The plan was to go to Seremban, meet my Finnish friend, stay overnight then leave the next morning for K.L. to meet up with my Finnish friend's Finnish friend and go shopping at Ikea. That was the plan.
So, I woke up, got ready to go and called my taxi-driver. He said his taxi was rosak (broken). Ok, let's see, I think I have another taxi phone number. Yep. Found it and called. That driver was in Ipoh. Ooooh. Not so easy to get a taxi in Kampar. I could call my friend. Called. He was at work! Ouch. I'll have to walk it outta here.
Walked out to the road and flagged a very, very slow taxi but managed to get to the train station in time for the LRT. Went to buy my ticket.
"The LRT is rosak." WHAT? She said I'd have to take the "old train" which she said will take 4 hours or so...
"I should have taken the bus," I thought out loud. "Ok, I'll take the old train." It was only 20 ringgit and leaving in an hour. But, I was already hungry and really couldn't think of how to get any food. (The little food kiosk was closed as it always is at the train station which means somebody is missing out on a lot of business.)
On board the train, the dining car was the next car beside mine so I went along to find FOOD. I saw a lady order nasi lama, so ordered that. He said, "So sorry, they are sold out." Of course they are. All I could find was a pack of Oreo cookies. Breakfast. (Again, someone is missing out on a lot of business selling food on this train full of captive people who will be here quite a while.)
Well, I got to Seremban and the next morning, my friend and I ate breakfast before heading off to K.L. After we finished our breakfast, we got in the car, and it would not turn over! The battery was DEAD.
No problem, we were able to buy a new battery at the repair shop and were soon on our way to Ikea. It was great! Gotta love those Swedish meatballs! We found reading lamps, looked at curtain material, picked up a few odds and ends and headed to the specialty shop where my Finnish friends could get their berry jam, Finnish chocolate and Finnish sausages.
There was no berry jam, no Finnish chocolate and no Finnish sausages! My friends were disappointed.
On the other hand, I was able to find Organic coffee, to my joy.
I decided to spend another night in Seremban and when my friend dropped me off at the train station after lunch, it was 2:00 pm. I was told that the "old train" was leaving at 2:30. It would go all the way through to Kampar. Hmmm... decisions. Do I go to K.L. and change trains or get the one that goes all the way through?
I bought a ticket on the old train. They told me it could take 5 hours, but I thought they probably were mistaken because I'd taken it before and the trip was only about 4 hours. Boy was I wrong!
Before we arrived in K.L., the train came to a halt. Fifteen minutes later, the chattering around me is heating up. I can tell people are wondering what's going on and what will happen next. Thirty minutes later, we're still sitting there. I pull out my tablet, plug in my ear-phones and listen to soothing music. But, find it hard to concentrate.
There are three races of people on my car. Across from me, two Muslim ladies sit quietly. Beside me, a young Chinese boy is quietly listening to music. and two seats in front of me, an Indian man is doing most of the talking. Nobody is upset. People are smiling and chatting. I'm listening to my music.
An hour later, we are still in the same place. They make an announcement that anyone going to K.L. should get off the train. Everyone else stayed on. It took another hour and we were on our way, slowly.
But, it seemed the train was moving unusually slowly and when it passed Kuala Lumpur, it stopped again! This time, there was an announcement. The boy beside me translated,
"There is a technical problem with the train and it will be moving in about 15 minutes." Not so bad...
Still, I noted that the passengers were quite patient and calm. (Not like you'd see in my country.) Then, the stewards passed around free banana cake and water. I was glad to have some supper.
Well, by the time I arrived at Kampar, it was 10pm! 7 1/2 hours! Phew! By the time my taxi got me to my house, the trip that should have taken 4 hrs had taken 8!
Next time, I'll take the BUS!
Saturday, 19 October 2013
Sunday, 13 October 2013
Tin Mining
I may have mentioned that Kampar used to be a tin-mining town. In fact, my house is one row of houses away from an old tin-mining pond. I call it a pond. (Need to research this whole subject.) Now, apparently, people who worked the tin would sit in the water ALL DAY LONG. Can you imagine? And what was in that water?
These days, you know, there'd be all kinds of regulations if that were happening in the West. In fact, they probably wouldn't even allow it to happen. So, there were fatalities. I guess some people even drowned in the water. Maybe they fell asleep and just fell in and nobody noticed?
Anyway, there's this huge dent in the ground behind my house where the water used to be sitting. Now it has grass growing over it. And, for some strange reason, I never see anyone go into the park. Maybe a dog or cat, once in a while. It sort of gives me the creeps, actually, thinking about the slavery that went on here.
My house is only a decade old or so, but where my house is used to be the home of tin-miners. It was probably more like a shack. It's doubtful that they had electric fans in those days. We still don't have street lights on the narrow paved road that leads to my street. That road passes by the "water buffalo field", as I like to call it-- especially since my encounter with the angry water buffalo.
Speaking of water buffalo, I looked out my back kitchen window this evening to see a light coloured buffalo sauntering along through the alley! Just taking a quiet walk all by itself. I guess, since it had been raining, it was a little cooler and a nice time for a bit of a jaunt through the neighbourhood. Funny things. I just don't enjoy coming on them unawares!
The other day, a dozen of them decided to take a walk in the middle of the road, back and forth and wherever they pleased, nibbling here and there on the roadside growth. And the cars were stopping and waiting for them to GET OUT OF THE WAY. MOVE! And driving around them (carefully) so as not to get a horn in the windshield. Never in Canada. (Well, we have unruly moose, it's true.)
Then, you have the "meadow muffins" left plentifully by the well-fed cattle. These things grow like wildfire. After a couple of days, you get a whole garden in a muffin because I guess all the seeds are in whatever the buffalo eat.
And, when they move on, the grass is evenly trimmed. Yep, we have free gardening here in Kampar. Maybe I should open my gate once in a while and let the buffalo weed-whackers at my mess of weeds. I usually just pull it up by hand myself. Thorny stuff.
These days, you know, there'd be all kinds of regulations if that were happening in the West. In fact, they probably wouldn't even allow it to happen. So, there were fatalities. I guess some people even drowned in the water. Maybe they fell asleep and just fell in and nobody noticed?
Anyway, there's this huge dent in the ground behind my house where the water used to be sitting. Now it has grass growing over it. And, for some strange reason, I never see anyone go into the park. Maybe a dog or cat, once in a while. It sort of gives me the creeps, actually, thinking about the slavery that went on here.
My house is only a decade old or so, but where my house is used to be the home of tin-miners. It was probably more like a shack. It's doubtful that they had electric fans in those days. We still don't have street lights on the narrow paved road that leads to my street. That road passes by the "water buffalo field", as I like to call it-- especially since my encounter with the angry water buffalo.
Speaking of water buffalo, I looked out my back kitchen window this evening to see a light coloured buffalo sauntering along through the alley! Just taking a quiet walk all by itself. I guess, since it had been raining, it was a little cooler and a nice time for a bit of a jaunt through the neighbourhood. Funny things. I just don't enjoy coming on them unawares!
The other day, a dozen of them decided to take a walk in the middle of the road, back and forth and wherever they pleased, nibbling here and there on the roadside growth. And the cars were stopping and waiting for them to GET OUT OF THE WAY. MOVE! And driving around them (carefully) so as not to get a horn in the windshield. Never in Canada. (Well, we have unruly moose, it's true.)
Then, you have the "meadow muffins" left plentifully by the well-fed cattle. These things grow like wildfire. After a couple of days, you get a whole garden in a muffin because I guess all the seeds are in whatever the buffalo eat.
And, when they move on, the grass is evenly trimmed. Yep, we have free gardening here in Kampar. Maybe I should open my gate once in a while and let the buffalo weed-whackers at my mess of weeds. I usually just pull it up by hand myself. Thorny stuff.
Saturday, 5 October 2013
MSG Epidemic
Ok, I understand that MSG is not a disease. But, if it were, it would be a fatal disease. It's EVERYWHERE.
For example, I decided one area I could eliminate MSG was in my regular use of coffee creamer. Everyone knows that coffee creamer has MSG in it, as well as a lot of other chemicals that are probably just as bad. But, I wanted to zero in on the one that I am focusing on at the moment.
So, what did I do? I went out and bought some milk to put in my coffee, of course. Nice, natural, whole milk. I got the "Dutch Lady" one in the blue box that says "full cream" and "susu penuh krim berkhasiat". You know the one. On the front it also says: "Protein, Kalsium, Vitamin A, Vitamin B2". (Why only B2?)
Anyway, it tastes pretty good. NOT as good as Coffee Mate, but, I figured I was doing myself a huge favour by avoiding all the MSG in the creamer, right?
WRONG.
It suddenly popped into my mind that I should probably read the ingredients in the milk, just to make sure there is no msg in it.
Here are the ingredients: Milk solids non fat, milk fat, calcium and vitamins (A, D3, B2). Contains permitted stabilizer (of plant origin). THERE IT IS. HIDING OUT RIGHT AT THE BOTTOM. "PERMITTED STABILIZER (OF PLANT ORIGIN). That's a fancy way of saying "Mono-sodium Glutamate", in case you didn't know. Or, angino moto in Japanese and sorry but I can't spell in Japanese.
Yes, folks, IT'S EVERYWHERE! Even in your MILK!
For example, I decided one area I could eliminate MSG was in my regular use of coffee creamer. Everyone knows that coffee creamer has MSG in it, as well as a lot of other chemicals that are probably just as bad. But, I wanted to zero in on the one that I am focusing on at the moment.
So, what did I do? I went out and bought some milk to put in my coffee, of course. Nice, natural, whole milk. I got the "Dutch Lady" one in the blue box that says "full cream" and "susu penuh krim berkhasiat". You know the one. On the front it also says: "Protein, Kalsium, Vitamin A, Vitamin B2". (Why only B2?)
Anyway, it tastes pretty good. NOT as good as Coffee Mate, but, I figured I was doing myself a huge favour by avoiding all the MSG in the creamer, right?
WRONG.
It suddenly popped into my mind that I should probably read the ingredients in the milk, just to make sure there is no msg in it.
Here are the ingredients: Milk solids non fat, milk fat, calcium and vitamins (A, D3, B2). Contains permitted stabilizer (of plant origin). THERE IT IS. HIDING OUT RIGHT AT THE BOTTOM. "PERMITTED STABILIZER (OF PLANT ORIGIN). That's a fancy way of saying "Mono-sodium Glutamate", in case you didn't know. Or, angino moto in Japanese and sorry but I can't spell in Japanese.
Yes, folks, IT'S EVERYWHERE! Even in your MILK!
Monday, 23 September 2013
News Flash!
I have to admit, this news flash is actually just gossip that has been passed onto me. Nevertheless, I believe it's true.
After a friend of a friend was held at gun point and robbed of her jewelry and money, the burglaries started to hit closer to home. Our friend was just seeing her husband out of the gate and as his car drove away, the burglars managed to slip into her yard before the gate fully closed. They came into her home, wielding "parongs" (what I would call machettes) and a gun!
Imagine her shock. She had a serious medical condition and so was already in a weakened state before they arrived. They aimed their gun at the dog, threatening to kill it and she pleaded for its life. Whether she fell on the floor or was pushed, I haven't ascertained, but she was on the floor and couldn't get herself up. The bandits locked her maid into her bedroom. (The maid took advantage of the situation to call our friend's husband, who turned his car around and headed home. Although too late to catch the robbers, he at least helped his wife.)
Now, these men had been making the rounds in that particular neighbourhood where other of my friends happen to live, so we had prayer against this inroad of the enemy!
A while later, the Police chased down the robbers in their car! They even managed to shoot one of the men without killing him and discovered that the team is from South America!
It seems their looting has come to an end, at least in my friends' neighbourhood! We can all breathe a sigh of relief. (I include myself in this, since I stay at the house of friends' in that neighbourhood overnight once per week.) Many of the yards have low walls or walls that are easily penetrable. The guard house has been out of commission for years and it seems the local Police don't even know how to find their way around the area!
Still, we are very grateful to the Seremban Police for a job well-done! THANKS GUYS! You deserve a doughnut. Or, at least a Papa Roti or something...
I guess it just goes to show me that there is a time and a place for weapons, although I hate to admit it.
After a friend of a friend was held at gun point and robbed of her jewelry and money, the burglaries started to hit closer to home. Our friend was just seeing her husband out of the gate and as his car drove away, the burglars managed to slip into her yard before the gate fully closed. They came into her home, wielding "parongs" (what I would call machettes) and a gun!
Imagine her shock. She had a serious medical condition and so was already in a weakened state before they arrived. They aimed their gun at the dog, threatening to kill it and she pleaded for its life. Whether she fell on the floor or was pushed, I haven't ascertained, but she was on the floor and couldn't get herself up. The bandits locked her maid into her bedroom. (The maid took advantage of the situation to call our friend's husband, who turned his car around and headed home. Although too late to catch the robbers, he at least helped his wife.)
Now, these men had been making the rounds in that particular neighbourhood where other of my friends happen to live, so we had prayer against this inroad of the enemy!
A while later, the Police chased down the robbers in their car! They even managed to shoot one of the men without killing him and discovered that the team is from South America!
It seems their looting has come to an end, at least in my friends' neighbourhood! We can all breathe a sigh of relief. (I include myself in this, since I stay at the house of friends' in that neighbourhood overnight once per week.) Many of the yards have low walls or walls that are easily penetrable. The guard house has been out of commission for years and it seems the local Police don't even know how to find their way around the area!
Still, we are very grateful to the Seremban Police for a job well-done! THANKS GUYS! You deserve a doughnut. Or, at least a Papa Roti or something...
I guess it just goes to show me that there is a time and a place for weapons, although I hate to admit it.
Wednesday, 11 September 2013
Twisted Taxi!
So... here I am, free and clear of Immigrations with a three-month stamp in my passport. Light as air. Still, I had to look, just to make sure. ...Yep, 90 days from date of arrival. Good to go.
I decided to buy a ticket for the taxi so I could get the budget price and went outside to find one. I was directed to a car across the traffic island and got in. The young driver asked where I was going and I told him. He wanted to make sure how to get there, so he got out to talk to another driver.
"Better safe than sorry," I thought, even though I could tell him the directions once we were in S2. (Seremban 2).
After a quiet ride (which meant he could not speak any English), we arrived in Seremban. But, instead of U-turning into S2, this guy passed into Seremban 1 and, before I could stop him, headed off the road to a TOLL BOOTH!
"What are you doing? Don't go there! Don't! Stop!"
Did he stop? Nope. He went right out to the toll booth and PAID THE TOLL, heading to Port Dixon or who-knows-where-else!!
"Why you sleep?" he accused me.
What? I said, "Ok, you have to turn around. Get off the road as soon as you can and turn around." So, he did. But, this time we entered Seremban from the other side and I completely lost my bearings. I was trying to read the signs to direct him, but before I knew it, he had gone off the road AGAIN.
"Wait. Wait. What are you doing? Where are you going?"
He was driving without listening and apparently wasn't able to read the signs. I said,
"Jusco. You know Jusco?"
"Ah, Jusco. I know Jusco. Why you not tell me Jusco first time?"
I'm thinking, "Phew, he knows where Jusco is. We're home clear." But, he headed off in another direction, again, trying to go to Port Dixon!
I leaned into the front seat and said,
"See that sign? It says Seremban. Seremban is back that way," pointing behind us, "Make a U-turn, now. You know U-turn?"
He looked like he was falling off a cliff. But, he pulled into the right lane, so I was hopeful. Then, he drove off to a road leading off to the left without making a U-turn. That was it for me.
"STOP. STOP THE CAR." I said. And I jumped out.
So, there I was standing at an intersection somewhere in Seremban 3, in the middle of the night. There was little traffic and no taxis seemed to be passing by. I was too fuming and frustrated to care. My friends were waiting for me and I couldn't just sit in that guy's taxi all night. He would have ended up taking me to the coast or God-knows-where, round and round in circles
and I wouldn't have been able to explain to him how to get back.
So, there I stood. Then I started walking. Then a motorcycle pulled up.
He asked if I needed help and whether he could help me and I said he could and instinctively got on the back of his motor bike. (After using motorcycle taxis in Cambodia, it seemed like the natural thing to do.) He seemed a bit surprised and said I had no helmet but that he could take me to S2 anyway. So, he did. Friendly chap.
He let me off at the taxi stand at Jusco and I got the last taxi that was there. He took me to my friends' house, finally. Bless his heart. (I even gave him a tip, which is very uncharacteristic of me.)
My friend in Seremban 2 welcomed me back to Malaysia and then said, "Good-night."
I decided to buy a ticket for the taxi so I could get the budget price and went outside to find one. I was directed to a car across the traffic island and got in. The young driver asked where I was going and I told him. He wanted to make sure how to get there, so he got out to talk to another driver.
"Better safe than sorry," I thought, even though I could tell him the directions once we were in S2. (Seremban 2).
After a quiet ride (which meant he could not speak any English), we arrived in Seremban. But, instead of U-turning into S2, this guy passed into Seremban 1 and, before I could stop him, headed off the road to a TOLL BOOTH!
"What are you doing? Don't go there! Don't! Stop!"
Did he stop? Nope. He went right out to the toll booth and PAID THE TOLL, heading to Port Dixon or who-knows-where-else!!
"Why you sleep?" he accused me.
What? I said, "Ok, you have to turn around. Get off the road as soon as you can and turn around." So, he did. But, this time we entered Seremban from the other side and I completely lost my bearings. I was trying to read the signs to direct him, but before I knew it, he had gone off the road AGAIN.
"Wait. Wait. What are you doing? Where are you going?"
He was driving without listening and apparently wasn't able to read the signs. I said,
"Jusco. You know Jusco?"
"Ah, Jusco. I know Jusco. Why you not tell me Jusco first time?"
I'm thinking, "Phew, he knows where Jusco is. We're home clear." But, he headed off in another direction, again, trying to go to Port Dixon!
I leaned into the front seat and said,
"See that sign? It says Seremban. Seremban is back that way," pointing behind us, "Make a U-turn, now. You know U-turn?"
He looked like he was falling off a cliff. But, he pulled into the right lane, so I was hopeful. Then, he drove off to a road leading off to the left without making a U-turn. That was it for me.
"STOP. STOP THE CAR." I said. And I jumped out.
So, there I was standing at an intersection somewhere in Seremban 3, in the middle of the night. There was little traffic and no taxis seemed to be passing by. I was too fuming and frustrated to care. My friends were waiting for me and I couldn't just sit in that guy's taxi all night. He would have ended up taking me to the coast or God-knows-where, round and round in circles
So, there I stood. Then I started walking. Then a motorcycle pulled up.
He asked if I needed help and whether he could help me and I said he could and instinctively got on the back of his motor bike. (After using motorcycle taxis in Cambodia, it seemed like the natural thing to do.) He seemed a bit surprised and said I had no helmet but that he could take me to S2 anyway. So, he did. Friendly chap.
He let me off at the taxi stand at Jusco and I got the last taxi that was there. He took me to my friends' house, finally. Bless his heart. (I even gave him a tip, which is very uncharacteristic of me.)
My friend in Seremban 2 welcomed me back to Malaysia and then said, "Good-night."
Monday, 9 September 2013
Sunday, 8 September 2013
Singapore's Changi Airport! Wow!
Time for a visa chop! Yay! (Not my favourite time.)
Now, why should a Westerner, such as myself, feel uncomfortable, annoyed or even stressed out over a simple visa trip? Shouldn't we enjoy the change of visiting another country and re-entering Malaysia, being greeted by welcoming and friendly immigrations officers? Shouldn't it be something to look forward to?
After all, countries like Cambodia, Indonesia and Thailand welcome us for as long as we want without question. Pay the visa fee. Welcome! Welcome! Come and stay as long as you like.
I'm not selling guns or drugs. I'm not smuggling. Or kidnapping people. I don't even have the strength to be any kind of a threat.
So, why do they hate me?
Ah, yes another visa trip. We pray the next one will be less painful than the last. This time, I decided to fly to Singapore, rather than do the ride-the-bus-all-day-for-two-days thing. Granted, it is a little more expensive. But, you know, sometimes, that extra comfort is worth a little more. Don't you think so? Less stress...
Just a joke.
First, I had to take a three-hour bus trip into K.L. (Kuala Lumpur) before boarding the airport bus at the terminal. But, when I went to buy the airport bus ticket, the girl behind the glass insisted that I absolutely did not have time to take the airport bus from that terminal because I needed to be at the airport two hours in advance. (Take heed, all you would-be-fliers to Sing.)
She sent me out to hail a taxi to K.L. Central, but as I got in the taxi, we were at a stand-still in a jam. Right about then is when I started to feel like I was going to have a heart attack. Talk about stress. The friendly taxi driver offered to take me directly to the airport.
"But," I lamented, "You're going to charge me 100 ringgit and I can't afford it."
"No!" he said. "I only charge you 75."
"Still too much," I said.
But, the wheels are going around. (At least the wheels in my head, not the ones on the cars!) And I'm thinking, Yeesh, I'm going to be out a lot more than 75 ringgit if I miss that carnsorn plane.
When I realized we were going nowhere fast, I finally accepted his offer. He went on to praise himself for how fast he could get me there. To which I replied (like the seasoned travel veteran I am)
"Hao le."
Well, true to his word, he got me there an hour later and I had an hour and thirty-five minutes to spare. I found my way to "Air Asia" and waited in the snail pace line. When I finally got served, the polite young man said,
"I'm afraid I have to inform you that you have over-stayed your visa by five days."
What?
They ushered me into "the back room". I just love back rooms. Not. And told me to take a seat among a group of other people who were standing.
"Fill the form."
Form Question: Why did you over-stay your visa?
My writing: I counted the days wrong. (Seriously, could there possibly BE another reason?)
I sat there thinking this minor infraction was going to empty my entire bank account and wondering whether I even had enough money to pay the fines for five whole days.
But, the man handed me back my passport after writing something in it in his language and began to speak. He had a vacant look on his face even while looking into my eyes the whole time.
"You have applied for a visa several times in Malaysia and have been refused. You will most likely not be allowed back into Malaysia and if you are refused entry into Singapore, we will only be able to give you a one-week pass."
Of course I tried to argue that I'd been in Cambodia for a whole month, but then I realized, he was just quoting what he was taught and had not the least interest in anything I had to say. I was so surprised that he didn't issue a fine that I went on my way light-heartedly to queue up yet again.
Arriving in Singapore airport, the first thing that hit me in the eye (after using the WC) was a chocolate shop! Wow! Chocolates from all over the world. I dared not go in.
Wandering around, you come across interesting sights like the kinetic waterfall sculpture. It's thousands of copper rain-drops that fall in patterns on perpendicular lines from the ceiling. Very soothing and entertaining.
Then, of course, there's the "Burger King" with its outrageous prices. (For those of us who are used to Malaysian prices, paying three-times the usual price feels like a gouge. Especially when your onion rings are stale.)
Changi has a swimming pool and sauna up on their roof! And you can swim for free. Once you're finished, try the huge high-speed slide. Then take a walk in the cactus garden. Fun.
Legs tired? Get a free mechanical massage in one of their massage chairs. Want to smell pretty? Try on some perfume. I love Channel. Although, I'm not sure which one it was, exactly.
Four hours later, I'm back on the plane and totally exhausted. Having your body transported around seems to wear it out, for some reason.
As we were landing, an idea came to mind. I thought,
"I can walk faster than all these people even if I get off the plane last. So, I'm going to get myself to the front of the line at Immigrations."
(Why haven't I ever thought of this before? I have always lagged behind, milling slowly with the rest of the herd like cows to the slaughter, when I could have just moved a little more quickly.)
So I charged ahead of hundreds of people until I was up at the front, catching up to a lone speeder who apparently had gotten off the same plane. I followed his lead past four "No Entry" doors into "International Arrivals" and into "Immigrations" which was totally and completely void of people! In fact, he was the only one who went all the way to the front and up to the counter. I followed.
When I arrived at the white line, an elderly man said,
"Go."
I looked at him with a little amused grin and said,
"Go, la?" to which he nodded. It was a little funny. The only two people in the entire Immigrations.
I went to the counter, smiling and asked the young attendant,
"How are you?" He also seemed amused and smiled.
Then came the passport perusal. I watched as his eyes scanned the hundreds of stamps and stuck in visa extensions, holding my breath and not breathing one single word. After thirty seconds of suspense, he lifted his friendly hand and stamped a three-month visa into my passport.
And I smiled even bigger.
Now, why should a Westerner, such as myself, feel uncomfortable, annoyed or even stressed out over a simple visa trip? Shouldn't we enjoy the change of visiting another country and re-entering Malaysia, being greeted by welcoming and friendly immigrations officers? Shouldn't it be something to look forward to?
After all, countries like Cambodia, Indonesia and Thailand welcome us for as long as we want without question. Pay the visa fee. Welcome! Welcome! Come and stay as long as you like.
I'm not selling guns or drugs. I'm not smuggling. Or kidnapping people. I don't even have the strength to be any kind of a threat.
So, why do they hate me?
Ah, yes another visa trip. We pray the next one will be less painful than the last. This time, I decided to fly to Singapore, rather than do the ride-the-bus-all-day-for-two-days thing. Granted, it is a little more expensive. But, you know, sometimes, that extra comfort is worth a little more. Don't you think so? Less stress...
Just a joke.
First, I had to take a three-hour bus trip into K.L. (Kuala Lumpur) before boarding the airport bus at the terminal. But, when I went to buy the airport bus ticket, the girl behind the glass insisted that I absolutely did not have time to take the airport bus from that terminal because I needed to be at the airport two hours in advance. (Take heed, all you would-be-fliers to Sing.)
She sent me out to hail a taxi to K.L. Central, but as I got in the taxi, we were at a stand-still in a jam. Right about then is when I started to feel like I was going to have a heart attack. Talk about stress. The friendly taxi driver offered to take me directly to the airport.
"But," I lamented, "You're going to charge me 100 ringgit and I can't afford it."
"No!" he said. "I only charge you 75."
"Still too much," I said.
But, the wheels are going around. (At least the wheels in my head, not the ones on the cars!) And I'm thinking, Yeesh, I'm going to be out a lot more than 75 ringgit if I miss that carnsorn plane.
When I realized we were going nowhere fast, I finally accepted his offer. He went on to praise himself for how fast he could get me there. To which I replied (like the seasoned travel veteran I am)
"Hao le."
Well, true to his word, he got me there an hour later and I had an hour and thirty-five minutes to spare. I found my way to "Air Asia" and waited in the snail pace line. When I finally got served, the polite young man said,
"I'm afraid I have to inform you that you have over-stayed your visa by five days."
What?
They ushered me into "the back room". I just love back rooms. Not. And told me to take a seat among a group of other people who were standing.
"Fill the form."
Form Question: Why did you over-stay your visa?
My writing: I counted the days wrong. (Seriously, could there possibly BE another reason?)
I sat there thinking this minor infraction was going to empty my entire bank account and wondering whether I even had enough money to pay the fines for five whole days.
But, the man handed me back my passport after writing something in it in his language and began to speak. He had a vacant look on his face even while looking into my eyes the whole time.
"You have applied for a visa several times in Malaysia and have been refused. You will most likely not be allowed back into Malaysia and if you are refused entry into Singapore, we will only be able to give you a one-week pass."
Of course I tried to argue that I'd been in Cambodia for a whole month, but then I realized, he was just quoting what he was taught and had not the least interest in anything I had to say. I was so surprised that he didn't issue a fine that I went on my way light-heartedly to queue up yet again.
Arriving in Singapore airport, the first thing that hit me in the eye (after using the WC) was a chocolate shop! Wow! Chocolates from all over the world. I dared not go in.
Wandering around, you come across interesting sights like the kinetic waterfall sculpture. It's thousands of copper rain-drops that fall in patterns on perpendicular lines from the ceiling. Very soothing and entertaining.
Then, of course, there's the "Burger King" with its outrageous prices. (For those of us who are used to Malaysian prices, paying three-times the usual price feels like a gouge. Especially when your onion rings are stale.)
Changi has a swimming pool and sauna up on their roof! And you can swim for free. Once you're finished, try the huge high-speed slide. Then take a walk in the cactus garden. Fun.
Legs tired? Get a free mechanical massage in one of their massage chairs. Want to smell pretty? Try on some perfume. I love Channel. Although, I'm not sure which one it was, exactly.
Four hours later, I'm back on the plane and totally exhausted. Having your body transported around seems to wear it out, for some reason.
As we were landing, an idea came to mind. I thought,
"I can walk faster than all these people even if I get off the plane last. So, I'm going to get myself to the front of the line at Immigrations."
(Why haven't I ever thought of this before? I have always lagged behind, milling slowly with the rest of the herd like cows to the slaughter, when I could have just moved a little more quickly.)
So I charged ahead of hundreds of people until I was up at the front, catching up to a lone speeder who apparently had gotten off the same plane. I followed his lead past four "No Entry" doors into "International Arrivals" and into "Immigrations" which was totally and completely void of people! In fact, he was the only one who went all the way to the front and up to the counter. I followed.
When I arrived at the white line, an elderly man said,
"Go."
I looked at him with a little amused grin and said,
"Go, la?" to which he nodded. It was a little funny. The only two people in the entire Immigrations.
I went to the counter, smiling and asked the young attendant,
"How are you?" He also seemed amused and smiled.
Then came the passport perusal. I watched as his eyes scanned the hundreds of stamps and stuck in visa extensions, holding my breath and not breathing one single word. After thirty seconds of suspense, he lifted his friendly hand and stamped a three-month visa into my passport.
And I smiled even bigger.
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