Penang

Things in Koh Tao had got a little quiet so I decided to head to Penang for a few days R & R as well as to get my visa stamped for another sixty days.  After some consideration, I decided to fly with Firefly, rather than to take the traditional backpacker's route via train from Chumphon.  For a little more money I can have a seven hour trip rather than twenty seven.

On first impressions the island appears to be very well developed with an advanced infrastructure and a degree of order not always present in may other Asian centres of population.  The capital, Georgetown, has a distinct colonial appeal.  It has been successful in retaining some of this charm in the face of the modernisation that is evident in other areas.  While statistics say that the population is 46% ethnic Chinese on the island,  certainly in Georgetown, this diaspora would seem a lot more prevalent.  There are also some ethnic Indians mostly centred around the Little India area.

I stayed in the Banana Boutique Hotel which is on Chulia Road.  This is a refurbished historical building with a tall entrance hall containing an indoor pond full of Koi Carp.  The rooms were basic and lacking in light, but at least there was a functional television and air conditioning.  The WiFi was another matter.  As usual, this was not functional.  The receptionist wasn't interested whatsoever in doing anything about it.  She said she would look into it and get back to me, but never bothered. I returned to reception and she fumbled around for a bit, but said it would have to wait until tomorrow.  I pointed out that the main computer at reception appeared to be connected to the Internet, but she told me this was on a different line.  Great..  So when she wasn't looking I went into it and found out the password, and therefore had uninterrupted Internet for the duration of my stay.   This did cause some consternation among the other guests who approached me when I was in the bar and asked how I managed to get Internet, and they couldn't.  

The next day I went for a walk in the Clan Jetties.  This settlement was initially set up in the 1800's for migrant workers in the docks.  It comprises a number of dwellings built over the water on stilts.  You can imagine that at one time this was a slum area, but it is far from that now.  Each home seems to have some sort of business attached.  The walkways as well as the building are all solidly constructed from the best of materials.  The inhabitants are clearly well fed and clothed, which makes their appeal for more money to appear somewhat insincere.

The toilet facilities for members of the public walking around are a lot more basic than those in the homes of the Jetty dwellers.

Afterwards, I visited the Mansion House which is now the Chinese Cultural Museum.  It has an impressive collection of Delphware and furniture etc., but little by the way of explanation or information of the exhibits.

That night I wanted to try out a restaurant called Heaven Gate that had a number of good reviews, so with my head full of ideas of a French feast from the online menu, I set off on the 30 minute walk.  I had previously checked on the Internet as to the closing time which was listed as 11PM, which was ideal as I wanted a later meal.  I arrived at 10PM and asked the waiter if they were still open, to which he replied that they were.  There was only one table occupied and the other waiter behind the bar asked me for how many people I wanted a table for.  When I replied that it was just for myself, the kitchen suddenly became closed.  Needless to say I was not very pleased with this situation, which ended badly with me accusing them or being involved in auto-genital sexual manipulation for self-gratification, and even carrying out the internationally recognised sign language appropriate for this occasion.

Things improved when I found myself at the Chinahouse.  This is an amazing place.  It is about three metres wide and about two hundred long, with a open beer garden in the centre. It is obviously two buildings which were back to back being joined together.  It has a restaurant/cafe and one end and a bar at the front.  There are regular gigs here, and this night there happened to be a very inspiring Chinese rock beat combo in performance.  In fact, they were so good, the next thing I knew it was midnight and I was eating crisps from 7/11 on the way back to the hotel.  They weren't even French, but I was happy that I had a good night's entertainment and as looking forward to tomorrow's adventures.

The next day I paid a visit to Fort Cornwallis.

This is a small fort which was originally founded by Francis Light which began it's life as a palmwood stockade when the island was originally known as Prince of Wales Island.  The stockade was later developed into a fort and then subsequently re-strengthened into a more imposing structure in order to protect from the potential invasion by the French, which never happened.  There aren't too many original buildings left, but the powder magazine remains impressively intact, as do a number of the original canon.  

Afterwards, I went to the Protestant Cemetery.  This was interesting in that it contained the graves of many of the dignitaries whose roles had been documented in the history of Fort Cornwallis, such as Governors, military commanders and members of the Clergy.

That night I made up for the previous night's lack of decent food with a visit to "That Little Wine Bar" on the Burmah Road.  This is a delightful little establishment with a reasonable selection of food, and an extensive cellar of wines.  I opted for the baked Camembert, followed by confit of duck then baked cheesecake, all accompanied by a bottle of 2010 Haut Foret Claret, which was unfortunately comparable to the service - uncomfortably long on the nose, and short in complexity and character.    It is worth noting that if you have a Samsung smart phone, typing in "Camembert" can prompt your predictive text to substitute it for "Camel Birth".  Useful in the Libyan Restaurant "Camels 'R' us" but of no use whatsoever in this particular establishment in Penang.

All in all a very pleasant and relaxing stay.

Koh Tao: De-shelling the Turtle

This a separate article which I wrote recently.  It doesn't really fit in here, but some might find it interesting.

I’m off to Turtle Island, or Koh Tao as it is known in its native tongue.  Situated in the Gulf of Thailand, it is a small, idyllic island, only about 21 kilometres square and about two hours journey on the ferry from Koh Samui. 

As the catamaran steams into Mae Haad, the ramshackle town comes into view.  Catamaran – a rather grand name for the steel hulk of a vessel that has bounced me around for the last two hours.  I was glad I went into the VIP cabin, even though it started in an argument with a Thai passenger who reclined his seat right into my kneecaps.  I pointed out to him that there an entire cabin of empty seats he could have used instead of sitting on top of me.  His considered response was to tell me that I should have stayed at home and not come to Thailand.  Welcome to the land of smiles.

As I walked along the ramshackle pier towards the ramshackle town I was greeted by a chorus of “Taxi! Taxi!” from a throng of taxi drivers.  Some had signs for resorts, others had boards with names on them, but they all had one feature in common – being fat.  Fat taxi drivers make me suspicious.  It means they charge too much.  I selected the thinnest one I could find and we were off to my accommodation in Sairee.  It cost 400 Baht (GBP 8.00) for a journey just over one mile. My hunch was right.

If Mae Haad is a local town with some tourists, then Sairee is a tourist town with some locals.  Definitely aimed at the younger end of the market, for students in a gap year, or having just finished university, but still not wanting to grow up and face the real world, searching for that last little piece of hedonism before committing to a lifetime of conformism.  Who can blame them?  I never had that opportunity when I was that age, but I do now. So here I am, forty-six years of age about to relive my twenties.  I imagine that I will stop short of the drinking alcohol out of buckets, accompanied by series of promiscuous sexual encounters and then crashing my scooter.  In the end I managed to refrain from two out of the three, which according to the 1970’s philosopher, Meatloaf,  “ain’t bad”. 

There is no escaping the fact that scuba diving is the omnipresent recreational activity here.  There are in excess of forty dive shops around the island.  They range from the huge factory type organisations with their impersonal production line that churns out fully certified, but only partly competent divers, to the smaller, more intimate and professional outfits.  Diving courses are about half the price here that they are anywhere else in the world, and there is no doubt that this is the place to be if diving floats your boat.

Sairee offers almost everything the young, non-affluent, randy traveller could need. The beach and “Yellow Brick Road” that runs between here and Mae Haad is lined with bars, clubs, eateries and massage studios.  It has a really vibrant atmosphere at night, with fire performers along the beach trying their best to incinerate tourists, clubs banging out music into the night with revellers dancing in the sea, and even one or two old blokes like me trying to be young again.  If you prefer a more direct approach to your leisure activities, there are a number of girlie bars around, and even a Ladyboy Cabaret if you are in the market for such specialist entertainment that has more cheese than a French cheese shop on national cheese eating day.

Nearby Mae Haad is somewhat more conservative.  Less touristy, less pretentious and definitely more local, it has managed to retain some of its dignity, but there is still evidence of that being eroded with the ubiquitous greed for money that seems to blanket this beautiful tropical island.

Eating out on the island is a lottery.  Do not expect top class restaurants here.  There are a mixture of inexpensive local restaurants, as well as more expensive establishments aimed at the tourist market that sell the same food, but at four or five times the price. Be prepared for abysmal service.  I ordered chicken at one restaurant, waited for an hour then was told that they didn’t have any chicken.  You can guess what my reaction was like as this is now widely known on the island as the infamous “chicken incident”.  Such incidents are common, as is getting orders wrong, but they NEVER make a mistake where money is concerned. The locals are all about money, and how to get it off you with the least amount of effort. 

Many tourists think it is a great idea to rent a bike or scooter.  It isn’t.  It baffles me that the otherwise discerning tourist thinks that they can go to a small, foreign, tropical island with extremely badly maintained roads, often at an impossible gradient, and hire a scooter with no experience of ever having ridden one before, drive it at 2AM with two of their mates on the back after getting completely monged on alcohol and a raft of psychedelic drugs and then wonder what happened when they wake up the next morning with their face in a plastic bag beside their bed.

The bike hire business is a racket.  No matter what, you will be over-charged for damage when you return the bike.  There are one or two genuine rental shops, but if you don’t know, then don’t take the risk.  It is not worth getting into an argument with the locals here.

In fact, I have been disappointed by the general attitude of the local Thais on this island.  The land of smiles it definitely isn’t.  True, I have met and am friendly with a number of lovely Thai people here, but the general populous is aggressive, pushy and rude, often with an undercurrent of implied violence.  This is the one thing that really spoils this island – being treated like crap by the people you are financing by spending your money here.

It often seems to me that the locals have a total lack of respect for everything, apart from themselves.  They can be so selfish and short-sighted.  To a Westerner it is incomprehensible that there appears to be no planning for the future; no investment, nor indeed no respect for the very island that brings the locals so much money.  This island is being raped for its wealth; for the quick Bhat to feed that Asian need for instant gratification.  This is what will destroy Koh Tao eventually.

The recent elections here have been set to the backdrop of a more inclusive administration system, bringing Koh Tao in line with other provinces of Thailand.  There have been promises of new roads, reliable electricity supply and even a hospital.  All this is good news – or is it?  Koh Tao cannot sustain any additional tourism. It has reached its capacity, and perhaps at times even exceeds it.  If a better infrastructure would serve only what already exists, that is one thing, but my concern is that Koh Tao will change into a modern, resort-driven island, thereby killing off those features that make it so attractive today.  In a perverse way I like the fact that they have to turn off the electricity supply every time it rains, that the internet doesn’t always work, or that I have to navigate along a rut-ridden road on my scooter every time I leave my house.  It reminds me that I actually am thousands of miles away from home.

The last year I have spent on the island has been one of the best experiences of my life.  It is easy to make good friends here. The ex-pat community is very social and supportive, the weather is much better than at home in the U.K. and the constant flow of tourists means there are always new and interesting, happy people to meet.  I would definitely recommend a visit here before it changes for the worse.  It is a great island, but a kind word along with a little respect could make it the real paradise that it deserves to be.  Go on Koh Tao! Come out of your shell and give us a smile!

The Taj Mahal

Jennifer had some leave days to use up before the end of the year and, as ever, it's always nice to have a break away, so we thought it would be nice to have a cheap weekend away to see the Taj Mahal.  Well, that was the plan, but it didn't turn out to be so cheap in the end, as you will see.

 

Spice Jet was the obvious choice to fly with from Bangalore to Delhi, and as a budget Indian carrier they were great - easy to pay, efficient and on time.  So we arrived in Delhi.  In India it is best to prepay your taxis with the Police. This you can do in certain places such as airports and main streets.  We prepaid for our taxi from Delhi Airport to our hotel.  It is unbelievable that this journey of twelve miles or more cost only 250 Rupees (GBP3.00) which I doubt would hardly cover the petrol for the return trip.  The taxi, however, was falling apart with no working seat belts, defective breaks and decidedly suspicious steering, as well as a driver who was so tired he drove most of the way with his eyes closed.

 

Our hotel was fine, and we went off to the centre of Delhi to do some shopping.  Delhi is quite different to Bangalore.  It is more cosmopolitan, (we saw at least five white people) with wider roads that are in good repair and a smart financial district with numerous foreign embassies.  The main shopping part is in the centre of town in Connaught Place;  a series of old Victorian buildings set in concentric circles around a central park, numbered in respective blocks.

 

I knew what Jennifer was after.  A watch for her birthday (albeit some three months way).  Any hopes of a Timex or Casio were dashed when we walked into the Tag Heuer Boutique.  The new watch was duly selected and I proposed a deal and a call was made to the manager who eventually arrived and agreed a substantially reduced price from that which was marked, and all in all more than GBP300 less than we would have paid in the UK.  It was then time to pay and have some links in the bracelet removed. 

 

In true Indian style it was not possible for any of these functions to be carried out in the shop.  I had to go with an assistant to a service centre to have the links removed, and then on to another shop to pay.  A card machine was duly removed from a cupboard, and the dust blown off it and the process began to get it working.  Eventually, it required one assistant to hold the plug in the electric socket and dodge the sparks coming out if it, another to support the wire across the shop and a third to type in the details.  The transaction complete, off we went more than a thousand pounds worse off, but at least Jennifer has no more excuses for being late.

 

Then it was dinner time.  Jennifer thought it would be a good idea to go to the most expensive restaurant in Delhi - Le Cirque in the Leela Palace Hotel.  It was more 1980's nouvelle cuisine than anything else.  Not a lot of food and a GBP 175 bill at the end of it.  Already, this was turning out to be an expensive trip.

 

Next morning it was an early start to Delhi Railway station.  The place was covered with the usual bodies, smells and piles of shit on the tracks.

 



I went to speak with the fat Enquiry Wallah.  After he finished removing most of the tiny brain he had left through his nose, I asked him about our seats.  He was less than helpful.  Not a great attitude for anyone to have with me before 10AM.  I really went for him telling him he was a disgrace and lazy and an embarrassment, and walked away.  I got about 15 yards away, and thought I hadn't said enough, so returned and started on him again, telling him he had let his country down and should be ashamed.  He almost choked on whatever he was chewing on that came out of his nose, and I felt a lot better.  It made up for the early start and my lack of breakfast.  Two hours first class on the Bhopal Shatabdi Express and we were in Agra.

Agra is particularly horrible, and I wouldn't advise spending any more time than is necessary there.  There are hawkers everywhere and they are persistent, even for hardened persons such as ourselves.  We got a taxi for the whole day for about ten pounds, and after an hour at our hotel we went to see the Taj Mahal from the other side of the river.  This is not a bad view, and a lot of Bollywood films have been made here.  It was a bit misty for good photos at that time of the morning though.

 

We then went to the "Baby Taj Mahal" nearby

 

 

This was a small marble mausoleum constructed in a similar marble to the Taj Mahal itself,

 

Then it was on to Agra Fort.  This is a large ancient fort constructed to guard the river into Agra and is thought to be the strongest fort in India.  About seventy five percent of it is inhabited by the military but the rest is open to the public.  You could spend an hour or two here exploring all the ups and downs and nooks and crannies.  There is quite a good view of the Taj Mahal across the river from here.

 

 

 

We then were taken for lunch to a local Indian restaurant.  There was a snake charmer outside, and I went over to have a look. Before I knew it I had an Indian viper and a python around my neck, much to the amusement of Jennifer, who couldn't decide whether to squeel, or film me on her iPad.  In the end she did both.

 

 



 



 



Then, finally, after a short respite hotel break, we were off to the Taj Mahal itself.

There is no doubt that this is an impressive building.  It has an imposing edifice, but this is contrasted with the calming waters and greenery below.  As the sun sets, the colours change from the bright white marble  through oranges and reds, and almost a rainbow of combinations depending on the angle you view it from.  The image of the monument is emotively reflected in the waters below.  An experience only to be enjoyed to its fullest at dawn or dusk.

 

Back to the hotel for an anticlimactic evening in our room with a McDonald's and an early night (the stark contrast to the previous night was not lost on us).

 

The taxi driver was obviously not going to turn up the next morning to take us to the train station, despite speaking to him on the phone twice, and him saying he was on his way.  We have been in India for suffiently long enough now to recognise when someone says "Yes" but what they actually mean is "No".  We got a hotel taxi, and when we got out at the station, there he was.  Obviously not the brightest.  He started smiling at me, which was a mistake. After berating him in front of his friends I made a point of letting him see me giving 500 Rupees to our driver and telling him to keep the change.  That was a 300 Rupee tip on  a 200 Rupee journey.  His face said it all.

 

The journey back to Delhi was four hours, but was great as we had a first class sleeper compartment all to ourselves,

 

 

The journey soon passed, as did the flight home, leaving me with the unsolved enigma of what would have come to our Agra hotel room if I had informed reception that the first item on the minibar menu was not in the fridge.

 

 

Mysore Dasara 2012

After just getting back from Thailand, on the 20th October, it was off to Mysore on the 23rd for the annual Dasara parade.  It is an important festival in India and refers to "The remover of bad fate" celebrating the victory of good over evil.    It was Jen and I, Jen's sister Laura, her friend Nicola and Jen's friend from work, Claire.  The girls left it too late to book a train as they were all fully booked due to the festival (the trains, not the girls), so we decided to hire a car and driver for the two days, which is inexpensive, especially when divided by five.

We got picked up at around 5am I think, and it was so obvious that the driver was like a lot of people in India - in their job for some time, but somehow cleverly portraying the illusion that it was their first day.  When we were on the main Mysore highway, he seemed to have some phobia of fifth gear.  It was high revs and fourth all the way.  He was incapable of judging speed or distance, which meant that he was constantly accelerating and braking all the time.  I don't get travel sick, but there were a few times I was on the edge.  I was eyeing up the gap between his neck and shirt should I be unable to prevent the rising tide of vomit welling up from the depths of my being.

We did arrive without getting killed, or running anyone over, which is good for India, and checked into the Ginger Hotel.  This was a budget hotel and reminded me very much of a borstal.  It was clean and tidy, but absolutely no character.  The rooms were very utilitarian, but it served out purposes for one night.

We headed out to see the parade, and walked the short distance down to the Palace.  We couldn't get inside as you needed to book ticket a day in advance.  While there were a number of touts around, we thought it best no to risk it.  Not knowing the procedure, we asked a few people what gate the parade would leave from.  We asked at least six people, and of course in true Indian style, got six completely different answers.  Even asking the police on duty there yielded no better result.

There were just so many people in the city.  I mean too many.  They were in their hundreds of thousands I am sure.  There was no way we were even getting close.  The five of us jammed into one small rickshaw and headed a bit out of the centre to the hospital which was on the main parade route.  Even there, it was heaving.   We picked a viewing spot, but the crowds just kept getting bigger and bigger.  It is always the same in large crowds in India – you get the gropers.  Especially with four white females, they were trying to queue up to get a good feel.  I had to stand with my back to the parade route and stare at them to get them to move on.  Even the locals were getting uptight, and arguments ensued. 

We were most fortunate.  A shop owner who had his family up on a balcony beckoned to us to come up and gave us front row seats on the first floor.  It was a welcome relief.  Eventually the parade started.  While it was nice to see the elephants etc. once you have seen one Indian drum band, you have seen the other 150.  Almost three hours of it was more than enough.

Once the parade was over, we waited until the police had stopped beating people with sticks, and made our way back to the hotel, and went to Brindavan Gardens - of Bollywood fame - for dinner.

The next morning we headed to the silk factory to see how the famous Mysore silk is made.  An interesting trip in a number of ways.  Again, typical Indian with no organisation whatsoever.  You just walked around this noisy working factory wherever you wanted.  You could go right up to the clattering looms and get your arm ripped off if you really wanted.  Alternatively you would watch your child fall into a vat of boiling dye or get decapitated by the next to invisible hundreds of threads strung across the factory floor.

It was then on to Chamundi hill to see the main temple.  This is one of the most sacred places in India, and we went into the temple with the other thousand or so people that were there.  I would like to say that it was different to all the other temple I have seen, but can't.  We queued up several times, eventually got several coloured dots on our foreheads, gave some flowers to a bloke in some robes, and that was it.  We didn't get killed on our journey home.

Afterwards it was down the hill to the bull temple - another sacred site.  It was a big bull. Great.

A short stay there, and then another four hours of vomit inducing transport back to Bangalore.

Kuala Lumpur

My visa was due for renewal, so out of a number of options, I picked going to KL for a few days which gets me off the island, I see another country/city and another 30 day visa on entry back to Thailand.  The journey was reasonably uneventful; well apart from an incident on the Lomprayah catamaran from Koh Tao to Samui. 

I went into the VIP area which is well worth the extra £2 and gets you away from the screaming kids and vomit that is the lower deck.  When I got in there were only about half a dozen people occupying the 42 seats in the cabin.  I went off to one of two seats together.  I had only been sitting for a minute when some Thai guy came in, and ignored the entire empty cabin, and sat directly in front of me.  He then slammed the back of the seat down which smashed me on both kneecaps. Of course I shouted at him and he said he "didn't see me" which made me even more furious.  He walked right past me so how did he not see me?  More like "you didn't even bother to look".

 I suggested that it might be a good idea if he would like to sit somewhere else, given that there was an entire empty cabin at his disposal.  He thought about this for a while and I know he really thought it would be a good idea to move, but of course couldn't because it would seem like he was doing so only because I asked him to.   I wondered how he was going to resolve this without the ultimate Asian embarrassment of not "saving face"  He decided on the "You shouldn't have come to Thailand. You should have stayed at home" approach.  I decided that the tuts and mutterings from the other tourists in the cabin was enough and no further intervention was required.

 

KL airport was suitably appointed to indicate a prosperous and growing modern city, and similar to Bangkok or Singapore.  After a 28 minute express metro ride you are in the centre of the city.  My hotel was the Hotel 1915 next to the Masjid Jamek.  I was quite impressed with this hotel.  It was only £18 per night and nicely refurbished.  The rooms were very small,  but it is great for a few nights on your own. 

 

So then it was off to explore.  There has obviously been a lot of money spent on KL over the years.  The improvements and modernisations are obvious.  However, when you look closely, it does suffer to an extent with that Asian trait of things not being thought through sufficiently.  This can be quite frustrating.  I thought I would visit the National Museum.  Looking at the map the National Museum was close to the central (Sental) station.  No surprise here, you would think.  No different to many other cities you would have visited.  That's were you make the mistake.  This is an Asian city - so nothing is as it seems.  I left the station and couldn't find the bloody place.  There were just a mass of new roads without footpaths and new building sites that seemed to block my way at every turn.  No signposts whatsoever.  I gave up.

 

The next day I decided not to be defeated.  I reassessed the map and tried again.  Well, there it was. Clearly only about 300m from the station.  The only way to reach the museum was to exit the station on the Western side, and actually go under the Hilton Hotel, that is through their car park.  On coming out the other side you have to walk along a five lane carriageway that has no footpath, then find an opening on the wall to climb down a ladder to the lower level.  Then you have to cross another carriageway before you get close to the museum.  If you are old, disabled or have a fear of traffic, forget it.

 

It is worth a visit.  There are four galleries - pre-historic, historic, colonial and modern.  Strangely not too much about the British in the colonial part. Out the back are a couple of other museums too.  There is one that deals with ethnography.  It is bizarre to be in the shadow of such advanced architecture as the Petronas Towers, and to be reading a display that openly describes how female genital mutilation is still practised on infant girls in the country.

 

Back to the station and the metro network.  This is not too bad, but nowhere near as good as Bangkok.  Yet several more examples of not thinking through designs and total lack of practicality.  On the map it shows that the monorail and all the other lines are together in the same station - Sentral.  Well, they aren't.  The monorail is quite some distance away, and there is only one sign that is not helpful.  It took me a good 20 minutes to find it.  On arrival, the entrance (which is also the exit) is about three feet wide.  As soon as you go through this, the ticket machines are on the right against the wall.  This means that the queues for the machines block the entrance/exit.  Can you see a picture building up?  Not only this, but to get to the trains you have to turn left, across the front of the ticket counter  (which, by the way, doesn't sell tickets, it just gives you change for the machines).  Here, you have to fight your way through the queues for the counter.  Another example of where a little bit of thought could have provided a much more user friendly solution.

 

 

I found it hard to understand why the locals have such difficulty in using the machines.  As a stranger there, I used one once, and then it is quite straightforward.  You touch the line you want, touch the station you want to go to, it gives you the price, and you put the money into the machine. Simple? Clearly not.  On occasions there is a MASSIVE illuminated flashing sign on the top of the machine saying "EXACT FARE ONLY" Clearly this is only there for decoration, and has no useful function.  On other occasions, there would be a picture of a RM10 note on the screen with a big red line through it. This would suggest to me, not being an expert of course, that the machine was not accepting RM10 notes.  This did not seem to prevent hoards of locals deciding to distrust the foreign - and clearly non-Muslim- evil machine, and trying to force their RM10 notes inside it.  I really lost count of the number of times I had to come out of the ever growing queue to help some local before a Fatwa was declared.

 

Time  for a drink I think. I wonder how this would pan out in a Muslim country, but before long I was in some nightclub called "Lust".  Funny how religion can go out the window where money is concerned.  I spoke to a friendly barmaid who directed me to a street with all the pubs on it - Changkat Bukit Bintang.  This is not the cheapest place to drink in the World.  A 30ml vodka would be a minimum of £3 plus tax and in many places more like £4 or more.  There is really just this one street full of bars and some restaurants.   They spill out onto the pavements, and there are numerous waitresses trying to entice you inside with "Happy hour" and "free cocktail"  I like sitting outside and watching the World go by.  It really is the World.  There are a plethora of prostitutes walking up and down the street.  They will squeeze your leg and try to chat to you, but aren't pushy and soon get the message.

 

It tasted very much like the vodka was watered down.  There was very little taste to it, and I was knocking them back quite quickly.  It was 12:15 and I asked the waitress what time the trains finished at.  Her laughter signified I had missed the last one.  I had no idea where I was and also no clue how I was getting back to the hotel.  It was then one of those "In for a penny, in for a pound" moments. The last thing I remember was it was 02:15 and I was talking to some bloke who had stopped in a car.  It might have been a taxi, or might not.  I really don't know.  I woke up the next morning in my hotel room with a packet of crisps, a Twix and a small pot of Tigerbalm. 

 

One of the better attractions I would recommend would be the Aquarium.  It's underneath the conference centre at KLCC.  It is informative, and well laid out, with a glass tunnel where you can see numerous sharks and rays etc.  At KLCC there  is an OK shopping centre spanning seven levels, and comprising the usual designer shops, and some restaurants on the top level., bit it isn't cheap.  It's right below the Petronas Towers.  You can go up the towers as far as the cross-bridge, and if you want to pay £16 for the experience.  I didn't. 

 

I did however go to see the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra there.  They were performing Beethoven's 1st and 3rd (Eroica) Symphonies.  I was sceptical as this orchestra has had a number of difficulties recently with management and members getting sacked etc, but I have to admit it was a really exceptional performance.  It is a pity it wasn't better supported, with the hall only being about 30% full.

 

My final trip was out to the Batu caves.  It only costs £1 on the train to get there, but £2 to get back.  Something else Asian that makes no sense.  This experience is like being back in India.  They are a Hindu shrine, and you can walk up the 171 steps and go inside.  They are full of Hindu idolatry, and clearly designed by Indians (or probably Tamils).  It wouldn't take much to dispose of the amount of crap that is lying around - old chairs, desks and general detritis.  The place is full of monkeys that are not shy at pulling away your bags, or anything else that may contain food.  In typical Indian style, there is a bloke hired to keep the monkeys away, which he does by walking up and down the steps, throwing empty bottles at them.  Profesional.  There is also another cave lower down that resembles some sort of zoo for snakes, reptiles and fish.  This is quite funny as the poisonous snakes can poke there heads out of the rotting chicken wire on the top of the cages.  It was really dark inside, and I found myself looking round to make sure none of them had escaped, as there was little explanation for some of the empty displays.

 

Well, that was KL.  Good to visit and see for a day or two. Bring more money than you think you need, and come when the Orchestra are performing.

Koh Tao II

Well, I got home from Koh Tao eventually, and was sitting in Bangalore thinking "What the hell am I going to do now?"  Studies finished, monsoon season looming and little prospect of anything interesting and exciting on the horizon.  Those of you who know me well will realise how frustrating this would be for me.  After such an intense lifestyle in difficult and often dangerous situations; to go from that to a relative vacuum, both professionally and socially, was really killing me.  All day with only the cats to talk to was less than satisfying. 

Of course I could have joined the Bangalore Overseas Women's Group, but the thought of an endless stream of discussions and presentations on  "How to use Tupperware", "The unavailability of feminine hygiene products in outlying Bangalore" and "Controlling my own orgasm" did not exactly fill me with overwhelming enthusiasm for the otherwise baron months ahead.

As a result I was becoming more and more intolerant of everyday life situations.  Living in India can be so frustrating.  It seems like everyone is putting unnecessary obstacles in your way just for the sole reason of being awkward.  This stretches not only to those in positions of authority, such as Government officials, but also in everything you try to achieve on a daily basis.  For example - order steak and chips in the restaurant, and the chances of both steak and chips arriving on the same plate at the same time are slim.

I digress somewhat.  The result of all this, as well as Jen getting seriously pissed off at me being a Meldrew every day, was a decision that I would go back to Koh Tao to become a Divemaster, and then work on  for three months.

So, I arrived on 1st July and got some temporary accommodation and introduced myself to the dive organisation I had chosen for my course.  The dive shop suits me well.  It is administered well, to what some might call an exacting military standard, which, considering my background, I find comforting.  The instruction is professional and above all, the staff have all made me feel most welcome.  I have met many really great people since coming here, and the social life is hectic.  I won't go into the details of dancing in the sea at 2AM and having to buy a new phone as a result!

I am really enjoying the course, especially by the fact that I am kept really busy.  Some mornings I will be at the shop for 7AM to do two dives before lunch, and then even go out on the afternoon boat for two more dives, getting back to my room after 6PM to meet the others for dinner and drinks after 7.  I enjoy this lifestyle, but it is really easy to get carried away with it, especially after spending so long with very little meaningful social contact.

I have secured some long term accommodation which is really smart, if not on the slightly expensive side for Koh Tao at £280 per month, but compare that to the £1100 per month for our villa in Bangalore, and it is not worth worrying about.  Still, it is quiet, and central; only 5 mins walk to the dive shop and convenient to shops, bars and restaurants.

 It is only about 15 or 20 mins walk along the beach road between Sairee and Mae Haad, and although the road is only about 6 feet wide it is very dangerous as it passes  AC Bar, The Fishbowl and  The Star Club.  These establishments employ the use of a futuristic social tractor beam to pull you inside,  Once they have captured you, they administer you a cocktail of various liquids which effectively erase your memory of all subsequent events.  You wake up in your own bed the next morning with absolutely no recollection of anything that happened from the moment you walked inside the night before.

Most disconcerting.

I recall walking back from Sairee one evening past those above mentioned commercial sirens of demise.  I was in my bare feet and as I had earlier suffered a wardrobe malfunction involving my footwear.  I remember nothing further until the next morning when I woke up with one of my sandals stuck to the front of my shorts with Superglue.  Just one of those Koh Tao things that you can't explain.  Thinking about it only further confuses the situation, and so it is just best to forget and move on.

I suppose, to be honest with myself,  I have spent the last 5 weeks reliving my 20's.  I really appreciate the opportunity that I have been given to do this.  Not that I didn't enjoy my 20's but I was too busy running round the streets of Belfast with a gun, rather than seeing the rest of the World and having fun. 

It is good that there is no social age distinction here.  Everyone is having fun and equally accepted.  People are here to enjoy themselves, but in a measured and non destructive way.  This is certainly no Ibiza, Magaluf or Malia.  I hope it stays this way, and its simple rustic charm does not become destroyed by the spread of cancerous commercialism.

 I have almost finished my course now, and looking forward to actually performing the role.  After discussions with several people here, I am considering trying to become a qualified instructor, and it would be great to return at the end of January or February, after I come back from skiing, to give it a go.

Jennifer will be arriving on 25th August which will be great, and she hopes to try to get certified on her open water course while here, which would be good for us both to dive together.

More updates later...........

Koh Tao

I flew the 45 minutes from Bangkok the Koh Samui and then caught the 2Hr catamaran from there to Koh Tao, via Koh Phangan.  The three islands are relatively close together in the Gulf of Thailand.  While Thailand is just entering the monsoon season, it is fortunate that these islands seem to escape most of the rain, and the weather is good all year round, with only a little increase in inclement weather  in November.

I stayed in Simple Life accommodation on Sairee Beach and had a huge en suite double room with air conditioning for only about £34 per night

Sairee beach is great.  As the island caters mostly for the diving community, the beach is underutilised.  It is quiet and backed by a number of relaxing beach bars and restaurants.  At only £1.60 for a vodka and coke from 4 to 7PM. How could you refuse a relaxing drink or 6 after a hard day's diving?

All the locals are unbelievably friendly and will go out of their way to help you, should you ask for it.  They are friendly in a very genuine way, and not because they feel they have to.

I came here for the diving, and did 12 dives in all.  It was OK, but not the best for marine life that I have experienced.  This is a place to learn diving and to get any and all certifications, at a very reasonable rate, and in most cases half the price you might pay elsewhere.  I have been offered the chance of a Divemaster internship, and may well come back here for the 2/3 months of  the Indian monsoon season.

I would definitely recommend Koh Tao for a fantastic place to visit.  It is an idyllic island, with plenty of restaurants serving all kinds of food from Thai to Italian, and extremely inexpensive.  Good for diving, snorkeling and you can even go on the "zipwire" which is strung between two small islands.

When I went to order a taxi to take me to the ferry to go home the next morning, the receptionist asked if she should put it on the bill along with my extra night.  I was confused about why I was being charged an extra night.  Then I realised I had forgotten to go home.  I should have left that morning and it completely escaped my mind!  There were no free flights from Bangkok to Bangalore for another week.  It was either stay another week, or go back business class.  As tempting as it was to stay, discretion meant I had to suffer 6 hours of the business class lounge in Bangkok Airport!

Bangkok

Jennifer and I spent four days in Bangkok for a quick break together before I went diving in Koh Tao.  We had a really nice suite on the 28th Floor of the Chatrium Riverside Hotel, and were relieved to get an early check-in as we had been travelling all night.  We were both tired which was evident as Jennifer rang the hotel to find out what time the first hotel taxi left Saphan Taksin pier where we were waiting.  I heard Jennifer repeating "What do you mean 'when'.  I am there now".  She was getting more and more irate.  "Why do you keep saying 'Say when thirty' ?" and "What do you mean 'Say when thirty' ?  I am waiting now".  She handed me the phone in frustration. "Ah, you mean seven thirty."  I deduced.  Jennifer not good at understanding the difficulties the Thais have with pronouncing "V" as "W", whereas the Indians pronounce "W" as "V".

Bangkok is much different to Bangalore.  Its shining high-rise buildings and ultra modern Skytrain transport system are testament to the wealth it has experienced and reinvested in recent years.  It is clean and mostly efficient, with the Chao Phraya river dominating the city with its ever frequent river taxi service, free hotel boats and huge commercial barges, with their exports of sugar and corn, travelling the final 10 miles down to the sea.

We spent the next few days looking at the sights.  First of all we went up the river to the Royal Palace.  I was struck by the sheer number of scammers hanging around this area.  They were trying to tell me that the Palace was closed and that they would take me somewhere else, and the the Golden Buddha was in a completely different direction to the way we were walking, which I knew was rubbish.  Thankfully, we are relatively experienced in dealing with such people, but I can see how many more naive travellers could be taken advantage of.

The Royal Palace is a series of impressive buildings situated very close to each other in a compound.  There is plenty of gold and other bright colours that momentarily distract you from the fact that every molecule of water is oozing out of your body with the humidity at a rate in excess of that which you are able to replace it.

From there, we dodged a few more scammers and headed to Wat Pho.  This is a magnificent golden reclining Buddha and a popular tourist attraction.

Then we crossed the river to the Temple of the Golden Dawn.  At ground level there are a number of small golden Buddhas and other artifacts, but the site is dominated by the tall temple structure.  There are really steep steps up which you may climb, which provide a great view over the city and the river.

In the evenings we visited each of the three red light districts.  These are the only places where there the pubs and restaurants are in plentiful supply.  They are Pat Pong, Nana Plaza and Soi Cowboy.  Despite them being the famous flesh-pots of Bangkok, they do make an interesting visit.  There are no pushy sales tactics and Jennifer and I felt quite relaxed sitting in the bars watching the antics of the bar girls and their prospective customers.  The girls' friendly nature, smiles and fawning attention belie the fact that many of them are from such poor families the country areas that their parents were forced to sell them into the sex industry from an early age.

There is plenty of good food to be had here, and on the last night we went to a Japanese grill restaurant.  This was strange, as many Japanese things are.  Each time a customer came in or went out, the entire staff chanted something.  I have no idea what it was.  There were little hollows in the tables, into which the waiter puts a small tin of hot charcoal, again to some Japanese chant by the entire staff, upon which you cook your own beef.  We had the famous Japanese Kobi beef, which was really nice, but well overpriced, especially for Bangkok.

Then the next morning I was off to Koh Samui and Koh Tao, and Jennifer went back to Bangalore.

Goa, Andaman and Nicobar Islands

Jennifer's Mum and Dad came over for three weeks so we took the opportunity to go away with them for a while to Goa, then on the the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.  

In Goa we stayed in the Hotel Severina which is a delightful, refurbished, colonial residence in the Calangute area of North Goa.  The hotel only has sixteen bedrooms, in the main building, with eight upstairs and eight downstairs.  The majority of the downstairs is taken up with a large Romanesque fishpond.  The outside bar was great for mosquito bites in the evening, and the restaurant was great for quality of food, and the usual rubbish standard for Indian service.  It was in easy reach of the main beach and a number of cafes, restaurants and bars.

Goa is similar to other parts of India, albeit a little more upmarket due to the low taxes and strong tourist revenue.  I was surprised at the number of older people there, and some cafes were a sea of grey washing over a plethora of red plastic tables and chairs.  So many English pensioners staying there to escape the British Winter and to spend their Winter fuel allowance on tea and Werther's Originals.

The other side of the clientele were new age traveller types, there for the omnipotent beach parties and accompanying drugs culture.  Mixed in with fat Russian drugs barons, local hawkers and the ubiquitous Indian brown street dogs, it makes for a compulsive people watching experience.

We had a car and driver for our time there which was convenient, if not a little over opulent, but meant that we had the local knowledge without the usual problems of being ripped off by taxis.  Calangute beach was really busy with domestic Indian holiday makers.  A strange bunch to see on the beach.  The Indian people have a very conservative attitude to beach life.  Exposure of any skin whatsoever is discouraged, and you will see many bathers with either full length swimsuits, or even more commonly getting into the water fully clothed.  I did a couple of scuba dives while I was there, and there was an Indian girl with us, who did the dives wearing her jeans.  Remarkable.  In any case, we got out driver to take us further North to Anjim beach.  It was much more peaceful up there, but still plenty of bars and eateries, in the usual form of ramshackle huts strewn along the beach.

The stray dogs were funny here.  They were really friendly to the tourists, but aggressive to any hawkers that came by.   This meant that we were all left alone to lay in the sun, without getting pestered to buy some ill-constructed rubbish or partake in what appeared to be an Indian torture session meted out on unsuspecting individuals, in the guise of a session of soul cleansing spiritual massage.  At one point an elderly man came along with a long horn type instrument, and a decorated cow in tow.  He would play the horn and try to get money from people.  However, the dogs took exception to this and went for him, and nipped the heels of the cow.  It was sad, but somewhat satisfying sight, to see them flee in Monty Pythonesque style down the beech.

One day we went to the spice plantation, which I would recommend.  it was interesting and informative to see how all the spices were grown and harvested.  There was also an opportunity to go on an elephant ride.

Then it was back to Bangalore for an hour only to repack suitcases (don't ask - a nightmare with cancelled flights etc which I won't bore you with) then off to Chennai for the night.  The next morning we flew to Port Blair and had a night at Corbyns Cove.  We were spending the next week in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.  While still sovereign to India, they are closer to the coasts of Burma and Thailand.  You need a special permit to go there and even then you are only allowed on certain islands.  Many of them are still inhabited by tribal aborigines who have never seen a foreigner.  If you accidentally get onto these islands they will throw spears at you, kill you and eat you.

On arrival, I got into my swimming gear and went down to the cove for some snorkeling.  The visibility of the water was rubbish, and I did get a really strange feeling.  Can't describe it, but felt a bit uneasy.  There weren't many people in the water and those on the beach seemed to be looking at me.  In any case I got out and went back to the room, got changed then headed for the bar.  

The next morning when we were checking out, the guy on reception said he had seen me snorkeling the day before, and at the spot I was in, just as I was getting out, he said he saw two 10 feet salt water crocodiles.  This was also later confirmed by the security guard who told Jennifer's Dad the same story quite independently.  The receptionist said that they usually advised guests not to swim in the cove due to the danger of the crocodiles.  Of course I explained to him the obvious merits of informing the guests of this at the time of check-in, rather than waiting until they have almost been eaten and are checking out.  A couple of years ago a tourist actually did get eaten, so it can be quite a serious problem.

Then we were off on the ferry to Havelock Island. it is quite a small island, and has only really been opened for tourists in the recent past.  As you would expect, accommodation and facilities can be somewhat spartan, but for us were acceptable, and the excellent restaurant made up for any deficiencies in other areas.  I am not a great fan of seafood, but I could not resist the unbelievably fresh Red and White Snapper, Kingfish, curried Barracuda and many others that were just out of the sea.

I did quite a lot of diving while we were there.  The visibility was very good and there was plenty of diverse marine life on several dive sites.

The beaches were really quite and unspoilt with clear turquoise water which was quite shallow, so you could wade out some distance.  Although, you would have to remember that you were still in India so the chances of some random elephant just turning up out of the blue on the beach was always a strong possibility

It was a privilege to be able to visit such an out of the way destination, which is still so unspoilt.  Somehow, if everything worked and it was full of modern conveniences, the charm and ambiance would just not be the same.