1/28-2/11
It was at this point in our trip that we started to get a little tired, as we'd been bouncing from place to place for about three weeks. We decided to take a break from doing anything overly adventurous and/or educational. Cori knew of a popular tourist destination in the northwest part of the country, the island of Langkawi, and it sounded good to me, so we booked train tickets. Problem is, there's no direct transportation from Taman Negara in the northeast (where we were) and Langkawi. That would've been too easy. What I didn't know about Malaysia was that pretty much everything goes through Kuala Lumpur. Because of this, we had to take a boat ride back down the river and take the bus all the way back south to KL. From the bus, we hopped the KL metro to the train station, ate some Subway, and got on an overnight train to Langkawi. The train took about 12 hours, but luckily I was in a sleeper car. Drowsy and disoriented, we arrived in a port city early the next morning.
Getting to our guest house on the island proved to be a little challenging. We found a taxi to take us to the jetty, splitting the fare with a young Chinese couple, as I remember. Among other things, China happens to produce a lot of young couples. Anyway, we found our way onto a small ferry and gave them cash without the hassle of buying any tickets, so I'm still confused as to the legitimacy of the whole thing. Another taxi took us across the island, and we settled into the guest house, far from the main city. It was a sleepy part of the world, just what we were looking for. The place was nice enough, sort of a loose collection of shelters and shacks among gravel pathways, and our room ended up being a lot more clean and comfortable than it appeared from the outside. The open-air kitchen shared by all the guests was right next to our door, so that was a plus. The lounge had a case of cold beverages and a sign explaining that we were on the honor system when it came to paying for them. The paths usually had dogs lying around because it was too hot to do anything else. It was all just as laid-back as we were hoping for. The picture below isn't where we stayed; I just thought it was funny.
One of the first things we did, at Cori's behest, was to find the beach. I was happy to go, since it was a lot of the reason for being there, after all. We found a nice strip of sand just down the road from us, and I plopped down in the shade with a book and a beer, kind of like what you'd see in a Corona commercial. Of course, it was hot and sandy, so I didn't last long. But the important thing is that I was there. The next week or so was a blur of books and walks and playing cards and Indian food. Now, I'm not normally a fan, but the area had some damn good Indian food, and we ate it a lot. That plus Malaysian, which was similar. I don't think there's much else I can say about our time on the island, just that it was lazy, and there wasn't much to do. I finally finished One Hundred Years of Solitude, which is a really good book, especially in warm weather.
We caught a cab into town a couple of times--first to buy bus and ferry tickets, and then to take the ferry back to the peninsula. Once we got on the mainland, we had a couple of hours to kill, so we went to the nearby KFC, threw our giant backpacks down, and got some nuggets. It was a good time. We took an overnight coach bus, since we couldn't find anyone who was selling train tickets, and it worked out pretty well. The bus put us in KL at about 4 or 5 in the morning. We had a hell of a time finding the hostel we'd booked, since all the streets kind of wind around everywhere, and the place was through a nondescript door and up a couple flights. It was a place to lay our heads for a few days, if we could wake up the owner and get him to unlock the gate. Once through, we got to our room, which faced what felt like the noisiest street in the whole city, since one of the windows was missing its glass. No matter. We collapsed on the beds and tried for a few hours of solid sleep.
Somewhere around lunchtime, Cori and I got up to go to the airport. Steven, one of the other teachers, was coming to Kuala Lumpur from Australia, and we were going to pick him up. After spending a little time back in Chicago, then Australia and New Zealand, he had decided to meet up with us on his way back to China. I wouldn't have minded adding those stops to the itinerary, but I think I did just fine as it was. Anyway, we were happy to meet up with him and catch up a little. Later, we had dinner at our new favorite restaurant, Chili's, and I got myself a couple of pints of Kilkenny, a really good ale that isn't sold in the US. There was a bookstore nearby that rivaled even the likes of Borders, so we spent some time in there, as well. That kind of thing just doesn't exist where we live. Then we went to see Underworld 3, a movie so utterly ridiculous that I was glad of those pints I'd had beforehand.
The next day we visited the Batu Caves on a tip from the people at the hostel. The three of us were only hanging around a few days before heading back to Wuhan, but we had unwittingly come back to KL during a large Hindu festival. The city, besides boasting a huge Chinese population, is also home to a large number of Indians. So popular is the festival of "Thaipusam" and its annual pilgrimage site, that all we had to do was walk down the street for a few seconds before a bus came rolling by with cries of "Batu Caves! Batu Caves! Batu Caves!" So we hopped on. What we didn't know was that it's normally one of the largest gatherings in the world. It was a little crowded, yes, but eventually we got up the couple hundred steps and into the caves. Kind of a crazy place, unless you're Hindu. Then it might make a little more sense. Or at least that's my hope. It was especially hot that day, and I was anxious to get out of the sun and away from all the pilgrims with their heads painted gold. We hopped a bus back to the city, got some Chinese for dinner, and made another trip to the Beatles Bar. I mean, how could we not take Steven, knowing he'd either really enjoy it, or be thoroughly creeped out by it?
The next day brought us probably the last major event of the trip: the swanky hotel (not pictured). My father, in his infinite generosity, had offered to help us out with our accommodations, and I decided to take him up on it. We hadn't been living on the streets or anything close to it, but I was, after all, in need of a good shower. It was a Western-style right there in Chinatown, a definite upgrade, and it had an amazing shower. That night we hung around the Petronas Towers, managing almost to get locked inside, and the next day we hit the Central Market and the National Museum. Our last day there, and I think we spent it right, absorbing some local culture and whatnot. Luckily, we were able to get on the same flight out. It was an early one, 'round 6 or 6:30, as I recall. Brutal. But we made it into Shenzhen just fine, and Wuhan from there.
I was gone exactly five weeks in all--a long time to be trudging around backwater countries--and it felt good to be home. Felt good to get some rest. Making it up as you go really takes a lot out of you. But looking back on it now, I honestly don't think I could've planned a better trip if I'd tried.
What I found was a cloud of smoke and fireworks that more closely resembled a hail of anti-aircraft fire than anything you’d see on the fourth of July. Just a bunch of guys hanging out on the adjacent rooftop, setting these things off pretty regularly for at least a good half hour. That’s cool, I didn’t want to sleep in or anything. After so much time in China, I’m used to the sound of fireworks going off in the distance at really random intervals, but this was practically happening in my bedroom on the morning of an utterly insignificant Sunday. And then, like a belated air-raid siren signaling the attack, this really awful rhythmic dance music began to blare outside. Where it came from I’ll never know—it just seemed to be everywhere at once. Weird stuff like this happens here sometimes, but it’s usually more off-putting than it is infuriating.
Not long after that, it snowed in Wuhan. This must be the beginning of the end times, because it rarely snows here, and never in November. Nonetheless, it was awesome. It didn’t pile up like it does in the Midwest, but it stuck enough to blanket the campus and bewilder the locals. You’ll be glad to know that the Chinese handled it the same way they do most meteorological phenomena—they pulled out their umbrellas. Rain would obviously elicit that response, but so, too, does sunshine, since they desperately want to keep from getting tan. And now, apparently, snow is reason enough to duck and cover. I don’t mean to sound smarmy, though, since it’s understandable that, living in a climate such as this, you wouldn’t necessarily prepare yourself for snow. Seeing everything nicely frosted for the first time, I went ahead and took a few pictures.
There have been other days like that over the past month or two, days when small, random things come along and break up the work week. Like anywhere, it’s easy to fall into routines in China. When you find a good restaurant with dishes you know (and know how to order), you want to go back. When you find a grocery store with things like bacon and cheddar, you’re pretty willing to make the trip. We sometimes have to remind ourselves that we should be trying new things. And we do. But it can be difficult going from one place to another, trying to find familiar characters on a Chinese menu, and occasionally repeating to a puzzled waitress, “bu yao hua sheng” (“no peanuts”). Anything within walking distance is preferable, what with all the gridlock. I swear, rush hour lasts from the morning commute to dinnertime. Luckily, there’s a small village of street vendors near my apartment that are both cheap and very easy to deal with. It’s a great go-to food option, especially in the winter months.
Things I’ve managed to do off-campus recently: all-night karaoke, a Halloween costume contest, a three-course Thanksgiving dinner, a few games of urban bowling, a free hole of golf at a posh, Western-style villa, a trip to the Provincial Museum, and the occasional late-night McDonald’s run. I’ll try to elaborate on at least a couple of these in future posts. For now, I just want to give you a better sense of daily life. At the moment, I’m cleaning and waiting for laundry to dry, which is thrilling, I know. This morning, we made pancakes, and tomorrow I probably won’t do much after I teach class. I have a lot of free time after classes. But I end up wasting it somehow and wishing I had longer weekends instead. It’s harder to travel when you work five days a week. I’m not complaining here, just saying I might rather have only two or three really long days of teaching, as many of the others do. Traveling often makes for a good blog entry, so when I do find some time, you’ll definitely hear about it.
The bus, moving at unexpectedly high speeds, got us to Kuala Tembeling in a few short hours. We hopped off, grabbed some lunch, and headed down to the jetty, where we waited for our boat. Turns out the best way to head into Taman Negara is by boat. I tossed my backpack full of worldly possessions into the covered canoe, and its outboard motor sent us on our way up river. Though most of me was shielded from direct sunlight, my right arm was not. The ensuing sunburn is the reason I'm wearing long-sleeve shirts in most of the pictures. That, and the mosquitoes. After a couple of hours, we got to our hostel, nestled among fine, expensive-looking wooden bungalows. We had dinner on the other side of the river, since all of the half-dozen or so restaurants sat across the water from our hostel and the jungle entrances, and we had to be ferried across every time we wanted to eat or sign up for an activity. That first night we went on a jungle walk, and with our flashlights we managed to see a couple of insects and a frog. It was a little anti-climactic.
When we were done with the canopy and the hiking up and down the mountain, we were exhausted and dirty, but I still had enough energy left to climb far up a vine that the tour guide showed us. I don't think he expected me to get more than a foot off the ground, so it was a proud moment for me. I really needed a rest after that and took my ease back at the hostel before dinner. I don't remember where we ate, but all of the places were the same--large floating rafts with roofs on the bank of the river, nothing but generic Asian food being served inside. It's not a big operation they've got going, but they seem to do okay. At one of the restaurants we checked in with a guy from the tour company and paid the extra money to go on the "night safari." This began with a bunch of us being loaded into a pickup truck on the beach. Then we were driven up the road a ways before turning into the actual jungle-looking area. Squeezed into the bed of the truck, I only saw a few small creatures that night, mostly cats. But we did might a nice young Swedish boy who we found out was deathly afraid of spiders.
The last day in Taman Negara was a bonus, since we had only planned on two days, but decided to stay for three. I took a final shower in the hostel, the coldest of my life, and moved into a chalet across the river. Don't let the name fool you. It was a box with bunkbeds, but at least it had its own bathroom. We then grabbed lunch at the Mama Chop Cafe, where Mama Chop herself gave us some menus and then explained that she had none of what was on them. While she cooked what she had, we played with one of her children. He was a cute kid, so I was okay with it. Soon, we were off to the rapids (the mildly choppy part of the river). We piled in a boat, and the boatman did everything in his power to get us soaked. He had a great time of it. I had river water coming out my shoes. When we landed, we were introduced to the native villagers, the Orang Asli tribe. They're also referred to as "negritoes," because they're small and black. They showed us how to make fire in a few seconds, and they even let me try out their giant blowpipe that they use to hunt monkeys. It was pretty cool. They promised I would get married if I hit the target, and I did, but I'm still waiting on my tribal bride.
Well, that's what I did in the jungle. It was a busy few days, really fascinating. And though we were on our way to an island next, we had to go back to KL first. I'll explain that later. Now, more pictures.
Capital: Kuala Lumpur
The city was big, but what struck me most was how international it felt. Everywhere I looked, I saw banks and huge office buildings and people from all different backgrounds. It was hot, dirty, loud, and it felt like a real city. Except for the left-side driving. That always takes some getting used to. We definitely got around, passing through KL Sentral (the main transit hub) on our way to places like the planetarium (under construction), the orchid park, the covered bird park (largest in the world) and the mysterious Bangsar Shopping Center--the damn phantom mall that we never did find. We did see some monkeys, though, so that was pretty cool.
I spent those few days trying to get a feel for the city, for the people, and I had a really good time, minus the mosquitoes. I never really felt on display, on the defensive, or like I didn't belong. It's the kind of place where some people visit and just end up staying. Sure, I was leaving after only five days, but I would go back, and things would certainly get interesting in between.