Cool Travellers... and Where They Can Stick It in My Opinion

Having done a fair amount of travelling I have encountered many fellow travellers. And have noticed one thing: They are just so boring!!! I mean, just look at them. Sitting in cafes and bars with their beers, chatting to other people they've met on the way about all the crazy things they've done. It's like a competition. "You think bungee jumping was a rush? Try bungee jumping naked!" Ok, granted, that conversation I heard a while ago, in New Zealand. But it is like they are all out to get one on the other travellers they meet. And it's always the same: Where have you been, where are you from, where are you going, oh, and if you go there you MUST do this and that. Really? Must I? Interesting. 

One part of this is probably that I am much older than I used to be in my old backpacking days. Although, even then this competition of having done the best thing ever was never my thing. Let them have fun, but really, I don't want to hear you bragging about your willie flying in mid-air, to come back to that one story. Even without the explicit descriptions, it just always comes back to the same old need for a rush. And people don't seem to understand that other people, like me, don't feel the urge to see everything in a day or two. I'd rather miss out on a few things, but enjoy the time I spend with the things I choose to see. One of my favourite things to do is just sit in a cafe and watch the world go by. Most travellers don't seem to have the patience. Or the interest. Interesting to them is just where to buy the cheapest accessories and beer. I mean, these things have their virtues too, don't get me wrong, I love a bargain. But that as the focus of your whole time here? What about just chatting to the cafe owner and getting their story? 

You do encounter some interesting people along the way too though, even some young ones actually have something to tell. But somehow I find that these days I have more to talk to people who are way past the 40-line. Maybe it means I'm getting old. Or maybe it means I'm just bitchy and should order another beer while I sit here in this cafe and write this...

The Curse of the Taxi

 

Well, this is a country where you need a car to get to most destinations. There is public transport, and around KL actually more than might be expected, but for many locations the only way to get there is by car. And if you don't have a car, taxi. It's just, well, I really don't like taxis! Never have. And I suspect, never will. I don't really know why, but this whole situation of getting a taxi and having the person drive you somewhere just doesn't sit right with me. Which is strange, cause I love riding cars with friends. 

If it was just here the explanation might be that most taxi drivers here are evil. I mean, not in the devil is gonna come and get you kind of evil, more in the usual I'm gonna pick your pocket but you will watch it all kind of way. Supposedly they are meant to use meters here. Well, a few do, most don't. And the price, especially when you are so obviously a foreigner, are at about 2-3 times the usual fare, if you are lucky. Well, compared to London that is still insanely cheap, so more often than not I just accept it. Grudgingly though... But if I have the chance to avoid taxis, I will go for it, even if it means waiting for a bus for an hour. I wonder why that is? I suppose I don't want to go through this confrontation of haggling over the price. Or location even, I've had taxi drivers here refuse to go where I wanted because it was out of their way. 

They are an interesting lot, these drivers. Around my LRT station for example they usually stand around chatting to each other, and are apparently not interested in finding a fare, which is after all what they live on. The whole body language, raised shoulders, set jaws, tells you that they are busy, and that you better not disturb them. But even if you approach them sitting in their cars waiting, you still get that kind of feeling from them, all delivered with a certain kind of arrogance. After all, they are the ones in power, standing between you and your destination. And you are the one standing between them and your money. 

But I grant you, not all are like that. Initially yes, but some turn friendly after you have agreed on the terms of the ride. Some chat with you about this and that, others see an opportunity for some private jobs and give you their card. And some take you for a ride, stopping for gas, taking the longer route, especially if you did get them to use the meter. Ah well.

So, that's for taxi drivers here. But I also don't like taxis back in Europe, even in places where they always use the meter. One part is that they are expensive, the bus costs just a tiny fraction of a taxi ride. But really, for me the situation of having this strange person chauffeur you around is just weird. Although, how is that different on a bus? 

When it comes down to it, I really can't figure out what it is about taxi drivers that I don't like. It is something about the whole situation that makes me feel uncomfortable. Over here it's easier to pin it on the driver so obviously taking advantage of you, being a stranger to the place and therefore depending on their demands, and their knowledge of the area, be it the long way or the direct way to your destination. Maybe I just mistrust any taxi driver, anywhere in the world. After all, to me they are on the same shelf as lawyers and sales assistants, telling you what you want to hear, taking your money for it (and then some), but essentially doing what they want. If they can get away with it. Evil lot...

In Praise of Tiger Balm

And here I was thinking you would only catch cold in cold countries... But for the last few days it has been creeping up on me, the blocked nose, the cough, the exhaustion. I had thought of travelling up to Penang today, but not having had much sleep, and feeling like my brain is packed in cotton wool, I decided to postpone it. Instead I went out and got some tiger balm. It's such a wonderful thing, tiger balm. It's pretty much the same as vick vaporub, which I grew up with. You smear it on your chest and throat, and the menthol evaporates, covering you in a cloud of vapour. And it gets really... well, what is it, hot or cold? Intense in any case. It feels like it's seeping right through your tissue into your throat. Strange, as such this kind of feeling should be disturbing, right? Something eating through your skin... but this is the opposite. It feels soothing. Maybe that's just conditioning, whenever I had a cold as a child my mum would bring out the vaporub jar, and I trusted her. Maybe the mere memory is soothing already.

Be that as is may, I'll just sit here, with my tiger balm and box of tissues, nip out to get some food and lots of fruit juice a bit later, and else just try and sleep it off... enveloped in menthol vapours. Tomorrow is another day.

Another Day in Petaling Jaya

So, this is blogging. I've never actually done anything that had the name "blog" attached to it. Mmh, but it doesn't seem to be too different from facebook and other versions of social media like that. A way to communicate with the world out there. And write down your thoughts... whether people read them or not. Without jumping right into a philosophical discussion, I just wonder, who else notices that this is a fairly weird development of society, where many people prefer to communicate via technology, but in the process almost seem to lose the skill of talking to a real-life person? But I shouldn't complain. Most of my communications these days are via electronic media. The world has become much smaller since then, don't you think? 

As for me, I am sitting in the office where I live at the moment. My friend lets me stay here, as it's fairly accessible with public transport. This is all an experiment. With an outcome I had not really foreseen. See, last summer I was in London, with a job, granted, a job I had started to hate more and more, but which had many interesting aspects too. But the hate for the job had spread to all aspects of my life in London. So I quit. And went to Japan first, for 2 months, and then to Kuala Lumpur. The idea was to start a branch in my friends business dealing with quality assurance. But a few misunderstandings later I realised I was not prepared to fight the fight by myself, as it had turned out that I was on my own for the most part. Be that as it may, the surprising bit was that I actually miss London. I mean, I knew I liked it, but I thought I needed a couple of years apart from the big dirty old town. And there I was, half a year later, thinking if returning wasn't such a bad idea. 

 Now, the idea of setting up the business here is on the backburner. I might fire it up once more at some point, but to deal with it all by myself is not in the cards just yet. So I was gonna spend the 2 months here with some travelling. And writing. And figuring out what I want to do. As for the latter, the Malaysian experiment has come to an end for now, and in April I have a ticket out to Osaka again, back to my old home. 

Now, the question is, do I go for a visit for a month or so, and then get back to London in summer? Before or after the Olympics? I mean, the Olympics in London will be a wonderful study in chaos. And I'm not talking about the games. Have you ever had to rely on London Transport? Even with the normal millions of people living there the system can barely cope. You learn quickly that there is such a thing as London Transport time. When the display promises a bus in 2 minutes that means sometime in the nearer future you may be lucky and a bus might stop. Or it might not. 5 minutes can mean anything up to half an hour. 15 minutes, and you might just as well start walking... And just because the front of the bus or tube says it goes to a certain destination doesn't mean it actually reaches it. They might just leave you stranded at some spot along the way, for you to try your luck getting into the next one, which of course is already full with people. A trained Londoner will be an expert in alternative options. You hear the announcement, and everyone's heads will drop, a few seconds of calculations and re-routing to one's destination, and off they go. Now, imagine this is how it works in normal daily life. And now add a few more million Olympics visitors to the equation... I so want to see the spectacle!

Or do I? I also feel like I need another stint in Japan. I used to live there for about 2 years, and that was not enough. I really want to go back for a while, get the fascination with the place out of my system, and get this damned language down! No chance of this happening anywhere else. If you don't use Japanese everyday, you forget. Someone called it a zero-language once, meaning you fall back to zero when you leave it for too long. I'm not quite at zero, but my level 2 is a thing of the past. Plus, I miss my friends there. But, being in Japan for longer you need a job, and that means teaching, as other jobs are difficult to come by. Been there, done that, and I know that I will not be able to stand that for longer than another year at most. Will a year be enough to get the Asia out of my system? See, I've been wanting to live in Asia for most of my conscious memory, not forever and ever, but for a while. It didn't come with specifics as to how long a while would be. But I have gotten the rest of Asia out of the system it appears, at least when it comes to creating a life for myself here in Malaysia. I really love it, but I think to come here on holidays will be sufficient. But Japan... I'm not done with that. So, will I go to stay for a while, or will I go back to London? Decisions, decisions...