Malaysia and Singapore in 3 weeks

Its been few weeks that i wrote a blog. I took the Bus from Had Yai in Thailand. I arrived too late in Had Yai and all the mini Vans had gone by that time. There is no mini van after 3 pm in Had Yai for going to Penang in Malaysia. I had to catch a Bus going to Kuala lampur which would have dropped me in George Town in Malaysia. This was the last Bus going to Malaysia and it left Had Yai at 6pm. Once we got to George town i changed my mind and decided to continue to KL. I had to pay the fare for KL so it was my choice where i got off.

Once we entered Malaysia the bus stopped for dinner in a restaurant area. The restaurant was a Malay/Pakistani. A Pakistani man was making nans in a tandoor and delicious tandoori chicken was being roasted in the tandoor. Mana from heaven and i ate what ever i could.

Rest of the journey i was fast asleep as the bus was a VVIP bus. Massive seats and i sat on the top, right on the front with a thai man sitting
next to me.

We got to KL around 5 am in the morning the following day. It was too early to go to any hotel or guest house as i was sure they all would be sleeping. So i went to a restaurant right in front of the Bus terminal and sat with a passengers from around the Asian world. Nepalese, Bangladeshis, Indians, Pakistanis and a whole company of Malay soldiers were having their breakfast. It was the usual breakfast served all over Malaysia. Roti Canai (pronounced as chanai) which is actually a paratha in subcontinent. It is a pan cake made with thin flakes of dough all folded together, served with a curry sauce and of course a tea. The Moazzin was calling the faithful to the prayers while i was eating my breakfast.

The guest house i was going to, was in china town which, is right next to the bus terminal. It was about 7 am when i got to the guest house. Run by the Chinese as usual and credit control was very strict. You pay as soon as you have bought a anything. The price of my room with an A/C was 50 Ringgit. Cheap considering you are in the most expensive city in South East Asia.

KL was a disappointment to me as it lacks historical buildings. First day i took the open top bus just to do a complete round of the city. It is a small city as the tourist attractions are all on walking distance from china town. Rest of the city is no use for the tourists as they are all residential areas.

I jumped off the bus near the Merdeka square. This is where the Malaysian Independence was declared. It is an assortment of colonial buildings arranged around a cricket ground. The main building was topped with onion domes and the cricket club was preserved as a reminder. On one end of the cricket ground there was massive flag pole with Malaysian flag flying from the top. It was one of the highest flag poles in the world.

I walked from there to little India where little India mosque was built in Indian/Moghul style. The whole area was full of shops selling all sorts of Indian stuff including food. Opposite the mosque shops were selling all sorts of religious paraphernalia and of course gold. Shops upon shops selling beautiful gold jewelery. This was no 9 carat crap which Europeans are flogged with, this was 22 carat gold which looks and is the colour of money.

I went to a food court where Pakistani food was being served. I could see that the faces were Pakistanis. After ordering the food i asked the man who took my order where he was from. He was from Pakistan and that is why the food was all Pakistani. Malays love Pakistani food and it has taken over the Malay cuisine as has happened in the UK.

By the time i finished with little India the day was over. The guest house had a roof top breakfast area from where you could see all the high rise buildings around you. Breakfast was always cooked and served by a Malay woman wearing a scarf.

China town was always hustling and bustling with shops selling all kinds of Chinese copies of everything you could imagine. Most sellers were Chinese or immigrants. I needed a hat so i went to a stall selling hats. Seller was a Bangladeshi university graduate who asked me if he could some how migrate to some where in Europe and of course asked me about turkey. He had no idea that you need to learn the language of the country you go to work and in his imagination the whole world spoke English. Hence you don't need to learn any language except English.

These people are so backwards that they have no idea about any laws or rules. I been to Bangladesh and Pakistan and people there are living about 150 years behind than the rest of the world. They just don't know it. It is same story all over the 3rd world.

Following day i left on foot and walked all the way to the main railway station which looks like a Moghul mosque.
Next to the old railway station was the biggest mosque in Malaysia. I was stopped by an old man with a beard, who was stopping any non Muslims going in. I told him that i am a Muslim and he let me pass through. It is a new mosque and the designer tried to create some colours by using stained glass which made it look like the bridge of star ship Enterprise.

Next stop was the Petronas towers which used to be the highest building in the world. Among all skyscrapers this was by far the most beautiful building. Inside was a grand shopping center and cinemas and theater as well. I could not go on the bridge connecting the two towers as it was closed for repairs. Not far from the Petronas tower is the KL communication tower. which is few hundred meters higher than the Petronas. I had to pay to go up and look at the KL skyline, filled with skyscrapers.

Near the china town is a beautiful Tamil Hindu temple which is countered by a Chinese temple which is exactly opposite. Both were filled with devotees asking their respective gods for usually only one thing….money. It makes me angry to see these idiots because no religion likes money. Religions came to bring man closer to God and to do that you must forsake all worldly goods especially money. But humans lust for money never ends. It has no bounds.

They all flock to their churches, mosques and temples and ask God for exactly the thing that he hates the most, money. Look around you and you will see this. It always ends when it is too late or when you actually die.

There was nothing more to see in KL and i left for Cameron Highlands. It was a 4 hours journey with the bus rising slowly into the clouds through the meandering road like a coiled snake.

I checked into Daniels guest house where the signboard stated “FUCK THE LONELY PLANET”. His method worked and he was put into the lonely planet. Receptionist was a Malay woman looking like a nun. I had to ask her who she was. She was an ethnic Pakistani actually and her grand father came from Pakistan, she could not speak any Urdu and was a stateless person in her own words. World is full of people like that.

Reflexia is the biggest flower in the world which is found here too. I had to book a trek to go and see that elusive flower. It is not a flower actually but a type of fungus, which we call mushroom. The trip was fun as we walked an easy trail. There were about 10 tourists and a few Chinese too.

One of the girls who came with us worked at the Daniels as a receptionist. She was a typical northern English girl, from Liverpool actually. She was fat and had the typical face which you find up north in the UK. She had been traveling for long time too and was moving from country to country always looking for a job some where. She did not want to ever go back to UK but was fully connected with her friends in Liverpool, as I found her talking to her friends on skype every night.

I thought she needed more time away from UK to loose the connection. It is not easy to live abroad for ever and most people eventually go back at an age when they are no use in their own countries. Lost souls who have a love hate relationship with their own countries or cultures.

The trek was easy but full of muddy paths as it had rained earlier. There was a Chinese couple with a 12-14 years old daughter and a 8-9 years old son. They were not helping their daughter in walking or on steep descents at all. All attention was on the son which I found very shitty thing to do. No one else cared too as all were northern Europeans who most are really selfish anyway. I just cant stand this type of people any more and my patience has totally run out.

I had to help her all the way and hold her hand. The parents were also such idiots that they didn’t even thank me for it. This type of behaviour is just what pisses me off. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

We finally got to the Reflexia and luckily there were two flowers in bloom. It was red in colour and smells like rotten flesh to attract the flies.
rest of the trip was to a tea plantation which was owned by a Scottish family. This family “cleared” the jungle and built a massive tea estate. After the independence they moved back to Scotland but never gave up their estate. They visit the estate once a year to check up on things and of course collect the money. Hundreds of cheap Nepalese labourers were working collecting the tea leaves.

The barracks where they lived were all long and blue coloured as if they lived in paradise. Far from truth as they are paid a pittance and do a back breaking, literally, 12 hour shifts. I asked and they are paid about US$300 per month. Payment is according to the amount of tea leaves they pick. Wearing baskets on their backs they work like worker bees in a bee hive or donkeys, take your pick.

Tea estate was lush green with hills covered with clouds and of course tea plantations. It reminded me of Kipling visiting the Darjeeling tea estates in india during the raj. Kipling writing his books sitting in a veranda of a house, drinking tea form a tea pot covered with a tea cosy, biscuits in one plate, over looking the hills and watching the locals collect tea leaves.

There was of course a cafe too which was selling tea. Where you could buy tea and drink it too, Which of course I did with chocolate croissants. We were given a tour of the tea factory where every machine was from the 18th century. All tea was for the domestic market and I found the brand every where in Malaysia. After this trip we were offered a tour of the usual SE Asian crap i.e an orchid farm, a butterfly/insect farm, and a bird sanctuary. It was raining buy the time we got back.

I took the next day bus straight to Kota Bharu, gateway to the Perhentian islands and the famous Jungle railway. The guest house i went to was run by an old Chinese man who was in his 70s. All the time he was insulting the Malays as right opposite his guest house was a 4 star hotel. I suppose owned by a Malay.

Chinese in Malaysia are not happy as even though they are the richest in the country they want Malaysia to become a tourist attraction like Thailand. Well a big brothel to be exact. No Malay wants the same shit in his country. I agree with the Malays. No decent person with a little bit of self respect would want his country to turn into a massive brothel.

Chinese visit Thailand regularly to enjoy the "Thai hospitality" and are thoroughly screwed by the Thais. This they dont like, they rather have the same brothel in Malaysia so they can make money and do it in an "organized way". At night i was sitting in the garden having a cup of tea and a Chinese man joined me who was a friend of the owners son. He told me that he been to china and it was “heaven”. In the brothels they bring a constant stream of prostitutes and you choose as many as you like. He told me that roughly 1000 prostitutes were paraded in front of them to choose from. But "sadly" you cant do that in Malaysia. He was of course married with kids.

Malays are the nicest people i have encountered so far in SE Asia. They are calm and honest which, is translated by the Chinese as being stupid.

Kota Bharu was in floods as the local river level was rising constantly. I could not visit the local beaches as the road was totally flooded. I left for the Perhentians but i was warned by the locals and the guide book too that they are shut down during the monsoon season. I decided to take my chances. Once i got to Wakaf Baharu from where the boats leave for the islands, i found out that there is still one hotel open even during this time. I stayed in the hotel right opposite the bus stop. The restaurant opposite the bus top was serving Roti Canai and was again run by a Bangladeshi who been living here for 20 years. He was a nice guy and was surprised when i told him that i been to Bangladesh and know Bangladesh better than him. Following morning i went to the jetty at 9am to see if any boat was leaving.

Jetty was organized by Berader who was a character in this little village. Everyone told me to see him if i want a boat to the islands. Berader was very helpful and found me a boat which charged me 60 ringgits. There were a lot of Malays going to the islands too. These were the islanders who lived on the islands and they all were stuck here for the past few days as the waves were too high for a boat.

I found a young Iranian couple with a son who were also going there. They worked in KL doing some thing which i didnt ask.
Journey to the Kecil island was rough. Waves were high and the boat was small. I was scared and i put on the life jacket too. There are many islands here but Kecil island is the one where everyone goes. It is a national park actually and is protected by law to some extent.

We arrived after a 40 minutes hair raising journey as we were tossed around like pop corns. The hotel was the best hotel on the island and it was the biggest as well. I was served by an army of staff, 49 to be exact. It was air conditioned but only during the night as there was no electricity during day time. There were no tourists on the island except me and the Iranian couple. I was charged 30 ringgits for a room which, is usually 150 ringgits during peak season. I quickly made friends with the receptionist and the manager, who were Malays, and all the other staff. They all were from either Bangladesh or Nepal. People always become friendly when you tell them that you been to their country and you liked their country.

The hotel was built on an outcrop of the island, right next to the coral beach. This was the western end of the island. On the northern side of the hotel were two beaches separated by the rocks. One was called the love beach as it was the furthest. You have to walk on rocks to get there.
A mere 10 minutes walk away was the long beach which is the eastern side of the island. This was a very small island, all around were high hills covered in lush green vegetation and were too steep to get in to. I decided to stay here for a week to relax and chill out in a paradise with no one to share it with.

The Iranian Man had brought with him a bottle of Black label and was always drinking the whiskey sitting near one end of the love beach where they had tables. He was in his early 30s and his wife was probably the same age. She was blond, reasonably good looking and was always wearing a one piece swim suit. They stayed for 2 days and then left as there was nothing to do there.

I spent my time everyday, having breakfast on the wooden northern terrace all alone, over looking the sea. Then i would go to the beach and sit under a tree and just listen to the waves crashing on the rocks on the sides. This was the kind of place where you think about the meaning of life. Though there is none but you do think about it. I thought about where my life was going, where I wanted to go actually and about my friends.

People I met through the mist of years, faces and names, some are still here and some got lost in the mist. Never to be seen again. My friends who have never seen what I saw, they probably never will Which, makes me sad to think about.

I thought about this world, how nice it would be if life was fair to the poorest of poor. Whom I saw and see in my journeys but then again who wants to know about that side of traveling. People love the fotos of tropical beaches, coconut trees and lush green vegetation thinking all is well in this paradise. No one sees the poverty which lurks right behind every foto I took. The sadness and feeling of guilt which accompanies any “human” traveler. Which, again there arent many.

The misery is some times unbearable and I always counter it by justifying that I am not God. I am just a passer by who is a peeping tom, who just wants to see everything without changing anything. Ok ok no more philosophy. I know its boring for most people.

I was hoping for a tropical storm but none came during my time there. Long beach was the beach with white sand and I had human company only once there. Normally the monitor lizards which stick their tongues out like snakes and can be 2 meters long were my companions. They look really scary but are not dangerous. I was always sitting in verandas of empty hotels and guest houses and deserted shops and monitor lizards were always looking for turtle eggs. This was the turtle egg laying season. Then one day a man appeared from no where. He looked like a character from pirates of the Caribbean.

His name was Ali, same age as me and he never wore a shirt, always barefoot with a machete in his hand.He looked really spooky in that deserted beach and he was spooky. There was some thing about him that was strange. He ran snorkeling tours during the dry season and in rainy season he looked after all the beach. He been watching me for few days from his huts window. We got talking and he offered me tea which I accepted as there was nothing open. I was dying for a cup of tea. He started to tell me stories of ghosts and the jungle was full of them.I told him that they are probably Ginis and he agreed. He had seen many and they were all Ginis.

While I was talking to him another bearded man appeared who didn’t have a typical malay face. This was the rush hour.

The old man was actually Turkish as his grandfather came form turkey during the ottoman times. He belonged to the nakshbandi sufi order. He had also seen Ginis in the island. He had 11 kids from one wife and he showed me fotos of all of them on his mobile. He was building a guest house in the jungle between coral beach and long island. I left after about 8 days there.

I took a boat which, leaves at 730 am every morning. Luckily sea was calm this time. I caught the local bus to go to Kota bharu, staying one night in Kota Bharu I went to catch the train which leaves at 6 am.

At the train station I met Becky, the only other tourist on the train. Becky was an Ex IT manager for the Metropolitan police in London but she was actually from Liverpool. Mid thirties I think and was good looking. She was totally lost as she resigned her job and never wanted to go back to UK. She was on her way to Singapore and then to Chile, where she was going to teach English. She was looking for a new life in a new country with new people. She asked me if I would like to accompany her to Singapore but I politely declined.

I spent my time in 8 hours journey standing in the door smoking and watching the jungle pass me by or talking to Becky. This was the interior of Malaysia. Palm oil plantations were never ending and the train stopped just about every station there was on the track. Some stations didn’t even have a platform. Just a sign board announcing that it is that Kampung. Kampung is village in Malay.

This was the real Malaysia that I came to see. Houses on stilts and people living the way they have always been, living off the land and living their entire life in their Kampung. This train itself was an engineering marvel as it cuts right through the Malaysian interior. Makes you wonder what humans are capable of, sometimes good and mostly bad.

I got off at Jerantut without saying goodbye to Becky as she was fast asleep. I stayed in this kampung for one night as next day I had to catch a boat to visit the famous Taman Negara forest. I was dropped to the jetty by the tour agency mini van and I was again the only tourist in sight. Boat was wooden and wide enough for 2 people to sit together. We passed Kampung upon kampung along the muddy river with gigantic trees bending and falling into the river and people catching fish .

After 4 hours we got to the Kuala Tembeling, where I was received by the tour agency rep. This was a floating restaurant where I was dropped off. I had my lunch on the floating restaurant and checked into first guest house over looking the river, called River front guest house of course.

In the evening I met a Chinese guide who was the strangest man you could ever meet. He was in his mid 50s, skinny and shirtless. His name is in the lonely planet guide book and all other guide books. He started to talk to me and eventually after few hours of talking I found out why I felt strange. He had few near death experiences and he could read peoples minds. Though he never said it. He told me things only I knew but I just pretended i wasn’t surprised. He was a Chinese but became a Muslim and knew just about everything there is to know about every thing.

Taman Negara is the oldest primary forest in the world, about 150 million years old. People have seen pygmies living in the jungle. This tribe of pygmies is still not discovered yet.This Chinese guide also confirmed it. There are luminescent fungus in the forest and lots of birds and animals. I did the one day trek on my own and walked on the longest canopy walk in the world. Watching the 80 meters tall trees, you feel so small, these trees are thousands of years old.

I wanted to do the 9 days trek into the jungle but there were no tourists. I had no choice but to leave by bus after 2 nights.
I went to Kuantan and after staying a night there, took a bus straight to Singapore.Border crossing was well organized and I stayed in little India as it was the only area of Singapore where you would find any history or culture or buildings.

It was a Saturday when I got there and I to check into a guest house called No 28 Dunlop street. All others in the lonely planet were full. It was clean and new with good staff.

Little India was on full swing as it was a weekend. Smell of curries and colours of saris was every where. All Indians were from south India and immigrant workers there. Internet cafes were full with Indians calling home using skype and western union office had a massive queue of people wanting to send money home. Indian music was blaring every where.

I walked around just feeling the place. There were Hindu temples and mosques and Chinese temples all calling the faithful to some type of God or to their own version of a god. It took me 2 days to see all Singapore from the famous orchard street to colonial area. Singapore was a city and that’s all. It seriously lacks any culture apart from little India. If retail therapy is your thing then jump in by all means. Things don't interest me any more.

I had my lunch at khans restaurant, with cheap and delicious food, in Dunlop street. Dinner was at a restaurant in the same street in a restaurant which had a massive banner declaring they had the best biryani in Singapore, a statement by a tourist. So I decided to try it. No doubt it was one of the best biryanis i have eaten. If you ever go there don’t forget to try it.

Orchard street was a mecca for shopping just like oxford street but I found it the least interesting place in Singapore. Clinically clean with Chinese girls, who all looked like models right out from a glossy magazine, all hanging a shopping bag in their arms.

I went to see the temple of Kali. Kali is the goddess of death in hindusim. She is exactly the same goddess called Medusa in greek mythology and Umme Sabyan in arabic mythology. During the second world war the hindu devotees of Kali asked her to protect them and she did. Bombs rained down on Singapore and all around the temple but none fell on the temple as it was a refuge for the hindus. She is often used for black magic in india and the damn thing works. It was a day to worship lakshami, goddess of money. Temple was full of colourful women singing and bowing to both Kali and lakshami.

After 3 nights in Singapore I left for Melaka in Malaysia. Melaka is probably the most historic city in Malaysia,with red buildings all over town and the old part was particularly nice. This is Dutch and British colonial architecture mixed together.

There were ruins of a church which, over looked the Melaka straits. Inside were many grave stones of dutch nationals who died here during the 1600s. it was a sad and reminder to all that time and death waits for none. Death awaits us all around the corner. The grave stones had full history of the person who died in Dutch language. There was some translation too under the grave stones. They all came here looking for a fortune and died of tropical diseases instead. The whole church smelled of unfulfilled desires. It was upsetting for me.

There were cycle rickshaws in Melaka which were richly decorated with flowers and a sound system too, blaring pop music.
I only stayed here for one night and took the ferry next morning to Dumai in Indonesia.