On Sunday 28 December 2003, after lunch, we left for Kuantan, going on the by-pass that takes you past Kuantan airport. We then went onto the southwest running road across country to Segamat, where we spent the night. The road, just under 200 km, is wide, fairly straight, and fast. There are literally tens of thousands of oil palm trees on the way, covering the undulating Pahang and Johor landscape. On the way, we stopped at an ostrich ranch, and the children had a tour, saw the birds close up, and stood on the eggs and so on. I had seen this before, in the Karoo in South Africa, plus of course the animals in the wild in Kenya. The outskirts of Segamat are typical of many small towns here; cement products, machinery for hire, timber cutting, pipe making etc. Then, a few km after the junction, we came to the town. The first thing we noticed, and was expressed by Harri, was that the people here like cars. There were showroom after showroom, plus the usual traffic. The time was now about sunset. We drove around looking for a hotel found one, a tall building but on getting there, found it to be abandoned. In our trip of 4 towns, we found 2 others in the same condition. We found a place on the main road, a dual carriageway running through the town. It was not an attractive place, although I pointed out to the children, whilst binti was fuming about the traffic, road and life in general, an old colonial house on a quiet road. Apart from that, and some other wooden buildings we passed the next morning, there was not much of interest. The inn has a magnificent view of the next-door Shell establishment, although it did have the dubious advantage of being able to see hundreds of sparrows or swallows resting for the night on the roof, and there was a car park at the back. Free That makes Ai Hwa unfailingly happy. Across the road was a small Chinese restaurant where we had a nice dinner of two types of oyster, steamed fish and some vegetable, plus a welcome change of drink in Heineken beer, in a bottle too. The table was put out in the road, and we watched more birds lined up on the telephone wire, occasionally rising up in mini flocks, orange speckled in the light of the street lamps. Rhiannon thought it looked as if it were snowing. Back in our less than attractive room, we watched an old Malay film, interesting to me, boring to them, so they got the in house film, only to find they had ordered the wrong one. When it came, sleep was most welcome.
Monday 29 December 2003
I was up early for a breakfast of water and biscuits, the family had the same later. Ai Hwa’s idea of a holiday, like most in Dungun, is to sleep. Mine is to go and see places, and do things. On this matter, we have a fundamental disagreement. We left Segamat, and went on our way to Gemas, where I took them, as a surprise, to the 1922 British-built railway junction, where the east and west coast lines split. This had all the interest, for Ai Hwa, as a bag of rubbish. We had breakfast there, roti cani, the oily flat pancake with a spicy dip, and nasi lemak, a Malay favourite, rice with a quarter boiled egg, anchovies in a piquant sauce, peanuts and cucumber, plus a chocolate drink, and tea. I showed the children the sleepers, the narrow gauge track, and we were fortunate that a freight train came in, with 20 odd containers of sugar, each around many thousands of kilograms. I got them to look at the weights on the bogies of the carriages. They had their photograph taken, and then Harri illegally entered the VIP lounge to try the sofa and chairs.
After that, we went on towards Tampin. But before that, we had passed many rubber plantations, so I told them about how it was collected etc, and when we found an area we could pull off the road, I took the children across to see, smell, and touch the dripping latex. After a few minutes, it became sticky on our fingers, dried up, and then we rolled it into a tiny ball and flicked it off. Rhiannon picked a nut from one of the trees, and it is now in the house. She wants to watch it to see what happens. We did a rough count, and in the small area where we were, there were in the region of a thousand trees. There must be millions, or tens of millions of both rubber and oil palm in the country.
Just before Tampin, we turned southwest towards Malacca, hoping to go to the A Famosa water world, but could not find the place, a glorified swimming pool theme park I think. Then we went on through the countryside, past a large lake with lotus, by the airport, home to the Malaysian Flying Academy and one of the few airports that fly only to one destination, namely Pekan Bahru in Indonesia. The traffic was thick. We went past a church built in 1710, and then through the old part of town, where we found a car park, and then started to explore. First was the Royal Malaysian Navy museum, just down the road. It was closed but there were exhibits outside, a torpedo, depth charges, guns that the children enjoyed playing with, and a patrol boat that one accessed by a series of steps. Here was a coincidence. The boat was the Sri Trengganu, using, you might note, the old name. It was built in Portsmouth, and across the road on the side of one building, I read the Cambridge Language Centre; three of my places meeting here.
Then we went on a reconstructed Portuguese galleon, another museum, just across the way. After that, the Stadhuys, the residence and/or offices of the Dutch Governor, Christ Church 1753, the clock tower, and the fountain by the Victoria memorial, inscribed in Latin. Rhiannon read it. They had a bottle of water and some ice cream as the water sprayed. Then they took a trip in a trishaw that was brightly coloured; the Raleigh bicycle and locally built side craft. They have an umbrella, and they are allowed to decorate as they wish. There were plenty of tourists from many places. We went up the very steep St Paul’s Hill to the church and statue of St Francis Xavier. After that, we wandered around the Nonya part of town, some of the houses well restored, with fine windows, doors, and walls; it was very pretty in places. We managed to find a businessman’s hotel, convenient because of being able to take the car off the street and into the car park, clean, comfortable, a change from the previous night, and quite cheap. We ate a very late lunch; tuna sandwiches for Rhiannon, kampung nasi goreng for Harri and me, and Penang char kway teow, the thick noodles for Ai Hwa, but we tried each other’s too. A shower later, we took the car back into the main part of the city, past the bus terminal, but this was by accident, not on our plan. We saw Bukit Cina, the largest Chinese cemetery outside of China itself, the Buddhist temple built by a Chinese Kapitan in the 1700’s, making it the oldest temple in Malaysia. There were a couple of old mosques, the Kampung Ulu mosque near the Nonya area, and the unique building style of the Tranquerah mosque towards the northern outskirts of the town.
It was here we came across yet another abandoned hotel, of some 8 storeys. We took dinner in the deserted Portuguese Square, nothing of the vibrancy you might recall in 1989, no dancing, few people, run down, and some little bastards setting off noisy firecrackers in a drain fifty metres away. It meant a disappointing end to a good day, and then back to the hotel.
Tuesday 30 December 2003
I was up early for a good breakfast just after 7am, free, included in the price. The others were sleeping. When they had woken up and had the second free breakfast, we took the car back to the old town centre, where the children had another go on the playground, then to the tiny A Formosa, and next to it, the building where the Declaration of Independence was read out. We met again the trishaw man; he told me I had ‘two bright children’. I thanked him, and said he had a nice trishaw. The children gave him a ringgit each, for a cup of tea, and took his photograph. He was a very nice fellow. They can get 100 a day, or in the holiday season, 150. Work it out for 25 days a month. That is more than most teachers here get, and tax-free, according to the Brains Trust. Then, we went on our way past Alor Gajah, and the road to Tampin. We stopped at a mineral spa, for Harri’s skin. They play here for an hour or so under the hot sun and it seemed to do his skin, already much improved as he gets older, some good, for there was little scratching in the car the rest of the day. Just after Tampin, we turned north towards Pahang, going across miles of oil palm and rubber, small wooden shop-house villages, mostly Chinese, when in middle of nowhere, the Negeri Sembilan Cement Company rose up, a huge place. Further on, we ate lunch in a one-horse town, Bukit Kikir, little more than a dual carriageway through two rows of shop-houses. They went into a Chinese coffee shop; I ate mine in the car, watching the chef smoking and scratching his hair whilst cooking. Fortunately, it was after he had cooked ours. Then, part of the road going through more oil palm and rubber estates, part winding through more unspoilt jungle as we approached the Titiwangsa mountain range that runs along the western side of the peninsula, with limestone outcrops of jungle, quite spectacular in places, and attractive in most. We came through the small town of Karak, then along the highway a short way to Bentong, where we stayed in the same hotel as some years ago. A small, clean but slightly run down place, but a good-sized room.
Bentong is surrounded by mountains, tree covered, with early morning mist everywhere, cool and refreshing. We went around by car, and I pointed out one of the few street names that are still in English, on the end of one of the shop houses. Many of the buildings date from the 1930’s, I imagine, some have the date on them. Whilst checking the price of another more modern hotel, they noticed a restaurant in the same building. We went there for dinner. It was a proper eating-place, with glass in the windows, tablecloth, matching crockery and so on. The waitresses wore a Cheongsam top, with a short skirt, but the effect was neutralized as many had on shoes that would have graced a Bulgarian female factory supervisor in the days of rationing. At first we waited outside, considering the cost; I suggested we go in and look at the menu. Ai Hwa said this we could not do. It would give people the impression that we had no money and were Ulu. Hulu, in the modern Malay spelling, means interior or jungle in other words. If someone is ulu, they are a bit primitive, backward, not used to town/city life. I answered in that case, that they were right on both counts. However, in we went, and had a very nice and inexpensive meal; Harri and I had ostrich in pepper sauce, Rhiannon the lemon chicken, and then Harri also had a spicy tau fu, plus the usual vegetables, chrysanthemum tea, and a bottle of Tiger, that needed a class of ice to chill it a bit more.
Then it was off to bed. I have forgotten if it were here, or in the place in Segamat, that I went to sleep fairly early and woke up about 2am, and lay in bed for a few hours before a short sleep prior to getting up.
I could not help thinking that being with the family in some grubby bedroom here was a big improvement on getting married to some girl from the north of England and spending my life in Rotherham. In addition, I would not have seen millions of rubber and oil palm trees either; that made me feel good.
Wednesday 31 December 2003
I was up early for a good breakfast, but first I had to go out and buy it. I stole twenty ringgit from the boss’s handbag, and then went next door to a Chinese coffee shop for some pau, the bread buns filled with meat or vegetables, and some sticky rice, both steamed. It is not my choice for 7am food. I bought a bowl of noodles for Ai Hwa, the latter costing 2 50, and I had only 2 40 in small change. No matter, the man accepted 10 sen short. I told him I would be back later. I was true to my word, and when Harri gave him the money a couple of hours later, there was a big wave to me as I was getting into the car. Harri remarked on my honesty.
After getting the things from the Chinese place, I wandered round to find a Malay coffee shop, and for one ringgit got a packet of nasi lemak. I got back to the hotel, still quite dark, and had my breakfast with some biscuits on the edge of the single bed. I woke the others up, only to be told it was a holiday, and she wanted to sleep. Then, much later, we went off northwards to the small town of Raub, pretty little place; this part of our safari was new to me.
Raub had a nice town hall, and some old wooden colonial buildings. The road after the town however, was being upgraded, and for short sections of a few hundred metres we had to go off the tarmac. Ai Hwa commented that her sister, whose car we borrowed, would not be too happy if she knew the shaking it was getting. I kept quiet. It was slow going in places, but interesting in that the children were able to see in some detail engineering work going on, with excavators, lorries, graders, new water pipes waiting to be laid, the hardcore packed down under the roller etc. The next town was Benta, and here we turned east to Jerantut. The way north takes you to Kuala Lipis and the national park. Now, the narrow road wound rather in the same way as to Bukit Fraser, with tiny hamlets, and jungle, climbing in places. It was very nice too, even better as I was not at the wheel, but with the children, relaxing in the back. Jerantut was nothing to write home about, the main feature of interest was Ai Hwa’s bad-tempered excitement in trying to find a choo. Harri pointed out the Tandas Awam, public toilets, but that was not clean enough apparently, from inside the car 20 metres away. Petronas petrol found the solution. I suggested Kentucky Fried Chicken for lunch. No, the oil was too dirty etc. We went on eastwards, then turned south to Maran, on the main Kuantan to Kuala Lumpur road, a place we have passed through on innumerable occasions before. The road again was passing through rubber and oil palm estates, with the same kind of small shop-house fronted kampung. Maran is only 70 odd km from Kuantan, and 30 of those are dual carriageway, so it was quite a relief to get there. Whilst I found the journey interesting, it is not the kind one would want to do again, I don’t think.
We had lunch in a Malay coffee shop, the children getting half a boiled egg, some curry fish, fried chicken, with vegetable, and for me, some yellow sauce. Most Malay eating places offer a moderate range of food, usually fried chicken, boiled eggs, curry chicken and fish, one or two vegetables, and some a spicy curry of beef or chicken. In a Malay restaurant, there is not the breadth one gets in a Chinese place. However, their cuisine is known for its fine taste, and to keep in harmony with the place, we ate Malay style, with our fingers, without making a mess. Then, it was an hour or so to Kuantan, where we found a nice hotel overlooking the sungei Kuantan; it seemed to be a smart business class place of some nine storeys. The main disadvantage was that, being New Year’s evening, there was a function in the café area, open air, downstairs, and our room was overlooking this. No matter I said, the noise won’t reach here, it won’t be too bad. Ah, foolish words I went out, after a shower, for a walk around the old town, and then to a small Chinese eating place just up the road, in fact the next building, for a beer; they wanted to watch the end of some soap opera in Chinese.
My main memory of that walk-about was of a middle-aged Chinese woman, working away at making one of the screens that hang outside buildings here to keep out the sun. She was putting together the pieces, working on a long bench, in what was more of a small workshop that a shop per se. Maybe she was the boss, I do not know, but she didn’t seem to be. I thought it quite sad that someone had to work like that on the 31st at the end of the year, at 7 30 pm.
They met me later, and I suggested eating in the same place, as it served bak kut teh, pork on the bone in a sauce, served with a type of Chinese bread and rice. I had heard about it many times, but had not tried it before. It was quite tasty, but not something I would want frequently. Then we went back to the room. The noise/concert/show ended about 1am, so I was told. I had fallen asleep.
Thursday 1 January 2004
The next morning, I was up early for a good breakfast in the restaurant, almost alone. The restaurant is overlooking the water, and with almost no one about except the staff, it was a relaxing breakfast. Across the water is a line of trees, like a mini-jungle. The small wooden fishing boast went past from time to time, their approach marketed by the throbbing of the engine. These hotels serve much the same: fruit, cereal, bread, and a selection of cooked food, both local and western. It is more often than not, laid out in a buffet, as it was this morning. I had some scrambled eggs, and a selection of some Malay offerings, too. I was not sure how to mix them correctly, so I tried all of them. I had juice and tea or coffee too. The others came down later, and then I went with the children for a brief fifteen-minute walk around a fairly quiet town centre. I wanted to show them the Indian cloth merchants, the dates on some of the old shop houses etc; Harri noticed the three shops, joined together, in the same style that I had noticed the night before, built in 1939, 1940 and 1941. They went off to the cinema, and I waited in the room, doing some exercises, reading the telephone directory, and looking at the fishing boats going by. The film finished after 2pm, so about 1 30 had a shower, and went down to the lobby to wait for them, one backpack on my back, one on my front. I felt like a policeman with his flack jacket on. The sliding door was not working, and there was a very strong breeze coming off the sea, so the air was cool and fresh. The noise would have graced your garage on a bad January night. I waited, practiced my Malay with two of the staff, and 2 15 came and went. Finally, at three, they came back, Ai Hwa popped in to settle the account, and in the car I asked the children if they had enjoyed the film. Oh, they did not go, as the queue was too long. I wanted to know what they did for 4 hours. They told me that they went shopping, and had lunch. Good, what did you have? They mentioned noodles, steamed fish, spring rolls, duck etc. This was not coffee shop fare. Where did you go? We went to a nice place, with a tablecloth, just here. They pointed it out, on the ground floor of some smart hotel. Who paid? Ai Hwa’s brother. I was pleased they ate somewhere decent. I, in the meantime, in the hotel room had had a few Marie biscuits, and water. Then we went off to another supermarket to get some supplies for the house, and back to Dungun, stopping in Kijal, just before the Awana hotel, to buy nasi lemang, sticky rice smoked in bamboo. We had this for dinner back home. That was our four-day expedition around the country, and very enjoyable and educational it was too.
