my shoes, my journey

Day 5 (Tuesday 6th May 2009) – Ba ba black sheep and Jack & Jill

2010-10-26T10:11:00.004+08:00

No, we didn’t see any black sheep – not that I remember of. However we did get to see sheep up close. After lunch, we headed to a place called Agrodome about 10 km away from our motel.

On our way to the Agrodome, we passed vast open land and farms. On the hills in the distance, I thought I saw an airplane, a locomotive and some other structure that I couldn’t really make out but nonetheless out of place on the green hill. Much, much later, thanks to Ian Wright of Discovery Channel, I found out the place was sort of bed and breakfast. Visitors got to choose which kind of accommodation that they would like to sleep in.

We parked our car and headed to a small wooden building near by. As we entered, on stage, was a man demonstrating sheep shearing. In a blink (okay, I must admit, I was exaggerating), the man finished shearing a whole sheep. The sheep, now void of its warm wooly fur left only with pinkish skin, would eat more to build up a thick layer of fat underneath its pinkish skin.

Next we went next door to a wool-processing mill. The wool from the sheep was fed to a huge green machine. The machine’s wheels and handles moved in a quiet synchronized orchestra. At the other end of the machine, out came fine wool thread, ready to be weaved into some other items. According to the guide, the green machine has been chugging away in this great symphony since 103 years ago. The only difference was that the original steam engine had been replace with diesel-powered engine.

The guide then proceeded to sit on a small wooden chair. Opposite her stood a small curious wooden device. As she explained, her hands spin the spinning wheel. And out came fine wool threads. This must have been how “Sleeping Beauty” pricked her finger and fell into long slumber.

Next we went into a bigger building nearby. The door opened to a huge hall. Much bigger that the hall at the Maori meeting house. At the end of the hall was a huge stage. Before long, some staff member brought in one sheep after another and lined them along the walls on both sides of the stage. The sheep were of various breeds. I know ‘Aries’ is suppose to be a desert goat, but there was this one sheep that stood majestically with its twisted horn. The sheep looked very ‘Aries’.

Then a fast-talking guy went up the stage. Then out of nowhere, came a black dog. The well-trained dog herded the sheep up onto the stage. The host actually explained what is the specialty of each breed. Turns out that certain breeds were good for their meat, while others were for the milk. Sheep aren’t always bread for the wool.

Then, with the help of mechanical stage, up came a huge cow. The host invited a few audiences to volunteer up to the stage. To my amazement, one of my travel companion rose her hands and went up the stage. The host taught her how to milk the cow. Her first attempt wasn’t fruitful. As the host pointed out, she was supposed to grab (not just pinch) and pull the pink tits! Her second attempt gave a better result. She was even awarded a certificate for successfully milking the cow.

After the show was over, the audiences were ‘let loose’. We went through a door on our left. There was a duck pen, and next to it, a lamb (not the meat but the juvenile sheep). When we came, two ducks ‘escaped’ from their pen and a lady staff was ‘herding’ them back into the pen. Seeing how much hassle the ducks was, we decided to go into the lamb pen. With their snow-white wool, were cuter than the ducks.

After all the patting, we had to leave. We had a schedule to keep. We had three more things to do before the day ended. First on the list: Zorbing. For the uninitiated, imagine you are Jack & Jill and that familiar children rhyme. We didn’t break any crown; we roll down the hill inside huge plastic balls filled with air. But before that, we have to be ‘processed’.

We were weighted (weight limit was 100 kg per person), sign our life away on a piece of paper, and changed our clothes. Without my glasses, wearing my relatively thin swimming gear, I tip-toed bare-footed on the cold walk-way to an awaiting van. The temperature that day? It was probably 13 degree Celcius. Already in the van was a Caucasian couple. The lady was only wearing two-piece bikini! The van took us up the hill.

At the ‘launching pad’ was a lady ‘handler’. The lady filled the big plastic ball with water, and told me to jump through the small opening, head first (imagine ‘superman pose’), into the ball. I was really glad that the water was warm. The lady opened the wooden door. Then she told me to ‘walk’ the ball out of the paddock. The first step, as usual, was the hardest. But then the big ball just rolled and before I knew it, it picked up some speed. Though I love speed, I have ‘issues’ with heights. I sort of froze in the ball. As my travel mate said, every one screamed down the hill, except me. She was worried to see the ball I was in rolled quietly from the top of the hill until finally halting at the bottom of the hill.

She was relieved when she saw me coming out of the small opening and walked to the bench. I was glad I had my day bag on the bench and my trusty “kain batik” laid out on the bag. I immediately wrapped the clothes around my body. The little warmth it offered was very much welcomed by my drenched cold body. We changed into our dry clothes and quickly bundled ourselves into our small Daihatsu Sirion. AD was behind the wheel, and I was the back-seat navigator. After a somewhat a longer route, we finally reached Rainbow Spring Nature Park.

It was only around 6pm, but the sun was already out. As the name suggests, it’s a nature park. If you are not into roughing it out in the wild, this park is sort of your cheat-sheet to nature. They have well lit walk way and platforms that bring you to nature. There were a school of rainbow trouts, trees, birds and such. There were two species of birds that caught our attention.

The first bird was a kea named Jenny. It’s a bird from the parrot family. But this particular bird, according to the note written near the cage, has spent most of its life in a research lab. At first, Jenny was ‘shy’. She ignored our presence and made no response. However, when we walked away, she gave a cry, kind of calling us to come back. After awhile, the cheeky bird interacted with us, mimicking what sound like “hello”.

The second species was New Zealand icon – the kiwi. In the Kiwi Encounter section of the nature park, they have a few kiwi birds loose. The kiwis, being nocturnal creatures, were very active. I didn’t expect them to be able to dart as fast as they did. We were excited to see actual kiwis and not just some stuff fluffy thing imitating the bird!

After all the excitement in the cold, it was time for our final on the list. Destination: Polynesian Spa. Not willing to compromise our modesty, we took the private pool. On our way to our allocated room, we passed people in their swimming suits at the main hot pool over looking the Rotorua Lake. Opening the door, we saw our nifty pool. Above us, was the open sky. The natural hot spring was a refreshing finale for our day. Before we knew it, the light above the door turned red. Our time was up.

We returned to our motel. Soon after dinner, we were out.

Distance traveled: approx. 37 km

When are you going back to work?

2010-09-15T22:45:00.005+08:00

... Asked my little nephew.

It seemed odd to him that my cellphone wasn't ringing as much it used to, nor was I busy reading e-mails and working on my laptop.

After his complaint, and a few developments (that I shall not disclose) in the company, I finally mustered my courage and submitted my resignation letter. It was a bold move, considering that I don't have any concrete job offer waiting for me. But it needed to be done.

I need to stop, stand back, take stock my life, and decide what really matters. I had planned to take a year or at least 3 months break. Then, after only two weeks of leave, I began to become restless. My whole body is cold. I fidget. My head spins. I walk in circles, to and fro, aimlessly.

Then it hit me. I'm experiencing withdrawal symptoms. I need to go to rehab for this addiction.

Hi, I'm Ryn. I'm a workaholic!

I don't like new-You...

2010-07-24T20:38:00.003+08:00

... You are always busy working!

My heart sank upon hearing that from my little nephew today.

A piece of me

2010-04-28T20:43:00.006+08:00

While driving to work this morning, I saw a small old lady. She was walking by the road side - this being Malaysia, there were no proper sidewalk. She was wearing a "batik" sarong, "baju kurung kedah" (traditional Malay blouse), and a headscarf. Even though the hot sun was not out yet, her sun-browned crinkled skin foretold the years she had lived under typical Malaysian hot sun. In her right hand, she carried a red plastic bag that seemed to be a little heavy for a old grandma to carry. My conscience told me to stop my car, and gave her a lift. But at the back of my head, I heard this nagging, "I'm running late. I need to get to the office, fast!". And so I drove passed her. As I drove, some how I felt as if I lost a little piece of me.

On another unrelated note, yesterday I was rushing for a meeting in K.L. when a team member telephoned. He needed my signature on some documents. We agreed to meet halfway. He was already there when I reached our rendezvous point. I was standing at the guard house, and he was across the yard. I had less than an hour to make the 1-hour drive to my meeting (am I making any sense?). I was irked to my bones when I saw how sloth-like he walked from across the yard. I rose my voice and gave him a piece of my mind from across the yard!

As people said, when stress, go out and shop. Not known to be shopaholic, today I tried it anyway. And guess what, of all the things that I could buy (actually, I almost bought a RM1200-leather-recliner), I bought a Malaysian cook book, "Malaysian Food" by Norman Musa. Not because I'm into cooking, but because there were lots of interesting photos in the book. Unlike typical Malaysian cook books that only have photos of the finished dishes, this book included the photos of people and things you bumped into when you shop in a typical Malaysian market. The author put personal stories that compliment the photos. Looking through the book, I felt like I was rejuvenating a piece of me that seem to fade away.

Perhaps all these are signs that I should change job; before the job took away all the pieces that make me, me!

Aging

2010-04-08T00:15:00.004+08:00

I know, it has been ages since my last entry in this blog. And yes, I know, I still haven't finish the New Zealand entries, which is now becoming a more distance and foggy memory. When ever I do have time to sit in front of the computer for other things than work, I can't seem to weave the letters in words, words into sentences and sentences into stories (just a fancier way of admitting I'm having writers' block). Our ever increasing age doesn't help much in the memory department either.

Speaking of age and aging, I had an intimate dinner with a bunch of close friends. We try to do it every now and then to catch up on each other. It was my first time dining in the TR outlet. I've heard so much about it. Unfortunately, the food wasn't as good as I expected. If it wasn't for the great company, I might not have enjoyed my dinner as much as I did.

Anyway, we were chatting away when to topic of age and aging came up. Yours truly, had recently turned *ehem* 25. Friends around the table would soon follow suit. Then someone mentioned and pondered whether he / she had done what ever he / she set out to do before reaching a certain age. While most still have thing yet to be accomplished (which included ending the single-dom era), I've ticked most items in my "life's to do list". Interestingly, "get married" was never on my list.

Fully aware that I fall under "at risk group", I'm just glad I made it to my *ehem* 25th birthday.

(p.s. A few family friends, and family members had passed on since 1st January 2010. The most recent was last week. And today, a staff of the company I worked with, passed away in one of the building in my area. I've just got back from the hospital. I've never met him. But in time of need, we banded together to lend a hand. Condolence to his family.)

To Do

2010-02-13T01:14:00.003+08:00

1) Connects those disconnected ideas and notes on NZ trip. Need to finish entries about the trip.
2) Do at least 3 out of 8 items from my other "to-do" list (work related).
3) Do my laundry. Wash, dry and fold.
4) Packed some of the clean clothes.

Yes, I'm going away. As close friends remarked the other day, "Again?"

(p.s. to the close friends: if you don't hear from me, as usual, you know what to do.)

Day 5 (Tuesday 6th May 2009) – Close encounters

2010-01-31T00:55:00.004+08:00

It was still dark when I woke up that morning. No more delirious about seeing sunrise, I left the apartment just to see the morning light. I was somehow obsessed about seeing the first light of the morning. Dark cloud loomed overhead. The street was deserted. I could lie down in the middle of the road if I wanted to. Soon it started to drizzle. Not wanting to get sick, I quickly return to the warmth of the apartment.

Realizing the busy day ahead of us, we cooked a heavy breakfast – fried rice, frankfurter, hash brown, omelets, and instant curry puff. We finished the rice and packed the rest of the food for lunch. The previous night, we had decided to start the day early. Ma Hen, AD and I had bought our passes from an agent in Malaysia. We had the option of picking up the passes at the any of the attraction’s entrance. D on the other hand, hadn’t got any passes.

D had tried to call the agent earlier to book her passes. Unfortunately, the number listed on our itinerary wasn’t the right number. I was the first to drive that day. I have to admit, after a ‘horrifying’ drive in town to search for the tourist information counter, it was decided that I shouldn’t be driving in town. At the information counter, D found out that she couldn’t get any special rate and would have to purchase the passes at each of the entrances.

We decided to go to the local travel agent to try to arrange for an additional person. We punched in the address into the Samseng, and off we went. Some turns, and stops later, we drove into a housing area, complete with school kids in uniforms going to school that morning. I was surprised to spot some kids were wearing only sandals in this cold weather!

Anyway, the Samseng took us to an ordinary looking house. The door was closed. We pondered. Should we just go knocking the door and ask? Not to alarm the house owner if the four of us went barging the door, we decided that D and Ma Hen should go first. It turned out to be the right address. The man in his 50s conducted his business mostly online and in wholesale. We were probably the first customers to arrive in front of his door.

We punched in the destination into the Samseng, and drove off. Our first stop: Te Puia. We parked our car at the deserted car park. We made our way on foot to the main entrance, passing a lot of wood carving along the way. After about five to ten minutes walk (plus photo taking), we finally reached the entrance. To our disbelief, there, opposite the ticket booth, was another parking lot. We exchanged our passes at the ticket counter. We decided to go for the cultural show for additional NZ$10. I was glad we made that decision.

As told by the ladies at the ticket counter, we waited at the meeting point. There we were joined by fellow tourists. There were a bunch of guys from UK, some ladies assumed to be from Australia, a bunch of people assumed to be from China, and an old mother-daughter pair from Malaysia. Not long after the mother-daughter pair were ushered into a building in front of us, a lady dressed in traditional Maori clothes - complete with fur cloaked over her shoulder and three of what looked like hawk’s feathers slid in her hair - came. She briefed us the dos and don’ts. She asked for a guy to volunteer to be our impromptu chief. We were all considered as a visiting clan.

Soon after the ‘safety’ briefing, the lady who in everyway looked like a chief daughter, stood by our clan chief. Everyone else stood behind our chief. Then came an angry looking Maori man, running towards us, all the while screaming on top of his lung. He stood a few feet from us, still screaming and making menacing faces, and waved his wooden weapon. While the Maori man was doing the “karanga” - the screaming and the waving of his wooden weapon - no one from the visiting clan was allowed to make noise. Making noise would mean that we were answering the Maori man’s cries for war.

He then placed a leave in front of our chief, who picked it up as a sign that we came in peace. For health reason (it was the beginning of H1N1 pandemic), they had to forgo the traditional ‘rub-nose’ greeting. We then proceed to walk slowly and quietly behind our chief to the building where the mother-daughter had earlier disappeared into. The building is a traditional meetinghouse. Traditionally it is the centre of the community – meeting and decisions were made in the house. So the meetinghouse or “Marae”, is considered as somewhat sacred. We had to take off our shoes.

The door opened to a huge hall. There was a stage at the end of the hall with plastic chairs lined up in rows upon rows. The ‘chief daughter’ explained that traditionally, guests were expected to sit on the floor. However, since some guests have knee problems and can’t sit on floor, they put in the chairs. The walls were covered with what looked like weaved bamboo or leaves. The ceilings and beams are covered with carved panels. They were beautiful.

The ‘chief daughter’ went up the stage with a bunch of Maori ladies. They sang some songs in Maori language. Though I couldn’t understand a word of it, they were beautiful. I could almost see river flowing, trees swayed and flowers blew by the wind, in my head. Then the ladies brought out a pair of string with cotton balls attached to it. They performed a traditional dance, which involved swinging the cotton balls around. They even invited the female audiences to try. Ma Hen and D grabbed the opportunity and tried. They now can proudly claim that they had become an international dancer and had performed in front of an international crowd!

Next, some Maori men went up the stage and joined the Maori ladies. They sang a love song. They all looked peace-loving and gentle singing these beautiful songs. But mind you, the minute they performed the famous Hakka dance, all the serene and gentle look went out of the window. Their sweet voice instantly changed to war cries. Even the all-smile and fragile looking ladies transformed into monsters with tongues sticking out and big wide eyes staring down upon you! They then invited the male audiences to join the Hakka dance.

Another love song followed and before we knew it, the 45 minutes show was over.

After the cultural performance, we went along a guided tour of Te Puia. The guide did say her extremely long Maori name, which she simplified for us as Te. Te, half Maori half Scottish, was born and grew up in Te Puia.

Before Te Puia was turned into some sort of cultural complex, it was actually some sort of a village. People actually live and play there. As we walked around passing geysers, mud pools, hot springs, and streams, Te told us stories of her growing up in the area. They used to catch Cray fish from the warm streams then dipped and cooked it in the hot spring near by. They also used to jump up and down next to the geyser.

We sat on “hot rocks” facing the Prince of Wales Geyser. In the cold temperature, the "hot rock" warmed our gluteus maximus. Te told us about how, growing up, she used to think everyone was like her and experiences what she experienced. She admitted that she was more Maori than she was Scottish. She dislike the uptight structure of her Scottish side. She told us how she and her siblings had to sit straight and be ‘prim and proper’ when she was in her Scottish Gram’s house. The minute they left Gram’s house, they would all run wild! It was very intimate sharing. I could see the sparkle in her eyes as she told these stories.

We continued walking towards Maori Arts & Crafts Institute. Located within the compound of Te Puia, this institute was founded to ensure the Maori arts and crafts continued to be passed on to younger generation. There is a foundation giving scholarship to deserving Maoris to study arts and crafts in the institute. Upon entering the wood carving workshop, the first thing that caught my eyes were the hot tattoos on a Maori's arm. Next was the carving that he was working on.

Te was quick to explain that the carvings and the idols we saw around the complex compound are not totems. They are merely panel carvings. Maoris believe God is too great to be portrayed as carvings. And human is not worthy to portray his or her Creators in any way. The carvings are mostly portrayal of their ancestors. The carvings on the boat on the other hand, tell the story of the whole clan. The boat was carved out of a single tree and traditionally each clan has its own boat.

We stopped by the weaving workshop next door. These ladies weaved the leaves into among others, the skirts worn by the female Maoris performers earlier. They use a kind of screw-pines (‘mengkuang’) leaves that grew in swampy area there.

We thanked Te for her insightful stories and left Te Puia. We headed back to our motel for lunch and to pick up some things.

Day 4 (Monday 5th May 2009) – Sunrise and seafaring legs

2009-12-31T09:53:00.003+08:00

While the rest of the gang was still fast asleep, I got up. The sun was just rising. Wanting to be one of the few people on earth to first see the sun rise for a new day, I quickly wore my winter jacket. While I wore wool socks, I had no long-john underneath my track-bottom. I figured that it would only take a while and I would return to the room if it get too cold. I took the keys and left everyone.

I jogged to edge of water and sat on a spot at the dock. Imagine my disappointment when I realized I couldn’t see the sun rises from the horizon! There were masses of land at the horizon. Never the less I stayed to watch how the beautiful colours of the sky changed as the sun rose that morning. Surprisingly the wind-proof material of the track-bottom meant that the cloth trapped some air, enough to insulate some heat for my legs. Much later I discovered (after examining the map) that the dock wasn’t exactly by the sea. The water that was in front of me that day was actually a river mouth.

When I returned to the apartment, everyone was still asleep. It was some times later when finally everyone woke up. We prepared breakfast – hash brown, frankfurters, scrambled eggs and omelets. Once fueled, we packed all the leftovers. We cleaned all the glassware and cooking utensil; stored everything back in the kitchen and pack our bags. By default, the task of fitting everything into the small car fell on me. Everyone brought everything down to the car park while I figured out what fit where.

It was still early by the time every thing was packed and stored in the car. We decided to take a drive through town. There were some shops already opened that early morning. I bought a lip balm – my lips had begun to chap due to the cold temperature and wind. We also stopped by the beach and took photos.

We went back to the motel. Checked the apartment to make sure we didn’t leave anything, and went to the lobby to checkout. We also registered ourselves for the tour at the counter (registering, in this case, included signing a non-liability). I do not know if the rest of the gang read carefully what we signed that day. Under New Zealand law, you can’t sue any tour / adventure operators for any mishaps that might befall you. Basically we signed our lives away that day. After all the paper works and legality, we were given ‘tickets’. Interestingly, instead of being given one of those use-once-than-throw-paper-tabs as tickets, we each was given a small metal funnel as our tickets.

We went to the dock – the place that I had sat earlier that day, handed our ‘tickets’ and boarded the boat. Due to the force of nature, we were delayed. We had to wait for the tide to come. The water was too shallow for the boat to move safely. When the boat finally moved, we were excited. We sat outside the lower deck. There was a Caucasian couple there. We passed a landmark – statue of Wairaka - perched on top of a hill at the mouth of the river. Over the speaker, one of the crew explained the significance of the statue.

According to legends, the native people of Whakatane came from the sea in canoe called Mataatua. The women, children and the olds were left on the canoe while the men went inland in search of fresh water and food. In the absence of the men, the canoe began to drift into the open sea. Amidst the panic, the chief’s daughter, Wairaka, took charged. She yelled “Whakatane” which means “act like a man”. All women banded together and row the canoe to safety.

Anyway, not long after that, the boat crew handed out a piece of bread (with margarine spread on it) and a cup of pumpkin soup. We first ate the bread and the soup separately, but soon realized that they taste better together. In true Asian style, we dipped the bread into the soup before eating the bread. The Caucasian couple saw what we did. Before long, they too did the same!

Out in the open sea, the smooth boat ride quickly changed into a bumpy one. Before long, Ma Hen looked a little pale. We decided that she best went in, which thankfully she did. The crew took care of her. With the ride getting bumpier, and seawater splashing from the sides of the boat (the crew gave us each a towel), AD decided to join Ma Hen. Only D and I left, enjoying the winds and splashes on the open deck.

One and a half hour later, the boat anchored near an island, our destination: White Island. We were each given a hardhat and a facemask. D was the first to board a smaller rubber boat that took us to the old jetty on the island. On the island, first we were given a safety briefing and a little background of the island.

The safety briefing was simple:

1. Follow the guides.
2. Always wear the yellow hardhat.
3. In case of eruption (yes, we were on a volcanic island), do not run to the open beach hoping those on the boat will save you – they’ll long be gone by then. You are to take cover behind the biggest boulder or structure you can reach. Flying hot debris most likely to cause death than hot flowing lava. Now you see why I said we signed our lives away!
4. If, in the end we survive the eruption, calm down, avoid any flowing lava and wait for help.

Don’t worry, help will come, eventually. There are a bunch of volcanologists actively monitoring the island via life feed from video camera installed at the edges of cliffs above our heads. We were given sweets to help clear our throat if they became irritated by sulphurous air. After the safety briefing, we trekked the island making many stops, allowing the guide, Karen, to describe things.

There was too much ‘smoke’ that day for us to see the acidic lake that had formed in the one of craters. Long time ago, sulphur was mined of this island. One of the miner went missing, only his boots were found at the edge of the acidic lake, which sparked a speculation on whether he accidentally fell or committed suicide? The mystery was never solved, for no body was found – the acidic water corrodes every thing in a flash. The mine has long been closed. But the island remained the private property of the Buttle family.

While trekking back to the dock, it hit me (no, no flying debris hit me), the cliffs above our heads were actually the edge of the main / bigger crater. We were trekking inside the main crater! Anyway, we cleaned our shoes before boarding the boat home.

The four of us sat on the upper deck. The crew handed out our sandwich lunch. The sea was getting choppier as we made our way back to the main land. In the distance, I could see storm brewing. I had finished my food, was bouncing and holding tight to the railing, when Ma Hen felt queasy, again. I quickly got on my feet and got down the stairs.

The boat was bouncing when I lost my footing. I had my eyes focused on the wooden lower deck floor underneath me. In that split second, I knew, if I fall, I would hit headfirst and could probably break my neck. And in that split second, I managed to grab the hand railing on my right. So instead of falling head first, I managed to swing to the deck floor and landed on my feet. The crew must have seen me for by the time I landed, they were already at the door! Above the noises (from the waves splashing the boat and the sound of the engine), I managed to tell them about Ma Hen. They quickly went up and brought Ma Hen into the closure of the lower deck (where more people were feeling sick).

The boat continued to rock and bounce in the choppy water. It began to drizzle. The cloud became darker. I was glad we reach the mainland in more or less two hours later! On the dock, we dramatically and exaggeratedly hugged each other, saying we survived the volcanic island and the rough boat ride.

At the motel lobby, the staff was surprised to hear that I was okay with the rough ride (perhaps I looked the most skinny and frail in the tour group). I told them most who sat on the upper deck were okay. She said we all had strong stomach.

I took the wheel. It was about 5pm when we left Whakatane for the town of Rotorua. Before long, the night fell, and we were driving along dark winding road. I could smell anxiety in the air. I didn’t blame them. We were driving along a dark foreign road. Except for the “Expected Arrival Time” as calculated by the Samseng, we were clueless on how much longer the drive was. However, I was calm. I have done this – driving along a dark unfamiliar road – a number of times. At least this time I wasn’t alone.

Anyway, two hours later we safely arrived BK’s Rotorua Motor Lodge. We checked in and unloaded our bags into the one room apartment (two single beds in place of sofa in the living area). We needed additional ingredients for dinner. AD stayed behind to prepare food. The rest of us went in the car and Ma Hen drove to the mall across the road. After buying what we needed, Ma Hen and D, took the car for refueling. I, on the other hand, walked back to the motel.

Dinner consisted of spaghetti. We discussed our plans for tomorrow, then went to bed.

Distance traveled: approx. 100 km on sea & 107 km on land

Day 3 (Monday 4th May 2009) – Swayed and narrow road

2009-12-31T09:43:00.004+08:00

No we didn’t swayed to the song of Michael Buble. However the car did swayed a little bit to the left, then a little bit to the right. That was how Ma Hen drove that day. AD and I bit our tongue and said nothing about it throughout the drive. To our consolation, Ma Hen did maintained the car in the correct driving lane. We passed the town of Paengaroa and reached the town for Whakatane safely about an hour later.

We followed the GPS direction and arrived at our first motel, White Island Rendezvous. Our room, nay, in a way, it was more like a two-room apartment. There were kitchen, complete with all the basic utensils and glassware; dining area; and living room equipped with television.

We saw pamphlet of Ohiwa Oyster Farm. A seafood-fanatic, I quickly agreed when the rest of the gang decided to eat out instead of cooking. Having shared our mutual concerns regarding Ma Hen driving, it was my turn to drive.

We punched in the address into the Samseng, and off we went. Before long, we were driving along a narrow winding road in the dark! I can see worries in the eyes of my traveling buddies. The route to my office involve narrow and winding roads too. Except for the a slightly higher slope gradient, the route was similar to the route to my office. So I had no problem maneuvering the car.

After making a wrong turn, we finally reach our destination. We thought we were going to eat oyster in a proper restaurant. The shop was a small wooden ‘hut’ that stood at the fringe of Ohope Beach seeming out in nowhere. There was no one else. I parked the car. We placed our order of mix deep-fried seafood – oyster, mussels, squids and fish – in batter served with fries and dips. There were benches overlooking the lagoon. We sat there to wait for our food.

While waiting for food, another car came. A middle-aged lady came out of the car, placed her order and went back into the car to wait. We on the other had, endured the cold weather and sat on the benches. To kill time, well, you guessed it, took loads of photos. Even when to food was finally ready, we took photos of the food before we sank our teeth into the hot fresh seafood. We soon finished the dips. Since we needed to pay for additional dips, we packed the remaining food and headed back to our motel.

We stopped at a designated scenic lookout. We wanted to take photo to capture the sunset and a mountain at the background. Unfortunately, the low-light situation confused the cameras’ sensors. When I finally got the manual setting on my camera right, it was already too dark to see the background. Unable to further stand the bone chilling-cold temperature, we quickly returned to the warmth of our apartment to finish our dinner – needing our chili sauce to accompany the dinner.

I slept as soon as I tucked myself in the warm bed.

Distance traveled: approx 92km

Day 3 (Monday 4th May 2009) – Behind the wheel

2009-12-31T09:36:00.003+08:00

AD was the first to get behind the wheel. We drove out of the city. Before long, the landscape changed from concrete jungle (a sparse jungle, unlike dense KL), to wide open green grassland dotted with cows and sheep. The view was great but we were warned by Aunt not to simply stop along the road but to stop at designated parking areas.

About one and a half hour later (approximately 119km later), we reached the town of Paeroa. Having clocked hundreds, I was fully aware the toll long distance driving has to the driver’s body and mind. I suggested that we stop and take a break. Little did I know that this small cowboy town is the birthplace of L&P (Lemon & Paeroa), a soft drink. We did what every geeky tourist would do, took photos, and continued our journey. We passed more small towns - Te Aroha, Matamata, and Tauranga - along the way to the town Te Puke.

We stopped for our toilet break near a place called Jamieson Oval in Te Puke. Then we picked a spot under an olive tree to have our lunch. We spread our packed food on the picnic bench had a splendid picnic. D and I were packing things when two ladies came.

The older lady was most probably in her 40s, the younger lady might be in her early 20s. We began small talks. They have northern Malaysian accents. The younger lady has lighter skin and short cropped curly hair. Her eyes were sort of light hazel – matching her not-so-black hair. After a series of questions, D and I began to suspect something was amiss. First they said they were on holiday. Hearing that D was on working-holiday visa, they too claimed that they were on working-holiday visa. Well aware that there’s an age limit to such visa, we agreed (without having to say a word to each other) to keep our distance from them and leave as soon as our two other traveling buddies came.

Our next stop was Kiwi 360. There was a gift shop. Ma Hen went to enquire the guy behind the counter about the guided tour. The next one was at 2pm. Again, not a shopaholic by nature, I bluntly asked whether we could ‘linger’ there while waiting for the guided tour. Well, needless to say, I experienced the ‘blunt’ of the question for the rest of the road trip!

The first ‘lingering’ effect of the question was that the good looking guy from behind the counter, Sam, became our tour guide. We boarded a ‘tram’. Sam drove us around the kiwi fruit orchard and went on explaining things.

Te Puke, along with some other towns, are located in Bay of Plenty. As the name suggested, there are plenty of things grown in the area, thanks to its fertile volcanic soil as well as its temperate weather. Contrary to common believe, kiwi fruits are not native fruit of New Zealand. Kiwi fruits were brought in from China by enterprising New Zealand farmers some years ago. Each variety of the fruit was named after its cultivator.

We even made a stop at the kiwi fruit processing farm. The fruits were plucked before they are ripe, then packed into boxes before being shipped (yes the fruits travel via sea to save cost). By the time the fruits reached their destination, the fruits would be ripe. A big portion of the Kiwi Orchard and processing plant workers comes from Asian countries – Malaysia included. After a visit to the Kiwi Fruit processing plant, Sam ‘set us loose’ in the orchard. We did the only geeky tourist thing to do: took lots of photos. The tour ended soon after.

We continued our journey with Ma Hen behind the wheel. We headed to a town called Whakatane, about 67 km away.

Distance traveled: 260km

Day 3 (Monday 4th May 2009) – The blues

2009-12-30T20:19:00.006+08:00

Monday mornings are associated with Monday blues. But no blues for us that early Monday morning. We had no problem peeling ourselves from the comfort and warmth of our bed. We quickly took turns to shower and got ready. We would begin our road trip that day. Joining us on the road trip was D.

Aunt agreed to give us a lift to the car rental collection point. She said the area was near to her office. Unfortunately she was not really sure the exact location. No problem. I switched on the GPS and punched in the address: 150 Khyber Pass Road. No such address registered. Oddly, 149 Khyber Pass Road was! Thinking that it was most probably next to the 150, we agreed to set it as the destination point.

Off we went, driving and navigating the morning traffic as dictated by the GPS program. We did get to Khyber Pass Road. But to our horror, the building numbers were not in any logical sequence. 150 was not next to 149 Khyber Pass Road! So there we were, driving in the morning traffic, squinting our eyes to spot the building number.

We turned into a small lane, which according to the map would take us back to the main road. Unfortunately, almost at the end of the road, it was gated – the kind that use RF card. We had to turn back. While trying to get into the busy main road, we finally spotted the building! We had probably drove around the area for half an hour or so.

Ma Hen and AD had previously arranged for an auto-transmission 1.3 car. Even though I can’t really drive an auto-transmission, having two drivers compared to only one if we take the manual-transmission out weighted everything. For fuel efficiency, we decided on a 1.3. Imagine our surprise when they gave us a Daihatsu Sirion 1.3 – which looks everyway like Malaysian MyVi.

Aunt was skeptical. Could the little car fit the four of us, our bags and our rations? (Aunt and Gram found time over the weekend to prepare food for us to take along our road trip). Aunt wondered if we could fit our bags into the trunk. We tried to get a bigger 1.3 car. The car rental guy tried his best; unfortunately none were ready at that time.

We assured Aunt that we could fit every thing and everyone just fine. Having traveled together before, Ma Hen and AD knew I could fit seemingly ‘unfitable’ amount of things into a small bag. When all the bags fit just nicely in the trunk, and the food in the middle of the back seat, Aunt, and even the car rental guy, looked in amazement.

We hooked my Samseng on the dashboard. Bided adieu to Aunt, and we were off on our much anticipated road trip!

Distance traveled: 20km

Day 2 (Sunday 3rd May 2009) – Countryside and beach

2009-12-29T14:45:00.012+08:00

After a hearty breakfast, we – Ma Hen, AD, D, Aunt and I - traveled about 18 km out of the city to the village of Clevedon in the countryside. It was only 6.00 am but the sun was already up. And surprisingly so were the villagers. There were cars already parked along the country road.

Similar to Pasar Tani in Malaysia, the New Zealanders have farmers’ market. And this was our destination on that early morning, Clevedon Farmer’s Market. However, unlike Malaysian messy and otherwise boring Pasar Tani, the Clevedon Farmer’s Market was clean and had this festivity atmosphere.

There were people selling home made jams, mustard, muesli (mixture of cereals and dried fruits), cakes, buns, honey, freshly pluck fruits and vegetables – just to name a few. There were picnic tables, and blocks of hays under shady trees. People sat and enjoyed each other companies. Little kids ran around and played on the grass. There were even pony rides. If you ran out of cash but still want your kids to have fun, no problem, booths here accept credit cards!

We didn’t stay long, but long enough to stuff ourselves with freshly baked bread. AD needed new pair of shoes (the old ones conveniently gave up on Day 1). Aunt took us to a place called Botany. Contrary to its name, it was not a flora-fauna-kind of place. It was some sort of shopping centre. Having used to KL’s high-rise shopping malls, it took some time for me to realized that New Zealand malls, though not imposing-tall, was equally big, sprawling to form some sort of little town square. We went to Number1shoes and a few other shops there. I wanted to buy new boots for work, unfortunately none met my specific criteria.

Then we drove up north, making a stop at a shop selling the iconic sheepskin rug. Aunt suggested that we check out the price and compare with other places that we might pass during our coming road trip. Then we continued further up, to reach Mission Bay. Shops, restaurants, cafes, and bars lined the main road. It was a bustling business centre. Across the main road was a park over looking the sea. They were people basking in the sun and playing in the public ground.

To get a better vista, Aunt drove us up to a nearby hill, Micheal Joseph Memorial Park. There were people lounging on the freshly mowed grass. Initially Aunt just gave us five minutes to enjoy the view. When we passed the time limit, D came looking for us, only to join us doing geeky tourist stuff – taking loads of photos – and further prolonged Aunt waiting time! Realizing that we already spent about 20 minutes, we headed to the car.

We had barbecue dinner in another Singaporean's house.

Distance traveled: approx. 79km

Day 1 (Saturday 2nd May 2009) – One Tree Hill

2009-12-28T10:55:00.010+08:00

Yes, there is such place on earth. It’s not a Hollywood’s fictional place.

After a little rest, Aunt drove us - Ma Hen, AD, D and me - around town. Our first stop: Dress-Smart. Dress-Smart looks like any other shopping complexes. Main items sold are clothes of every type – work, play, casual, formal, cheap, and expensive. Not a shopaholic by nature (except when it comes to gadgets but that is for other entry), I was at ‘lost’. I ended up seating on a wooden bench opposite an ice-cream shop, eating an ice cream cone, while at the same time, eye-balling passer-bys.

First thing that caught my eyes were the fashion senses and the postures of the general public. While the Italians were impeccably (and formally) dressed, walked with their back straight and chin up (you get what I meant?), even when walking through street bazaars, the New Zealanders that passed by me that day were opposite the Italians. Most were casually dress, preferring t-shirts and jeans. Some were wearing working boots and some were only in their sandals (open toes sandals in the cold weather!). They seemed to slouch and drag their feet as they walked. They all appear very laid back as oppose to the up-tight Italians.

I finished my ice cream just as the rest of the gang emerged from the payment counters. Everyone seemed to have bought something. We all hopped into the car and continued with our short tour. Somewhere near Maungawhau Domain, we spotted sheeps.

Having seen Malaysian sheep during our previous trip to rural Malaysia (note to self: snap a picture of Malaysian sheep), Ma Hen was excited to see white fluffy New Zealand sheep. Aunt was kind enough to let us out of the car and brave the grass land filled with sheep poop just to get closer look / photos. AD on the other hand, was excited to see a cow, saying that the cows here have thicker and denser fur.

We then drove to One Tree Hill. There used to be a lone tree standing on top of the hill. The hill (and the then alive tree) has some sort of significant meaning to a certain Maori tribe. The tree was vandalized and cut down by a bunch of hooligans some where in year 2000. To mark where the tree used to be, an obelisk stood in its place.

We returned home, got a little rest before going out again. We were having dinner at Aunt & Uncle’s friends’ place. We met three more Singaporean families there – a pair of newly weds, a family of five, and a family of four. Having never heard Gram talking in her thick native dialect, the Singaporeans wondered what language she uses when talking to me. I understood her just fine and had no problem in conversing with her using the same dialect.

We had a wonderful dinner with agreeable company. We went home and to bed almost immediately.

Distance traveled: approx. 47km
(p.s.: Location for dinner is not disclosed and covered in map)

Day 1 (Saturday 2nd May 2009) - Rise and shine

2009-12-28T10:30:00.003+08:00

It was it was 4.11am (Malaysian time). We were in the Australian airspace when the sun rose that day. The plane touched down at the tarmac around 11.45am (New Zealand time). I have to refer to my photos (which have Malaysian time embedded in the EXIF) to refresh my foggy mind. I have to remind myself that NZ time is ahead 5 hours of Malaysian time.

While waiting for our luggage to pop-out at the conveyer belt, I noticed an airport personnel walking with a cute little dog, sniffing people’s bags. The little dog was specially trained to sniff out plants and dairy products. NZ, being an agricultural country, imposes strict regulation on bringing plants and dairy products. Understandably, you don’t want to have some foreign microbes destroying the whole country’s produce. If you have something against dogs sniffing your bags, just don’t bring food in them. And make sure that the bags have not been used to carry food, especially fruits, for the past two or three days.

Ma Hen spotted Aunt upon exiting the arrival gate. Waiting with Aunt was her niece, D. We hauled our bags into Aunt’s car and headed home, making a brief stop at a meat shop to buy some Halal meat. At home, we met more family members – Gram, doing the laundry in the garage; and Uncle, surfing the internet at the dining table. We unloaded our bags and had lunch. For the life of me, I can’t remember what we ate, only that it was very filling and tasty (all home cooked meal in NZ was superb).

About 8703 km from our starting point: KLIA

To the land of Kiwis - A frantic start

2009-12-11T22:50:00.008+08:00

The plan was to meet at the airport and check-in together, then dinner at the airport. Unfortunately, I got tied to work on the day that I was suppose to leave Malaysia.

It was already evening when I left the office. I did a few last minutes packing and hitched a ride to KLIA. In the car, I was told that for international flight, I should checked in and get through the security checks two hours before the flight. My vehicle-operator (a.k.a. the person who drove the car), frequent traveler himself(though for business), was well aware about it. So while speeding along the deserted road, he told me to try to check-in online. His concern was real, it was 7pm, and I was still in the car! My flight was scheduled on 9.10pm.

I took out my laptop, thanks to Celcom, got connected to internet (you'll be amazed at the coverage!). I logged on the MAS website. Yes, I could check-in online. But I wasn't sure about my luggage. I think I was suppose to print the slip and paste it on the luggage. Since I didn't have any printer in the car, I had to keep my finger crossed and hope for the best.

Thanks to the hair-rising-car-ride, I reached the airport in a jif. I practically jumped out of the car, grabbed my suitecase from the trunk, and ran to the counter. I thought I was late, but there were this other bunch of caucasians ladies running to the counter too! And they had less than an hour to check-in and get pass the security to catch their flight!

The efficient service at the check-in counter was great. Checking-in was a breeze. I, along with the Caucasians ladies, made a dash to the departure gate and the immigration check. At the immigration counter, I wished the ladies good luck and ran frantically to my boarding gate, while at the same time hearing the boarding call announced over the speaker.

I reached my boarding gate around 8pm. Panting for air, I looked around and saw none of my travelling buddies! A few minutes later the gate to the waiting area opened, and still no sign of my buddies. I was baffled. Earlier in the car, they told me via the telephone, that they'd checked in. I gave them a call. They were still having dinner. They didn't hear the announcement. Now it was their turn to rush to the boarding gate.

It was a great relief when I finally saw them. They packed a burger for my dinner. Unfortunately, the soft drink had to be tossed away at the security check. I gobbled down the burger (thankfully I didn't chocked on the food). We boarded the plane soon after I finished my food.

The flight was uneventful. All the facilities was great - in-flight entertainment, the food, and the juice. The guava juice was great. I asked for refill numerous time, so often that the flight attendant knew my face!

We touched down Auckland the following morning.

To the land of Kiwis - The Preparation

2009-12-10T06:25:00.007+08:00

The first item on my "to-do-list" was: GET WELL SOON.

I had poxes on my back, torso, arms and thighs. Gratefully, only few made they way to my face. With New Zealand trip on the horizon, I diligently took the doctor prescription. I also took heed of traditional remedies: drinking coconut water. Another traditional remedies was not to eat oily food and soy sauce to reduce scarring of the poxes. And, the hardest part, not scratching the itchy and burning poxes-covered-skin!

After two weeks of recuperating at home, I was well enough to go to the office. I hadn't fully recovered but I needed to return to work. Work had begun piling up. Still a little weak, the first week back in the office, I stayed indoors and minimized contacts with people. I had to cancel meetings and site visits, which didn't help in clearing my backlogs. Thankfully, at the end of week, to good doctor gave the long awaited all-cleared sign. By then, I only left with three weeks to clean my slate before flying off to the land of Kiwis.

In between work, thanks to the internet, Ma Hen, AD and I managed to coordinate our preparation. Ma Hen: Ground arrangements. AD: food and rations. Me: electronics and gadgets.

"Electronics and gadget? What's that?", you would ask. Among the items in our ground arrangements was a self-drive-road-trip. Even though Ma Hen managed to get directions for our destinations, safe to say, none of us are any good with directions. AD and I, both, have "direction-deficiency-syndrome". Just another way of saying we can't really differentiate the word "left or right". Ma Hen, well, from past experiences, is not the best navigator because she fall asleep in car rides. Normally for navigation, we have another travel companion which have never been mentioned in this entire blog, and shall remain so until required.

Anyway, realizing that we were a little handicapped in the navigational area, we decided to go hi-tech. My Samsung SGH-i780 is GPS enabled. So I was entrusted with the task of making navigation simpler. Thanks to the internet, I managed to get a free copy of New Zealand GPS map. Converting the map using Garmin Mapsource, I was able to load the map in Garmin XT installed in my Samseng (typo is intentional ;) ). For those intending to do this at home, please backup the original mapfile in your mobile phone to avoid future heartache in case things go wrong.

Other than the GPS, I also brought along my laptop. We all were using digital camera. Based on my Italy trip, digital camera tend to make us snapped more photos. Laptop is required just in case we ran out of storage space in our tiny memory cards. Other than laptop, I had chargers - for laptops, handphone, and dSLR. I also had car chargers for the Samseng, and a power inverter, just in case we need power point in the car. Photographics equipement packed in my bag included: 3 lens (the kit, a zoom, a fisheye), dSLR, flashgun, 2 memory cards and a tripod. Suffice to say, we were high-tech ready for the trip.

Then finally, the day came. The night of 1st May 2009, we met at the airport and began our journey to the land of Kiwis!

Material World

2009-12-09T00:42:00.002+08:00

No, material world got nothing to do with New Zealand trip, though some material were needed for the trip. Will post another entry on the subject once I complete it.

I've this habit of dressing down, and in doing so, appearing less educated than I actually am. Most of the time it was just because I don't like to dress up. Some of the time, it was intentional. Just to give people some sort of false impression to discover how people would react. Remember how surprised the headmistress from Jakarta to hear me speaking English fluently? And then again, an Australian in one flight home?

Yesterday was different. I've only met the headmistress and the Australian once, this workshop that I went however, is where I've been sending my cheap-Malaysian-made-car for a few years now. All these while wearing slippers; track bottoms and t-shirts, or t-shirts and jeans.

It wasn't my intention to see how they react. They've always been polite. They have been calling me "Adik" - a common term for Malaysian to refer someone younger then themselves. Due to my skinny frame, I often appear younger that my actual age.

That morning, just the same as previously, the lady behind the counter called me "Adik". I handed my keys. Then I called a colleague, asking if there was anyone available to pick me from the workshop.

I couldn't wait for the car. I had an early meeting. Fifteen minutes or so, a colleague came, driving the unmistakeable company's 4WD. I saw it from the waiting area, through the glass wall. I quickly exited the glass door and walked to the car.

Later that evening, when I came to collect my car, I noticed the lady was being a little 'formal'. She dropped "Adik" and addressed my more formally. I continued with my usual easy and laid-back ways but at the same time wondered about the sudden change.

It was during the drive home that I realized what had happened. That morning, I went to the workshop wearing full suit, ready for meeting. Except for my bright orange backpack, I might have had a 'corporate look' that morning. Then, the phone call I made, requesting someone to pick me up. And some one did came, with the company car.

All that transpired that morning must have crushed any previous notions she had about me!

To the land of Kiwis - The Beginning

2009-12-02T00:13:00.006+08:00

Before all is lost in my foggy mind, here goes:

It all began some time last year with an old friend from college announcing that she was getting married. In New Zealand! She mooted the idea of vacationing to New Zealand and while we were there, find time to attend her wedding.

When fellow traveler, Ma Hen, took up the suggestion seriously, my heart jumped. Unlike friends who dream of going to US or UK, I’ve always wanted to step foot on NZ. It must have been the image from childhood of a certain brand of milk that has picture of cows grazing on an open land on its container.

And so, we began to make arrangements. This time, blissfully married Ah Gang wasn’t part of “we”. Another avid travel companion joining us shall be known as AD. The three of us had traveled together previously. We were college mates. And we know each other long enough to know and tolerate each others’ quirks.

We contemplated on when and where to buy the flight ticket. Ma Hen was against the adventurous idea of taking a certain low budget flight to Australia and then a connecting flight to New Zealand. Thus it would be one of those national airlines. After taking into consideration of transit flight, and airfare, MAS got our vote.

Next was when to buy the air ticket. It was either during the MAS fair or the MATTA fair. Based on past experiences – MAS fair have cheaper tickets. We had to wait for the wedding date to be confirmed. If the MAS fair was still on, we would buy tickets during the MAS fair.

Thanks to cyberspace, we got the wedding date as immediate as she fixed it. The race is on. We were on the lookout for adverts in newspaper almost every day. Just to make sure we didn’t miss the short window of MAS fair.

Then on 10th February 2009, instead of meeting and going together to the ticketing counter, we went online and met in a private chat room. We logged on to MAS website, searched for suitable date and booked the flight tickets simultaneously. Thanks to a rectangle plastic card, we successfully purchased our flight tickets online.

Only thing left in the travel checklist was the ground arrangements. Ma Han had already established contacts with family members residing in NZ. Not wanting to trouble them much, we knew we should arrange for tours and sightseeing ourselves. The plan was to hunt for best deals during the MATTA fair together.

However, it was not meant to be. The Sunday that we were suppose to meet, I was diagnosed with chicken pox! Needless to say, Ma Hen and AD went hunting without me.

Nur Kasih

2009-12-01T23:24:00.001+08:00

"Nur Kasih" roughly translated as "Glow of Love". For those who are not in Malaysia, it is the drama series that had successfully garnered 3 million viewers (so reported by local newspaper). There are a lot of rave reviews about the drama.

I first caught a glimpse of the drama while attending a function at a cousin’s house. They had the television on but the volume down. I was too far to hear any thing. The cinematography (is it the right term for television drama?) caught my attention. The bits and pieces I saw on that night, made me curious. I wanted to see more.

I think first episode that I watched on television was episode 4. I realized why it caught my eyes. The director made full use of basics photography principles. Rule of third, leading lines, natural framing, and contrasting colours – just to name a few. The location, the background, the lightings, every thing was beautifully composed. At first I only watch the drama because of the beautiful cinematography.

A couple episodes later, I realized that the story line was interesting too. Fully aware I couldn’t commit myself every week, I began to search for the episodes online. At first I could watch them in Youtube via my mobile phone. I was dismayed to find that a certain party had requested the ‘poster’ (is there such word?) to bring down the content from Youtube. I was forced to watch it from the official television website which couldn’t load properly in the mobile phone.

Already hooked on the drama series, I searched high and low for alternatives. I landed on a website. Though the website allows downloading of low resolution copy of the drama, initially I couldn’t download it or view it on my mobile phone. After further online search, I finally found a nifty browser “Skyfire” that enables streaming of the drama. And so, thanks to technology, I was able to watch it when I want, where I want!

Anyway, since there are already a lot of rave reviews about the drama series, there are a few things that need to be improved. In the first episode, the village location was written as Kuala Kangsar, Perak. However, throughout all the episodes, you will see indications that the village is in Selangor (spot “Selangor” behind Adam while he use the public phone in front of his school in episode 4). In other episodes spot the Selangor State flag flying at the village mosque.

The most disturbing and confusing scenes would be the railway station scenes. Most Malaysians would know that they were saying goodbyes at Old KL railway station. A cousin who watch the drama only occasionally, asked, where are they going, they are already in KL!

I understand the director intention to capitalize ‘characteristic’ of the Old KL railway station, but he could have used other station. Ipoh railway station is a good candidate, though I think after the recent upgrading, it lost some of its ‘rustic’ character. Alternatively, he could use one of the small railway stations that still have the ‘small-rural-station’ feel to it. Taiping railway station is one example.

There are other less noticeable and less disturbing ‘bloopers’. Except for the railway station scenes, I could overlook everything else to say this a well crafted drama series!

Dwindling

2009-11-19T06:56:00.003+08:00

Of late, my entries have dwindled down to one entry per month. To make sure that the number do not drop to zero, here's my entry. Not that I don't have things to blog about (I still owe that NZ entry).

I've been busy avoiding snakes in this game of Corporate (snake-and-)Ladder. Along the game, so far, I don't see much ladder to climb. But I've seen lots and lots of snakes. The ones that slither and grip. The ones that spit venom. And the ones that swallow. Just to name a few. So currently, it is my primary mission to avoid the snakes that could bring me down. I really hope I don't back-stabbed anyone (including the snakes), intentionally or not, in playing this game.

Wish me luck!

Screeching Tyres

2009-10-09T09:29:00.000+08:00

Yup. That was what I heard coming from the car behind me! And I was riding my motorcycle!

The car in front me had to pull the emergency brakes when a smart alex in a car parked by the road decided that it was safe to just turn into the driving lane. I pressed my brakes too. It was then, I heard the screeching tyres. I looked at my right-sideview-mirror and saw a car. Not wanting to be sandwished between the cars in case the car behind me didn't come to a halt, I let go of my brakes and let my motorcycle slide to the roadside - heading toward the smart alex's luxuorious car. Fortunately, everyone (me included) managed to stop their vehicles.

After a brief moment to collect my thoughts, I gave a grateful wave to the driver behind me, who was alert enough to press the brakes in that split seconds. I gave my dagger-stare to the smart alex as I rode pass him.

Additional bus that didn't add up

2009-09-23T10:37:00.002+08:00

I waited and waited for the bus. Then it came.

As I stepped into the bus, the man checked my ticket and asked me to go to the ticket counter. At the counter, I was informed that the evening bus had been 'postponed' (they carefully avoid the word 'canceled') to night because there's not enough passengers. I was furious but managed to keep my temper checked.

I said they could have told me earlier and not waste my time waiting. I don't want to go on the night bus. I don't know whether they were truly honest, or they were scared that I might be an undercover reporter (I had my DSLR hanging on my neck), they gave full refund.

A series of events later, I decided to scrap the idea of traveling and opted to watch a film instead!

On the road again...

2009-09-22T13:15:00.005+08:00

It's the third day of Syawal in Malaysia. Syawal is the month where Muslims celebrate the completion of a month of fasting. As Muslim calendar is lunar based calendar, it may differ slightly between countries. For example, neighbouring country Brunei celebrate 1st Syawal on Monday, which means today is their 2nd Syawal.

Syawal aside, I had thought being still in the 'heat' of Aidilfitri, everyone has gone back to their respective hometown. This morning, I gave the good people at KTM callcentre a call and ask is the ticket going up north, for noon today, still available. The friendly lady replied yes - second and first class. Satisfied with the answer, I packed my bag and got ready. I had wanted to go to the railway station 11.30 am. Unfortunately, my lift didn't came at the promised time. So I had to resort to ride my bike to the station. By the time I reached the station, the ticket had just sold out. Bummer.

I've already packed my backpack and paid for the parking. So, as much as I hate travelling by bus during festive season, I decided to walk to the bus terminal, pay what I consider as an exhorbitant bus fare, and, now, sit at a fastfood outlet surfing the net using my notebook, waiting for the bus.

Quite frankly, I much rather take the train, eventhough journey by the railroad takes considerably more time compared to the highway. You can call it some sort of paranoia or phobia since I was in secondary school. Though, thankfully I've never been in one, there's too much road accidents during festive season.

So, pray for my safe journey.

Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri. Maaf zahir & batin.

The quest for "Kuih Raya"

2009-09-14T19:50:00.001+08:00

While Malaysians are very familiar with the term "kuih raya", I'll spare my occasional oversea readers the agony of guessing what it is. It is a term to broadly describe cookies and pastries served during Eid Mubarak (and possibly on other big festival day). Yes, with Eid Mubarak less than a week away, festive mood is in the air.

While some opt to make their own "kuih raya", most working class people who has little time left for anything else, opt to just buy "kuih raya". The "kuih raya" could be found in all major shopping complexes and shops. And the variety is endless. Just point, pick and pay. I did just that over the weekend. Instead of buying it at a normal shop, I got the chance to tag along to the source: the cookies factory!

The factory is located in a rural area about 2 hours drive from Kuala Lumpur. Nearest town would most probably Sungai Pelek, Selangor. It is sort of a cottage industry. Owned by one of the villager, the factory employs local housewives. They came in the morning, work for few hours, went back to prepare lunch for their family, and then return to factory in the evening (optional).

Good thing about buying cookies straight from the factory is that occasionally you'll get a freshly baked, warm from the oven batch of cookies. Why not 'hot'? Because they let all cookies to cool down before packing. And people who buy cookies here, buy them in bulk. By bulk I mean a van full of nothing else, but cookies. Since all cookies are sold in non-descript containers, you are free to put your own label and sell the cookies as your own. And they sell cookies all year round.

How to get there, I've no idea. I fell asleep throughout the drive. But I do have the coordinate. So for GPS buff out there: N02 40.973' E101 31.866'

Backpacking

2009-08-30T17:43:00.006+08:00

A few weeks ago, a colleague asked me if I would like to join for a backpacking trip. Nothing solid has been planned, it was more like of throwing ideas around. To which my reply was, all the persons in the list were the least likely people that suitable for backpacking.

Anyway, later that day, I thought hard about the things that were discussed with that colleague and wonder what authority do I have in saying what was said. I had traveled. Sometimes alone, and sometimes with friends. But does that qualified me to say the things that I said? And so I reflected on some of the traveling that I've done.

1. Humbling Lumut.
It was during my college years. We all had to undergone internship / industrial training somewhere. Friends opted for internship in big cities (KL, Singapore etc.) or their hometown. Me, I went away to a little town called Lumut (also translated into "moss") in Malaysia.

The office was at the top floor at the end of a dockyard (yes, I'd worked in a dockyard). To get to the office, I had to go pass military checks by the Malaysian Royal Navy. I still have the now-invalid pass card / permit as a token of memorabilia.

I didn’t have my own car. Main mode of transportation at that time were carpool ( from my rented room to work), busses, or on foot. It was during this period that I got to see first hands how little children, in rural areas, as young as seven years old, travel to and fro school in public busses.

They crouch and hunch over their homework at the bus stop while waiting for the busses. On the rickety bus, they continued with their homework, sitting on the floor and making the bench as their table. The bumpy and noisy bus ride didn’t seem to bother them. One by one the little kids got off the bus. Often stopping in places that seemed to me like in the middle of nowhere. They must have had to walk the rest of journey home. Roughly, the waiting and the bus trip might have taken more or less a total of two hours.

2. Burning Bus Station, Butterworth
Butterworth is a town in Pulau Pinang, Pearl of the Orient. Yes, I was there the morning the old bus station opposite the railway station burned down. I took photos of the incident, but unfortunately, along the years, I’ve lost it.

At that time, I was based in Lumut. With little allowance provided by the company, I managed to save enough for the trip to Penang. I hopped on a few short haul busses. When I finally reach Butterworth, it was already dark and the last bus to the island had already left. I checked myself into a small hotel (which close friends categorized as dubious-looking-hotel). It was either the dubious-looking-hotel or walking alone along the dark and deserted road to find respectable-hotel. I didn’t want to risk being mugged, so I settled for the small hotel – the kind that the authority would raid to combat vice activities. Thank fully, no raid was done that night. And no, I didn’t engage in any vice activities.

It was the next morning that the bus station burned down. I was there to catch the earliest bus to Georgetown.

3. Biking in Pangkor
I was still based in Lumut at that time. And I had just gotten my motorbike license. So that Saturday after work, I asked my friend to drop me off at the old jetty – which now have been replaced with spanking new one. I bought the cheaper ferry ticket – non air-condition ferry. It was cheaper and slower. The kind that the locals used.

Upon reaching the Pangkor Island, I walked about in the little town near the jetty. Underneath a tree, I found a bike rental place (wasn’t even a proper shop). The guy asked for my license and jotted down my particulars. He handed me the key and off I went on the bike with a full tank of fuel. I can’t remember what was the rental, but I’m sure it was below RM 40 per day. I remember the locals looked at me just because I was wearing helmet while biking around the island into pockets of smaller ‘kampungs’. Seemed that no one else wear helmet and I stood out as a visitor!

I managed to get a roof – literally – over my head for the night. The chalet I stayed was the kind that sort of just roof and door.

4. Singaporean in Penang?
Yes, I did go to Singapore and crash at a close friend’s grandma’s flat during college years. But we also went to Penang. We crashed at a friend’s place in the mainland before heading to the island. The friend, who now works in Australia, stayed in a stately colonial style-house in what used to be acres of plantation. The hospitality is forever not lost in my mind.

The next day we stayed at a proper hotel in Penang Island after my friends looked disapprovingly at the dubious-hotel I had stayed during my solo trip earlier.

It was while hanging out at the poolside that the hotel staff slipped that they thought we were college students from Singapore.

Those are some of the places I’ve been prior to the existence of this blog. There are other places and stories (which includes the trip to the land of Kiwis that I’ve yet to blog about). I may not be qualified to say much about backpacking as I’ve never been on long backpacking trip. But I’m sure the people in the list had not been in any hotels other than the respectable ones. Definitely not the cheap and dubious looking hotels.

Maybe someday I could quit my job, pack my things and just fly away!

What's UP?

2009-08-25T13:36:00.004+08:00

Lot's of things. But little time to blog.

But I managed to find time to watch the animation "UP". I've been bugging Ma Hen since forever to take me to see the animation. Thanks a lot Ma Hen. Loved it! Even the 'photos' in Ellie Fredricksen's album looks nice.

Prior to the movie, had dinner with close buddies. I was amazed with the amount of food that I ate!

Loved the dinner, the animation, and most of all loved the companies!

Chirping birds

2009-08-09T19:49:00.001+08:00

Wouldn't it be nice to wake up to the sounds of chirping birds?

Not when the bird chirped throughout the night!

Migrate

2009-07-30T13:02:00.002+08:00

An e-mail came:

"...saya akan menyertai keluarga saya untuk berhijrah ke Australia..." (translation: ... My family and I will be migrating to Australia...)

Perhaps it's time for me to consider migration too!

Wake-up Call

2009-07-10T23:19:00.000+08:00

The phone ranng. In the dark, I fumbled and grope for my mobile phone. 6.20 am.

"... she died on the way to hospital. Asthma.", echoed the voice in the line.

After I hung up, it hit me, asthma could kill.

p.s.:'She' was a wife of some one from work. My deepest condolence to him and his family.

Rain checks

2009-06-21T12:13:00.000+08:00

Though now is not exactly a rainy season, I had to cancel one of my plans the other day due to rain. I was afraid of the possibility of landslides happening along the route that I was suppose to use.

Lately I had been canceling a lot of plans to the extend that I'm beginning to give up in making them. I've almost always make plans according to these priorities: loved ones (family first, friends second); relatives; friends; and lastly, work. Unfortunately, work seems to take centre stage nowadays. Plans were canceled due to work related things (which included me being too tired after work).

For those who plans I canceled, I'm truly sorry. Let's make no plans anymore and be spontaneous!

Haywire

2009-06-20T06:07:00.002+08:00

After a few sleep-deprived nights, I finally 'colapse' in exhaustion last night. I fell asleep right after having a light dinner. I was suppose to go out for meal with my brother and his family last night.

I must have been in a very deep sleep. However, a few days of waking up early have tuned my biological clock to wake up early, even when I have no intention of doing so. I woke up in the middle of the night, grope for my phone in the darkness, and glance at the screen. 3am. I also noticed the 'miss-call' icon as well as the 'sms' icon at one corner of the screen. They were from my brother.

Too late (or is it too early) to return the call, I tried hard to go back to sleep but failed. And so I occupy the time by reading e-mails, arranging schedule for next week, reading other people's blogs and finally , realized that I haven't updated mine with any meaningful enteries lately.

Since I took up my current job, I'm left with little time by myself to kill. Previously, I had bus/train rides to the office, stuck in traffic jams, and the numerous waitings (for meetings, for public transports etc.). Nowadays, work seems to occupy most of my time. Public transports do not cover most of the routes that I take, so I have to drive most of the time. There's no KL-like-gridlock-traffic-jams for me to have time to blog in the car. When I'm not driving, my staff drives (yes, I have plenty of staff to boss/lead), hence the time while travellings or waitings are mostly use for work-related discussion with colleagues and staff.

By the time I reached home, my brain couldn't put thoughts into words anymore. So I either sleep early (like last night), or watch television till I fall asleep. I am glad that my so-called-office is not in the same district with my house. Otherwise, I might become a full-fledge workaholic! And now, since the sun will rise soon, let me peel myself off bed, take a shower and head to my brother's to have that promised meal.

Restless

2009-06-12T00:44:00.001+08:00

Tired but couldn't sleep. Must have been the carbonated drink.

Life in Short

2009-06-06T22:30:00.001+08:00

To sum up some of the things happened between the Indonesian trip and now:

March 2009

Caught nasty chicken pox from my little nephew. Poxes covered my body and back. Fortunately the medicine was strong enough to knock me out. I spent two weeks recuperating at home. By the third week, work was piling up and I was back in the office even though a few of the poxes haven't fully 'dried'.

April 2009

Catching up with work and trying to complete every thing before the next trip. In between work, we managed to plan for our trip.

May 2009

Flew to New Zealand. Went for a self-drive road trip which included a boat ride to a volcanic island. Attended a friend's wedding. Upon returning to Malaysia, had a little sore throat and cough - symptoms of H1N1. Luckily I didn't have any fever. Nevertheless, the Health Ministry gave the order for a week of house quarentine. Cleared of the flue, I was back playing catching up with work.

Continuing the previous Jakarta Chapter…

2009-06-06T20:58:00.002+08:00

I had to look at the photos I took in Jakarta to jog my foggy memory. Here's a brief of the rest of the journey:

Day 2 (25th January 2009) - Leaving the Newly Weds

After the solemnization, Kakak and KH went in to change clothes. They then sat at the “pelamin”. I soon learned that the newly weds and their parents are expected to sit there to meet everyone that came. Visitors shook hands and congratulate the newly weds and their parents.

I can’t seem to remember what was served at the wedding. And I didn’t remember to take photos of the food served. So I have no clue to help with my memory. I do, however, remember that I couldn’t really eat the food because they were spicy – including the ‘somay’ (something like fishball served with spicy peanut sauce).

Since I was part of the ‘bride entourage’, I had to stay on until the day ended. We packed our things and were ready to call for a cab home (home in this case is Cibinong). The groom’s family asked us to wait. They wanted to drive us home.

And so we waited, and waited. By the time everyone was ready, we cramped into the awaiting Toyota Unser (or known as Kijang in Indonesia). Some how we managed to fit 10 people (Mutiara and her 7 family members, me, the driver and his co-pilot) into the car.

We arrived Cibinong around 10 p.m. Mutiara’s family invited the driver, and the co-pilot in for a drink. Bejo, the name they called the co-pilot, and Adhit, the driver stayed for awhile and chatted. I soon found out the Bejo is KH’s younger brother. I also found out that most of the groom’s family (including Adhit and Bejo) didn’t realize that I wasn’t exactly a family. They just thought I have a weird Indonesian accent.

Day 3 (Monday 26th January 2009) – Plans Shelved

We had wanted to spend the day out. The plans included a lunch at a restaurant. We were about to leave the house when Kakak called informing that they were coming over. And so we changed our plans. We rushed to the super market. What fascinated me was that there was a section of the supermarket selling live fish. The fish was caught, smoked and packed. We did a last minute shopping and return home.

By the time we reached home, Kakak, KH, his mother, Bejo and Adhit was already there. They were picking fruits from the trees around the house. While they were busy picking fruits, I helped Mutiara to prepare the food – smoked fish, roasted chicken, salad and rice. The simple food was delicious. We chatted. Before we knew it, it was already dark. It was time for KH’s mother, Bejo and Adhit to leave. Kakak and KH would spend the night in Cibinong.

Day 4 (Tuesday 27th January 2009) – Happy birthday and Farewell

It was Mutiara’s mom’s birthday. It was also my last day in Jakarta. Early that morning, Mutiara called her mom’s office informing that her mom won’t be going to work. Since my flight was late that evening, we planned to go for a lunch outside and go for some last minute shopping. So I packed my bags, and we all headed out to wait for the Angkut.

After hopping on and off some Angkut, we finally reached Bogor. We headed to Pizza Hut to celebrate Tante’s birthday. Mutiara then took me to a shop selling traditional Indonesian ‘junk food’. I bought plenty of it for people back home. We met the rest the family at the mall next to the shop. We found a digital photo shop. We decided to have some photos from my camera printed. The photo was ready just in time before I had to leave.

The whole family walked me to the bus station. I could sense tears welling up Mutiara’s eyes. After a hugs and quick goodbyes, I hopped on the bus. Not long after that, the bus made its way to the airport.

Not sure where to get down, I asked the bus conductor to help. I told the him that I wanted to get down at international terminal for Air Asia. The bus driver nodded. About an hour or so later, as the bus neared a building, I recognized a sculpture. I think it was the same sculpture I saw when I first arrived. I was about to go down when the bus conductor stopped me. We had a little argument. He told me to get down at the next terminal. If the driver didn’t interfere, the conductor might not have let me alighted the bus.

Later, after I’ve checked in and was waiting to board the fight, I realized that the bus conductor must have mistaken me as a fellow Indonesian trying to catch domestic flight out of Jakarta.

(p.s. By the time of this entry, Kakak is already a few months pregnant.)

Will be Back

2009-06-06T13:47:00.002+08:00

No, I'm not still in the land of Kiwis. I've been back for quite awhile. I haven't been able to find time to sit, collect my thoughts about the trips (including the previous trip to Indonesia) and put them into words.

My current job left me little free time in the office. The only "free" time left are while on the road and waiting. I couldn't blog on-the-go. My trusty T5 couldn't go online with my current phone.

Hopefully, this newly installed-software on Samseng i780 would put an end to this unfortunate perdicament.

Away...

2009-05-03T19:46:00.003+08:00

I know I've been 'away' from this blog for quite some time. My last entry was in March. And now it's already 3rd May! I've been busy catching up with work. Yes, I know I should finish the entries about the Indonesia trip (which now becoming a foggy memory). But before I knew it, it was time to go away for yet another trip.

Just to let my readers know, I'm now blogging from the land of the Kiwi's!

(p.s. A trivia question, how many 'know' did I used in this entry?)

Silence and feeling Chicky

2009-03-27T23:28:00.003+08:00

Sorry for for the long silence.

Apart from being busy at work, I've caught the chicky virus from my nephew. Still recuperating at home.

I'm setting up a donation fund for my skin graft. I need to get rid the scars left from the attack!

So any donation for the fund?

New chapter

2009-02-21T17:02:00.020+08:00

While Kakak waited to begin a new chapter in her life, I went outside. Unlike Malaysian wedding, where there would be tables and chairs at the dining area (in this case the tent area), there weren't any tables. The only tables around was at the reception area - complete with 'receptionist'!. On the tables were guest books, and lo and behold, a collection jar. At the junction leading the to the house, was a decoration made of coconut leaves called "janur".

Day 2 (Sunday 25th January 2009) – Solemnization
After waiting for a few minutes, the "juru nikah" (the person who register the marriage) came. They brought the Kakak and KP out to the front porch. Everyone took their seat. The ceremony begun with all the neccassary paper work. It was read, signed and verified by the Kakak's father and a witness. Then the KP gave the Kakak the "mas kahwin" (dowry).

Before the solemnization, the microphone was given to the Kakak. She read a very touching speech. She thanked her parents for their love, time, and money in raising her up. She asked the blessing and permission from her father to be married to the man she had chosen. The speech was so touching, that it drew tears from her mom.

Kakak's father shook KP's hand. They both read out the "akad" from the cue card. Once KP agreed to be married to Kakak, he was officially Kakak's hubby (and thus, from now onward KP will be known as KH). After a short 'doa' (prayer thanking God for the smooth solemnization), KH read out the "taklik". "Taklik" is sort of a pre-nuptial stating the conditions when Kakak entitle to ask for a divorce and when KH entitle to divorce her.

Once KH finished reading the "taklik" KH and Kakak exchanged wedding ring. For the first time, Kakak shook KH hand as his wife. Then they both went around to shook hands (and hugged) their parents. It was during this time that the women folks in the house fussed over something.

They brought out a chicken dish. The newly weds were asked to pull the chicken apart. According to custom, the amount of chicked each side get represent the amount of give/take each will undertook in the marriage. Whoever get the chicken head represent who actually heads the family. Due to this, KH might have been very glad to find that he got the head!

A new day

2009-02-07T23:01:00.021+08:00

Day 2 (Sunday 25th January 2009) – Early bird

Though I dozed off almost immediately, I did not sleep well (as if that is some thing new). I am known to have sleeping problem every now and then. Further more, the ‘ambiance’ that night was not much of a help. Some one snored. Some one talked in their sleep. And some one’s baby cried most of the night. It was around 5am when I finally left the bed.

Thinking that there will be a long queue once everyone woke up, I headed straight to the bathroom. As I tiptoed pass people sleeping in the living room, I realized that there are too many people in the house. Perhaps more than what the small house could fit. It might have caused the temperature inside the house to become a little hot.

The cold water was a welcomed change. As I hadn’t iron my clothes, I changed back into the clothes I slept in. It was way too early to dressed up anyway. After the refreshing bath, I decided to catch some more sleep. I was glad that I did. I managed to get a short but very deep sleep.

Eventually everyone woke up, and the house was a buzzed. I got to know more of Mutiara's family - her dad, Nini and Teteh (I later found out that 'teteh' is an Indonesian dialect for 'elder sister'). Final preparation for the wedding ceremony was on the way.

Day 2 (Sunday 25th January 2009) – Final Preparation

It was around 7am. The make-up artist was already in the house. The lady had already finish ‘working’ on Mutiara’s mother. Her assistant was working on another lady. Kakak took her seat. The make-up artist began to work her magic on Kakak.

I’ve seen people make up brides before. But this time it was somewhat new to me. The amount of work she did, was outrageous. It was as if she was going to perform a plastic surgery. What with the razor blade, the measurement, and the markings! Then there were layers and layers of powder (or was it called ‘foundation’? – I’m totally at lost when it comes to make-up jargons). Two hours later, she was still working on Kakak’s eyes. Growing bored and beginning to feel a bit stuffy, I went out to get some fresh air.

I tagged along Mutiara, M and D to a salon just a few metres away from the house. While the ladies were having their face done, I wandered around the area. There was a kind of a decoration to mark the wedding ceremony. In Malaysian Malay wedding, there would be a ‘bunga manggar’. I’m not sure what the decoration is called.

Then there were the tents in front of the house. Unlike so many Malaysian weddings, there were no tables under the tents, only chairs. I had noticed this when I arrived the previous night but I had thought they would take out the table today. I was very much mistaken. The only tables that were taken out, were tables for two ‘reception’ areas. On the tables were a huge jar (or what ever you want to call it), and guest books. The tables were manned by four lovely ladies. An online acquaintance had mentioned that it is polite to bring an ‘ang-pau’ (some money sealed in an envelop) to be put into the jar. Unfortunately, I forgot about it.

I went into the house, and got dressed. By then (almost four hours after she started!) the make-up artist was almost done with Kakak. Kakak already had her face and hair done. She was already wearing a lovely off-white ‘kebaya’. On her hair was some fresh ‘melati’ (I think it is also known as jasmine). The smell of fresh ‘melati’ filled the room. And Kakak looked different.

Me: Wah, cantik amat. Sampe nggak kenal ni! (translation: Wah, very beautiful. I don’t recognize you anymore!)
Kakak [jokingly introducing herself] : Yah, kamu. Kenalin, saya ….. (Oh, you. I’m … Nice to meet you)
Me [follow suit] : Ya, kenalin, saya ….. (Yes, I’m … nice to meet you too)

And so she waited for her new day and new chapter in life to start.

(p.s. A little trivia: If you are a lady still waiting for your other-half, you should try to steal at least one little 'melati' off the bride's hair. It is believed that it would speed up your love affairs.)

Paramount Pictures

2009-02-06T20:39:00.004+08:00

Imagine my surprise when I saw this:
Hi people from Paramount Pictures.
If you ever return to this blog, do drop a line! Would love to get to know you.

Journey into the night

2009-02-01T23:28:00.001+08:00

Day 1 (Saturday 24th January 2009) – Returning home

No, I wasn’t about to return home. At least not my home (where ever that is). I was returning to Mutiara’s house

From the busy junction, with MP leading the way, we crossed the road, walked underneath an overhead bridge (which was actually the highway) to the other side of the highway. There we got on an ‘angkut’. The ‘angkut’ was quite full. Somehow we managed to fit in. Mutiara sat opposite me while MP sat next to me. Mutiara chatted. And unlike the previous visit, I could understand most of her chatters.

Along the way, some passengers got off. Leaving us with plenty of space. Before long we too got off and changed to another ‘angkut’. I recognized the ‘danau’ (a reservoir) that I had passed almost a year ago. I recognized a few buildings. Until finally Mutiara and MP yelled to the driver:

Mutiara & MP : Kiri, bang (To the left, Mister)

The ‘angkut’ stopped at the familiar junction in front of the gate to Mutiara’s house. We went through the gates. The same buildings greeted us. In the small wooded house was the same man I’ve met last year. He recognized me. We exchanged formalities before proceeding to Mutiara’s house.

Mutiara opened the door to her house. The living room remained the same. However, instead of showing me into the guest room, we went straight up to the upper floor. Everything was the same as my previous visit, except for one thing, they now have a computer corner, complete with a colour printer.

Mutiara introduced me to her cousin, D. From the living area, I could hear a lady singing in the bathroom. Mutiara told me that voice belongs to her younger sister, M. While waiting for them to get ready, I ate dinner. They also ‘fed’ me ‘pisang aroma’ (translated into fragrance banana). It’s actually fried banana wrapped in thin crispy pastry (similar to spring roll casing).

It was around 9pm when we – Mutiara, MP, D, M and me - finally left the house.

Day 1 (Saturday 24th January 2009) – Hopping

Hopping is the best word to describe what we did that night. No, we didn’t not go for club hopping.

The plan was to hop on a bus from Citeureup to UKI. From UKI, another bus to Bekasi, and finally, a taxi to the final destination, the groom’s house. And so we began our journey by hopping into ‘angkut’ back to the busy junction at the Citeureup. There we were, the five of us, waiting for the bus to UKI. Unfortunately, it was already late, and there’s no more bus to UKI.

MP decided that we need to hop on another ‘angkut’ to get to another place that would possibly still have bus. I lost track of the number of ‘angkut’ that we hopped on and off until we eventually got on a bus. I didn’t think we took the bus in UKI. Anyway, the five of us, finally got on a taxi and on our way to the groom’s house. It was almost 12am when we reached our destination for the night.

I had been on the road for almost twelve hours. I was tired and ready to turn the towel in. I dozed off almost immediately after my head landed on the pillow.

The journey continues

2009-01-31T23:00:00.004+08:00

Day 1 (Saturday 24th January 2009) – Damri

After collecting my small pack, I headed out the arrival gate. I stopped by the rows of money changer and change a hundred Ringgit into Rupiah. I asked the man behind the counter where can I get a Damri. He gave some direction and off I went, brushing away taxi and ‘ojek’ touts.

What exactly is a Damri? It’s a bus service to and fro the Bandara (short for Bandar Udara also know as airport). It seemed that the first mode of public transport that you would see after passing the touts is car rentals and taxis. I had to ask a few people where was the Damri. I walked towards what seem to be the end of the airport. Until I finally found the signboard and eventually the ticket booth.

As instructed by Mutiara (via online chat and again, sms), I bought a ticket to Bogor. It cost me IDR 30 000. I sat on the bench and waited for the bus. Busses to all destinations seemed to have come, except to Bogor. I waited. And waited. I ‘sms’ed Mutiara telling her that I was still waiting for the bus. Not long after I sent the text, the bus arrived. It was probably around 5.30pm (sorry, on this journey I didn’t bring my Tungsten T5 to jot things down).

I sat next to a man.

Me: Maaf pak, bisa bantu nggak? (translation: Excuse me sir, can you help me?)
Man: Ya bisa. (Yes, of course)
Me: Bisa bantu turunin saya di Citeureup? (Can you help me to get off at Citeureup?)
Man: Ya bisa. Ntar kasi tau sama abang tiket. (Yes, of course. Later [we’ll] tell the ticket man)

That simple request helps to break the ice. His name is Nur. He works in a bauksite (the thingy used to make aluminium) mine somewhere in Kalimantan. He was on his day off to see his three children and wife in Sukabumi – about three hours bus ride from the airport. Though he didn’t look educated, he sounded educated. We talked about various things ranging from demographic in Malaysia, education system in Malaysia to guessing my age and even a little ‘personality reading’ of my name. According to him, my name indicates that I am a good leader, and I more often than not, do things my way. I’m not sure about the first part, but I sure do things my way quite often.

An hour and a half later, the bus exited the highway to Citeureup. I bid my goodbye to Bapak Nur. I secretly thank him for without his constant chat, I might have doze off and missed the stop. I gather my bags and got off the bus, on to the roadside. The bus continued to Bogor.

Day 1 (Saturday 24th January 2009) – Reunion

It was 7 pm and already dark. Unsure where to wait for Mutiara, I tried to telephone her. The call did not got through. I smsed her. Almost immediately she replied. She would be a little late because it rained. I was asked to stay put. And so I did. I stood at the corner of a chaotic road.

There were small stalls along the corner. The small stall on my right was selling some deep fried food. The stall on my right sold drinks, buns and cigarette. There were other stalls, but I couldn’t see what they were selling. The stall on my right was manned by a lady. She had two benches – one on each side of her stall – and two plastic stools.

My feet began to ache. I wanted to sit at the bench, but I felt guilty seating there for free. Feeling a bit thirsty, I bought a bottle of mineral water from the stall on my right.

Me: Berapa, bu? (How much, madam?)
Lady: Dua setengah (Two and a half)

Assuming that she meant IDR 2 500, I gave her IDR 3 000. True enough, she returned a little piece of coin – IDR 500 - to me. I sat on the bench and drank the water. I observed my chaotic surrounding. There were men helping to guide the traffic. Amazingly, even without the men, vehicles just knew when to stop (often at the nick of time). I regretted not putting my fisheye lens on the 400D beforehand. Taking out the camera and changing the lens by the roadside wasn’t really an option. I didn’t want to attract unwanted attention.

After waiting for about thirty minutes, I got a sms from Mutiara, asking my where-about. I replied and immediately stood by the roadside, just in case she had hard time finding me sitting down. I look left and right, unsure where she would come from. Turning my head right, I finally saw her walking with MP from across the road.

Unlike the first time we met, this time we forgo the formal handshake. Mutiara and I hugged like old friends.

It has begun

2009-01-31T16:34:00.004+08:00

The invitation

Somewhere in December, Mutiara told me that Kakak was getting married to KP. Yes, thanks to the internet, we still keep in touch. She invited me to attend the wedding. But the dates weren’t set yet. In the weeks that followed, eventually the date was set and Mutiara got busy with the wedding preparation. I on the other hand, got busy with work and at the same time preparing for the trips (saving up money and scouting for the best air fare).

I wasn’t sure my boss would approve my leave. Nevertheless, I booked a flight ticket online. As the date drew nearer, I finally realized that it would be a long weekend break due to the Chinese New Year Holiday! So I just had to apply a day leave and to my surprised, it was approved with no question asked.

And so began yet another solo trip to Cibinong on Saturday 24th January 2009.

Day 1 (Saturday 24th January 2009) – Earful

I had initially wanted to take the bus to the airport. Unfortunately, I was caught in an unexpected traffic jams in my small town, while I was running some errands. Not to mention that I accidently left my international-roaming-enabled-phone on my bed. I had to turn back to pick it up, and by then, it was probably too late to take the bus. I had to ask mom to send me to meet my brother half way to the airport. Mom, only to be told about the trip two days before departure, grudgingly drops me off at the rendezvous point.

It was 12.30pm. I was calm. My flight is at 2.50pm. and the check-in counter closes 45 minutes before the flight. There were still plenty of time (but might not enough if I take the bus). But my brother was furious. He told me that I be in the airport two hours prior the departure time. He lectured me about the security check and clearance. In my previous travel to Indonesia, I never had any problem with security checks. Half an hour later, we reached the airport.

I got my bags scanned and queued at the check-in counter. The lady behind the counter was surprised that I checked-in my small pack instead of my big backpack. I told her that I have liquid in the small back. She understood and expressed her concern that the small pack might get damage or lost. To which I told her it’s okay, the bag contains only liquid in a plastic bottle. It’s my big backpack that I can’t afford to loose.

I got my boarding pass, got through another security check and in a few minutes, got cleared by the immigration. There were many people at the boarding hall. I still had plenty of time to kill. I found a seat, sat down and began to switch on my laptop. I still have plenty of downloaded e-mails to read. Then I realized that I need a power point if I still want to use the laptop onboard the airplane. I looked around and saw another westerner scouting a power point. We booth couldn’t find any near the seating area. I decided to save my battery for the two hours flight and switch off my laptop.

It was around 2.30pm when we started queuing to board the plane. I sat at the window seat, next to a Korean mother and son. The plane took off around 3.20pm, 30 minutes delayed from the scheduled time.

Day 1 (Saturday 24th January 2009) – Killing time in the sky

I had planned to watch some film downloaded into my laptop. Unfortunately, I forgot to take out my earphone. Among the cabin noise, the sound from my small laptop speaker was drowned. I couldn’t hear a thing. So I decide to continue reading my e-mails. And write offline replies. I also got started with some office documentation that needed to be done. However, I had to stop a few times. The flight was a bit bumpy. Perhaps due to some bad weather. Reading while in a bumpy ride caused me to have a little bit of a headache.

The Korean boy next to me dozed off almost throughout the two hours flight. The mom on the other hand woke up during some of those bumpy ride. She noticed the photo on my computer desktop. She commented how cute the little girl. Sensing her skepticism of the girl being my daughter (thought I’m old enough to have a school going child), I explained to her that it’s a photo of my little niece.

I continued with my work. The Korean lady took out a brown exercise book (the kind that have “Rukun Negara” written at the back cover), and began reading. Every now and then she took out an electronic dictionary. I glanced over and realized that she’s learning English. There’s a lot of commonly used English sentences written in the pages. I could make out some of the sentences. It wasn’t the simple basic English sentences. She’s probably in an intermediate level.

Before we knew it, it was time to land.

Preconceive Ideas

2009-01-28T08:12:00.007+08:00

Flying back to Malaysia (from a trip that I shall blog about later) last night, I sat next to an Australian. He's making a very short (business) trip to Malaysia. He'll leave on the morning flight.

He commented that I spoke good English, perhaps 99% grammatically correct. I was surprised to hear that. I never think much about how I speak. And to have a native English speaker who studied language to say that, it was really a surprise. Perhaps he after dealing with lots of people, he had a preconceive idea of ordinary-looking-Asian (yes, for those from across the globe who drop by occasionally, I'm an Asian) not being able to speak grammatically correct English. To his comment, I replied that among my friends, my English is not that good. I can say the words, but I can't spell them.

I had wanted to catch a nap, but he's an interesting guy. So I chatted with him throughout the 2 hours flight [clue #1]. He's of mix-blood (though we both agreed we bleed the same red blood). His mix of Indian, German, and native Australian. Because of that, and his beard, some times people thought he's an Arabic. As such, he is often asked whether he's a Muslim. His reply is no. His religion is Humanity. He believes in God. Every human are brothers and sisters. He didn't believe in other kind of religion. To which I replied, religion is a mean to get close to God - whatever God that you believe. And the our relation with God is a personal thing. He agreed.

He told me of his brush with a another westerner in a pub. He, in a good-nature manner, told the guy that he was not offended. By birth, he has a PhD in discrimination - Indian have lots of caste, and discriminates each other. The man in the pub eventually became his good friend. Throughout his travels, he finds more good people than bad, even with all the stereotyping and preconceive ideas.

I told him that most people are good to him BECAUSE of those preconceive ideas. He looks and talks very much like a westerner. The preconceive ideas about him, is that he has money. Naturally, people will treat you better if you have money. He agreed.

We chatted some more and end up exchanging contact numbers. He invited me to stay in his house if I ever come to Brisbane!

My shoes

2009-01-02T20:06:00.006+08:00

If you notice, I have a pair of shoes as my profile photo. Yes, that pair of black shoes have been with me on some journey. They have been on some of the trips I took during those lunch break in the city - bus rides and noon walk to name a few. But the pair didn't last, and had since long gone. They did not go as far and as long as these pair of now-no-longer-white-shoes.

My favourite now-no-longer-white-shoes have been with me since 2003. They are well padded making them comfortable enough to be walked in, all day long. Yet they are quick enough to dry when they are wet. They have been with me to Phuket, China, Bali, Singapore, and lots of other places in Malaysia. After five years of abuse, the shoes are still in good condition (though a bit dirty). And best of all, they were given free when I represented my previous office in a sports event!

I hope this year these pair will continue to serve me as I travel through my journey in life!

It's 2009

2009-01-01T22:57:00.004+08:00

My first post for 2009.

I still feel a bit feverish. I'm beginning to think that it's something to do with my internal biological thingy. It's too much of a coincident to fall sick around the same time for three consecutive years. I had fever in 2007 and 2008.

I don't have any new resolution, yet. I'll continue with last year's resolution.

Happy New Year

2008-12-31T23:22:00.003+08:00

A new year will come in just a few minutes. I'm staying in. After all the time spent with feverish companion, I too caught some of the virus.

Happy New Year!

Happy Holidays

2008-12-30T06:37:00.003+08:00

My packs were ready (packs as in backpacks, not as in 6-pack-abs). Annual leave approved. Off I went on the bus to the rendezvous point.

Day 1 (23/12/2008) - Bus ride
Or rather buses rides. Thinking that I could rest in the bus, I decided to leave my car in the office. I was greatly mistaken. What could have been at most two hours drive turned into four hours rides in two buses and a train. That's what would happen if you don't have direct bus to your destination in Malaysia. By the time I reached the rendezvous point, I was too tired to continue traveling.

Day 2 (24/12/2008) - The drive
We left around noon. And three hours later, we reached our destination - Johor Bahru. It would have taken the whole morning and noon to get to Johor Bahru had we chosen the public transport.

We checked in Mutiara Hotel, Johor Bahru. Our room had been upgraded to "Executive Suite"! The room was spacious. The bed was comfy. There were complimentary fruits. A DVD player was also provided. Too bad I forgot to take photos of the room.

We would be spending a night at JB before crossing over to Singapore. But it was not meant to be. At mid night we were awaken by the shivering of a travel companion. We had to send him to the nearest hospital. As fate would have it, he puked in the examination room. He had to be admitted to the ward. And thus, we all spent the night in the hospital on the hard chair - forgoing the comfy bed at the hotel room!

Day 3 (25/12/2008) - Yet another day
I woke up early. Or rather I hardly slept. The chill-to-the-bone centralized air-cond and snoring from other people in the ward didn’t exactly help me to sleep.

I returned to the hotel while the other two remained in the hospital. I passed by the coffee house. The allure of freshly cooked breakfast was too much to bear. I fastened my pace and reached the room in no time. I quickly freshened up and went for a breakfast in the coffee house.

Tiredness caught up with me. Soon after breakfast, I dozed off in the comfy bed. Around noon, I took a taxi to the hospital. Note to travelers in JB, taxi might have meter but the taxi driver hardly use them. Negotiating the price before getting into the taxi is a good idea. For the two days traveling to and fro the hospital, I got fares that ranged from RM 5 to RM 7. One taxi driver asked for RM 8 and wouldn’t budge. Needless to say, I didn’t get into his taxi.

Our traveling companion was to be warded for one more night. His body temperature did not stabilized. So they need to monitor him.

Thanks to the invention of smaller microchips, I was able to bring a laptop and a PSP to kill time. Not to forget, thanks to Celcom 3G, I was able to play online game!

Day 4 (26/12/2008) – Leaving

Finally the doctor allowed our traveling companion to be discharged. However, looking at the hospital bill, I was thinking that it was more of “miss-charged”. Thanks to a thin rectangular plastic called credit card, I settled the bill. We left the hospital after lunch. Actually I ate the lunch since my travel companion had no appetite.

At the hotel, we quickly packed our things and got ready to cross the border. We waited for our taxi at the lobby. After a while the doorman called us. We put our bags in the black Proton Perdana. It wasn’t really a taxi. It was more like a limousine service.

I was glad we decided to take the limo service and not the normal public bus. That saved us from having to get down from the bus to have our passport stamped and luggage checked. We just sat at the back seat and showed our face at the drive-thru’ counter.

It was around 6 pm when we finally checked in the hotel at Balestier Road. Everyone was tired and decided to just stay in. I was tasked into buying dinner. I went for an evening walk along the Balestier Road. I found Shaw Plaza, right next to legendary “Jalan Ampas”. Shaw Brothers were the legendary filmmaker during the heyday of “Jalan Ampas” studio.

Day 5 (27/12/2008) – Staying in and going out

We were joined by fourth travel companion who was flying in from a business trip in Jakarta. Our feverish companion was too weak to travel. Our fourth companion was also tired from the flight. So they decided to stay in and rest.

While they rest, I decided to go for a walk. I went to the “Jalan Ampas”. A few years ago there was a furor over the demolition of historical site “Studio Jalan Ampas”. This studio was were many legendary Malay film actor, actress, and directors was born. I was surprise to find the building in No 8 Jalan Ampas was still very much in tact (even though it was in a sorry state). The lot is now use by a Singaporean company as a storage area.

Next I proceed to “Jalan Boon Teck”. According to the information ‘stone’ in front of No 8 Jalan Ampas, the actor/actress quarters used to be in this road. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the said building.

In the evening, when our feverish companion’s condition improved, we went out to the shopping district: Orchard Road. With the Christmas sales and abundance of shopping complexes, Orchard Road would most probably be a shopping heaven for shop-aholics. Original branded goods (imagine Gucci, Prada, Bonia etc) were sold at great discount.

Me, being me, didn’t shop at all. I did, however, enjoyed the sight and sound at the area.

There were even buskers along the street. What I enjoyed most was this group of percussionist. These youngsters were performing on the street for charity. They were lively bunch of kids.

Day 6 (28/12/2008) – Adam’s Food court
We took taxi to Adam Road. I was told that there is a famously delicious “Nasi Lemak” sold there. The stall that we bought the “Nasi Lemak” had all sort of certificates displayed to certified that the food were indeed delicious. Unfortunately, my taste buds couldn’t agree with who ever that awarded those certificates. Having tasted far more delicious authentic “kampung style nasi lemak”, the Adam’s “Nasi Lemak” was nothing special to my taste buds.

Later that day, we caught a taxi from the hotel to a taxi station across town. Apparently, the taxies to Johor Bahru are not allowed to pick up passengers at other places except at the station. We had to cut our trip short. Our feverish companion was still feverish.

We spent one more night in Johor Bahru before returning home the next day.

I got to see Australia

2008-12-22T21:53:00.003+08:00

No, not the country. At least not yet. It's "Australia" the film. And, as usual, I will not write much about it. It is still showing in local cinema.

One thing that really sets this film apart from other "Hollywood" film, is that it tells the story as it is. It lacks the propaganda-like-self-glorification that many "Hollywood" films share ("Black hawk down", "Pearl Harbor" - just to name a few). The story intertwines with real historical events. These historical events were not distorted just for the sake of self-glorification. They even have the 'lost generation' depicted in the film. And all these was done tastefully and skillfully, so much so, the 2hours 45minutes just breezed away!

To sum it all, this is a down to earth film about the land 'Down Under'.

Rusa Masuk Kampung

2008-12-13T20:59:00.006+08:00

The title of this entry translate to "deer went into a village". No deer was harmed in the making of this entry. It is actually a Malay idiom. A similar idiom in English would be "fish out of water". Again, no fish was harmed in the making of this entry.

Ma Hen asked me to come along to a friend wedding invitation. The wedding was to be held in a house in rural area. The kind where the house have no number on a nameless road. The only address given to Ma Hen was the "kampung". I telephoned a colleague and got the rough direction to the "kampung".

So off we went, driving along the narrow winding road. Turning back wasn't an option. There was no area to make a safe U-turn. So we continued driving. We slowed down when we saw cars parked along the road. I spotted a little yellow signboard "Kampung Juasseh Hilir" on my right. I made a right turn into a small one-lane road. Ma Hen asked if the car being able to fit into the road. Yes, if you are used to driving in those small-barely-fit-one-car "kampung" road.

I drove slowly passed a man. Ma Hen wound down the window and asked:

Ma Hen: Pakcik, tumpang tanya. Ni wedding siapa? (translation: Excuse me, uncle. Whose wedding is this?)
Man: [Gave blank look]
Me: [Trying hard not to laugh my head off, but couldn't think of what the right word]
Ma Hen [repeat]: Ni wedding siapa? (Whose wedding is this?)
Man: [Yet another blank look]
Me [From the driver seat, finally found the word]: Pengantin siapa? (Who is the groom?)
Man [smiling]: Zulkarnain
Me & Ma Hen [Smiling because we found the house]: Terima kasih.

My dear Ma Hen was like 'fish out of water'. Having lived and worked in concrete jungle for many years, and attending lots of hotel-weddings, the "kampung" wedding was a welcomed change for Ma Hen.

The drive back was great. Green trees left and right. We switched off the air-cond and wound down the window. Who needs air-cond when you have fresh air!

Changes

2008-12-06T01:52:00.003+08:00

While driving in Perak, I received a phone call. There's a 'job-opening'. It wasn't my first choice (I applied for other places too). Needing some changes, I accept the offer - only to have the other job offered to me a day later. And so with a little regret, I boarded the bus to the main office to collect my offer letter.

Two months had passed since I started my new job. Still adjusting and trying to cope up with the changes. To put it in another words: I traded concrete jungle and traffic jams for a proper jungle and different kind of traffic jam.

The road to my office cuts through a forest reserve area. And best of all, regardless of whether they are hogging the lane or even in the wrong lane, these road users always have the 'right-of-ways' and will not get punish for showing their 'hairy-backside'!

Auto Assist

2008-11-28T22:31:00.003+08:00

That was what I needed just now. Thank fully, I was spared the agony a fellow blogger had to suffer.

While driving with my window shut, air-cond blowing at full speed, my car suddenly had a little hick-up. The car began to jerk a bit. I looked down at the dashboard. The fuel gauge was a pointing to "E". I had noticed it earlier. Remembering that I had fueled yesterday, I paid no attention to the gauge. The car was known to have given false alarm every now and then. But this time "E" meant "Emergency Stop"! As the car glided, I maneuvered it to the emergency lane. I hit the brakes when the car reached a well lit area.

I looked out of my window, trying to figure out where exactly I was. Had I passed the R&R? Or is it just a few kilometres away? I pondered. Should I started walking to what I thought would be a R&R? It was dark. I don't want to risk my safety by walking.

I called Uncle Jack for help. He gave 1001 excuses but promised to try to find solution. I half expected what would be his solution: called another uncle for help. As expected few minutes later, he called, help is unavailable and said he'll try to find other way. After he hung up, I pretty much knew, I couldn't count on his help and problem solving skill.

As I stared blankly at the highway in front of me, I noticed a sticker from my insurance provider on the windshield:
"Auto Assist... 1800-xx-xxxx... 24 hours breakdown..."

Cool! I dialed the number and was immediately connected to a human being (and not the some-times-very-anoying-IVR).

Lady: bla... bla... bla... (Introducing her self as Zarina)... How can I help you?
Me: My car stopped at the highway.
Zarina: Do you need to be towed?
Me: No. I think it's the fuel. Can you send someone to bring fuel?
Zarina: Fuel? Hold on. [I could hear her asking her colleagues and her colleagues saying yes]. Yes we can arrange. Where exactly is your location?
Me: [Describe my location as best as I could]
Zarina: Are you alone in the car?
Me: [In a very calm and collect tone] Yes. That's why I'm calling Auto Assist.
Zarina: [In a very panic tone and sound very urgent] Okay. I'll arrange immediately. Please stay in the car, lock all doors and windows.
Me: [still in a very calm tone] Thank you very much!

A few minutes later she called.

Zarina: I've called highway patrol. They'll come to your location. They will ask for money to buy fuel for you. Please wait for the highway patrol, and not other people.
Me: Thank you very much.
Zarina: You're welcome. Be careful and take care!

With windows shut and no air-cond, it was getting stuffy. I took off my jacket and sat at the passenger seat. I took a stack of my office files and started to go through them. 8 files later, the highway patrol truck came.

Two friendly guys in police uniform got out of the car. I moved to the driver seat. Instead of winding down the window at the driver seat, I wind down the one behind the driver seat. The policemen were puzzled! Anyway to make this already long entry short, I hopped into the patrol truck. One of the policeman steered my car while being towed by the truck. Then Zarina called for the third time.

Zarina: Has the highway patrol car came?
Me: Yes. I'm in the truck right now.
Zarina: How long have it been?
Me: About 15 minutes.
Zarina: [With genuine concern voice] Is everything okay? Are you safe?
Me: Yes. I'm okay and safe. Thank you very much for calling.
Zarina: You're welcome. Take care.

And so I arrived safely to my destination. I felt very insured! Thank you UniAsia!

Selamat Pagi Cinta

2008-11-26T07:29:00.003+08:00

"Good Morning, Love"

No, no one said that to me, though I wish some one did. It's the title of a local film currently aired in local cinema. And since it is still in cinema, I will not write long reviews.

Similar to Gubra, this film suffers a "Sembilu Kasih" syndrome. I much rather have the subplot about Julia (Fazura) and Ilham (Pierre), be properly evolved and explored. I feel that Suci (Armani) and Azam (Que) were distractions in the film. However, I had to agree with a fellow cinema-goer (who made loud comments from the seats behind), that Suci character was cute.

Cinematography wise, I like the camera angles. And all the important things are properly 'in-focus', a great improvement from "I'm not single". Script wise, spot a certain person's favourite cue-word!

(p.s. To date, this is probably the shortest review from me!)

Unfinished

2008-10-31T22:14:00.006+08:00

If you don’t already know, unfinished is the one word best describes Kelly’s Castle. The owner built the house for his wife and children. Unfortunately the wife died before the house was completed. The owner continued to build the house. He was on his way to pick up what would be Malaysia’s first lift (or, if you are an American, elevator) when he fell ill and died.

The were no one there but me. The courtyard and the corridors were equally deserted. A breeze followed by windows slamming sent shiver down my spine. I had lived in one of those colonial 'government-owned' mansion. It was creepy, even when it was constantly inhabited. So imagine the creepiness of this unfinished and abandon structure.

However, even in its unfinished state, I could imagine the grandeur of the castle, had Kelly finished the project. Dark wooden floor. High ceiling. Hidden escape staircase. And even rooftop tennis court! I could almost see the company and parties that he might have thrown there.

Alas, the project was unfinished and abandon. And so, like the owners, I too left the castle.

(p.s. pictures uploaded.)

Eerily deserted

2008-10-28T00:18:00.004+08:00

The parking lot was eerily deserted. It was midday when I finally reached Kelly's Castle.

A sensible person would have told me to stay indoors or at least where it is cool and shaded. A serious photographer would have told me that the lighting is too harsh for any good photos. But I was pressed for time. Armed with a fisherman hat and a DSLR, I walked to the ticket counter.

The ticketman had his ear plugged with earphones. He wasn't expecting any visitor for he was looking the other way and singing his lungs out. I called him. As he turned, I could see that he was embarassed. The little 'concert' wasn't meant to be heard by anyone but him.

I paid the entrance fee and made my way to the castle. I had to cross a non-descript concrete bridge. Underneath the bridge was a river with rapid current and brownish water - signs that it must have rained somewhere upstream. Then, I had to climb a small hill.

I followed the walkway. Before I knew it, I reached the main 'courtyard'. It was more deserted than the parking lot!

(p.s. Photo added!)

Test entry

2008-10-19T10:47:00.002+08:00

I had to change to a new (secondhand) phone. I couldn't get my trusty ol' T5 to go online with the new (secondhand) phone. So no updating blog from the T5.

After searching high and low, I finally found a software to update blog directly from my new (secondhand) phone - Samseng SGH I600. The typo was intentional, quoting a lady selling handphones.

However, I still prefer to update my blog using my T5. Maybe because I'm used to scribbling on its touch screen. On i600, I have no choice but to use the tiny QWERTY keyboard. It will take some times to get to use to it.I'll continue my previous story as soon as I get the hang of this new keyboard. Stay tune!

Harrasted?

2008-10-13T21:53:00.005+08:00

Sorry for long delay. And NO, I was not harrasted on my way to the hotel. I got back to the hotel safely, got ready for work and checked-out. While driving to work, something happened that cause the long delay in updating this blog. I'll get back to that later (maybe?).

While work is not the scope of this blog, here what I've overheard during work that day:

Man [to woman]: Cik or puan? [translation: Miss or Mrs / another way of asking woman marital status]
Woman: Cik [another way of saying I'm single]
Man [laughing and talking to another man]: Kecik lagi [another way of saying "tight!"]

I was aghast! Not by the remark, but from where it came from. From old man who should have had more maturity. As I drove that day, I wondered if the remarks was considered as 'sexual' harrasment.

p.s. It is still in the Islamic month of Syawal (the 13th). If it's not too late, Happy Eid Mubarak. I'll continue the story. Stay tune!

2008-09-22T09:34:00.001+08:00

Good Morning!
The next day, I woke up early for an early morning stroll in the park. I had wanted to watch the sun rise. At the jetty were boats ferrying people to and fro the islands. An old grandma had just parked her old bicycle laden with the day's newspaper.

I began to take photo. Then I realized, I had made the greatest mistake in digital photography - not having enough power supply!

I had to rush back to the hotel. Get a fresh set of battery. Unfortunately, like this old man (photo will be added later), the magic hour had passed. The jetty and the park was empty. Those people were commuters communiting to work. Nevertheless I continued walking, enjoying the soft morning breeze.

Before long a man stopped me for a chat. He wore a simple clothes. He had a little bag under his right arm. He had noticed me taking photos earlier. The park was a little deserted. I was a little alarmed. As I told him that I used to live here (trying to give the impression that I'm not exactly a tourist), I moved slowly so that I had my back to the more 'populated' part of the park. I was ready to flight should it was needed!

But nothing untoward happen. I told him that I need to get to work. The guy continued his journey. I made my way to the hotel. I really did need to get ready to go to work.

(p.s. I'm updating this post while on the bus to work. Pardon me for any grammar / spelling mistakes.The traffic is amazingly smooth! I guess it is because everyone else is already in the office.)

On the Road

2008-09-18T23:20:00.000+08:00

On Tuesday, not long before the office-hour supposed to end, my boss telephoned.

Boss: Ryn [actually my boss called me by my firstname and not by my short/nick name], can you attend a meeting on Friday.
Me: What is it about?
Boss: It's... bla... bla... bla... [I won't dwell about work here]... It's in Batu Gajah, Perak this Friday. Can you arrange for transportation?
Me: Err... Yes.
Boss: Okay, I'll forward you the e-mail.

Wednesday was a public holiday. Used the break to run some errants. In the evening, re-read the e-mail to reconfirm the meeting venue. Then saw the finer prints - a site-visit was also in the agenda. And the site visit is on Thursday! I frantically called the e-mail originator. His plan was to leave KL early Thursday's morning and reach the site around 10am. Since I live out side of KL, I had to leave extra early! Anyway, this morning, I managed to caught up with him at the highway. And we made our way to the site.

Googling [is there such word?] "Batu Gajah Perak", you'll get URLs on Kelly's Castle. I had thought that it was located somewhere remote. It is actually located right next to a main road, Jalan Gopeng. Unfortunately, we were rushing to meet another people, so we just zoomed passed the landmark. I made a mental note to myself to stop by the landmark on my way back to KL.

Completing our site visits, we were faced with a dilemma. We had not arranged for our accomodation. We pondered. Ipoh, the capital city was nearer (because there were less traffic light). But Lumut and the sea was more inviting so we decided to head to Lumut.

We drove to Teluk Batik. A very nice secluded small bay. Other that us three, the place seemed to be deserted from any tourist. The beach was very clean. The breeze was very refreshing (sorry, I forgot to take photos of the beach). If I had come alone, I would have taken a room there and take the opportunity to clear my head. But it was not meant to be.

The guys, concern about food (or rather lack of place selling them), decided that we should try Lumut Town. So, off we went. I once worked in Lumut. It was years ago. Things have changed. Nevertheless, I managed to locate the hotel around the corner.

While travelling, I'm not particularly fussy about my room. I could have taken a cheaper room, but I felt like I was in need of open space, so I opted for a room with a window. The room was spacious enough. There's a nice view from my window. The plumbing, air-cond and television works. I was satisfied. My colleagues, as I found out later, had a few complaints.

When the sun was about to set, I went for a little walk in the small town. The sun was warm. The town was very laid back. It was just nice for an evening stroll. I was strolling along the bay, taking some photos, when my colleagues telephoned. I joined them for break fast. Again, if I was alone, I would have done things differently. I would have eaten at one of those tables along the bay and watch the world pass-by.

Soon after dinner, we prepared some presentation slides, then retired to our rooms.

Value of Life

2008-09-10T10:10:00.005+08:00

A dear friend lost a loved on earlier this week. Attending the funeral, I was reminded of my previous post - on how there's no guarentee in life, but death is certain.

An unrelated event that happened in this week makes me wonder if a person is valued for being his / her true self or for having tonnes of money? If someone values you for your money, can they see pass the material layer, then see and value you for who you truly are?

Anyway, what ever others think about you aren't really important. Ultimately, what important is that you have lived your life the way you want, right?

p.s. I'm back to riding bike to work. This time the distance is longer!

31 / 08 /2008

2008-08-31T18:23:00.005+08:00

It's 31st of August - Malaysia's Independence day.

I don't know if it is just me, or it is actully the general public, but seemed to me this year it was not as hyped as previous years. Unlike previous years, there seemed to be less cars displaying the Jalur Gemilang this year. Nevertheless, this morning on the highway, I saw a convoy of classic cars each have at least one little flag. There were a lot of classic cars of different years, brands, and models. Sorry no photo as I was behind the wheel. I almost hit the highway divider because I was too busy looking at them.

Other than driving on the highway, how did I spent the day? Installing operating system, software and stuff in my new customized CPU (for non-computer-savvy, it's that box where you have the on button for you pc). Except for a missing 10gig of hard disk space, everything seems to be working. Now, from my new machine, I proudly type this entry and wish you:

Happy Independence Day and travel safe!

for Muslims readers,
Happy fasting!

Packing

2008-08-14T17:43:00.002+08:00

I’m not packing my bag for another trip just yet. But my officemate is. He is going for a work-related trip this Saturday. Having never travel before, he is clueless on what to pack. Since I went on a similar trip last year, he asked me for ideas.

Close friends would testify that I some times packed the smallest bag when travelling! So here are suggested things to pack in your bag:
1. Clothes:
· 2 sets of day clothes – to wear during the day
· 2 sets of night clothes – to wear for sleeping. To be kept dry at all cost. You wouldn’t want to be sleeping in wet clothes
· 2 pairs of socks
· 5 sets of under wears – don’t laugh but it is essential that you have enough!
· 1 set of sarong/kain batik – this versatile fabric can be used as towel, blanket, or be worn like skirt
If you are travelling to cold countries, you might want to add long johns and additional warm clothing. I avoid packing denims into my bag because they took up spaces. Denims are also heavier and take longer time to dry. If I really need denim pants / jacket, I normally wear them.

2. Toiletries (wrapped in waterproof plastic bag to avoid spillage):
· Toothpaste + toothbrush
· Soap bar – some would say shower cream/gel is more hygienic. But liquid has tendency of spilling all over your clothes in the bag. Get soap bar that is ‘gentle’ on the face so you can use the soap instead of facial cleanser.
· Detergent bar – to wash clothes. Rule of thumb in washing clothes is: 1 set to wash and dry, 1 set to wear and 1 set for spare
· Deodorant – unless you have no problem with smelling all-sweats
· Hair Shampoo – only bring this on long trips or trips that would make your hair dirty. Otherwise, shampoo you hair before going away.
· Razor blade – unless you don’t mind some hair growth
· Facial cleanser – optional if you can use the soap bar
· Sun blocks – I hardly bring this as I don’t go for sunbathing. Very important if you plan to spend time out in the hot sun

3. Utilities:
· Swiss army knife – make sure you check-in your bag if you have this item. Mine comes with can opener, and a little torchlight.
· Torchlight – very important if you plan to go camping / walking at night.
· Ponchos / rain cover – get one of those that can be open and served as a mat.
· Flip-flop / selipar jepun – I don’t normally bring this. To be use in places where you can’t wet your shoes or when you just want to walk small distance and don’t want to wear your shoes. Alternatively, you could get one of those expensive water-repellent-sandals-that-function-like-shoes, and wear it
· Waterproof plastic bags – to protect things (clothes/gadget/etc) from getting wet or to carry wet clothes.
· Zip lock bags – to be use to pack food. Can also function like plastic bag
· Fork and spoon – optional if your Swiss army knife comes with fork and spoon. If you bring the steel kind, make sure you check-in your bag

4. Electrical / electronic gadgets:
· Power adaptor – important if you are going to countries that have different kind of power socket than your electrical gadgets’
· PDA + charger – I use PalmOne Tungsten T5. I use it to record my travel details, store maps (in JPEG format) and phrase book, listen to MP3, watch films, blog, and some times surf internet and write e-mails. PDA with touch screen where you can scribble notes is very useful when you need to do a ‘pictorial’ translation
· Memory card for PDA – have enough space to store everything you need.
· Handphone + charger – check with your service provider if they provide roaming at the country/ies you are heading. Otherwise, get one of those handphones with multiple bands so you can buy local prepaid card
· Digital camera + charger – since I upgraded to dSLR, I have extra back just for the dSLR and its accessories. I also bring my compact digital camera as a backup camera
· Memory card for camera / Portable hard disk – to store photos from digital camera

5. Food rations (Only if you think it would be hard to find suitable food for you. Quantity depends on travel duration):
· 3in1 nutritional drinks sachets
· Instant noodles – I hardly brings this because I’m kind of allergic to the instant seasonings
· Sardines – If possible get the one with ‘built-in’ can opener. Bear in mind the cans will add additional weight.
· Serunding (packed in zip lock bag) – a local dish of shredded meat/chicken/fish in coconut milk and spices cooked till dry.
· Brahim’s instant food – a local brand that have a variety of instant foods
· Microwave-able food container with cover – to ‘cook’ instant food. To save space I normally put the 3in1s and Serunding in the container before packing them into bag.

Happy packing and travelling!

Hoi...

2008-08-08T14:56:00.004+08:00

"… tak takut mati ka?" [translation: (are you) not afraid to die?]

If you have been using Malaysian roads long enough, you probably have heard somebody yelling something like this angrily to someone.

I’ve been in many situations that could have caused my demise. Close friends would remember how dangerously fast I used to drive. And what with the solo wanderings in foreign lands. Yet, I’m still alive. Bumped, bruised and wounded, maybe, but I’m still very much alive! Which made me think that the Almighty has bigger plan for me. If my time has not come, no matter what I do, I’ll continuously cheats death. And if my time is up, nothing could ever stop it.

Experiences have thought me that there are no guarantees in life. No matter how hard you plan, there’s no guarantee that things will work the way you want. Every now and then you will fall and have to get up. There’s no guarantee that everyone will have a good life. The only guarantee that we have is that we all will die, eventually. Logic tells me that we should be afraid of things that have no guarantee. So, we should be afraid to live and not to die, right?

Which reminds me of a sensible advice I got years ago: live life as if you will die tomorrow.

2008-08-06T00:11:00.003+08:00

I'm Not Single

I wish I could say that about myself, but this entry isn't about myself. It is the title of a local film currently screening in local cinemas. Or should I say cineplex? With so many cineplex mushrooming in almost every shopping complexes, who watches films in cinemas anymore?

Anyway, back to the film. Contrary to its English title, it is actually a Malay film by young director Pierre Andre (again, contrary to foreign sounding name, he's a Malaysian). Since the film is still screening in cine(mas/plexes) and I have the tendecies of describing things in great details, I shall not comments on the story line.

Suffice to say that the whole story line relies heavily on its two main characters: Adam (played by Farid Kamil) and Maya (by newcomer Lisa Surihani). Suprisingly Farid and even newcomer Lisa managed to pull it off. I have to say, their strength lie in their appropriate facial expressions and body gestures. Lisa was able to convey anger, disgust etc. just by rolling and squinting her eyes. However, if Lisa could somehow improve her intonation and the way she says certain lines, we will be able to 'feel' even more.

I like how the film subtly explore multitude of topics ranging from sexsuality, wet dream and even pornography. I loved what Adam did when he picked up 'My Sayang' calling Maya's phone. l loved how the camera focused on certain part to subtly get the 'message' accross. Unfortunately, in some scenes, shallow depth-of-field sort of marred the film. The supermarket scene, for example, has Maya slightly out of focus. The depth-of-field problem is worst in 'out-on-a-bench' scene where Maya facial expression (or whatever left of her face that was 'cut-off' by the frame) is completely blurred in the foreground. Credit goes to Lisa who nevertheless managed to convey Maya's emotion solely via her voice!

This film is classified as 'U' (for general public), but sadly, due to remarks from immature audiences, this film should be classified as '18sx'. Don't get me wrong, it is those immature remark that you wouldn't want you kids to hear, not the things screened. It was similar to the remarks I herd when I watched "Suami, isteri dan..." - which I think is the same genre - in cinema, eons ago.

Anyway, it is a good film to watch. Do look out for Maya's 'cue-word' to Adam, which is the same one used by Iman of "Sepi"! Coincidence? You decide.

p.s. Photo taken from here

S3X and the City Cocktail Party

2008-07-24T16:25:00.021+08:00

Typo in the title was intentional so that this entry would not appear under the same category in search engine. Anyway, thanks to Ma Hen, I got to tag along to the cocktail party. The party was held in conjunction with the premier of the film “Sex and the City”.

It was a last minute thingy, Ma Hen’s colleague couldn’t make it so I stepped in. I was concern about being under dress. After all I went to the party straight from work. Lucky for me, no matter what shirt (or in yesterday’s case t-shirt) I wore, I almost always wear a blazer to office. The blazer is not only for the cold office, but also to camouflage my skinniness. Ma Hen assured me that my office attire was good enough. Among those glitzy and glamorous people (a.k.a. celebrities), I must have looked a bit formal.

The event was held at GSC mid Valley. Great food! I was too busy filling my stomach with the scrumptious food that I forgot to take photos of the food. Food was followed by a brief fashion show modelled by DJs from a certain radio station (name of the designer and radio station shall not be mentioned).

The radio station also held some quiz related to the tv series. The crowd was a sport. The selected audience had no qualms fulfilling the DJs request. In turn, the participants won a bottle of perfume each.

The highlight must have been the girl who won an ‘outrageously’ expensive shoes simply because the shoes fits!

Among the guest are familiar faces in local entertainment industries. Me, being very ignorant of the entertainment industries (local or abroad), avoided talking too much. Don’t want to be outright obvious that I was clueless. Without Ma Hen, I wouldn’t even know how to pronounce a local entertainment magazine (we shared table with a pair of reporter from that magazine).

Thanks to my dSLR, I didn’t have to talk much other than to say “SMILE…”.

This rookie photographer learned a thing or two: 1) Need to be careful about ‘chopping off’ people’s legs. 2) I need one of those original expensive flashgun if I were to shoot these kind of events more often!

More photos here.

All the Small Things...

2008-07-20T02:35:00.008+08:00

"... work sucks, I know..." - a song from Blink?

You see, the power-to-be up in the corporate ladder decided to relocate the whole office to a relatively new town outside of KL. Compared to KL, the new town, devoid of everything. I admit that I’m beginning to miss the little things that I’ve reluctantly come to enjoy in KL.

What I missed most are the things that I was able to do during lunch our. I am no longer able to have lunch in KLCC park . Or visit the Petronas Art Gallery in the twin tower. Or read books in the National library. Or break away from office madness and go for a ride on the ‘Eye Of Malaysia’ (which still available at Taman Tasik Titiwangsa till 31st August 2008)

I am also no longer able to enjoy the bus ride home (and little naps while on the bus ride). The new office is not as accessible by public transports as the old office. I tried taking public transports (a combination of a train and two connecting buses), and found out that it would take me more than three hours to get to the office (the new office is actually about 1 hour drive) Hence, I had to drive to the office.

Driving meant that I have little time to blog because quite a number of entries in this blog were done on (or concocted while waiting for numerous public transports). But all was not lost when one day, I saw my first complete rainbow (I could see the two ends) while driving on the highway to work.

That day, with the song ".... some where over the rainbow, the skies are blue...." ringing in my head, my otherwise grim morning became somewhat colourfull!

To my regular visitors: thank you for returning to this blog and sorry for long overdue updates.

Corporate (snake-and-)ladder

2008-07-03T22:55:00.000+08:00

I’m tired of playing this game. Whenever it’s my turn, I always miss the ladders and meet mostly snakes.

I really wish I could just pack and leave. Perhaps lead a bohemian lifestyle. I’m wise enough to know that money isn’t everything.

Unfortunately, snakes have slithered around me, tightening their grips on me, and chained me to this game!

Private Hospital vs. Government Hospital

2008-06-28T15:32:00.003+08:00

I had a fall last week. I’ll spare you the details. As the result of the fall, when I went to the clinic for the second time, I was referred to a private hospital near (which is not exactly near, with the traffic jams) my office. I was supposed to have some part of my body x-rayed and checked. Since I was already in pain for a week, I wasted no time and headed to the said-hospital.

Braving Friday evening traffic jams made worst by the rain, I finally reached the hospital. It was well after five. I headed to the porche reception counter. Handed the letter from the clinic to the good people at the counter. They told me to go to the emergency section as the office hour had ended. And off I went along the squeaky clean corridors and eventually found the emergency section. I waited for my turn at the registration counter.

The good man at the counter read my letter and politely told me that it was ‘after office hour’. He would have to check if the x-ray technician was still around. He made a few phone calls and gladly told me that the technician was still around and was willing to help. So off I went to the x-ray department. Two young men greeted me. One of the men ushered me to a small room. (To friends and love ones: nothing happened). He left me to change into the x-ray robe.

Wearing the x-ray robe, I walked into the x-ray room. The man who ushered me earlier, came. To make the story short and not dwell about the little disagreement I had with him, he told me that he could do the x-ray, but I have to pay for extra charges that covers their overtime (which I didn’t really mind). What ignite the flame in me was that I had to come to the hospital the next day to collect the report. Get this, he said there was no doctor around (because it was after office hour) to look at the x-ray. I was aghast to hear that there was NO doctor in a HOSPITAL!

Driving to KL on a Saturday-off just to get my x-ray report was not an option. Needless to say I cancelled the whole procedure and changed into my clothes. With splitting headache caused by my flaming anger, I drove through the traffic jams to the government hospital nearest to my house. By the time I got to the registration counter, it was already 9pm. Good thing the man behind the counter was pleasing to look at and funny. I only had to pay RM1 for registration (if you are not Malaysian, you’ll have to pay RM50). There were probably 20 people already waiting for treatment.

After what seemed to be endless wait, my name was called. I thought I finally got to see the doctor. But I was very much mistaken. The room was called “Bilik Saringan” (Screening Room). In it, was a medical officer (I’m not quite sure how one become a medical officer). He asked what was wrong and patiently wrote some notes in the ‘report card’. He took my blood pressure and asked me to wait at the waiting area.

And so I waited. I fidgeted on my chair as the pain ran through me. The screening procedure might be cumbersome for some, but while waiting, I realized how important it was. There were 20 people, from what I saw, those who are more critical got into the treatment room first. That included a bloodied man who came out from one of the treatment room with his head bandaged. Anyway, after meeting yet another medical officer, some more waiting, I finally got x-rayed and checked by the doctor.

You know some thing is not right when a junior doctor called her senior doctor for an opinion. Good news: no bones were broken nor fracture. Not so good news: amazingly they saw something else might be swelling. But since I feel no pain in the part that was suppose to be swelling, the doctors let me home (there were more critically ill people that they need to attend). Besides, it was already 11pm. I was tired, so I gladly went home.

I had to spend considerably more amount of time waiting at the government hospital, but eventually, I got x-rayed and checked. So in Euro2008 style: government hospital 1, private hospital 0.

2008-06-23T10:18:00.006+08:00

Brownies

This entry is not about the cake but about the Indonesian film. I bought the vcd during my previous trip to Melaka. I didn't expect to find it in Melaka because I had already went to a lot of shops in KL and none sell the vcd anymore. The (original) copy I bought, was the last copy.

Why on earth did I go through all the hassle just for a vcd? After watching Marcella Zalianty in "Penjaga Hati" (an Indonesian drama series aired throughout Ramadhan last year), I was curious about this actress. "Brownies" has this actress as the leading character.

One look at the cover will give you the impression that this is a shallow film about a lady who have to choose between an uptight yuppie (in case you don't already know, yuppie is short for 'young people with money'), and a laid-back bohemian. Yes it is about a love-triangle. But interweaved with the seemingly shallow love story, is a deep philosophic look towards life.

The film evolves around the leading lady, Amelia (Marcella). The story begins with Amelia returning to Jakarta in what possibly be a first class flight. She is successful and talented enough to be featured in a magazine. She is an art director who showed her business savvy by speaking to potential client she met on the plane in his mother tongue.

Amelia wanted to surprise her yuppie fiancé, Joe, by arriving at his apartment unannounced on his birthday. She was greeted by a messy but quiet apartment. In a true neat-freak style, Mel, as her friends fondly call her, tidied up the place while making her way to his room. Her surprise backfired when she caught Joe making out with another girl in the bathtub. In the heat of the moment, Mel ended their engagement.

Mel's life spiral further downward after Joe introduced her to his new girlfriend. In her rebound, Mel went on a few unsuccessful relationships, much to the dismay of her best friend, Didi. Didi finally confronted Mel and jolted Mel back to reality. Around the same time Didi’s husband, Lilo, had a reunion with his old friend from school. His bohemian friend, Are, owns a ‘book kiosk’ (book shop + café). His specialty is making delicious brownies. Knowing that Mel likes to make brownies too, Lilo and Didi set Mel up to meet Are.

We see Mel’s character changes as she gets to know Are. Are opens her eyes to new views and ideas. Are is against the idea of mass production and capitalism. He has somewhat a philosophical outlook towards life. We see how neat-freak Mel controlled her disgust (and said nothing) when Are absent-mindedly licked his fingers and his ice-cream cup. Besides that, the old Mel would never eat from a pushcart. The new Mel, remembering the ‘lecture’ from Are, felt pity for the pushcart vendor in front of her house, hence bought a late night snack from the pushcart. It was also Are’s words that gave Mel’s the idea for her latest advertising pitch.

As Mel and Are friendship grew, Joe suddenly came back into the picture. Didi, truly concerned about Mel, advised her to make the right decision. Once Mel sees beyond her past, she was able to pick the right man.

(p.s. Photo of the cover cd is taken from PintuNet.com)

The trip to Married life

2008-06-15T01:16:00.009+08:00

Again, DO NOT PANIC. Yes, I went for a trip. But it wasn’t me who got married.

The trip began after I successfully packed my bag I made a ‘quick-stop’ at the hospital for my now-routine-lung-function-test (yes, it’s lung function, and not as previously described ‘punctured’). The supposedly ‘quick-stop’ became a long wait for the doctor. While waiting, I couldn’t help but wonder, why on earth didn’t I become a doctor, hence set my own working hour.

I had to meet the rest of the entourage at our predetermined rendezvous point at 11am. But no thanks to the long wait at the hospital, by the time I left the hospital, it was already past 11am. An hour later, I reached the rendezvous point, took a 15minutes rest, picked up some passengers – 2 adults and a toddler, then continued driving.

Four stops later – one for gas, one for lunch, one for sleep (I was very tired) and the last one for “sata” (a delicious traditional seafood thingy wrapped in banana leaf and cooked over charcoal) – we finally arrived our destination. We unload our things and rested for a while before getting ready for highlight of the day: “akad nikah” (solemnization).

We droved to the bride’s house a few hundreds metres away from our rented bungalow. We were greeted by the bride’s family and ushered into the house. The groom sat opposite the “juru-nikah”. It was perhaps the quickest and simplest ceremony I have attended so far. Before we knew it, the two lovebirds are officially husband-and-wife.

Perhaps because everyone in the entourage was tired, after a short photo session, and a great dinner, we –including the husband - returned to the rented bungalow. We immediately went to bed. Unfortunately going to bed early didn’t mean sleeping early for me. Perhaps because of the unfamiliar place, or perhaps because of the poor air circulation in the room, I had a restless night.

The next day, around noon, we got ready for the “bersanding”. The groom had some trouble with his outfit. He couldn’t seem to get the “samping” (a ‘sarong’ worn around the waist) right. There’s an art to folding the “samping” to make it look good. We finally left the house around 2pm.

The bride and groom were reunited at her house. There were a short “silat” (Malay traditional martial art) demonstration. Surprisingly, I could recognize that it was “Silat Gayung”. Even though I haven’t seen any “silat” demonstration for a long time, I still remember and very much prefer the ‘fierce’ version of the “Silat Gayung”.

The “silat” demonstration was followed by “bersanding” ceremony. During “bersanding”, family members and friends did the “bertepung tawar”. By the end of the ceremony, I was already hungry. We headed to the main table for the “makan beradat”. I am ashamed to admit that I pretty much gobbled down my food shamelessly. We said our good byes and left the groom with his new family.

With the insistence from a few members of the entourage (needless to say against my will), we packed and headed home. I braced myself for another long drive! Thankfully we reached home safely around 9pm.

Just Married

2008-05-25T19:21:00.001+08:00

To my close friends and family:
DON'T PANIC YET.

I did went away for awhile. But I didn't went away to get married.

Remember the my post on "Engagement Party"? It was the wedding for the two love birds.

More of it later.

2008-05-16T07:28:00.000+08:00

Yet Another Trip

I'm packing my bag and will be leaving in a few hours.

Where to? Stay tuned to find out!

Day 4 (18/3/2008) - Delayed

2008-05-10T12:15:00.002+08:00

Yes, I know the ending for Jakarta enteries is very much delayed. I promise, this is the last entry for Day 4. No, the taxi to the airport did not caused me to be delayed. In fact the taxi ride was uneventful. No “macet” nor road accident along the way.

It was a wonderful drive to the “bandara” (translation: airport). I chatted with the taxi driver (actually the taxi driver did most of the talking). Thanks to Mutiara, according to the taxi driver, I (finally) sounded like a local! Since I was speaking fairly slowly, the taxi driver had to follow my pace of talking. Hence, it gave me ample time to understand and then, participate in the conversation using the ‘formal’ Bahasa Indonesia.

I didn’t have any luggage to check-in. So by 4.30pm, I had safely passed the immigration check. I had almost two hours to kill. I did a mental arithmetic. The flight should take about two hours to get to Kuala Lumpur. Kuala Lumpur time is one hour ahead of Jakarta time. That would mean touching down in Kuala Lumpur at approximately 9.00pm Kuala Lumpur time. Great! I could take my dinner in Malaysia.

As I wandered from one airport shop to another, to kill my two hours (or so I thought), I found an electronic information board – the one that displays flight information. I was horrified to discover that my flight was rescheduled to 8.10pm! Coincidently, I had a dead mobile phone (I wasn’t sure if it was because I dropped it or because the charger was faulty). Tried the public phone at the airport, but for some reason I couldn’t get through to the people back home.

After a few futile attempts to contact those at home, I resigned my fate to the Almighty. Surprisingly I did not panicked at all. I contemplated on telephoning Mutiara to inform her of the ‘delay’ but decided against it. What could she do. She couldn’t ask the airplane to leave early just for me. Besides, I didn’t think I could talk to her without bursting into tears.

Another quick arithmetic made me to conclude that it would be too late to have dinner in Malaysia. So I headed to the food court. Nothing on the menu seemed to grab my appetite. At the end I settled for a cup of hot chocolate and two slices of smoked-salmon sandwiches. I ate only one slice of sandwiches and emptied my cup of hot chocolate. Packed the other slice of sandwiches into my backpack and continued to wandered at the terminal. Bought some souvenir for people back home. Like most shops in other airports, the prices were a bit more expensive if compared to shops at outside of the airport.

Tired of walking, I headed to the boarding gate. I spotted a row of chairs near the gate. A lady in her late forties or early fifties was sitting alone. I went near her:
Me: Maaf, bu. Ada orang? (Excuse me, ma’am. Is the seat taken?)
Lady: Nggak. Silakan. (No. Please sit.)

By then I was hungry again. So put down my backpack, and sat on a chair next to her. I took out my remaining sandwiches
Me [being polite]: Jemput makan, ya bu. (Have dinner ma’am.)
Lady: Terima kasih, silakan. (Thank you, enjoy your meal)

Once I finished my sandwiches, we somehow went into an engaging conversation. I was glad she understood English for my brain was kind of tired translating my thoughts into formal Bahasa Malaysia. Quite frankly, I don’t use formal Bahasa Malaysia in my daily live. She on the other hand, admitted that certain Bahasa Malaysia phrases sounds funny to her Indonesian ears. And so we chatted mostly in English.

The lady, HM, is a headmistress visiting her engineer sister who resides in Malaysia. Judging from my simple-no-brand clothes, she was surprised to find me able to speak fluent English with little difficulties. She thought I was still in high-school! I assured her that I was old enough to have a school-going child (which I might have if I was married). She was also surprised that I was bold and brave enough to go for a solo-backpacking trip to Jakarta.

Before we knew it, it was almost 8pm. We made our way to the boarding area. There was a short queue for a final security check. A few minutes later, we were in the boarding area, only to discover that the flight was further delayed! We took two seats facing each other and continued chatting. Near us was a loud group of Malaysian family – Mommy, Daddy, Aunty, teenage son, and two young sons.

The loud family were returning from a big shopping spree in Jakarta and Bandung. They asked us a few questions. But they were more interested in indulging themselves about the things they bought. I could see from HM’s face that it was somewhat hard for her to understand what the Malaysian family was saying. I told HM that it was a local Malaysian dialect.

The loud family was commenting on how cheap things were. And how they had spent at least RM 1000. They also discovered that some executives earn merely IDR 2Million (roughly around RM700). I quietly told them, after my ‘home-stay’ with Mutiara, IDR 2 Million, is a lot of money. HM too, agreed. In lower voice, HM and I doubted that their hired driver would have take them to similar places that I had been (the non-touristy places).

Weary of the loud family, we were glad when the boarding gate finally opened. We were taken on a bus to the waiting aeroplane. Since it was free seating, HM and I sat next to each other and continued chatting. The aeroplane finally left the tarmac around 9pm.

We reached Kuala Lumpur LCCT around 12am (Malaysian time). I gave my phone number and bid adieu to HM. After a little drama, I finally reach my brother’s place around 2am. With that, my four-days-trip finally ended!

Day 4 (18/3/2008) - Jamsostek

2008-05-03T23:46:00.002+08:00

“Jamsostek” is short for “Jaminan Sosial Tenaga Kerja”. Our destination was the branch at Selemba area. We got off the “angkot” by a busy road and walked a few metres into the building compound.

The building itself was an old one storey building sandwiched between newer multiple storeys building. Not old as in dilapidated and run down but as in if-it-was-in-KL-it-would-be-torn-down-to-make-way-for-new-ones. Even thought it was old, it was well maintained. The relatively fresh coat of paint made it looked respectable.

The wooden door opened to a standard setting of counters-and-waiting-chairs. There were three counters. In front of each counter were two chairs. The rest of hall were rows and rows of chairs for people to sit while waiting for their turn.

‘Their turn’, as I quickly discovered, was not determined by any numbers nor queue. When we arrived, Mutiara’s second friend, T, was already seated at the counter for her ‘turn’. L quickly sat on the second chair next to T. While waiting for the two ladies, Mutiara explained to the concept of “Jamsostek”. From what I understood, it was similar to Malaysia’s Employee Providence Fund (EPF).

Some time later the two ladies joined us. They discussed something. They were too fast for me to understand. Then Mutiara went to the counter to check how much money was under her name. It seemed that among the three ladies, L has the most. Unfortunately, like Mutiara, L, didn’t have all the papers with her.

After a little suggestion (or more like persuasion) from the other two ladies, L decided to get the papers and get everything done that day. So we left the “Jamsostek”. It was a hot noon. Surprisingly no “angkot” for our route passed by. Since time was of the essence – we need to return to the office before the counter closed – suggested that we take a taxi. Mutiara stopped a taxi. She sat at the front seat. I sat behind the driver with L on my left and T at the other window.

The girls were very ‘chatty’. I gathered that they haven’t seen each other for quite a while. Again, they were all too fast for me to understand. Besides, they weren’t using the formal Bahasa Indonesia, which made it even harder for me to comprehend. They girls were very animated, so much so, eventually the taxi driver joined the conversation.

Again, Mutiara noticed that I seemed to listen more than I seemed to talk. She told everyone in the taxi about my comprehension problem. Actually, even when I did understand the conversation, it was kind of hard for me to reply them. I had to construct my sentences in the formal Bahasa Malaysia, which I don’t really use except when writing formal letters. Had I used the my daily Malay, I doubt they would understand me as well as they did.

Anyway, we dropped L somewhere in an area near to her house. From the point where we dropped her off, she would have to take other public transport to actually get to her house. The three of us continued in the taxi and got off at a shopping complex, Gajah Mada Plaza. While waiting for L, we managed to squeeze in a little last minute shopping. As much as I dislike shopping, I needed to buy something for people back home.

Before we knew it, we were done shopping with plenty of time to spare. We headed to “Gloria Jean’s Coffees” near the entrance. The girls decided that we should have some drinks and seat at the coffee shop while waiting for L. I couldn’t agree more. I haven’t had any good chocolate drink since I arrived in Jakarta. The one I had in “Dunkin’ Donut” the previous had more sugar than chocolate. Without hesitation, I ordered a cup of hot chocolate (that came with a marshmallow). Mutiara ordered a glass of mango juice and T, a glass of what looked to me like an ice-blended. I “traktir” them. And to my surprise, everything cost only around IDR 42 000 (with my hot chocolate making half of the price). That would roughly converted to less that RM 15.00 which if in “Gloria Jean’s Coffee” Malaysia could probably buy my hot chocolate only.

I was finishing my heavenly cup of hot chocolate when L finally arrived. We took a taxi and made our way to the “Jamsostek” only to find that the counters were closed for lunch. Left with little choice, we went for lunch at the business complex next to the “Jamsostek”. The air-conditioned restaurant looked exclusive. It was the kind of restaurant that the waiter would greet you and ask how many people dining. Seeing the ‘look’ in the waiter face (except for L, we were more or less not dressed-up), I can’t help but spoke in English: “Table for four, please”.

There were plenty of empty tables. So we picked a table next to the window. I ordered “Nasi Uduk”. I can’t remember what the girls ordered, but they all ordered same kind of meal. Theirs arrived at the same time while I had to wait a little longer for mine. “Nasi Uduk” turn out to be something similar to Malaysian “Nasi Lemak”. Among the “lauk” was chicken (which I passed to Mutiara’s plate), egg, and vegetable. We had earlier told the waiter not to put “sambal” (sort of hot spicy side-dish). The rice was good, but unfortunately I couldn’t each much because the harmless-looking-vegetable was actually laced with burning-hot chillies.

After lunch, we returned to the office. Mutiara and I left the two ladies around 3pm. We made our way back to MP house. I had a 6.10pm flight to catch. I should be at the airport 2 hours before the boarding time to settle all the check-in and immigration stuff.

A short rest at MP house was followed by goodbyes. Mutiara and I hugged goodbye as if we were old friends. As I hugged her, I could feel her ‘trembling’. I knew, I should made it a quick goodbye, otherwise we would both broke into tears. And so I hopped into the taxi and left.

I O U

2008-04-26T19:34:00.003+08:00

I know I should continue and finish my entries on my Jakarta trip. It is already more than a month. I'm still trying to find the right words. As I try to do so, sadly, some details have begun to be lost from my memory.

While I find my words, feel free to check out the earlier entries. I've added a few photos and sketches.

Day 4 (18/3/2008) - T-shirt and Jeans

2008-04-19T09:34:00.006+08:00

That was what Mutiara wore. MP and I had just finished checking out our driving license when she arrived. I had expected her to be formally dressed. She had mentioned that the errand was some sort of paper work at a government office. Unfortunately she couldn't run her errand because of some incomplete documents. I could see in her eyes that she was kind of agitated. She could have stayed over the night had she know the documents weren't ready yet.

Anyway, we were still going to the government office. We were going to meet two of her friends. Leaving behind my big hiking bag, we left MP’s place. At the main road, we got on an "angkot". I lost track of our route. We soon arrived at a busy crossroad. There seemed to be cars, motorcycles, van, buses, and "angkot" from every direction. Above us was a new and huge pedestrian bridge. We waited at a bus stop under the bridge.

Soon, a lady with a very fair skin and long straight hair, walked toward us. She could be considered attractively dressed. Not like the two ladies out-of-fashion-magazine previous day, but nevertheless "cakep". I met Mutiara’s first friend. L, as she would be known from now, is an Indonesian Chinese – which explained her fair skin.

After a brief introduction by Mutiara, the three of us made our way to an ‘angkot’ across the road. I thought we would be using the pedestrian bridge above us. I should have taken the cue when Mutiara held my left hand. Immediately after one of the traffic lights turned red (there seemed to be many traffic lights at the crossroad), we dashed across what seemed to be 6 lanes road! We crossed yet another road (a smaller one) and hopped into an ‘angkot’.

As I sat, I could felt that my heart was still racing, even though my legs had stopped running. Eventually I calmed down. Mutiara chatted with L. I fell into my habit of keeping quiet. Mutiara noticed, and she told L that I couldn’t understand them if they talk too fast. I laughed. I explained to them that it was sort of my habit to just keep quiet and just listen. Before long, we reached our destination.

One month later

2008-04-18T01:18:00.005+08:00

It has been a month since I left Jakarta.

This entry is dedicated to Mutiara who has taken a complete stranger unconditionally into her home, family and friends. Everyone's (and especially hers) generosity and hospitality never failed to amazes me.

Without realizing it, she has reminded and taught me many things that I will never be able to put into words. I thank the Almighty for letting our path crossed.

Mutiara and I shook hands in Cibinong Terminal as strangers but left embracing each other like old friends in Jakarta.

My greatest hope is that our friendship will continue though we are seperated by distance.

Mutiara,
Thank you very much for the experiences, kindness, generosity, hospitality, and friendship. May you have joy, happiness and a blessed life.
-me

(p.s. I know it has been a month and I still haven't finish all the entries about the trip. I'm getting there. Thank you for your patience.)

Day 4 (18/3/2008) - ‘Checking out’ and ‘Check out’

2008-04-16T11:26:00.008+08:00

‘Checking out’ is like looking and examining something. ‘Check out’ is what I had to do on the morning of Day 4. After tossing and turning, it was finally time to get off the bed and hit the shower.

Then I went down to the coffee house for breakfast (of course after properly dressed!). Except for a guy at reception, the lobby was kind of deserted. The coffee house was dark. I went to the reception and checked if I got the right place for breakfast. Yes. Perhaps I was early. I returned to the coffee house then realized that there were some waiters behind the dimly lit counter. And the breakfast 'buffet' already 'spreaded' on a small table.

The breakfast ‘buffet’ was simple – fried rice and porridge. There was nothing wrong with the rice but it was kind of ‘hard’. I prefer my rice to be ‘soft and fluffy’. I ate a few spoon-full. I should have eaten the porridge before the fried rice because the porridge actually tasted better. Could have eaten more (of the porridge) if my stomach wasn’t already filled with the fried rice.

I returned to my room. As in Mutiara’s house, I looked around the room a few times to make sure I didn’t left anything. Satisfied, I went down to the reception and checked out of the hotel. During Mutiara visit on the previous night, we made new plans. I was to meet her at MP’s house. I would leave my luggage there. We would meet her friends, run some errants and go for a last sightseeing in Jakarta. She gave me a piece of paper stating the location of MP’s house. Even after rehearsing the pronunciation, I didn’t think I could pronounce (hence remember) the name.

I got out of the hotel gate, onto the sidewalk of the main road. After a short while I saw ‘bajaj’. I hailed (more like waved) for it. It stopped. I showed “Abang Bajaj” (translation: the ‘driver’) the paper. I tried to ‘negotiate’ the price. The fact that I wasn’t a local must be obvious - I was in front of a hotel with a hiking backpack and my cheap-looking-canvas backpack. He drew a hard bargain. Couldn’t get the price suggested by Mutiara. I only got as low as IDR 10 000. I agreed to it anyway. Off I went on my solo ride in the 'bajaj'.

Similar to the train ride previous day, I got to see life ‘unfolded’ in the morning. Children in school uniforms. People going to offices. I took out my DSLR and began snapping a few photos. Later on the flight homebound, I was told it was sort of dangerous to do so. I ran the risk of being mugged by dubious characters that might lurk on the road. That really explained the weird face of “Abang Bajaj” reflected by the side mirrors.

I reached my destination without any untoward incidents - still oblivious to the risk I just took. I returned my DSLR into my cheap-looking canvass bag before I alighted the 'bajaj'. I gave MP a call from a nearby wartel (that’s short for “warung telefon” or telephone kiosk) where instead of putting coins, you pay at the counter after you use the phone.

I waited MP in front of a small grocery shop. The shop owner invited me to sit on a stool next to his shop. Not wanting to look very lost, I chewed on a bun I bought from the shop. I didn’t know where to look. Wondered where he would come from, left from the many houses, or right from the main road where a church stood.

Three bites into my bun, I saw MP coming towards me. We walked to his house, stopping at a lady selling local patries or “kuih-muih”. He greeted the lady and picked a few “kuih”. To my amazement, we left without paying. It was only while continuing our walk that he told me that the lady was her aunt.

When we reached his house, I was introduced to more of his families. No thanks to my quietness and reserve-ness, MP and I fell into some awkward silences. Somehow the conversation turned into cars. I told him that I have a second hand ‘kapchai’ and a second hand car. From him, I discovered a shocking truth: if our math was right, my second hand car is about the same price of a Mercedes (I can’t remember what series) in Indonesia!

Besides that, it is cheaper to get a driving license (for motorcar and motorbike) in Indonesia than in Malaysia. However, renewing a Malaysian driving license is cheaper due to the fact all class (motorcar, motorbike, lorry etc.) is on the same license. Indonesians have separate license for each class. Imagine how thick you wallet would be if you have license to drive five different classes of vehicles!

We ended up ‘checking out’ each others driving license. I have to admit, my laminated pieces of license looked cheap and fake next to his thick, bar coded, license or what they call SIM, short for “Surat Ijin Memandu” (loosely translated into: permission letter for driving). Even so, I much rather have my cheap and fake looking license, because it is thinner and fits nicely in my wallet.

Day 3 (17/3/2008) - Kantor

2008-04-15T00:22:00.005+08:00

A few minutes of uneventful ride in the bajaj was all it took to get to Mutiara’s “kantor” (that’s Indonesian’s for office). The office is situated in a business centre in Kemang. The area, as told by a taxi driver later, is a favourite spot among the expatriates. Houses there are predominantly occupied by expatriates.

Her office is located on the first floor (that’s second floor if you are using American system) of the two-storey building. The office is simple and neat. There is area for administration, a training room, and a reception area. The reception area doubled as the library. Plenty of books. I had a great time browsing the books there. And could have continued the whole day. Unfortunately three nights of sleeplessness finally caught up with me. I began to feel a little dizzy.

At first I thought I felt dizzy because I hadn’t had lunch. But when the dizziness continued even after lunch. I knew I had to lie down for a while. Mutiara accompanied me to the main road and helped to hail for a ‘Bluebird’. I got on the taxi and off I went to the hotel. We planned to meet at the hotel later.

As the taxi drove, I traced our route in my little map. We passed Malaysian Embassy. We also passed the famous Monas (that’s short for “Monument Nasional” or National Monument). As we passed the Monas, I can’t help but compare it with Malaysian National Monument (also known as “Tugu Negara”). Here in Jakarta, the Monas was visible from the main road. ‘Tugu Negara’ on the other hand, is tucked away on an almost remote hill away from any public transport lines.

Anyway, after a little guessing game with the taxi driver – we didn’t know whether the hotel was up north or down south of the road – I safely reached the hotel. I thought of doing a little unpacking and taking a little nap before heading out to see more of Jakarta. Unfortunately that plan had to be shelved. By the time I woke up, it was already dark. Mutiara came to the hotel but couldn't stay over. So I spent the rest of the night trying to get the much-needed sleep.

That restless night, reminded me of my travelling companions who at one point of our travel together, drugged me to sleep (with flu medication). I wished I had brought something similar to Jakarta.

Day 3 (17/3/2008) - Singing in the train

2008-04-08T11:02:00.003+08:00

It wasn’t a typo. I typed ‘train’ and not ‘rain’ because I wasn’t referring to an old film (‘Singing in the rain’). Someone did sing in the train. We were making ourselves comfortable on the bench when I heard a soulful female voice singing an Indonesian Oldie. Then there was a male voice. It was a duet accompanied by simple strumming of a guitar. I couldn’t remember the title, it was a sad song.

Then I caught the sight of the couple at one end of the coach. A blind couple. The woman’s voice was great. I couldn’t help but think that if they have good looks, they could make good money singing instead of busking in the train. The blind couple walked on to the next coach (I did enjoyed their rendition of the song, hence I paid them when the passed me).

Passengers began to pack the coach. Mutiara sat on my right. A few feet on my left was the open door. I was really glad that there were some men between the open door and me. I didn’t think my heart could endure the pounding and the suspense from seating next to the open door. The funny thing is that some years ago (what now seemed to be a different lifetime), I used to have no problem standing at the open door of a speeding train with my little hands holding on the railing near the door.

The train had just left the station. While chatting with Mutiara, I noticed a guy across the isle, handing out small packets of what looked like shampoo. I thought he was handing out free sample as people normally do in Kuala Lumpur. But I was puzzled when the same man return to collect the ‘sample’ and passengers voluntarily returned the sample. Mutiara explained that passengers are free to examine the sample, and pay if they decided to keep the sample. To this I replied that in Kuala Lumpur, if people give (as in put in your hands) small ‘sample’ packets, most of the time it’s free.

At some point of the ride, two beautiful ladies stood in front of us. Both were impeccably dressed in black (or at least in that same tone). One was wearing pants and the other skirt – or more like a little black dress. Their fair skins were accentuated by their black clothes. The lady in the pants had a paper bag bearing the word ‘MANGO’

Nothing wrong with them, but among the ordinary looking people in the coach, the two “cakep” (that’s attractive in Indonesian) ladies looked out of place. They looked like they came out of a fashion magazine. Thanks to fashion and brand conscious friends, I know that ‘MANGO’ is the same with ‘MNG’ in Malaysia. I don’t buy anything from the shop, correction, boutique, but I do know that the clothes from the MNG probably cost one-month salary of some people in the coach.

Anyway, about the same time the “cakep” lady in skirt got off the train, a lady with a small girl boarded the train. They stood near the open door. The little girl practically clung to her mother. Fearing the safety of the little girl, I immediately stood up and surrender my seat to them.

It was while standing did I really look out of the window. It was sort of an assault to my senses. The houses were built very close to the railway track. So close that I thought the train could scrape off some roofs or walls. I was worried for the house dwellers. Again, Mutiara assured me thing were as normal as they should be.

The lady and the little girl got down. I got my seat back. A few stations later, we got off the train. I think it was at Pasar Minggu Station. After being disoriented for a few minutes at the station, Mutiara managed to lead the way to a busy road where we got on an “angkotan”.

Then we got off at a less busy road and waited for a “bajaj” (a three wheel motor taxi). We could have taken an “ojek” (a motorbike ‘taxi’) each as there were plenty waiting. But pillion-riding motorbike with a stranger is a strange (no pun intended) concept to me. So we patiently waited for a “bajaj”. Jakarta might have one of the best-connected networks of public transport because before we could break into sweats, a “bajaj” came along. And off I went with Mutiara on my first ride in a “bajaj”.

Day 3 (17/3/2008) - Suicidal

2008-04-06T01:55:00.007+08:00

My mental capacity was (and I think, still is) intact. I wasn't about to commit suicide. I’m not a pious person, but in my religion, suicide is a big no-no. Imagine how I felt when I saw people, including teenagers (or “abege” in Indonesian, short for “anak baru gedek”) in school uniforms sitting in the middle of the rail track!

I told her, if someone does that in any Malaysian railway station, not only the police would come. They’ll bring the ambulance too. Instead of ending up in the police cell, that person might ended up in a sanatorium for some psychiatric evaluation. Mutiara assured me that they weren’t suicidal. Everything was as normal as it should be. Those were just how things are.

A few minutes later, true to her words, those people on the track scrambled away when the train arrived. We boarded the non-air-conditioned coach. There were two bench-like seats lined against the two sides of the coach. We managed to get a seat. The doors remained open throughout the journey. There were passengers sitting at the doors, with their feet dangling outside, despite the sign on top of the door forbidding people doing so. There were people peddling snacks (and even vcds) in the coach. There were also people begging.

Above the noise, Mutiara explained to me that we were heading to Bogor train station (opposite direction of Jakarta). It was sort of the end of the line. From there, we would take a train to Jakarta - just to make sure we would get a seat. I told her that I used to take train to work too. But my town is at the end of the line. So, I had no problem in getting a seat. But I had problem in retaining the seat. I tend to give my seat to elderly people, pregnant ladies, and all sort of people. Due to this, I got tired of taking the train and changed my mode of commuting to express buses.

I think two stations later, we reached Bogor. We got off the train, onto the concrete platform. We had to buy the tickets to Jakarta from the counter at the other side of the track. Like the previous station, there were people on the track. I looked around to find overhead bridge to cross the track. None. When I saw Mutiara walking down the stairs toward the track, I realized that I need to walk across the track to get to the counter. I looked to my left and right a few times, then, with heart pounding, I tailed Mutiara across two railway tracks.

She bought the tickets to Jakarta and asked the ticket man which platform would the train be. It was the same platform we came from. And so, with the same anxiousness, I followed Mutiara, crossing the track. The same train we were on, was heading to Jakarta. We shouldn’t have gotten of the first train because by then, it was full.

Not wanting to stand in the train, Mutiara decided that we should wait for the next train. We crossed the track, again, and headed to a “Dunkin Donout” kiosk. I “traktir” (that’s Indonesian for ‘treating someone for a meal’) Mutiara for breakfast. I was about to finish my tuna croissant when the train arrived. Mutiara packed her muffin and we rushed across the track and into the train. Thanks to polite Indonesian men who move aside to make room for us, we managed to sit.

As I sat, I quietly thank God for giving me a strong heart, otherwise it would not be able to handle all the pounding so early in the morning. I was also glad that we had eaten our breakfast. At least I have a full stomach should we need to do more ‘suicidal attempts’.

Writer's Block

2008-04-02T08:48:00.002+08:00

Not because I don't know what to write (I still owe that "Day 3" and "Day 4").

I couldn't find the right words.

Stay tuned while I try to clear this blockage.

Day 3 (17/3/2008) - Monday blues

2008-03-29T21:23:00.011+08:00

Just like the previous night, I had trouble sleeping. Remembering that it was a working day for the rest of the family, I tiptoed out of the room and headed to the bathroom downstairs. I didn't want anybody to be late for work just because there was an extra person queuing for the bathroom.

Monday in Malaysia would mean that I have to leave home extra early for work. Otherwise I would be caught in the massive Monday morning traffic jams. The same rules applied to my host family. By 5am, Kakak, KP, and Mutiara's mom were ready to leave for work. Unsure whether I should hug them, I settled for a universal business-like-handshake for goodbyes.

I returned to the guest room and continued with my packing. Thanks to MP’s excellent bargaining skill, I bought a few clothes from the “pasar kaget”. Since I only brought a small bag, I had to carefully pack and fold everything to fit into the small backpack. While I was busy packing, I heard MP leaving the house.

Once I fit everything into my small backpack, I looked around to see if I had accidentally left anything. Close friends would know that I have a tendency to leave things behind – which included myself at an international border during some point of our travels together. I checked and double-checked. Satisfied, I went upstairs to wait for Mutiara.

There she was, getting ready for work. I was kind of anxious for her. It was, after all, a working day for her. She had mentioned earlier that normally MP would send her to work on Mondays. However, since I was around, she and I would go to Jakarta together. I didn’t want her to be late because of me. She assured me that it would not be a problem. She took her time, said her morning prayer, and if I wasn’t mistaken, changed into three different blouses before finally settled for the one that she like.

It was around 6.30 am when we left the house. Before closing the door, Mutiara asked whether I had everything with me and left nothing behind. To this, my answer was, if I did left anything, it would be hers. We walked to the main road and hopped on an “angkutan”. Instead of heading toward the Cibinong Terminal, we headed the opposite direction. The “angkutan” picked up and dropped off passengers along the way. We chatted throughout the ride. My weird accent might have drawn the gazes from fellow passengers. Not to forget, my bulging-backpack. I must have looked like someone running away from somewhere.

Mutiara and I got down by a roadside. She had mentioned that we would be riding "kereta" (in Malaysia that would meant a 'car' but in Jakarta it means a 'train'). But I couldn’t see any railway station. With Mutiara leading the way, we walked through a small damp lane sandwiched by little shops on both sides. It wasn’t much of a lane. More like a walkway. The shops sell mostly groceries, and foodstuff (such as vegetables and onions). The shops’ roof shaded the walkway from direct sunlight, making it a little dark. I felt like walking through wet market.

At the end of the dark was light. Cliché. But that was how I felt. There it was, the railway station. It wasn’t a big station, more like a platform. Something like “Hentian Putra” of KTM commuter but at the same time nothing likes it. The scene I saw, resembles nothing of the usual scene in any KTM commuter station. I thought it was because of ‘Monday blues’. No. According to Mutiara it was a normal scene. And yes, I was “kaget” to see what I saw.

(p.s. This post was written earlier than the next post. But due to writer's block, it was not published earlier. Sorry for the delay, and stay tuned to know what I saw.)

Day 2 (16/3/2008) - Lesehan

2008-03-26T11:04:00.008+08:00

"Lesehan" s the place they picked to eat breakfast. In the previous entry I mentioned that I was"kaget" with their choice of place to eat. Mainly because as similar as "pasar kaget" with "pasar minggu" in Malaysia, I've never seen similar concept as "lesehan" in any of Malaysian "pasar". Among the stalls at the "pasar kaget" were stalls selling cooked food. What so different about the foodstall when compared to the ones found in Malaysia?

The first thing that caught my attention was the size of the stall. It was very small. It was more of a pushcart. Most probably half the size of a standard "gerai burger" in Malaysia. I would say, even stalls selling drinks in Malaysia is bigger than the foodstall in the "pasar kaget". Each stall sell one type of dish.

Mutiara picked a stall selling "somai". Behind the stall was a young lady. She order three plates of "somai" for herself, MP and me. Kakak and KP were to join us later. I didn't see any table or chairs for us to sit. With Mutiara leading the way, we walked passed the pushcart. There, behind the pushcart, on the side walk, beneath a big shady tree, was a mat. On the mat were a few cups of mineral water, neatly arranged. We sat crossed leg, circling the mineral water.

While waiting for our food, I told Mutiara that there's foodstalls in Malaysian "pasar minggu" too. However, we don't eat on mats. Food stalls in Malaysia have at least plastic foldable tables and chairs for the customers. If there's not enough tables, patrons would have to shares table with stangers. Soon we were joined by Kakak and KP who bough two bowls of rice porridge from a stall nearby.

Thanks to Indonesian Sinetron airing in Malaysian television, I've heard the word "somai" a few times prior coming to Jakarta. I've always curious to know what it was. When a plate finally arrived, I looked at it curiously. It was totally covered with peanut sauce. I poked it to examine what underneath the sauce.

There were rice cakes (Indonesian called "ketupat" while I would call it "nasi impit"), white noodles, and bean sprout. As I was on non-spicy vegetarian diet, I think Mutiara's plate would have some meat and chili paste. The peanut was grinded till it was really smooth. Unlike Malaysian "kuah kacang" that still need some chewing, the peanut sauce in the "somai" was very smooth that you could just drink it. Accustomed to 'soft' noodle, I couldn't stomach the hard white noodle. I didn't eat much of the bean sprout either. Perhaps beacause both (white noodle and bean sprout) appeared to be a little uncooked to me. Normally at home, I would eat the bean sprout. But not wanting to get sick while travelling, I avoid eating dubious food. I finished off the "ketupat". And washed everything down with a cup of mineral water.

How much did three plates of "somai" and three cups of mineral water at a "lesehan" cost?: IDR 14 000.

While that might be a fair price to pay for locals but for someone who has been living in Malaysia, that was very cheap! IDR 14 000 is roughly less than MYR 5. The same amount of money would probably buy a breakfast for me, alone, at the office cafeteria.

After breakfast, we continued walking and window shopping at the market. The "pasar kaget" must have been the most happening place in the area. With families bringing their children. House wives shopping. Everyone was in their relax and casual attire. When some one smartly dressed passed by (we only saw two groups), they immediately stood out of the crowd. With my simple clothes, I blended in well - except when I started to talk. Try as hard as I did, I couldn't hide the fact that I was not a local.

Before we knew it, by the time we return 'home' we had spent more than 2 hours at the market. Mutiara's mom was already busy at the kitchen preparing lunch. I saw a wok of boiling coconut milk. In it was some peanuts. I enquired what she was cooking. She did mention the name, unfortunately what I can't pronounce, I can't remember. I also asked if she needed any help. She told me that she was okay and insisted that I hang out in the living room.

Initially Mutiara had wanted to take me out to somewhere after lunch before sending me back to the hotel. Unfortunately it rained. So we chilled out and unwind at 'home'. Actually it was more of MP and I who were chilling out and did nothing. Mutiara, on the other hand, sort out her laundry (ironing, folding) while at the same time chatting. Kakak and KP went out (on a date). And Mutiara's mom went for her evening Sunday mass.

The rest of the day was spent chatting and watching television. And of course Mutiara trying to entice me into eating some local dishes which included "pisang coklat" (spring roll filled with banana). I spent another night at Mutiara's house.

Rush Hour

2008-03-24T09:55:00.002+08:00

Just a week ago I was caught in Jakarta's rush hour. This morning I was caught in Kuala Lumpur's rush hour.

The entry for Day 2 is still work-in-progress. I'll post it once it is completed.

Day 2 (16/3/2008) - Kaget

2008-03-22T10:19:00.007+08:00

"Kaget" is an Indonesian word. In Bahasa Malaysia it is "terkejut" (loosely translates into suprised / shocked). My day started at 4.30am. Not because I was suprised / shocked. Neither were there anything wrong with the mattress nor the room. It's just that I tend to have sleeping problem every now and then. I tossed and turned, trying to get some more sleep. Everyone else were sound asleep (Mutiara's mom didn't let me sleep alone in the guest room downstair). So there I was, tossing and turning, but at the same time trying hard not to wake the rest of the family.

I finally tiptoed out of the room when I heard the call of Subuh prayer from nearby mosque. In fact from the echoes, I think there were a few mosques nearby. I went down to the guest room. I took a bath. The water was cold. I was chilled to the bones. As I lay in bed to get myself warm, I heard the sisters leaving for their Sunday mass. It was probably fifteen minutes to 6am.

I must have dozed off. The next thing I heard was Mutiara's mom sweeping the house compound. Thinking of helping her, I went out. However, by the time I saw her, she had already finished sweeping. She offered me the drinks that she had prepared earlier before continuing with her laundry. Before I could drink, I started coughing and coughing. I retreated to the guest room. Lucky for me I brought Mr Puffer along. I lay down in bed while waiting for Mr Puffer to do its magic. Before I knew it, I fell asleep.

I was awaken by the sound of Mutiara's anklet. She came into the room to check me out. I think her mom told her about my coughs. She was smartly dressed - wearing a blaus and a skirt. She enquired if everything was okay. Naturally I would say yes because by then I had stopped coughing. We would go out for breakfast after she changes her clothes. And so we did. The five of us - Mutiara, her "pacar" (who from now on will be known as MP), Kakak, her "pacar" (KP) and me. Mutiara's mom didn't come along. According to Mutiara, her mom wanted to go to the market.

We walked out to the small main road. Then we proceed to walk along it. 'Along' is not exactly the right word. It was more like we hogged one whole lane. I was sceptical. I walked at the leftmost side of the road (closest to the sidewalk). I asked Mutiara if it was okay to walk in the middle of the road and why weren't we using the sidewalk. She said it was okay because it was a weekend. On weekdays, they use the side walk. No sooner than she finished her sentences, we were honked by a MPV-kind-of-van.

Mutiara was kind of angry with the van. She gave the driver a dagger-like-stare. She was saying some thing along the line that driver was the guilty one (of course the whole time it happened, the driver had the window closed so whoever in the van couldn't hear us). At the back of my head, I couldn't stop laughing the irony of the situation. It was us who hogged the lane. The van had every right to honk us!

After a few minutes walk, we reached our destination: "Pasar Kaget". According to Mutiara, this 'instant' market place only happened on weekends. Stalls were set up along some roads. Various things were sold. Clothes, accessories, cooking utensils, and even pets. But no raw ingredient (like meat, and vegetables). I told Mutiara that in Malaysia the markets that happen on weekends are called "Pasar Minggu". Then there are markets that happen at nights ("Pasar Malam"), and markets specially for farmers to sell their produce ("Pasar Tani"). The scene in "Pasar Kaget" greatly resembled the scene of "Pasar Minggu".

While walking through the crowd, they made sure that I walked in the middle of them and not got lost or left behind. I saw some familiar "kueh" (pastry). "Kueh ketayap" as it is widely known in Malaysia, is called "dadar unti" (I think I got the name right). There were a few unfamiliar things that I saw. But I was more "kaget" when they finally picked a place to eat!

Day 1 (15/3/2008 evening) - Into the unknown

2008-03-20T04:17:00.010+08:00

After our brief introduction, Mutiara immediately took me to the terminal next to the department store. It was not a bus terminal. But terminal for "angkutan". To my untrained eyes, all "angkutan" looks the same - blue low-cost-non-air-condition-MPV converted to ferry more people than the conventional MPV. I followed her into an "angkutan". Apparently each MPV has numbers that correspond to certain routes. Very much like the pink mini buses that used to ply various routes in Kuala Lumpur. So there I was, following a 'stranger' into an "angkutan", clueless as to where exactly we were heading.

I only told the hotel front desk that I was heading to Cibinong. I 'sms'ed my brother in Malaysia telling him I was heading to Bogor (Cibinong is least likely to appear in any tourist brochure). The thought of being kidnapped and never to return home did crossed my mind. But if I'm fated not to return home, it could even happen in Malaysia. So I let the Almighty decides. Besides, the young lady gave me no negative vibes (I tend to pick up vibes from people I met, good or bad, imagined or otherwise).

Mutiara is a petite young lady. No taller than I, she could pass as a high school student. Her friendliness helped in breaking the ice. I was really glad that she was talkative. Otherwise we would have fallen into awkward silences for I'm a quiet person. She did most of the talking in the "angkutan". Amidst the noise in the "angkutan", her fast paced Bahasa Indonesia was lost to me. I couldn't exactly understood all her sentences. I think she was telling me how worried she was for me. But what the ears couldn't hear, the eyes could see. I could see sincerity in her face.

A few minutes later she asked the "angkutan" to stop. I soon found out that the word to say is not "berhenti (stop)". To stop, the locals say "kiri (left)". We got down by the road side. It was small two-lane road. But motorcycles, cars and "angkutan" seemed to drive fairly fast. We sort of dashed across the road.

Mutiara opened a gate (about the height of my waist). We walked along a short driveway - enough to fit a car. Then we came upon another gate. This one is higher and I couldn't see what was behind it. She slided the gate to the right. Just enough to let her petite body in. Normally the such ajar opening could fit me too. But that day I was carrying a backpack. I had to push the gate open. It was heavy. And earlier Mutiara did it effortlessly!

The gate opened to two houses. The big white house on the right seemed to be the main house. Opposite it was a small one room wooden house. We stopped for a while to meet a man whose name sounded like mine, his wife and his toddler. I assumed that he either rent there or worked there. At the porch of the big house was a man, fiddling with his bike. Mutiara briefly introduced me as her friend from Malaysia when we walked pass the man. We walked along the pathway, around the big house and through a small gate.

The gate and pathway lead to a huge lawn full of various trees. In the middle of the lawn is another big white house. The lawn could easily fit two medium-cost-KL-terrace-houses. My house could probably be half the size of the house. Mutiara opened the wooden door to reveal a simple living room with teak furnitures. She showed me the guest room. Though the furniture was simple - a single bed on the left, a study at the middle, and two cupboards - the room was big. Perhaps equivalent to my living room at home.

Mutiara introduced me to her elder sister, who came down from the upper floor (and whom from now on will be referred to as Kakak). Mutiara continued with her chores (sweeping, dusting etc.) while her sister chatted with me. Quite frankly I was glad that they were the ones who did most of the talking and asking. Otherwise, I wouldn't know what to talk about. They asked me about music and local (Indonesia / Malaysian) band. I admitted that I don't follow the entertainment scenes. Among the few update that I could give them was that 'Amy Search' won a million ringgit suit against a label company.

Once Mutiara was done with her chores, they both got ready. On our way out, we stopped by the small one room house. A lady was frying what Malaysian called "rempeyek / tempeyek" (local 'chips' with ground nuts on it). I told the sisters that in Malaysia there's a few variation for the 'toppings' - small red beans or small green beans or lentils. I had a hard time describing lentil to them. It is widely known as 'dal' in Malaysia. We couldn't find the Indonesia word for it. Only on my flight home did I finally discover that it is called "kedelai".

We walked a few metres to the main road. Not even five minutes later, an "angkutan" arrived. The three of us got on to it. We chatted and chatted. It is lost to me what we talked about. But they were both warm and friendly. Before long, we got down. I thought we had reached our destination. But no. We hopped into yet another "angkutan". As in the earlier bus in Cibinong, busker got into both "angkutan". They sang a short song and got off before the "angkutan" continued its journey.

Soon we reached the small town of Bogor. We went into a 'mall'. We stopped at a booth near the entrance. The booth specialized in selling MP3s for cellphones and printing photos from cellphones. The counter doubled as computer table. There were four monitors under the clear glass top. Customers use a mouse to preview the songs. The holes at the side of the table allowed sound to escaped from a concealed speaker. I thought the sisters wanted to buy the MP3s for the phone. I was mistaken. Turned out they were actually printing some photos from their cellphones.

Kakak asked me if I want to buy anything. As I don't normally shop, I couldn't think of anything to buy. Mutiara explained to her sister, that I, similar to Mutiara, don't like to shop. And so we proceed to do the next item on the list - buy a VCD. I had earlier told Mutiara that I wanted to buy "Denias Senandung Di Atas Awan (Denias Singing in the Cloud)". Not wanting to be caught 'importing' pirated VCD, we went to a proper VCD shop. I bought the original. The cost? It was about RM10. Other originals CDs and VCDs were equally cheap (when compared to Malaysian market price). But me being me, it never occurred in my mind to buy them.

Once I got my VCD (by the way, it is in Bahasa Indonesia, without subtitle), we went to a small lane across the road. The girls were careful to walk with me. They ensured that I was in between them and not left behind all the time. The word "Petaling Street" crossed my mind the minute we were in the small lane. Except for the fact that it was only one lane, all the other ambiance mimic that street in Kuala Lumpur. Kakak stopped at a stall to buy "VCD bajakan (pirated VCD)". I shall not reveal the title, but according to Mutiara, it is a film currently being screened in local "bioskop (cinema)". Later I told the sisters that most of the time I buy original VCDs if they are from local artists / producers. If the VCDs from "bule (foreigners)", I don't mind buying pirated copies because the foreigners are already rich.

We returned 'home' the same way we came. By "angkutan". At the place we switched to another "angkutan", Mutiara stopped to buy some "kuih" (loosely translates as pastry). She bought donuts. At the shop, I saw the sign "murtabak". In Malaysia "murtabak" would be a mixture of egg and beef (of chicken) wrapped in thin dough. I didn't see any familiar looking cooking utensil. What I saw was only a hot pan and a bowl of flour mixture. Mutiara noticed my curios look. She inquired if I would like to buy it. No. But I asked her what it was. She described it. Once she was done, I told her, in Malaysia, we called it "apam balik". Then proceed to describe her how "murtabak" looks like. To that she replied, "Itu murtabak telur (that's murtabak telur)".

By the time we reached her house, it was time for dinner. We stopped by a "Padang" restaurant. I ordered white rice with squid (or what they called "cumi") and tapioca ("singkong") shoot. The sisters didn't eat. I didn't really know why. Perhaps it was still too early for them to have dinner. A funny thing happened when the waiter took the order for my drink:
waiter: Mau minum apa mbak? (what would you like to drink, miss?)
me: [on the way to the sink to wash my hands, looked at the waiter] Air kosong. (plain water)
waiter: [stared blankly back at me]
me: Air suam. (warm water) [continued to walked at the sink]

I didn't realized my blunder. Later, at home, that night, when we were joined by Mutiara's "pacar" (steady boyfriend), Kakak's "pacar", and Mutiara's mom, did it was revealed to me. Locals call 'plain water' as "air putih". When I said "air kosong" everyone thought I was asking for an empty glass! I explained to everyone the rationale behind the names:
1. Air Kosong - because it is colourless. At least that is what it should be anyway.
2. Air Suam - because of its temperature - warm.

I also told them that "air kosong" sometimes come with ice. We laughed.

That prompted the best topic for ice breaking throughout the night - translation of commonly used Indonesian phrases into Malaysian phrases. Good thing both Mutiara and Kakak know sufficient English to translate certain words that we failed to describe in Bahasa Indonesia / Malaysia. Perhaps Mutiara's most favourite phrase is "tikus baiki labu (mouse repairs a pumpkin)". The phrase refer to a person who likes to fix things only to make it worst. She said the term aptly describe her "pacar", thus began calling him "tikus". I apologetically told him that I was sorry to give a bad influence on Mutiara. They just laughed. No one was offended.

I have to admit, they seemed to have no problem in remembering and pronouncing the Malaysian phrases. I, on the other hand, could only pronounce and remember few. Quoting Mutiara: Bahasa Malaysia seems to use full, longer and more formal words when compared to its sister, Bahasa Indonesia. The night continued in similar manners - laughing, comparing things, translating etc. - before we retired to bed.

Day 1 (15/3/2008 evening) - 6 Degree

2008-03-19T13:32:00.010+08:00

After a few futile attempts to nap (no, not because it was 6 Degree Celcius), I packed a few things into my smaller cheap-looking-backpack. Enough for a night stay. I went down to the lobby and handed my keys to the front desk. As if a sign from the Almighty, a Bluebird was already waiting at the hotel door.

Feeling a little like Asha Gill of Discovery Travel and Living Channel (minus the good looks and British accent), I hopped into the Taxi. As directed by Mutiara over the phone, I told the driver: Uki. The traffic was heavy. Very much like a working day in KL. In Jakarta, it is a chaos. Not to say that in KL it is not as chaotic, but in KL it is somewhat an organized chaos. While on the taxi, I chatted with the friendly driver. The driver asked, which part of Uki was I going, he mentioned something about university. I told him it was my first time in Jakarta and I need to catch a bus to Cibinong to meet my friend. As he drove the taxi, I trace our route on my Jakarta map. Some time later (note to self 1: need to buy and wear cheap watch) we arrived at busy bus stop. With the help of the taxi driver (who actually stop to ask a policeman where exactly the bus and then stop the taxi in front of the bus), I got on the right bus to Cibinong.

The bus has 5 seats in a row. The three-seater are the ones behind the driver and the two-seater are the ones on the left. I sat on one of the two-seater. In front of me was an old man. Across the isle was a man wearing a white skullcap. In front of him were a family of three - two women and a young girl. A man sat behind me, reading newspaper. There were other passengers, but I didn't take notes.

As confident as I could be, I asked the bus conductor (bc):
me: Cibinong Terminal berapa ya? (translation: How much to Cibinong Terminal?)
bc: Empat ribu (Four thousand)
me: [fumbling with money and managed to find IDR 20k]
bc: Ngak ada duit kecil? (no small change?)
me: Ngak (no)

Bc took the money and walked on. I was puzzled. Where's the ticket? Where's my change? Was I cheated? He went on collecting money from other passengers. Once he got enough small change, he returned my IDR 16k.

Then a man with a guitar stood up in the middle of the bus. He belted out 2 songs. I didn't catch all his words, but the two songs was somewhat about his pleas and frustrations towards the government. Then he took out a plastic bag and began collecting money. Seems that this method of busking is widely accepted in Jakarta. As much as I wanted to capture the whole scene in a photos, I refrained myself. My plain clothes had allowed my to blend in with the crowd. Taking out a camera might attract unnecessary attention. (note to self 2: need to learn sketching so that such scenes could be captured)

The bus took a highway heading towards Bogor. I had looked at the map earlier. Cibinong is halfway between Jakarta and Bogor. Though we were on a highway, the bus wasn't speeding. I didn't think it could. Other vehicles didn't seem to be speeding either. Then a few cars zoomed passed us via the emergency lane.

After awhile, the bus exited the highway. Unfortunately I couldn't remember the exit name. At a junction after the exit, the bus turn right. I spotted a signboard, yes, we were heading to Cibinong. One after another passengers began to alight from the bus. Passengers wishing to stop moved to the seats near the driver and asked the driver to stop. No bells or buzzer like those in Malaysian bus. When the family of three moved to the front, I moved to the seat near them.
me: Ibu, numpang nanya, Cibinong Terminal turun di mana? (Madam, excuse me, where do I get down to Cibinong Terminal?)
woman: Di depan sana nanti (Later, in front)
me: Makasih ya (thank you)

A few hundreds metre later, the woman told bus conductor:
woman: Mbak ini mahu turun di Terminal (This Miss wants to stop at Terminal)
woman: [turned to me] Mbak turun di sini
me: Makasih ya, bu.

The bus didn't exactly stopped. It was still at the main road. It was more like a halt. I wasn't sure if I was suppose to wait for the bus to actually stop, or just jump out.
me: Turun di sini? (Get off here?)
Bc & bus driver: Yes
me: Makasih ya (thank you) [looked for motorcycles and cars. Safe. Then jumped on to the tarmac]

I called Mutiara. She told me to wait at a department store - Ramayana. I looked around. All the other building were like small shops except for one. I headed to the biggest building. Yes, it was Ramayana. Next to it was what looked to me like a wet market. But the one thing that gave me a cultural shock was the river opposite the Ramayana entrance. Both sides of the river bank were filled by rubbish. So fulled that the rubbish practically covered the banks. There were three men scouring the rubbish for usable items. I thank the Almighty for sending a soft breeze. Otherwise the smell would be too much for me to bear.

Before long, I spotted a young lady wearing shorts, white shirt, and a denim jacket. She walked towards me and smiled. We identified ourselves and shook hands for the first time. I'd found my sole contact in Jakarta. And so began my 'six degree' of separation adventure.

p.s. Please bear with me as I collect my thoughts and put them into words.

I'm Back!

2008-03-19T02:55:00.003+08:00

I've just reached home safely. Don't report me as a missing person just yet!

I've lost some. But I gained more than what I've lost. More of it later. Right now I should be sleeping.

2008-03-15T11:18:00.002+08:00

Day 1 (15/3/2008 morning)
Going Solo
No, I'm not becoming a singer. Nor am I going to Solo, Indonesia. But yes I'm traveling to Indonesia. Solo - as in alone.

It has begun
It was only 6.00am. The terminal is already bustling with activities. Got my ticket, grab a quick bite then made my way to the gate. I'm writing this portion of entry while queing at the gate. The queue is already considerably long.

Checked-in
It's 10am (local time). I've safely landed in Jakarta. Checked in the hotel. Now resting. Need a little nap before heading out to meet my local point of contact, Mutiara.

p.s. photo (if any) will be uploaded once I return to Malaysia.

Away, swimming for awhile

2008-03-14T14:15:00.006+08:00

Yes, I'll be going away for awhile (that's another story). But not by swimming.

What did, was my T5, two days ago. Again. This time I did not try to resusitate it. I took it out of the water, let the water dripped from the T5. And let it be. I didn't even let it dry out in the sun. I didn't put high hopes that it will survive. But today it did, yet again! I haven't check the extend of damage (if any) to the T5. So far, the touch screen seem to be unresponsive. Perhaps because there's still water underneath it.

About me going away, if the touchscreen works, I'll try to blog from where ever I'm going.

Oh yeah, dear friend(s) who are reading this, if you don't hear from me after 5 days, please report me as a missing person.

Opposites Attract

2008-03-10T09:30:00.004+08:00

That is how magnets, and atom charges behave. And guess what, judging from the result, that were also how Malaysians behaved in the recent general election.

I've always wonder, why the word "Pembangkang" (translation: 'Opposition'). If, one day, other political parties were elected to form new government, would the outgoing parties be call 'Opposition'? Seeing the result from recent general election, the possibility is there.

Another thing that I've always wonder it that why world maps have north at the top and south at the bottom. Someone would say, compass always points north. But isn't the opposite (compass always points south) is also true? Just so you know, not so long ago, world map have south at the top.

So who decided?

GE - 12

2008-03-07T14:33:00.007+08:00

Not wanting to accidently promote any political party, I avoided commenting more about the local scene. Now that the voting period has ended, I can finally breathe.

I was beginning to feel suffocated by all the posters, tv and radio adverts. I wonder if the power to-be realize that too much of it could backfired and counter productive. Just the other day, while exiting to a main road , I almost ram into a car because posters from campaigning parties was blocking my view! On a different day, I almost ran a red traffic light because a flag block clear view of the traffic light from far.

Other than blocking views, some posters take away attention from the road. Naturally we would want to read the some of the things written. I found some of the promises are absurd. Some of the tag line are very lame. But I caught a glimpse of an independent candidate while speeding along a highway. His tag line was simple and at a certain degree reflected the state of local politics - political party has become somewhat a family affair.

Win or loose, I hope all parties will do their duty in bringing down all the posters and flags across the country. Malaysia already have high rate of road accident. We should reduce things that could contribute to road accidents.

To Malaysians who had to travel near and far to vote, drive safe!

Leaping

2008-02-29T23:00:00.000+08:00

To some people who can only celebrate birthdays once every four years:

Happy Birthdays!

TV Adverts and Unsung Heroes

2008-02-24T23:32:00.005+08:00

If I'm at home during weekends, I could most likely be found glued to the television. That's the time for me to catch up on news, etc. Commuting leaves me with little time for television during the weekdays. During the short period I have for television, I get easily irritated by unnecessary tv adverts (shampoo, soap etc) even if it was a short one.

So, you could imagine my disgust when local television stations began airing long 'propaganda-like' adverts. Colleagues from office remarked that the adverts are part of preparation for the coming election. As a simple tv viewer, I rather not have those adverts interrupting my tv programmes. Amazingly, I have yet to see or hear the catchy "marilah mengundi" from the election commission (EC). The 'propaganda-like' adverts must have taken over the air time normally enjoyed by the neutral EC's "marilah mengundi".

Still on the topic of election, today is the nomination day. A busy day for most politicians in Malaysia. You'll definitely see them on television. But what about those unsung heroes who were equally if not more busy than the politicians, burning the midnight oil just so everything went well. The the clerks from election commission, reporters, photographers, the telecommunication people, the electricity people etc. The clerks making sure all documents are in order. Reporters and photographers making sure there's news for tomorrow. Telecommunication people making sure the news actually get transmitted through the telecommunication line. The electricity people making sure uninterrupted power supply for all system. Even the general worker who had to prepare the venues. The list goes on. These unsung heroes might never be remembered for their contribution to this important event.

So if you are one of these unsung heroes, Thank you!

Valentine?

2008-02-14T20:07:00.003+08:00

I've never celebrated Valentine day. I wonder why people like to glorify the celebration of love on this one day. We should celebrate life, everyday - even with all it short-comings.

Here's some of my reason to celebrate life:
1. I've scale up Great Wall of China
2. I've been to the leaning tower of Pisa
3. I've been to the Colleseum of Rome
4. I've been on some holy lands (suprisingly this include the Vatican City)
5. I've gone snorkelling (I've always wanted to do this since I was a kid)
6. I've gone scuba diving (another dream of mine when I was a kid)
7. I've become a millionaire (even if it meant I had to be in another country)
8. I've spent my first million away (refer to item 7)
9. I've been on a ferries wheel (not a small feat for a 'vertically challenged' people)

and last but definitely not least:
10. I've been in a road accident and survived it! (only had scratches and bruises)

Now I'm off to watch the final Amazing Race Asia Season 2.

Commuting

2008-02-12T15:14:00.000+08:00

Today it hit me, I've been commuting to work for 3 years!

So this morning, on my way to work after 6 days of break (including public holiday and annual leave), I did a mental arithmetic on the time I spent on the road. Just to keep myself alert and awake for the drive to work early in the morning!

It takes me a total of 4 hours to get to and back from the office. I work average of 20 days per month.

Total time spent on the road = 4 hours X 20 days X 12 month X 3 years

Total numbers spent on the road after 3 years? Answer: 2880 hours!

Then a friend asked, how many days is that? Answer: 120 days!

I also calculated the distance I traveled. I could have driven from KL to London and back to KL for at least 5 times!

I thought all the mental arithmetic would keep me awake. But NO! I fell asleep at a red traffic light!

It the year of Golden Rat!

2008-02-08T20:12:00.000+08:00

To Chinese friends, Happy Chinese New Year!

No longer a Millionaire

2008-02-08T19:58:00.000+08:00

Day 4 - Wednesday 23rd Jan 2008

There were no live music at the coffee house. The music men must have got the day off to celebrate 'Galungan'. The mood was sombre. After breakfast, we packed our bags. And waited for Bambang and Sam. It was uneventful ride. By 11am, we were already at the airport.

Having spend my first million, I was somewhat sad to leave.

'Galungan' and Pants

2008-02-08T19:12:00.000+08:00

Day 3 – Tuesday 22nd Jan 2008

The sun was already up by the time we reached the coffee house for breakfast. The omelettes and pancakes had become my favourite breakfast. As the previous day, the hotel had live Balinese music. Only this time, instead of a bamboo xylophone, it was a metal one.

While waiting for the breakfast to settle down, we let our little master played in the Balinese garden. Getting bored, I reluctantly went for some walks. Why was I reluctant? Unlike Italy where I was mostly ignored by the Italians on the streets, the ‘overly’ friendly Balinese men loitering on the side walk alarmed me. They seemed to be at every corner, sitting together, doing nothing, in a group of 3-4 men.

The side walks were surprisingly ‘deserted’. Balinese, being prominently Hindus, have mostly left for their hometown. It was the eve of what most Malaysians call ‘Thaipusam’. Balinese call this Hindu celebration as “Galungan”. In Malaysia, Thaipusam is synonym with kavadi and body piercing. I don’t think they perform such thing. But Balinese do offer something to their Hindu god, one is the daily offering (like the bowl I saw in the Taxi), and a specially weaver palm leaves that they hang at their door.

My first stop was to buy a hat. If you plan on doing serious walking in any Southeast Asian countries, it is best to have a good hat with you, along with a bottle of water. A towel to wipe your sweats is optional. The heat and humidity could get to you. I bought the hat from the first touristy shop I found. Looking very touristy, with ‘Bali’ embroidered on the hat, I continued walking.

I somehow found my way to ‘Pasar Adat Kuta’ (Traditional Kuta Market). The wooden-brick shopping complex housed a lot of small shops. There were mostly selling clothes. There’s a few shop selling woodcarving. I didn’t see much of Europeans in the area.

Around noon, after dropping off some things in the hotel room, we headed for lunch. To the disappointment of my little master, we didn’t stop at his favourite fast food restaurant. We continued walking to the “Nasi Padang” restaurant. He refused to eat anything at the shop. The best thing on the menu was the orange juice. It was sweet and at the same time a little bit sour. After the long walk in the hot sun, I couldn’t resist a refill! After the great lunch, we obliged our little master and went to the fast food restaurant.

Then I continued walking. I found Hindu temple facing the beach of Kuta. There were a few Balinese men doing some preparation for ‘Galungan’. Even though they were all wearing sarong, with knife at their waist, they did not look ‘feminine’ at all! In fact they look every inch like a traditional Balinese warriors but in modern setting. Another thing to point out is the statue in front of the temple wear checked sarong. Actually all the statues around Bali wear sarong!

It didn’t take long for me to realize that it’s too hot to be strolling on the beach of Kuta. So I decided to take refuge in the shadows of small lanes sandwiched between nearby buildings. I thought the little lanes would take me to dubious places. I was mistaken. The little lanes led me to a lane barely big enough for a car to pass by. The lane has a very dubious name – Jalan Poppies 1. But I found no dubious activities, other that lot’s of small cottage like hotels. It could be due to my decent appearance, no one came to me to sell any poppies.

Without realizing it, the walks has taken up my whole day. I returned to the hotel. A short rest and an instant noodle later, I was refreshed. We took a cab to a ‘spa’. I was told by dear friends who went Bali a few years back that for the full body spa thingy would required you to stripe. So I opted for foot massage. I thought it would be like the one I had in China – massaging only the foot. But no, the petite Balinese lady asked to take off my pants and wear their disposable underwear.

Wearing robes, I followed her to the corridor. There’s a pail of water with flower. “Cool!”, I thought to myself - still thinking that I would be getting a foot massage similar to the one in China. The lady washed my feet. Then she told me to go into a room and lie down on the massage bed. I was baffled. Wasn’t she suppose to massage my feet! Yes she did that, but more. She massaged the whole legs. From foot up to my thigh. For each legs! The massage was great. Her movement was graceful. It was as if she was dancing to the Balinese music that filled the room.

My little master insisted that we rode the horse cart back to the hotel. And so we did. He was all smile as he had been wanting to go for the ride ever since the first time we saw the horse cart on the first day. 15 minutes later we reached the hotel.