Tuesday 26 October 2010

An immigration official called ‘Arse’

When encountering non-English-speaking countries, there are obviously and quite rightly going to be things that are lost in translation. Far be it for me to criticise those trying hard to decipher a language so alien from their own, and I will not. However, it does make for interesting and sometimes hilarious reading. There are an innumerable amount of mistakes in everything from signs, tourist paraphernalia and menus. Take for instance an earlier blog referring to toilets in Asia. Now, it is hard to imagine someone actually standing on the rim of a western-style porcelain toilet and dumping from a great height as they might in squat toilets, but apparently this actually happens. Enough, it seems, for an educational and instructional sticker to be posted in the cubicle at eye level above the toilet. See photo attached. Talking of airports, we all despise being treated like terrorist cattle by all manner of staff whose perpetual po-faced and indifferent attitude leaves us with an experience that dampens our holiday spirit. Imagine our delight, then, at the unfortunate immigration official at KL whose name was ‘Arse’. Brilliant. Unfortunately, for obvious reasons, there is no photo to accompany this one.

It is a long-standing myth that the English and French can’t stand each other. This myth also exists with Germans and probably a whole host of other nationalities, perhaps owing to histories that, for some reason, cannot be forgotten. However, we couldn’t help but laugh at a menu in a restaurant in Kuta, Bali advertising French Fries with the underneath description, ‘deep fried french people’. Hilarious, even if it is at the expense of the French. Most mistakes are obvious typos, which can easily be explained, but this was aneurism inducing - it just did not make sense, especially in  a restaurant situated in such a heavily populated tourist area with a decades-long history of catering for westerners.

Then there are other mistakes that fall under a more common category. These orthographical errors are forgivable even if they are not understandable. They are, nevertheless, humorous. On a menu board on the island of Nusa Lembongan we were offered a No.7 Special pizza with various toppings and finished off with nothing less than Origami. Surely a pizza staple in Italy.

Signs can often also be blunt, perhaps in part due to limited English skills by those who write them. This, in turn, often results in a lack of the usage of words typically used to buffer a statement, command or advice. A temple on the southwest coast of Bali requested as politely as it could that women on their period stay away. We are still trying to figure this one out but I am sure there is a perfectly logical reason. Either way, it is almost refreshing that we are in a land less obsessed about its political correctness and one that is clearly not as worried about who it may offend.

Monday 25 October 2010

Chopsticks

No, this particular blog is not about a piano waltz. Just a simple case of irony.

As we have discovered since being in Vietnam, the Vietnamese love their beefsteaks. However, not the thick, tender and juicy slabs of meat cooked medium rare that melt in your mouth. These are rather pathetic-looking thin things sacrificed for too long over an incredibly hot wok. At this one 'street restaurant' every local used chopsticks as you would expect, except those eating beefsteaks, who used the more western method of a knife and fork. Why? Because you can't chop with chopsticks. 

I guess everything has its limits.

Saturday 23 October 2010

A philosophical question...

Why is it that when a normal-sized bar of soap reduces down to the size of a complimentary bar usually given in hotels, it is hard to create enough lather to wash with, but when you are given one of those small bars in a hotel they lather up just fine?

The Chicken Carcass and the Stolen Banana

It may shock some of you to learn that, on occasion, my eyes can be bigger than my belly. Greed often takes over and before I know it I’m rolling around on the floor with belly ache. There is, however, no chance of that here owing to small portions, minimal choice and a restrictive daily budget. Having said that, sometimes the food Gods look down on me in pity and with a powerful arm grant me the opportunity to fill one of my many stomachs. On this occasion I surmise that he must have been Indian since we were strolling through the Saturday night market in Little India in Kuala Lumpur. Buying small, tasty titbits as we dawdled along, my eyes suddenly fixed upon a large wok, within which was frying what looked like succulent pieces of chicken. Once cooked, various pieces aplenty were then placed on a large plate for people to choose their cut before buying. Going on the instincts with which I was born, I immediately chose one of the biggest pieces on the plate, paid the 80p equivalent in cash and was feeling happy with my purchase. I was pretty hungry for something substantial at this point and, after a short walk to find somewhere to sit, we settled down so I could devour the purchase of which I was so proud.
 
Now, digressing for a moment, imagine you’ve just eaten your Sunday roast. Leftovers consist of a bunch of vegetables, potatoes and the body of a chicken stripped bare of its breasts, legs, thighs, wings and other areas from which any substantial meat can be taken. Essentially you are left with the ribcage of an animal, good for nothing else but producing stock or for extracting whatever scraps remain for the cats.

Back to the story. Sitting perched on the step at the front of a building in Little India, my steaming-hot, fried chicken portion encased in golden batter concealed to my horror and embarrassment what amounted to nothing more than a chicken carcass. I immediately questioned why anyone would batter and deep-fry a chicken carcass, let alone use it for any form of sustenance. What looked like a huge piece of chicken that was about to satisfy every need of my appetite had bitterly disappointed and I was left feeling disgruntled with a food God I had always assumed was on my side.


The Stolen Banana

I’m sure you are wondering what the hell a stolen banana has to do with a chicken carcass? Well the answer is absolutely nothing. Aside from giving these anecdotes a cracking title, it merely amounts to a couple of mistakes I have made so far that could be categorized together in the ‘dumbass section’ for the purpose of comedy.

As you will either know or well imagine, there are so many temples in Asia to visit. So much so that continuous visits to different temples over a period of time can result in what is known as ‘temple fatigue.’ A visit to one of these temples resulted in a rookie error, the type of which I assume I can be afforded since it was so early on in our trip. Having missed breakfast for an early start to avoid the masses later on, we had prepared ourselves with a packed-breakfast, which consisted of some malted milk-style biscuits and a banana each. Now, wild monkeys are everywhere in SE Asia, especially, as we have discovered, around tourist traps such as temples. They will often steal something easy to grab such as sunglasses, cameras or flip-flops in order to trade them back to their owners for food. It seems graffiti artist Banksy is spot on with his depiction of monkeys wearing clapperboards displaying the words, ‘laugh now, but one day we will be in charge.’

Previous to this visit, I would have refused the idea that a monkey could be more intelligent than I, but at 33 years of age, together with a whole bunch of other questions about life, I am now pondering this very notion. In hindsight, it may have been a little silly to walk to the temple that morning holding a banana. I mean, who knew that monkeys eat bananas and would probably do anything to get their hands on one? Well, as you can imagine I was mobbed by an unarmed gang of delinquent and bearded critters, each one no more than a foot tall, some tugging at my shorts and some trying to climb me. I managed to fight these off with Charles Bronson-esque street-fighting skill not seen since the seventies. Holding my banana high, as if I thought monkeys couldn’t climb, I was managing to keep my breakfast mine when it was suddenly and rudely snatched from my grasp. But not, as you would imagine, by one of these monkeys climbing my Greek God-like statuesque physique. No. This one was sitting on the roof of the jeep, next to which I was standing.

What kind of toilet does the Buddha use?

There are certain expectations one has when visiting South East Asia - especially when doing it on a shoestring budget like we and most other people do when they are lucky enough to see so much of it in one go. Gone, or very limited, are western luxuries to which one has become accustomed and, quite frankly, with which one has been spoiled. But, lest one wants to admit, these are the things one is secretly looking forward to going without despite how much one dreads or moans about it, in the vain hope it will turn one into a more grateful being.

Having said this, one is not sure how grateful one should be when one is presented with a room costing no more than the price of a few beers, containing a bed, fan, shower and…

Where’s the toilet?

After this non-discovery one feels the urge to complain, but fears any complaint sent in the direction of the owner will be treated with triviality and bemusement before falling down the hole where the toilet should be.

“Ah, this your toilet”, says the incredulous owner in his best broken English, pointing to what amounts to a hospital bedpan sunken into the concreted floor.

Ok, so where’s the toilet paper?

“Toilet paper long hose. Water clean butt after.”

The realisation hits when one acknowledges that this is what is meant by being grateful. Still, one must look on the bright side. It is impossible to land any floaters.  And at least after shaving one can complete the other two S’s with convenience as the shower is usually situated very close or directly over the pan. The discovery that a self-flushing western-style toilet should be considered a luxury, and therefore worshipped, is realised with elation when, having moved on and found another room in another place with said style toilet, one immediately falls to ones knees in submittal to the porcelain Buddha.

Our journey so far…

September 2010

7th - Arrival Singapore (8am). Nap at hostel in Kampong Glam. Afternoon spent walking city with jetlag to Clark Quay and Chinatown. Helen just can’t help herself!

8th - Bus to Mersing, Malaysia and boat to Pulau Tioman for a few days on a beach with jungle backdrop for relaxation and acclimatisation. Only 2 hr walking round-trip dodging Komodo Monitor Lizards, Monkeys and Bats to Duty Free shop at airport an added bonus. Limited places to eat owing to Ramadan.

11th - Boat back to Mersing for bus to Cherating. Disappointed with large curved beach and far out low tide but had best chicken samosas at reggae bar on beach for dinner.

12th - Bus to Marang and boat to Pulau Kapas for more island time and beach discovery. Beautiful white deserted sands, relaxed atmosphere and great people made for excellent mellow vibe. Limited places to eat owing to Ramadan - able to cut a deal with manager of resort at next beach for all-you-can-eat buffet food at bargain price. First experience of killer spider in bathroom of beach hut.

14th - Boat back to mainland and bus to Kuala Terengganu to wash clothes, get food supplies and visit central market with amazing array of materials for sale, exotic foods and usual tourist tat. Great mix of Indian and Malay food for grabs at night market

16th - Bus to Kuala Besut and boat to Perhentian Islands for more beach downtime. Went on excellent all-day snorkelling trip and saw Turtles, sharks and Nemo. Helen soiled bikini jumping off base of lighthouse and ate many Roti. Had couple of great BBQ’s for reasonable price at local hotel. Second experience of killer spider in beach hut.

21st - Boat back to mainland and bus to Kota Bharu. Got on the McDonalds wagon for lunch and discovered 25p ice creams. Not very memorable place but more washing done, internet session and usual fare from night market.

22nd - Train on Jungle Railway to Jerantut. Quoted as an engineering feat but to us, just another (single track) train which took 9 hours not including a one hour stop to fix the hydraulics! Not as glamorous as it sounds.

23rd - Bus to Jetty for longboat trip (3 hrs) to Taman Negara National Park. Great slow ride in longboat-style vessel up-river and into jungle passing time by monkey spotting. 2 hr trek into jungle on arrival in long pants to avoid leeches. Spotted humungous centipede. Helen risked all on canopy walkway, soiled pants and nearly made first claim on holiday health insurance. Rustic jungle hut accommodation with mosquito net for protection and pet bathroom frog aptly named Mr. Frog.

24th - Bus back to Jerantut (1.5 hrs) for another bus to Kuala Lumpur (3 hrs). 2.5 hours spent in queue at 7.30am for tickets for Skybridge at Petronas towers. Nick dying of unknown tropical disease which prevented his 3.30pm visit to Skybridge. Helen Nightingale abandoned Nick at hostel to attend on her own. Visited Batu Caves, Chinatown and Little India where Nick purchased deep-fried chicken carcass.

27th - Flight from KUL (2 hrs ) to Jogjakarta, Indonesia. A chance for some down time resulted in the purchase of many doughnuts from Jco. Coffee & Doughnuts, which enabled us to use their WiFi. A break from doughnuts consisted of a trip to the local markets, the Sultan’s Palace and temples including Prambanan (Hindu) and Borobudur, the worlds largest Buddhist monument. Luxury of lovely pool at hotel for bargain price of 7 pounds a night.

October 2010

1st - Bus to Gunung Bromo (10 hrs) for Volcano sunrise tour. Cramped seating made for uncomfortable 10 hrs on full minibus en route to Bali via Bromo.

2nd - Jeep journey (1 hr) up to volcano viewing point at 3.30am.  World’s bumpiest ride and never seen so many jeeps in one place. Sunrise disappointing as too much cloud and although not epic, a great experience. 12.00pm bus to Denpesar, Bali with ferry (11 hrs) with seating only big enough for the 4ft natives. Packed with locals and memorable for the wrong reasons. Taxi to Kuta (40 mins).

5th - Hired jeep for 3 days and toured west coast of Bali in search of futile mission to find Helen‘s perfect beach. Drove to Permutan, Lovina, Singaraja, Pura Tanah Lot (temple) and the Bukit peninsula seeing some great coastline, temples, rice fields and life away from the tourist trail. Pura Luhur Ulu Watu (temple) now famed for the banana incident.

8th - Drove back to Kuta to drop off jeep and spend the night.

9th - Taxi to Sanur (1 hr) for next day boat to island of Nusa Lembongan.

10th - Boat to Nusa Lembongan at 8am (1.5 hrs). If we had realised that Lombok (3 days time) wasn‘t going to fulfil the beach mission, we would have stayed longer here. Great island, several nice beaches with white sand and a real working island full of real local people harvesting seaweed. World’s best omelette served at hotel.

11th - Boat back to Sanur and taxi to Ubud (1hr) for Helen’s spiritual enlightenment  in the form of the reading of ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ in a rice paddy. Explored the streets of Bali’s capital of art and culture and visited the markets. Hired bicycles to tour rice fields. Almost had second usage of holiday health insurance policy as the Disaster from Devon fell sideways into irrigation channel on bike.

14th - Bus to Padangbai (1.15 hrs) for boat to Lombok and incidentally found the best beach in Bali. Through streets of scruffy port town of Padangbai and up and down messy, rocky road adorned with derelict buildings appeared a tiny patch of paradise with white sands, palm trees and Robinson Crusoe type huts. Had fresh mango on beach cut and prepared by local woman.

15th - Ferry to Lombok (4 hrs) and minibus to Sengigi (1 hr). With accommodation overly expensive, dark sand coloured beaches and cheap food scarce, we didn’t warm to this place. However, a quality moment spent on a nicer part of the beach eating noodles from a hawker while hanging and chatting with locals and watching the sunset saved a monotonous day.

16th - Bus to Bangsal (1 hr) for boat to Gili Trewangan (30 mins). Trewangan served to give us time to relax, recuperate and reflect before flying to Vietnam. Beautiful white sand beaches and a busy but laid back atmosphere, Gili T was exactly what we needed. Snorkelling straight off beach and swimming with turtles the highlight, as was the many baby turtles in the nearby Turtle Conservation Centre that Helen had to say goodnight to every night. Cheap local food found by jetty including world’s best pancakes consumed every night after dinner.

23rd - 8am boat back to mainland Bali (Bansal) for bus across island (Lembar) to pick up ferry back to Padangbai for one night.

24th - Bus to airport at Denpasar for flight to Hanoi, Vietnam.