I cleaned up, did some writing out on the balcony, and explored the development a little only to discover two things: first, the development really didn't have that much beyond the chalets. Besides a games room and business centre, the usual pool and restaurant, it was essentially like any other hotel. What did I expect? I don't know, perhaps some sort of kayaking activity or something like that. After all, the water was all around us. As we were quite far from town or any decent stretch of beach, I would have thought activities would have been a good thing to have around the hotel.
The second thing I discovered was a group of people on a course. These were trooped out to the front of the hotel by a stentorian programme leader full of himself and apparently not much else. I walked quickly past them as the booming leader quickly began to grate on my nerves.
The rest of my stay was spent writing out on the balcony (very nice), trying unsuccessfully to get on to the net (not nice at all) and then late at night I decided, what the heck, and ran a hot bath, threw some bath salts I found into it and had a good soak (very very nice)... I'm not normally a bath person, preferring the practicality and economy of a good hot shower to the waste and sloth of a soak. But... I might just be on the edge of changing my mind here... I actually dozed off, such was the calming quality of the hot water and bath salt combination.
Later still, I rang for dinner and for some reason, assumed the burger I ordered would be small and I would need something else for my morning so I also ordered a pizza. RM 40 and a half an hour later they were delivered to me and then I realised I'd perhaps been a tad ambitious... The burger tasted bloody marvellous though. I kept the pizza for morning. Heck what have you got against cold pizza?
The second memory I shall keep of PD came after I'd left the hotel early the next morning. The temptation to stay was strong, but the thought of another frustrating time with dropped internet connections and a nice hotel room sans wifey was just too much so I headed out at a little past 6, to Morib.
Going out of town was not a problem even with the heavier school-going traffic. It wasn't raining and for some reason I found myself perspiring quite a bit more than I had been used to. I had a brief thought that maybe the soak in the bath (just what was in the bath salts?) was the culprit, but then realised I hadn't cycled out in dry weather in some days.
I got out of town and into the oil palm estate region with their long rolling hills. Now, I have been through this area a number of times - when I used to follow the local motor rallying scene, the Tanah Merah, PD-Lukut and Bukit Pelandok estates were invariably on the route. I didn't recall, however, that these places are this HILLY! Bukit ('Hill') Pelandok is a misnomer. It should be Gunung ('Mountain') Pelandok instead! And it's an insidious, evil, despicable mountain too.
You ride along these smooth roads following the contours of the oil palm covered slopes, admiring the beautiful, lush rolling hills, made even more verdant in the soft morning light, then you hit what appears to be a short slope upwards. You get up this short stretch, go around the corner and see... another couple of hundred metres of hill. So you struggle up this one, your breath becoming ever louder, your efforts becoming a little more strained. You run a mantra in your mind 'I can make it. I can make it' and visions of the Little Engine That Could flit briefly through your consciousness. You turn yet another corner, and see yet another hill, the road snaking up for a couple of hundred more metres.
Then your body, which until then had been quietly protesting, begins to make its voice heard above your, by now, laboured breathing. And you body says to you 'No you can't'.
You struggle on a bit. 'I can make it' 'No you can't' 'I can make it' NO you can't' I can make it' 'NO you CAN'T' 'I can..oh what the f***'... and you pull over and rest.
Trying to look as cool and unflustered as possible, you stand by the roadside as the traffic goes by, wait while your breathing slowly returns to normal - which is about 400 breaths per minute - then you climb back on your bike and with a 'JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE AND I AM THERE', you strike out again.
Up a slope, round a bend, another bleeding slope, up that one, just... then with the 'I can make it's ringing loud in your head, your body explodes with another 'Oh f*** when is this hill going to flatten out? you pull over again.
And so on it goes.
And so on it went. For what seemed like many kilometres, I struggled, stopped, struggled again... At some point I realised the road up had a slow lane too whereas the other side had just the one. I realise now you can rate the gradient of a hill by the fact it has a slow lane for the trucks to huff and puff up. Easy for them with their diesel engines...
Anyway, I survived. After that hill, the rest of the ride was easy. It had delayed me tremendously and I knew I wasn't going to make it into Morib before lunch so I pulled over at an Indian shop in Tanjung Sepat and had a drink and some lunch.
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The second thing I discovered was a group of people on a course. These were trooped out to the front of the hotel by a stentorian programme leader full of himself and apparently not much else. I walked quickly past them as the booming leader quickly began to grate on my nerves.
The rest of my stay was spent writing out on the balcony (very nice), trying unsuccessfully to get on to the net (not nice at all) and then late at night I decided, what the heck, and ran a hot bath, threw some bath salts I found into it and had a good soak (very very nice)... I'm not normally a bath person, preferring the practicality and economy of a good hot shower to the waste and sloth of a soak. But... I might just be on the edge of changing my mind here... I actually dozed off, such was the calming quality of the hot water and bath salt combination.
Later still, I rang for dinner and for some reason, assumed the burger I ordered would be small and I would need something else for my morning so I also ordered a pizza. RM 40 and a half an hour later they were delivered to me and then I realised I'd perhaps been a tad ambitious... The burger tasted bloody marvellous though. I kept the pizza for morning. Heck what have you got against cold pizza?
The second memory I shall keep of PD came after I'd left the hotel early the next morning. The temptation to stay was strong, but the thought of another frustrating time with dropped internet connections and a nice hotel room sans wifey was just too much so I headed out at a little past 6, to Morib.
Going out of town was not a problem even with the heavier school-going traffic. It wasn't raining and for some reason I found myself perspiring quite a bit more than I had been used to. I had a brief thought that maybe the soak in the bath (just what was in the bath salts?) was the culprit, but then realised I hadn't cycled out in dry weather in some days.
I got out of town and into the oil palm estate region with their long rolling hills. Now, I have been through this area a number of times - when I used to follow the local motor rallying scene, the Tanah Merah, PD-Lukut and Bukit Pelandok estates were invariably on the route. I didn't recall, however, that these places are this HILLY! Bukit ('Hill') Pelandok is a misnomer. It should be Gunung ('Mountain') Pelandok instead! And it's an insidious, evil, despicable mountain too.
You ride along these smooth roads following the contours of the oil palm covered slopes, admiring the beautiful, lush rolling hills, made even more verdant in the soft morning light, then you hit what appears to be a short slope upwards. You get up this short stretch, go around the corner and see... another couple of hundred metres of hill. So you struggle up this one, your breath becoming ever louder, your efforts becoming a little more strained. You run a mantra in your mind 'I can make it. I can make it' and visions of the Little Engine That Could flit briefly through your consciousness. You turn yet another corner, and see yet another hill, the road snaking up for a couple of hundred more metres.
Then your body, which until then had been quietly protesting, begins to make its voice heard above your, by now, laboured breathing. And you body says to you 'No you can't'.
You struggle on a bit. 'I can make it' 'No you can't' 'I can make it' NO you can't' I can make it' 'NO you CAN'T' 'I can..oh what the f***'... and you pull over and rest.
Trying to look as cool and unflustered as possible, you stand by the roadside as the traffic goes by, wait while your breathing slowly returns to normal - which is about 400 breaths per minute - then you climb back on your bike and with a 'JUST A LITTLE BIT MORE AND I AM THERE', you strike out again.
Up a slope, round a bend, another bleeding slope, up that one, just... then with the 'I can make it's ringing loud in your head, your body explodes with another 'Oh f*** when is this hill going to flatten out? you pull over again.
And so on it goes.
And so on it went. For what seemed like many kilometres, I struggled, stopped, struggled again... At some point I realised the road up had a slow lane too whereas the other side had just the one. I realise now you can rate the gradient of a hill by the fact it has a slow lane for the trucks to huff and puff up. Easy for them with their diesel engines...
Anyway, I survived. After that hill, the rest of the ride was easy. It had delayed me tremendously and I knew I wasn't going to make it into Morib before lunch so I pulled over at an Indian shop in Tanjung Sepat and had a drink and some lunch.
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