Sri Srinivasa Perumal Temple in Little India to the Chettiar Temple near River Valley Road and Clemenceau. Many of the people in the procession have all manner of hooks (often with limes hanging off them), tridents, spears, and needles stuck in their skin, often including their tongue and cheeks. Several of them shoulder large kavadis, usually partially supported by metal rods that dig into their flesh. Another common sight is people (children in particular) with close-cropped haircuts and heads smeared with yellow ash. This makes them resemble Dennis Rodman imitators. Actually, I think Dennis would get a kick out of this festival. (OK, please excuse the relatively obscure reference from an ex-Chicagoan who wishes he could still see a Bulls game once in awhile.)
I've heard that Thaipusam is now banned in India so it's interesting to note that the tradition is still alive and well here in Singapore. I think the Indians and Sri Lankans who live here have so many societal constraints placed on their lives that the government is careful to give them quite a bit of leeway when it comes to religious freedom. Kind of like a safety valve. I did note that, just like the fire-walking festival, there was a huge police presence on Thaipusam. Of course this is to be expected because of the crowds but I don't remember seeing so many police around the equally crowded areas of Chinatown during Chinese New Year.
Remember the woman in the Chinatown antique store who turned out to be from Beijing? I mentioned her several episodes back. Anyway, her name is Zhi Hong and she has been part of Sybil's English reading class (currently working on Steinbeck's "The Pearl") along with Cathy, Sandy and Christiane. OK, now I've set things up for another case of strange coincidences with Henning.
Last Tuesday or Wednesday, I'm stuck waiting on Sybil to finish with a meeting over at Expat Singapore. Henning is also at the meeting and wants to go out drinking afterwards. Despite being German, Henning prefers wine to beer so we head off in search of a little wine bar he came across a few years ago. Henning searches the depths of his memory to try and find this place and we wander around Tanjong Pagar looking for it. We don't even know the name so we can't ask directions.
When we finally find the place, the Beaujolais, it turns out to be right next door to the antique shop where we first met Zhi Hong. One of the very few tables available is outside and it is the very spot where Henning sat during his first trip here. We happily drink expensive wine and chat late into the night.
One last coincidence: my ex-boss at ABN-AMRO, Veda Briley walks out of the Beaujolais and stops right in front of our table to say good night to the people she is with. I say hello and tell her I was wondering when I would bump into her in this town.