masterwordsmith-unplugged

My first experience of Malaysia was when I was assigned to perform a survey on a piece of industrial equipment located over on the East coast,near the town of Dungun, in the state of Terengganu.

As this was to be my first visit to this country I did as I usually do,I did a little research - just the normal stuff that is readily available on the internet. I was interested in local customs as I didn’t want to offend the locals with some act or deed that could be deemed innocent back home but possibly seen as deserving many years incarceration in a prison where male rape is viewed as a parochial pastime. Travel and hotel accommodation – these are always big topics for me. I do like driving so a hire car is a must and I do love my creature comforts so a choice of decent hotels is always very much a plus for me.

After spending around 30 minutes browsing a few different travel sites I had seen enough to convince me that I was on to a winner here. Of course, I told my office colleagues that I was about to embark on a journey fraught with every imaginable danger from dreaded tropical diseases to the high probability risk of kidnap and subsequent beheading by a band of drug-crazed fundamentalists. Muffled coughs and words of encouragement were forthcoming along with handshakes and half-hearted assurances that all would well, and reminders that the company operated an excellent scheme of remuneration for widows and dependents.

Oh how I inwardly laughed. Mugs. I was off on the trip of a lifetime to a tropical heaven while they would be suffering the delights of a dismal B+B in Middlesbrough or Immingham.

Flights were booked,hotel reservations made,hire car arranged by our office girl who went by the name of Daphne.

Now Daphne was a very pretty girl who enjoyed a lifestyle more befitting landed gentry than the position of office temp. She travelled the world extensively, had a wardrobe that would not embarrass a catwalk model, wore jewellery that originated from the hallowed counter of Bentley and Skinner of Bond street. Office gossip had it that she enjoyed the trappings of wealth due to her prowess in the bedroom…and this may or may not be true. All I know is that when I left for the airport, she gave me a very knowing wink and a very sexy “Bon Voyage” as she silently conveyed the message that my secret was safe with her.

The flight from Manchester to KL was long and mind numbingly boring so it was with great relief I alighted from the flying straight jacket of economy class and walked the marble halls of KLIA. I had waltzed through customs and found the car hire desk. Now I was about to experience the cumbersome paperwork that so inhibits the Malaysian psyche.What size of car did I want - small,family,executive or luxury?

Executive seemed to fit the bill I thought. Yes, executive will do very nicely thank you. Automatic or manual? Automatic will do just fine I replied. The answer to those two simple questions were to fill the next 45 minutes of the desk clerk's time as she waded through innumerable sheafs of paperwork. Much stapling and transfer of dockets, much to-ing and fro-ing, much grumbling from the eight or nine customers waiting behind me. Finally, I was given a set of keys and a printed route card showing me the exact location of my designated vehicle. I left to the thunderous applause of those who were eagerly awaiting their turn to experience the, almost soviet, obsession that is the Malaysian administration process. This was to be lesson one.

Luckily I travel light - one suitcase,wheeled,is sufficient for my day-to-day needs.If I find I'm short of clothing, I buy from the nearest gentleman's clothing store- not,as my wife tells our friends, from the local Oxfam charity shop. The route card I had been handed promised a walk of no more than a few hundred yards. After more than an hour, it felt like I was dragging the anchor chain from Titanic rather than my humble suitcase, and I still had another two inches of route card to cover.

Lesson two – All Malaysian route cards have the words”not to scale”missing from them

As night fall approached, I arrived at the hire car compound. Before me was an ocean of blue and red Proton Wiras - row upon row of the beasts. It would seem that this exceptional vehicle fits all designations, from small to luxury, manual or automatic.

Hastily,I was now beginning to suffer from the effects of heat exhaustion. I sought the set of keys given to me by the ever so charming,but grossly inefficient,counter clerk. It seems to be the policy of all hire car companies,worldwide, to include,on the key ring,a small tab identifying the registration number of the designated hire car. Alas lessons three and four were soon to be learnt. No identifying number was evident.

From shear exasperation I inserted my key into the door lock of the nearest Proton Wira…and hey bloody presto - it opened, and so did the one next to it, and the one next to it.

So, lesson three also incorporates lesson four - there's no need to put identification tags on Malaysian hire car key sets as the one key fits all Protons ever made. How cool is that?

My journey into the heart of KL was not an easy journey, or a short one.I also learnt lesson five when I could only find a 100 ringgit note in my wallet at the toll booth on the KLIA to KL expressway. Isn't small change very heavy and bulky?

Lesson six came up behind five very quickly.

There is a song whose lyrics state that only “mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noon day sun”, I would like to add to this as lesson six “or drive in the centre of KL,at night, looking for a hotel that was booked by a high class whore called Daphne”.

Eventually I found my hotel - registered and went in search of the lounge bar and a very large,relaxing, gin and tonic. As I sat in the luxurious surroundings of the Sheraton Imperial, I sent a mental e-mail to Daphne thanking her for her extravagance in selecting a five-star hotel for my overnight stay. Something told me that she had experienced this hotel first hand herself and, like my good self, was not picking up the bill the next morning.

On my drink's coaster was written the slogan Malaysia-Truly Asian.

If it had of been me who had been tasked with producing a slogan, it would now read Malaysia- Truly Maddening,Exasperating,but with a Charm that must be experienced to be believed. Not as catchy I grant you, but so much nearer the truth.

My journey of enlightenment had only just begun. Many,many more lessons were to be learnt during my first and subsequent visits to Malaysia - lessons that would draw me in and endear themselves to me.

I was smitten.

- TO BE CONTINUED-

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This post was written by a very dear blog reader who is now a very good friend. We have been corresponding via e-mail for almost a year now and I always look forward to his mails, each of which is deeply treaured. He comes from Scotland and has a beautiful wife and the most adorable daughter. Tony has written a few posts for me in this blog HERE, HERE, HERE and also AT THIS LINK. Thanks, Tony, for this wonderful write-up. We are waiting with bated breath for the next part of your story.

Dear reader, if you would like to share your thoughts/experiences in this blog, please leave your post and email address in the comment box and I will get in touch with you. It would certainly be a pleasure to hear from you and to host your article. Thank you. Have a nice day!