Day 33 Nov 17 Alor Setar - Kangar Part 2

Along the way, about 2 km from Air Hitam, I stopped at a roadside stall set amongst some padi fields. It was a clean and tidy place, well kept, with a number of tables arranged neatly in rows. A large family sat finishing their late lunch in one corner and a very tanned lady beckoned me sit further in where it was cooler.

She took my order of Iced Lemon Tea and I looked around as I waited. The stall seemed, like many such I have come across, to be an extension to a house or other building. I could see into the kitchen and that look uncharacteristically clean and tidy too. To my left was an expanse of padi fields and then a large predominantly zinc building which looked a little run down. To my right, in the shop, was a table with food in covered metal trays.

A little cooking or barbecueing area and another little counter completed the setup.

My tea came and it was perfect. It's sometimes too sweet - especially when I forget to ask for it with less sugar, but this one was just right.

The lady came up to me again and we chatted about the bike and where I'd come from, the usual stuff. She eventually sat down and we talked at length.

Now, consider that, since Penang, I have not been at 100%. My little period of funk had passed, but my body was struggling to deal with the strain of the last few days' exertions. Riding out from Alor Setar, I wasn't really in the right frame of mind or body to do a long ride. The effects of being in large towns in the last few days had a lot to do with how I was feeling as well.

Penang, Butterworth, Sungei Petani, Alor Setar - all large towns, all anonymous, all wearying in one way or other. I think I shall need to ease back into being in crowded places slowly when I return...

It always happens though, you know. Just when you think you're just that little bit tired, something good happens that lifts you right up again.

I had mentioned earlier how great it was to get the wave or toot or shout of encouragement when you;re cycling along. Well, it's always been much greater to sit down and enjoy a chat with someone in a kampung gerai.

I never caught the lady's name, nor at least 30% of what she said - why can't these darn Kedahans speak normal Malay? But the 70% I understood brought me right back to the feeling I had talking to the two gentleman in the coffeeshop in Seri Menanti, or with Hamzah near Simpang Lima/Sungei Besar.

She told me of how she used to work in a factory, realised it was a dead end job so she went to work in a restaurant. At first she cleaned dishes, then when she expressed an interest in working in the kitchen, they let her learn the craft until she was finally cooking. Armed with those skills, she eventually came out and set up this gerai. Her food was good, if not necessarily spectacular.

What was truly amazing though is her grasp of what makes a good food establishment tick. She spoke about being warm and friendly and recognising that the food business was a relationship business. She worked hard at making sure her customers were happy - whether with the cleanliness of the place, or the quality of the food and drinks served.

She was proud of the fact she had repeat customers - even out here seemingly in the middle of nowhere. And equally proud that some big-shots had dropped by, some repeatedly, to buy her food.

I liked what she told me. I liked the fact she worked hard and with a clear idea of where she intended to be in the future. I liked her work ethic. I liked her principles. And most of all, I liked how she was just so warm and friendly.

Big towns take a lot out of me. I struggle to deal with the fact that people in big towns just don't seem to have the time for each other. I hate the sullenness or surliness. I detest the me-first mentality. And I deplore the fact people just seem to have forgotten how to be kind and warm, even when they've just met you.

This little stall, 2 km from Air Hitam and 10 km from the Perlis border, made me remember the small towns aren't like the big towns. And thankfully so.

I rode off feeling better than I've felt in a few days and when I reached the border a little later, I stopped to take some pictures. And ponder the significance of what I was about to do.

I was about to enter the 8th state on my ride. The northernmost one. I've never even been here in a car, much less a bicycle. The last few days had begun to worry me in that I felt I was becoming focussed on destinations. Sure, the fact that the towns I was in didn't entice me didn't help. But still, I had no desire to end the journey at a point, a destination. This wasn't what it was supposed to be.

And yet... Soon I would be at the end of the ride. Whether that be Padang Besar or Kampung Wang Kelian was still undecided. The former was the original, partly for the availability of transport home (or so I'd thought). The latter for the fact it is indeed the northernmost town, to balance out starting from the southernmost tip.

That decision would be made a day later. Meanwhile, I stopped and looked at the monument marking the border between Kedah and Perlis. It was a milestone in more ways than one. I had done what I;d set out to do, physically.

What I'd set out to achieve philosophically and spiritually was still unfinished. And I'd have a few days yet to ponder what was to come next.

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Day 5 Batu Pahat - Muar

Distance: 56 km
Max Speed 29.7 km/h
Average while moving: 17.3 km/h

6 am start, cool and crisp morning air... I wasn't going to make the mistakes of the last few days!

Mr Teo had said it was about 30+ km to Muar, but a check of the map showed it to be more likely about 55km. Distances must seem shorter in a car. Nevermind. After the 75 km ride here, 55 in the early morning, and with no hills, should be fairly straightforward.

I was up very early, packed all my stuff then took a glass of water and the remaining bun from the coffeeshop near Rengit out to the patio. A number of lights had been left on around the rest house so I wasn't all in darkness. There was no one about and in that quiet time before even the faintest traces of dawn, even the insects seemed hushed. As I munched on the bun, the call to prayer sounded in the distance, muted by the early morning mist. A second from a different mosque followed shortly after and I figured it was time to go.

A final check, front and rear lights on and I pushed the bike out onto the road. Two ladies going out on their morning walk were the only signs of life up on this hill as I set off into the darkness.

I rode into town and here a few cars and motorcycles were already about. I sensed some curious glances, but no one called out. No one smiled. Too early in the day? Or perhaps the bigger towns sow the seeds of indifference. It didn't bother me though - the morning air was crisp and I felt good. The stiffness was leaving my legs and I was physically and mentally set.

Once out of town, the dark stretches became a bit of a problem. As I warmed up, my glasses misted ever so slightly and the headlights of oncoming cars cut my vision dramatically. I stopped once to try and wipe my glasses, but it seems Nike Dri Fit clothes are useless at that task, smearing rather than clearing.

I pressed on out of Batu Pahat as the town began to shake off the last vestiges of slumber. Here and there roosters crowed, the populace stirred and people began appearing in their gardens, on their motorcycles or bicycles, and always, in the background, I could hear a soft murmur from the mosque. It took me a few minutes to realise the morning Azan was taking a very long time indeed.

When I thought I caught some words in Malay, I realised it wasn't the Azan I was hearing after all. A quick calculation and I worked out it was Friday and I was probably hearing some sort of Friday morning sermon following the Azan. As I passed the last reaches of one mosque's speakers, it seemed I came into range of a different one's. And so it went for a few kilometres, the tinny monotone providing a calming accompaniment to my breathing.

I must have done about 20 kms in that first stint before stopping to rest. By this stage, the sun was up and the mist had cleared. I pulled up at a concrete bus stop - one of those with the ubiquitous and utterly incongruous Grecian columns. A Malay man of about 40 was seated there, one foot up on the bench, his slippers down on the ground below him. I smiled at him and he smiled back.

He asked the usual questions 'Where are you from?', 'Where are you headed?', 'Alone?' To this last question, I now tell a lie 'Ya, tapi ada member ikutlah, kat Melaka, KL, Ipoh' 'Yes, but I have friends joining me in Melaka, KL and Ipoh' Never hurts to be cautious I guess.

We talked for awhile about where I'd been and where I was headed and, as with everyone else whom I say it to, he laughed when I said 'my wife thinks I'm mad to do this.' Initially reticent, he warmed up soon enough. As we talked, another man rode up on his motorbike and joined us. And so we passed a few pleasant minutes.

When I finally decided it was time to go, they both wished me well and a safe journey - something I'd heard from almost everyone I'd had a short chat with. It never fails to warm my heart.

At one point I stopped outside some sort of factory. A glance at the drain by the road and I was sickened. Now it's not unusual to see green water in roadside drains - algae or other plant life often forms. This, however, was a thick, sludgy brown. And worse, there were dense bubbles on the surface lending the whole the look of some toxic effluent. Needless to say, I didn't stay long.

Much later, I was greatly revived by my encounter with two friendly gentlemen at a coffeeshop in Seri Menanti. I have written about the DAP and UMNO friends elsewhere.

I reached Muar at a little after 11, a little damp from a persistent drizzle in the last 10 km. Using the guidebook Lili gave me, I rang the first budget hotel on the list and found they were just up the road a little.

So here I am, at the Hotel Kingdom.
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Thoughts while pedalling: Why am I doing this?

If you don't cycle, you might wonder what goes through my mind when I'm on the bike. Now I don't know what the 'standard' is, or indeed if there is any particular norm. I do know that by nature, I subscribe to what I call the Dirk Gently method of thought.

Dirk was the principal character in a couple of Douglas Adams detective stories. He believed in the interconnectedness of all things and would often simply go where chance and fate would lead him believing that he may not get where he wanted to go, but he would wind up where he needed to be.

My thinking is kinda like that too I guess. Case in point: one morning I mentioned to Mei that I knew I had something on the next evening but could not remember what it was. I finally recalled the event and sms'd her. She thought I'd checked my diary but the truth was that I was at the coffeeshop opposite my office having a cup of coffee when a guy with a goatee walked past. He registered on the edge of my consciousness and I had this thought that he looked like a designer. From there I started thinking about design work in general, then thought about my recent interview on Asia Business Report when I gave an opinion on Sony's brand image, and then I started on what other stories I could dig up that might be newsworthy, then thought of the (then) upcoming global brand forum, and finally remembered my friend Nantha who was in Singapore from KL for that and it was indeed Nantha whom I was to meet the next evening.

Rather convoluted I know but that's my thought pattern. And I usually get where I need to be as well.

One of the stray thoughts I had while cycling to Batu Pahat was about an interesting recent short conversation I'd had with one of the guys I work with, Andrew Wilson. In preparing some material for our work, we discussed the concept of 'Influence'. What exactly is influence?

My first considered response was that it is the ability to effect a particular decision and action in someone else. As we delved deeper into this, it became clear that influence is a little wider and more complex than this. You can influence thought without action. You can influence action without thought.

You can influence through contact. And you can too, with no direct contact.

And then there are the forms of influence - the whole spectrum from direct coercion through to inspiration. Andrew will doubtless have more to say on his Whole Manager blog soon.

As I cycled however, I realised that the idea of influence indeed underpins the whole notion of this ride. It is in fact, a very good study of the whole concept of influence.

As things stand, I have a number of goals (listed here in no particular order):
i. Get from South to North
ii. Meet people and interact with them
iii. Discover things, especially values we think we've forgotten
iv. Get back safe and sound
v. Write about people - especially positive things
vi. Have a good time
vii. Get fit
viii. Don't get broke - literally or figuratively
ix. Meet old friends
x. Take pictures and videos and collate material for a book a film whatever
the list goes on a little more.

What isn't on that list is any direct desire to change people. That is not to say I have no such wish. The truth is that I would be lying if I said this is a strictly personal journey.

The very act of planning this has made some of you think about the whole idea. You would have thought about what you'd read, considered my motives, weighed up my chance of completing the journey, and even thought about why I bother. By doing this, you have unavoidably examined your own natural instincts, your bias and your prejudices. You have challenged your own perceptions.

I have influenced your thoughts. I have influenced you.

Now, I may not have made any palpable difference in the manner in which you approach your life. Influence need not, as I have begun to understand, necessarily create the influencer's desired result. In this case, it doesn't matter.

I have a relative who is so cynical he could freeze an egg in boiling water. Whatever that means. He is cold about the prospects this country faces. I think his attitude is wrong and I go back to the notion of 'If you change the way you look at things, the things around you change.'

Cynicism is a particularly devious condition. It weakens not just the people who encounter it, but also the person who bears the crutch of cynicism. I choose not to be cynical.

This morning, on the way from Batu Pahat to Muar, I stopped at Pekan Seri Menanti in Johor and had breakfast in a little Malay coffee shop. What struck me was how there were Chinese and Malay patrons, sitting down with each other, enjoying a good chat over their teas or coffees. I sat down with two gentleman who, as things turned out were DAP and UMNO men. Chinese and Malay. And they sat there, discussing things, laughing and joking with each other and with me, sharing their concerns for the country. And in this little shop, everyone greeted everyone else. They all shook hands. Malay, Chinese, whatever: it didn't matter. Heck almost everyone shook hands with me!

I stayed for one hour, risking a warm arrival in Muar for the sheer pleasure of seeing my Celebrate Malaysia! ideals displayed right before me. Cynicism? Bah! Who needs it?

The ideals I professed to be searching for are indeed out there. I like to think that my ride is influencing some people - maybe you. This morning, I sat and was instead influenced by a couple of older gentleman.

And for these two reasons, I am doing this ride.

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