You don’t have to visit museums or art galleries in order to get a feel for the local culture. Sometimes all it takes is a trip to the market to find a true representation of the people and their lifestyles. An afternoon stroll through a pasar (market) in rustic Kota Bahru was a prime example of this, as I found out.
Onward, to the pictorial tour!
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I’ll be going to Malaysia in March, though I honestly hadn’t intended the trip to coincide with the Visit Malaysia 2007 tourism campaign. Let’s just say it’s been interesting keeping up with news reports on the country’s efforts to welcome tourists. Taxi drivers especially are getting the business end of things; one day they’re warned by ministers against scamming or overcharging riders, the next day they’re to be given special courses in order to ably answer any questions posed by new visitors.
There are currently special vacation offers partnering with the campaign, so if you’ve always wanted to visit a tropical country, this is a good time to shop for deals. Fly directly into Kuala Lumpur International Airport (KLIA), or, if it aids your wallet any, land in Singapore’s Changi Airport, then cross the Straits of Johor into Malaysia via train. Warning: only do the latter if you’re fairly familiar with the area. Otherwise it is just too much hurdle-jumping, and you really don’t want to start your trip on a stressful note.
In the past, I’d always flown into Singapore, as it was easier for my family to cross the border and pick me up rather than to drive four hours to KLIA (they lived in Johor, the southern-most state of Malaysia). However, now that they’re in the process of moving to the big city, KLIA is where I’ll be landing this time.
In the meantime, there are a lot of preparations to make for this next journey. With all the ongoing upheaval in the travel domain, a lot of tried-and-true advice simply don’t apply anymore. Gone are the days when one can hie off to the other end of the world bearing only carry-on luggage! Not only that, double-checking the TSA’s list of permitted and prohibited items must now become a regular venture, as one never knows when so much as a stick of gum may be thrown out at any minute.
One of my favorite quotes on the subject comes from bestselling author Neil Gaiman, who last year expressed his incredulity at the TSA’s allowing personal lubricant onboard but not toothpaste: “For a moment there, I really planned to drive up to a drug store, buy a 4 oz container of personal lubricant, empty it out, wash it and refill it with toothpaste.”
I know the feeling!
So I’ll keep you abreast of my endeavors, including Travel Tips that have certainly saved my neck. Stay tuned, dear readers. The game’s afoot!
“You’re fine,” said Paps from behind me. It was the fourth time I had halted in the last five minutes, and I stared in dismay at the steep jungle slope looming over us.
I didn’t tell him that it wasn’t the climb up that made me hesitate. It was the inevitable fall down that had my heart stopping.
Mind you, I’m not afraid of heights. I can sit right against the window in the Signature Room and peer straight down, loving how space-agey the city looks at night. And, growing up as an oil palm plantation girl, I was familiar with unpaved roads, biking down winding laterite paths that have no rails to protect the unfamiliar visitor (there have been a few instances where company cars and Land Rovers have gone off the edge in the rain).
However, in those instances, I knew I had sure footing when it was time to descend. There were things to hold on to, and footholds that you could at least stick a toe in. The path up Gunung Lambak that my father had chosen, however, guaranteed a rather sharp and pointy tumble down, no matter how steady-as-a-mountain-goat your feet might be. I couldn’t help thinking of my cousin, who had gone mountain-climbing years ago and had experienced such a fall. I quivered inside.
It was Paps’s idea to go hiking up Gunung Lambak, as a father-daughter moment since I was visiting home. Or rather, a father-children moment, since my brothers had come along as well. “Gunung” means “mountain,” while “lambak” means “heap.” So, in essence, its name translates into one heap of a mountain. Rather ironic, considering it’s just 510 meters high; I’d always thought of it as more of a hill, scarcely regarding something as a “mountain” unless it was in the four-digit level.
Woe to those who underestimate a mountain-wannabe.
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