Travelogue Seven: Gravitational Pull
July 10th, 2003
*from the desk of Andrew*
On the fifth day at the massive Suria KLCC shopping complex in Kuala Lumpur, we finally recognized how appropriate the mall’s logo -- a spiral plummeting towards an endless singularity - really was. We were caught in the gravitational pull of the mall, spiraling towards meaningless consumption.
We weren’t the only ones. The complex, located at the base of the stunning pair of stainless steel towers that are the gems of the Petronas national oil company, is a major draw with the locals as well; it seethes with life at any hour on any day of the week.
And it wasn’t like there were a lot of other things to see in KL. We’d tried going to the National Library, only to find that it was located beside a major freeway, and the convenient LRT system that links all the major shopping areas went nowhere near. We tried to walk there one afternoon, only to nearly suffer heatstroke in the first kilometer of marching beside the highway. We had to seek shelter quickly, before our brains baked, which was (of course) KLCC. It dominates the city center, and sucks in more unsuspecting victims than a bug zapper on a Saskatchewan summer night.
One of our few successful non-KLCC journeys was to the Australian Consulate, a fortress only a few hundred feet from Petronas. We were welcomed at the door with a polite g’day, and led through security. The Australians take security seriously, but haven’t quite got the hang of it. We had to strip off all metal items and assorted travel bags and pass through metal detector. The bags, which we passed to the guards, were not opened, scanned, or otherwise examined in any way, but simply passed back to us on the other side of the detector. Note to self: don’t fly Quantas. Inside, we found a massive educational library, the cleanest washrooms in Malaysia, and not a single person that was interested in where we wandered. We even managed to secure a couple of desktop computers for a bit of free high-speed web surfing - a new record in our never-ending quest for cheap internet access!
By Saturday night, KL was exerting yet another strong gravitational pull on us: Dancing. We desperately needed a night on the town. Although we tried on a couple of nights to find a place to dance in Thailand, we either couldn’t get into the vibe of the club, or we were just too tired. (Long afternoons on the beach are a lot more tiring that you’d expect.) We checked the nightclub listings and, dressed up in our finest (outdoor gear, that is), with Steph adding glitter and kitty cat ears for good measure. Our first stop was a popular hangout (according to the guide) called the Backdoor. It was a difficult spot to find, first because it was down a back alley, and second because there were no lights on. A true underground club, I figured, but no - it was closed for renovations. Ever organized, Steph produced a list of backup nightspots, and we started working our way down the list. We tried a place called The Warp, but the music was harder than admission to Princeton and the crowd outside was very scary looking; we backed away slowly, careful not to make eye contact. Finally, we went to a place called Nouvo, which had a very large crowd in front of it. I was sure that we’d have to wait for an hour before we got in, but was pleasantly surprised to be whisked right past the bouncers. The crowd out front was just locals talking on their cell phones.
Nouvo was just what we needed: a small, intimate club with really good house music. We found some tables marked "reserved and immediately took them over, pleased that we got such great seats. We helped ourselves to our "complimentary first drinks - included in our $10 cover charge. It may not seem like an excessive entrance fee, but $10 over here can get you across the country by bus or train, or provide a feast for a family of six. About 10 minutes later, though, a large crowd claimed possession of the coveted tables, but kindly let us keep our seats. They were regulars at the club, given special privileges since they bought drinks by the bottle - an expensive thing to do in any club. Soon, they had adopted "The Canadians", bought Steph a lot of drinks, and introduced us to the club’s entertainment director - a raucous bald man named Bernie. It was a perfect night -- Steph was even dancing on top of the speakers at one point. We closed the place down, meandered home in a brightening sky, and crashed hard until 3 pm the next day.
Then we were off to Borneo.
It sounds so exotic. Borneo. One can almost imagine thick, humid jungles, tribesmen with blowguns, English in pith helmets, eerie birdcalls echoing in the hills, the crash of monkeys as they climb through the tree canopies. We couldn’t wait to get there! We flew on Malaysia’s discount airline - AirAsia. Their 737s are painted red and white, like a bucket of KFC chicken with wings. And the 90-minute flight cost, yes, about the price of a large bucket of chicken at KFC. Coincidence? I’m not sure how these guys manage to keep planes in the air, but I wasn’t going to risk purchasing a return ticket in advance. We flew to Kuching, the cat city, in the state of Sarawak -- the major gateway for travelers to the region.
There’s a shortage of discount accommodation in Kuching. The waterfront has been artfully sculpted into a wonderful pedestrian mall, but this has attracted large hotel chains (and most of the city’s homeless, who at least aren’t starving, since they can fish). Most backpackers end up at a place with the uninspired name of the B&B Inn, which enforces both high security (the wrought iron front gate resembles a David Copperfield escape illusion) and chastity (all the beds are singles, bolted to the floor). With no amenities to keep us in the room - no TV, no phone, no bathroom, no sheets, no towels, no mirror, no electrical outlet (but, mercifully, no bugs), we were actually motivated to explore a lot of the town.
The main attraction within the city limits is the Ethnological museum. The displays would have been modern - in 1950. Everything that could be trapped, shot, impaled, or drowned in formaldehyde was collected from the jungles, stuffed, and meticulously contorted into amazingly unrealistic poses. These carcasses were then left to slowly decay in wooden cabinets. It was difficult to make sense of the displays, since most were unlabelled. Indeed, it was even difficult to breathe in the museum, due to the toxic outgassing from the displays combined with thick, black fungal growth. I was forced to seek shelter in the only modern area of the museum - the Shell Petroleum display: a 30-part overview of the "technology and organizational complexity required to systematically rape the natural environment. Of course I found it fascinating.
Then it was off to the real jungle: Bako National Park. It’s a large preserve north of Kuching, and one of Borneo’s best. We caught a minibus to the Bako pier, and shared a very loaded boat with a crew of electrical workers hauling supplies to their camp. Bako gets about 15,000 visitors a year. They come to see the famous proboscis monkeys - perhaps the most unfortunate breed of primates to still be up in the trees - and also the beautiful and deadly (to bugs) pitcher plants.
We settled in our hostel room, which also featured segregated single beds, and decided on a short trail hike (since it had already been a long day). We were only a kilometer from the main camp when we heard the first telltale crashing sounds from the deep within the trees. We scanned canopy, and in the distance, found our first long-nosed specimen moving above our heads. He must not have been paying much attention to where he was going, though, since suddenly there was a tremendous screech, and the sound of something big falling through branches. Not only are these monkeys ugly, they appear to be klutzes as well. I swear even the other monkeys were laughing at this dude.
Bako is beautiful, as is truly as exotic as Sarawak’s tourism board promised. Each day, we managed to make it to some beautiful, and very private, beaches and to have many more monkey encounters. The place is swarming with gargantuan-honkered beasties. And, yes, pitcher plants too. We even saw a pit viper, lazing about in a tree, bloated around the middle digesting a recently eaten bird. At night, we passed the time doing the only other activity offered by the park: killing mosquitoes while drinking overpriced beers at the canteen. And to take our mind off how our 24% DEET solution must be pickling our livers, we played Scrabble.
Friends Aubrey and Lara introduced Scrabble into our lives when they visited us on Koh Phangan. They unleashed a monster. It’s a fun time-killer, except that Steph and I have found ourselves becoming increasingly competitive. We’re now hunting for a Scrabble dictionary, are studying acceptable two and three-letter word combinations, and are even stooping to trolling authorized web sites for strategy tips. I’m not sure where this is going to end, but at least now I understand why Malaysia’s National Parks explicitly forbid gambling. It’s listed right on the permit.
We could have stayed at Bako forever - except that it has no laundry facilities (just try to keep your clothes clean in a jungle!) and we were running out of uninflamed skin for the mozzies to bite. So it was back to Kuching to figure out where to go next, and to see the city’s pride and joy: The Cat Museum. Dragging Steph to this was like giving a cat a bath, but I felt that it was too important to overlook. I dragged her onto one of the decrepit city buses (there are 3 companies in a fierce battle for business, apparently to the death) and ventured North to a building that only a Raelian could love: it looks like a massive UFO. A building this ugly could only be, you guessed it, a city hall (and part cat museum).
The displays were, uh, well, young. Most of the collection (a generous term) was purchased in 1996 and on, and was largely comprised of stuffed Garfield pillows, Hello Kitty key chains, and some faded movie posters (eg. Cat On A Hot Tin Roof). We were also horrified that the artistic directors from the Ethnological museum had been allowed to work their magic on what must have been some local strays. There was a large section sponsored by Purina Cat Chow that was becoming smaller due to ants, and another by a flea powder company (which appears to be toxic to ants as well). The best thing I can say about the place is that it was free, and we didn’t have to wait too long to catch a bus back to town.
Steph’s pick of entertainment was much better: she opted for a visit to the Semenggoh Orangutan rehabilitation center. This facility, located an hour away from Kuching, attempts to reintroduce Orangutans into the wild. It took years of poaching and mutilating for Malaysians to realize that these beautiful creatures are more valuable economically as a draw for tourists. Now many parks, including Bako, are considering primate rehab as part of their repertoire - and the end result is amazing. We waited in the steamy morning jungle as a staff member hooted and hollered and dumped a large pile of bananas onto a nearby platform. Minutes later, from all around us, the trees started swaying as the beasts approached.
An Orangutan (Man of the Forest), unlike the pathetic Proboscis monkey, is impressive at first sight. With powerful arms and legs, it easily climbs high into the tree canopy, then rocks until the tree sways close enough to a neighboring tree to grab a branch. Then it pulls hard, until it can clamber over to a limb large enough to support its weight. When several Orangutans approach, the forest becomes a noisy dance of leaves and branches. Then, with a suspicious, easy grace, bananas are plucked from a pile, stuffed in mouths or grasped in hand or foot, and an exit is made. It’s breathtaking, even if you don’t like animals.
Later, back at the main rehab center, we were able to get up close and personal with several of the creatures that decided to follow the handlers back in the hope of more food. Steph snapped many photos, only to discover that the camera had jammed. She nearly cried. We made another trip to Semenggoh the next day, with a fresh roll of film, and got another wonderful feeding display, but no follow-up encounter. It’s an experience that will just have to live in our memories (although I expect we’ll be visiting another rehab center sometime down the road).
And now? We’ve decided against going to Indonesia and Bali, mainly because it became too expensive to fly out from there to Australia. We’ve returned to KL, and booked flights to Oz for September, for half the price. So now we’re heading back to Koh Phangan for more sun and beaches. Malaysia’s been great, but I want to sit in one place for a while and get back to writing, and Steph is going to work her magic and help host the first ever Coconut Man burn (or something else "same same but different"). It’s sure to be a couple of interesting months!
