libertus

OK, so I’m crap. I do have some notes on my visit to Petrosains but just can’t get my act together to blog it up. In the meantime, for those interested in the exhibition itself, visit the Petrosains website. I’ll edit this entry to add my observations at some point.

As for my rant, still working on it. I’d love to make it a conspiracy theory but I’m stuck for lack of a verifyable motive and I don’t want to write a bunch of unscientific bollocks.

However, the Petrosains website does have an interesting page called Fossil Fuel and the Environment. Wow! Since when was water vapour a greenhouse gas?! Why does CO₂ get all the attention when it comprises only 0.03% of the atmospheric gasses (according to the Petrosains exhibition)? Plus, the gasses only comprise a small proportion of the atmosphere anyway. Guess what the prime consitiuent of the atmosphere is? Yep – water vapour. Well, unless all the clouds and rain are made of 78% nitrogen. But I don’t think they are. And if greenhouse gasses are such a small proportion of such a small proportion, how could they possibly contribute to warming the Earth? Magic?

Or perhaps global warming is a load of old cobblers.

For a much better (and more curmudgeonly) perspective on this, check out Prof. John Brignell’s website called Number Watch. He destroys many of the Holy Church of Science myths far better than I ever could.

Hi folks.

Many apologies for the silence over the past week – especially since I promised a rant and have yet to deliver. Liberta and I have been adventuring in the jungles of Malaysia which, although highly enjoyable and awe-inspiring, has not yet developed as far as having easily available internet connections.

We’re currently in a delightful little town called Kuala Lipis and have only just discovered a shop that allows internet access. There’s not much for tourists in Kuala Lipis which gives it a gold star from me. It took us about two hours to walk around the whole town and see all the sights. The highlight is a wonderful, friendly bar called Flash Jack’s Bar 55 which is run by a mad Chinese bloke who offers cheap beer and free, lengthy conversation – an extra gold star!

There’s a lot to say but I don’t quite have the time right now to say it. The promised description of Petrosains and the rant will be coming along with details of our jungle adventure including Revenge of the Leeches (Now They Can Fly!).

Today we’re taking the jungle train to Kota Bharu – a 7 hour journey at least – where we’ll put our feet up for a couple of days, get some laundry done (which is becoming urgent) and put the blog in order. After that we say au revoir to Malaysia and selamat datang to Thailand.

All’s well. We’re having fun.

I have to admit that I’m still not getting used to the blogging thing. Although I love to write I was never a diary keeper. It’s not that I have little to say or that my mind is empty of pithy observations – it’s just that by the time I’m sitting in front of a computer in an internet cafe they’re all gone!

Anyway…

While Liberta is off doing whatnot, I’m taking a look at the job scene in Malaysia focussing on what a software engineer with 20 years of experience (and a baaaaad attitude) can bag here. The inspiration for this endeavour came from a wierd night the three of us (Liberta, Cathy and myself) had at a bar called Oasis in the Bintang area a couple of nights ago. I ended up talking to a number of quite flambuoyant men, one of whom expressed interest in my computer skills, gave me his business card and asked me to call. The discussion we had (prior to my becoming incoherently drunk on free Jack Daniel’s) seemed to gel with the (similarly drunken) discussion I had with the diving instructor on the night of the landslide. Whilst there may be a drive in Malaysia to train people for IT work, they’re currently a bit crap. Well, I’m not crap so I reckon I can generate a little finance. If not finance, at least some contacts.

My research so far has revealed that there are certainly IT jobs available but the salaries are… how shall I say this… peanuts. And I’m sure you’ve all heard the proverb about what happens when you pay peanuts.

So, although I was planning to go back to the Petrosains (pronounced Petro-science) exhibition earlier in the afternoon, I’m instead going to call this guy and see if it really is my brain he wants and not some other parts of my anatomy which are completely unrelated to computers!

More on Petrosains later. My visit there has been one of the high-points of my travels so far and will certainly get a blog entry. If you’re lucky, I’ll also develop and write down my rant on global warming errr… sorry… climate change and other such nonsense that the Holy Church of Science trots out on a regular basis to control the laity. Oh dear… I’ve started.

PS: The night in Oasis included my first ever attempt at karaoke singing. Cathy and I delivered a stonking rendition of ABBA’s Dancing Queen. My performance was especially pleasing because my microphone didn’t work! Yay!

For the last couple of weeks I have been somewhat confused by the cigarette packaging here. It seemed like every type of cigarette, from the lights upwards, were all the same strength. Here’s what is on every pack…

AMARAN OLEH KERAJAAN MALAYSIA: MEROKOK MEMBAHAYAKAN KESIHATAN
TIDAK MELEBIHI 20mg TAR 1.5mg NIKOTINA

Now I had immediately spotted 20mg tar, 1.5mg nicotine which, by British standards (where cigarette strength must be on the packet), is about the strongest cigarette you can possibly imagine let alone buy. I’ve smoked quite a few brands in quite a few flavours and each packet has had exactly the same text. What seemed strange is that none of the ciggies felt as strong as the declared strength.

We’ve been learning a little Malay and last night we worked it out. Here’s what the text reads, roughly translated…

WARNING FROM MALAYSIAN GOVERNMENT: SMOKING ENDANGERS HEALTH
NO MORE THAN 20mg TAR 1.5mg NICOTINE

Note the emphasis. Malaysian law doesn’t require the actual strength to be declared on the packet – only the maximum – so no-one has any clue what they are smoking!

A day-trip to Mount Kinabalu and Poring Hot Springs was turned into a two-day trip when the main road connecting Kota Kinabalu with Sandakan was closed by a landslide.

From KK, Mt. Kinabalu is a knobbly dark shadow in the distance. Approaching it in the minibus revealed the scale of it – gigantic. At one point I was looking for the mountain only to realise that it was the huge dark cloud in front of us. Quite a humbling and breathtaking sight.

On arrival at the park Liberta and I decided to try one of the prescribed walking paths which, although enjoyable, revealed one of the differences about walking in a jungle as opposed to Britain. She was attacked by a leech!

Poring Hot Springs was fabulous although I did have an issue when our guide led us immediately to the canopy walk – a 150m sequence of ladders suspended about 40m above the ground in the rainforest canopy. The sign at the start warned that anyone with height phobia should not attempt it. I considered bottling at that point but after my diving experience I had had enough of being a wuss while everyone else has a great time so I went. Well, I hated it. I’m terrified of heights so although I got to the end of the canopy walk (on my knees at one place) I had seen nothing and felt terrible so what was the point? I don’t consider it an achievement.

On the other hand, the hot bath I had afterwards was blissful. I like nothing more than to turn my skin lobster red. Clean and de-stressed we carried on. During the bath it started to rain.

It didn’t stop raining all night. We tried to get back to KK but the earlier landslide had become completely impassable so our guide quickly arranged for us to stay in a hostel at the base of Mt. Kinabalu. We didn’t drink much as the beer was extortionately expensive. We didn’t sleep much because the hostel had no heating. That may sound like it spoiled the experience but it didn’t.

We got back to KK around 1pm by using the old road, the quality of which ranged from decaying hard-top to dirt track. We checked our of the hotel after a frantic shower and packing session, ate lunch, booked into the Hotel Nova, took a taxi to the airport and caught our flights back to Kuala Lumpur.

And that’s where we are now. There’s a lot more detail from the last few days but frankly I can’t be arsed to write it all down just now, nor could I coherently do so at the moment I expect. Perhaps after a day or so of recollection I’ll come back to this entry and flesh it out. Leeches and landslides… you just can’t buy an adventure like that – they have to happen!

Phew! It’s been a hellish couple of days but I think I’ve finally broken through most of the culture shock. I bought an English translation of the Qur’an to read which, although it didn’t bring me any solace, gave me something to do with my day yesterday instead of just drinking beer (of which I consumed a great deal but at RM1.75I cannot resist).

On the excellent news front, Liberta is now a qualified PADI Open Water Diver. We celebrated with a beer (or seven) last night and today we had a look at scuba equipment prices. It’s not cheap but then again, I don’t suppose one should expect it to be. Quality engineered safety equipment should cost accordingly. That said, I’ve spent far more on a computer than it costs to buy a complete scuba rig. As Liberta said… diving is more fun.

I think I’ll pick up a cheap mask and snorkel so that I can go look at the fishies. Once we get to Australia I’ll investigate taking a scuba course more suited to my experience level and comfort.

For anyone reading this who only wants to hear of the lovely and wonderful things that happen while travelling I suggest you don’t read this entry. For those who know me well, here comes one of my characteristic rants. I’m culture sick and I need to let off steam. If you begin to read, PLEASE READ TO THE END!!!

Scuba diving was, for me, not just a disaster, it was gutting. I failed miserably to enjoy myself. On the bright side, Liberta had a great time and is continuing with her tuition. I, on the other hand, was clumsy (never having even used a snorkel and fins before), unprepared (the classroom session bore little to no resemblance to the first practical sessions in the water), unconfident (I hurt my toe due to poor equipment and the first breathing regulator I was given leaked air) and eventually I was scared shitless (being unable to control myself in the sea because of the wave motion, agitated that I had fallen behind and needed to catch up therefore unable to concentrate fully on the instruction and eventually too panicked to breathe properly). Frankly, I lost it. Although I kept my temper in check as best I could, the instructors (who are clearly experienced and capable divers) simply couldn’t cope with me. Added to all this I was aware that my inability would not only hold back the other students (Liberta and Katy – a British girl) but could distract Liberta from enjoying herself through concern for my wellbeing. I decided, correctly I think, not to continue with the course. I had become the worst type of person – an atmosphere vacuum – and was eager to remove myself from the group lest I ruin the experience for everyone else.

I’m not put off the idea of scuba diving but clearly I need more experience in the water and with the basic equipment before I can attempt such a speedy instruction course.

Naturally I wanted to, and did, blame both myself and the instructors for the poor quality of my performance. All my previous excitement has turned to spite – and most folks who know me should know how unpleasant it is to be around me when I’m in this kind of mood

Thanks to Liberta for helping me to put most of the experience into perspective last night. Although my blood contained a scream that wouldn’t come out, she helped me get a grip on myself. My opinion of Malaysia had dropped to such a level that I was accusing the whole country of being deceptive – almost everywhere I have been and almost everything I have done (excepting the wonderful restuarants) is marketed in one way but implemented in another. Smoke and mirrors, facades, outright lies. Now THAT is clearly too harsh an attitude and a sign that I am suffering from culture shock.

So, today I planned to go to Kinabalu Park, take a look around, perhaps walk half-way up the mountain, scream out my frustration, walk back down and come back to the hotel in the late evening while Liberta spends her second day on scuba instruction. Yeah right.

Off I trot to the bus station, knowing that as soon as I get there someone will ask me where I am going and take me to the bus. Sure enough a tout approaches me. Where you going? Kinabalu Park. How much? 15 ringgit Seems reasonable. When does the bus leave? 9:30 Excellent – it’s about 9:20 and with a two hour journey means I’ll be at the park around midday. Lead the way

The tout shows me to the bus (which has a sign saying 9:30am on the door), I pay my 15 ringgit, board, sit down with the local newspaper that the hotel gives us each morning and start reading. I note that the bus is about half full. A kid is on the bus selling what appear to be snacks and tissues. When he gets off someone else gets on and trys to sell sunglasses to the passengers. After about 15 minutes (not intolerable lateness normally but I’m not in a normal mood) the bus is still in the station, people are still getting on and someone has put a Malaysian karaoke VCD on the TV at the front of the bus.

After two songs on the TV the bus is still in the station and people are still getting on. It’s 9:55am and I’m beginning to wonder if the bus is going to leave any time soon. Then it dawns on me.

The bus isn’t going to leave until it is full so I have no idea when I’m actually going to reach Kinabalu Park. 9:30 my arse. Not only that but I have to return from the park by bus and if the return experience in any way resembles the departure I will not be able to calculate how long I can safely spend in the park before having to start back. Pop! I lose it again! Now I’m mad – I have been directly lied to by both the tout, the sign on the bus and my own expectations. I’m not in culture shock anymore – I’m culture sick. Uttely sick and tired of being unable to interpret what I’m being told by the people here and therefore being completely unprepared for the experiences I’m having.

So, rather that do the stupid thing and show my anger in public (becoming emotional doesn’t help here) I get off the bus, consider my RM15 a donation to the Sabah Modernisation Fund and decide to go blow off some steam here on the internet before going back to the hotel and getting blind drunk. Oh for some weed. On leaving the bus I notice that NONE of the many busses parked there appear to have left. Buggered if I know why. No-one else seems concerned by it.

But hey, this is part of the reason I wanted to travel. However wonderful or unpleasant the experiences, each draws me in sharper detail. I am learning about my limits, my tolerances, my desires and passions. I am learning about myself – reaching down into my dark recesses with a very bright torch and forcing myself to look at what I find regardless of how ugly or beautiful. Each new self-discovery is a new lens or filter through which I can view life, the universe and everything. Today, that filter is dirty with spite and the lens is a mirror. Which is good – I can see the worst in myself which gives me experience in controlling, mitigating and accomodating the darker sides of my personality. Unpleasant though that may be for now, I know that in the days to come I will use these experiences to intensify the enjoyment of whatever else I or we choose to do.

I’ve hit rock bottom. The only way is up. I think I’m going to sit outside, drink beer and finish my book. I’m looking forward to hearing how Liberta gets on with her diving (which seems to be turning into a passion for her) but not entirely looking forward to explaining how I didn’t quite reach Mount Kinabalu

Don’t worry folks. I’m OK. Stay tuned!

On any extended trip it is inevitable that some kind of disaster will befall one. My first one happened two nights ago while camping on one of the islands that constitutes the Tunku Abdul Rahman Marine Park.

Getting to the island was fun. The weather had turned somewhat cloudy which made the sea quite chopy so our speedboat was leaping off the crests of waves and slamming into the troughs like some rollercoaster designed by an evil madman. Liberta and the other passengers seemed rather perturbed by the experience whereas I was in my element – spray in my hair, salt water in my mouth (no jokes about liking salty liquids) and clearly some kind of foreknowledge that the boat wasn’t going to capsize. There was an audible sigh of relief when the boat docked.

The evening was idyllic. Although it was raining, we constructed the tent, ambled along the white sands of the small beach, dipped our toes in the beautifully warm water and explored all 1km of the walking trails on the island. After dark (and boy does it get dark quickly here) we sat on the jetty sipping a can of beer talking about the travelling lifestyle while watching the lightning storms beyond the mainland and the shoals of fish swimming in the crystal clear shallow waters beneath us. Things couldn’t have been better.

Then we retired to the tent for some sleep. That’s where the problems began.

First, Malaysian Borneo is pretty much on the equator. It was warm in the tent. Very warm. So warm, in fact, that even lying naked on my mat my sweat wouldn’t evaporate. As an iceman from the frozen North, this was not conducive to sleep. Since I wasn’t sleeping I also noticed that the mat wasn’t particularly comfortable. In short, I spend a number of hours in tormeted half-rest punctuated by nightmare dreams of weirdness and the high-pitched buzz of the occasional mosquito until I finally decided to get out of the tent and sit outside at one of the benches to smoke and lament my meagre condition.

I probably got about an hour’s sleep.

The next day was bright, sunny and beautiful but my addled, sleep-deprived mind couldn’t really build up any enthusiasm for beng alive – in short I was totally non-functional. To add insult to injury, we had decided to camp right next to the home of red ants who decided to infest the tent during the morning. I could have packed it all in there and then. Funny how a single bad experience can be magnified out of all proportion when one is bereft of a night’s comfortable sleep. How Western I have become

But it’s not all bad. Liberta had spent the morning swimming in the ocean and had a strange look on her face when she came out. I’ve been swimming with the fishes. At that point the plan for our next few days was initiated. We agreed to go back to the mainland and do something else.

We’ve booked four days in a nice, reasonably cheap hotel and popped a (relative) fortune to learn how to scuba dive. We’ve already done the academic work – tomorrow we get into the water.

I can’t wait! Nor can Liberta, I expect. Strange how passions can appear from the aether of the mind. Y’all will find out how we get on over the next few days. I’d say more but our diving instructor insisted on getting us drunk, so tough. You’ll have to wait.

Liberta bagged us two nights in a 4* hotel (for RM99 a night) to give us some breathing space to plan the next 10 days in Sabah, the northern tip of Borneo. The flight on AirAsia (analagous to Ryanair) was uneventful as was the taxi to the hotel. The room is lovely and the hotel definately has that posh feel to it – well-dressed porters who open the main door (and don’t spit in your face nor complain if you spit in theirs ), swimming pool, gymnasium and sauna/steam room – all of which we are planning to exploit to the limit!

KK itself is a little disappointing thus far (which is only a few hours so I don’t want to be too harsh). I think I was perhaps fooled by the romantic image of trekking in the wilds of Borneo and didn’t expext a virtual carbon-copy of all the other Malaysian towns I have already seen. It’s definately time for me to get out of the urban areas and into the countryside which we plan to do tomorrow.

About a kilometer off the coast of KK is a national marine park made up of five or six small islands. We ferry over tomorrow sometime for a few days of camping. After that we will probably head inland to Mount Kinabalu – a 4000m peak. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to get to the top – it takes two days and therefore requires accomodation (which we are told is always full) or camping (which may or may not be allowed) – but the idea of putting on my boots and yomping around with a 15kg backpack while fending off mossies and tourists for a day is quite appealing. I must be mad!

Therefore, I expect the blog will be quiet for at least a week while we do our thing, unless there is by some chance an internet cafe on the islands or half-way up the mountain. To be honest, I wouldn’t be surprised if there are both. What a place!

Johor Bahru is the frontier town that connects Malaysia with Singapore. There appeared to be a constant stream of traffic across the Causeway in addition to the usual Malaysian throng of cars, motorcycles and busses in the town itself.

We spent a day there which, I have to say, was a day too long. Although the hotel we settled on was cheap (RM66 for a double room) it wasn’t entirely clean (damp on the roof ) and the noise from outside would have been unbearable without earplugs. At least it didn’t smell musty like the first hotel we looked at.

There is clearly some form of potential that draws people from one side to the other. Given the economic and exchange rate differences I reckon the Singaporeans cross over to buy and the Malaysians cross over to sell and/or work.

After a short spell of sightseeing (mostly religious temples and municipal buildings) we bought beer, went back to the hotel and relaxed watching TV imported from America.

The next day was spent under a canopy at a coffee shop reading newspapers and drinking lovely Yemeni coffee while avoiding the rain, passing time until our flight to Kota Kinabalu in Sabah where your intrepid explorers are now based.

So if you ever find yourself planning a trip to Malaysia, pass through JB as quickly as possible – don’t stop!