Day 6 Muar Part 2

I wandered around Muar on foot again today, and realised it is a large town indeed. I am just an anonymous transient here. Nothing captivated me except some odd details including the conversion of the top floors of many buildings into nesting areas for Swallows. Much easier to harvest the nests than clambering up long bamboo poles in dark caves, this industry seems to have..uhm... taken off.

Some buildings had huge rooftops converted specially for the purpose while others had just their top floors set up. Everywhere I went, the song of the birds was audible.

I also saw my first Mat Rempit type here - a bloke on a small bike, complete with pillion, holding a wheelie for about 100 metres up one of the main streets, in the midst of other traffic. Crazy...

Muar is yet another old town whose charm and old-style beauty has been painfully disrupted by modern erections. I don't understand why we insist on putting up drab, faceless buildings when we could be doing so much better, for not much more. And surely, in the long run, the returns are clear? One example of this, which I still have a chuckle over, was a set of old shophouses, interjected by a bland modern block of three multi-storey units right in the middle. What was amusing was that all the old units were tenanted and prospering, while Wisma Blandsville was empty and shuttered, looking for particularly brave tenants.

The cook at Darul Masyhur is getting used to me. I've had a string of teh halias here, each one no better than the previous. Fortunately his chapatis and curries are palatable. I appreciate the shop for its convenience and the opportunity to sit and watch people coming and going. For the most part, if I cleverly cropped out the image of the Hotel Kingdom from the top of my view, I might just as well have been having my teh halias in parts of Petaling Jaya or KL.

While I'm enjoying life free from nasal occlusion for the first time in a few days, the rain has tried its hardest to put a damper on things, spluttering down for awhile then disappearing only to reappear a few hours later. I didn't mind, really.

On one trip out, I found both a new sarong as well as another Indian restaurant. The fare looked more appetising and I'm sure the teh halias would have proven to be much more authentic too, but by that time I'd had quite enough of wandering the streets of Muar and was more than ready to head out of town.
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Day 6 Muar Part 1

I hear that Muar used to be a very nice little town. Note I wrote 'used'. Although there is nothing obviously wrong with Muar, as far as I can tell in two days, I failed to find anything outstandingly great either.

Like most big towns, Muar is a mix of the old and the new. In many ways, the new has pushed the old to the periphery, or hemmed it in amongst blocks of anonymous, featureless, personalityless concrete and glass.

The Hotel Kingdom is an anachronism. It was started in the 70s, though first impressions suggest an age altogether more ancient. I am getting used now to the process of unpacking and bringing my things upstairs, and the Kingdom even afforded me a little entranceway so I would not be the focal point of attention as I unloaded and huffed and puffed up and down the stairs.

Once upstairs, I realised my first impressions might just as accurately be applied to the staff. Two old men, one behind an old fashioned counter complete with large leatherette-bound registration ledgers and a now disconnected telephone switchboard, and the other dressed in a pressed white shirt and black tailored trousers... and slippers, attended to me.

They were both friendly blokes and my total lack of Hokkien and Mandarin and their lack of Catonese and limited English made the whole process of signing in much more romantic and memorable. It turns out the room rate is RM 38 and I'd have to give them at least half-an-hour's notice if I wanted a hot shower as they'd have to switch the main heater on.

The room has a two-seater grey vinyl couch with a laminate table in between the seats on which was placed a red plastic tray bearing a plastic water jug and two tapering coffee-shop glasses, two single beds, some brass hooks set in a wooden plaque on the wall, and a cheap laminate dresser cum wardrobe. Pale sky blue paint, peeling parts, pale blue curtains and a green and white mosaic floor set off the whole perfectly. I love it!

My room fronts a street with moderate traffic. Muar has its fair share of the large-and-loud exhaust pipe fraternity and it seems that every hour or so one member of that group has to rumble, pop, snort and fart along this street.

Directly across from the hotel is the Darul Masyhur Indian Muslim restaurant. Like the Batu Pahat Rest House restaurant, I chose this one to be my frequent haunt. The Teh Halia is not particularly inspiring but I'm a lazy bugger and a little halia is better than none. I can't find any other Indian restaurants nearby.

The noise from the traffic and the patrons of Darul Masyhur has now become a burble in the background, neither intruding nor disrupting thought nor sleep. It abates early and starts relatively late, so the nights are quite peaceful.

Being a biggish town, Muar is relatively impersonal. Besides a short conversation with the proprietress of the Darul Masyhur about my trip and some with the old folks in the hotel, I haven't really engaged with anyone here. Which is fine with me. I decided then that I would do one of my favourite pastimes - observing.

I spent a few hours yesterday and today walking around Muar. I was surprised at how late the morning starts here - by 8, the streets were still relatively empty. I had breakfast at a hawker centre around the corner. I'd had lunch there when I arrived yesterday and that was far better than the pseudo Penang Laksa I had this morning. Why would I order that, you ask, considering I shall be having the real thing in a few weeks? Well, truth be told, I thought I was ordering normal laksa...
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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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Day 4 Batu Pahat

By doth ith blocked...

The cold I picked up in Kukup persists. It goes away when I'm exerting myself, but if I should stop for awhile and it returns. Doesn't help that Batu Pahat is cool - literally. I tried to have an early night last night. Fortunately the Rest House has a very decent restaurant (I'm sure it wasn't just my hunger giving me that impression for I ate nowhere else during my two-night stay) and I had a hot dinner which was most agreeable.

I seem to remember that many rest houses were located on hills. I may be wrong but if so, the Batu Pahat one is no exception. The high elevation gave a very good vantage point of the hills in the distance and some gardens and a lake below.

Feeling extremely stuffed up I didn't venture out at all the first morning. I had a closer look at the 'Febs' cold medication I'd brought along, wondering why it wasn't working. The date at one end of the pack gave the game away. I'd grabbed it from my fridge and it was seriously out of date. I am too embarrassed to reveal how seriously...

The late morning brought rain which suited me fine as I took the opportunity to update the blog. This is turning out to be a task of some dimension indeed. It is eminently pleasurable as being on the saddle for hours at a time, and just being on my own has given me a more contemplative air. I'm enjoying writing and I hope you are enjoying the fruits of my creative labour.

One thing I wasn't enjoying at all was having just one functioning nostril at a time. The thin blanket didn't help at all. So when the rain cleared, I wandered off into town and was instantly glad I did.

I took the back way out of the Rest House and went down a hill behind the JKR building. I came out facing a couple of large padangs - fields. One was a hockey or football field with some spectator stands on one side. The other had a clock tower on one end and another, more decorative, grandstand on the other. Around this padang were dotted trees, shelters, lots of Malaysian flags and a lot of wooden swings. A wide sidewalk lined one side and I walked down this to a plaza which had a huge sculpture in the middle. Oh look at the pictures...

The part of Batu Pahat I was within walking distance of is for the most part quite pretty. Sure, modernity has reared its ugly, tasteless head, but nestled among the new are remnants of a bygone time. Although some of the old buildings are much tattier now than years ago, they still offered a pleasing contrast to glass and concrete.

Down a side street I found a Chinese medicine shop. They had the Vicks I needed, but not the cold medicine - the owner gave me a different brand instead, which he claimed did not cause drowsiness. I had no wish to fight the heat or the hills in a somnolent state.

Pleased that the end of the cold was apparently nigh, I returned to the Rest House for some tea and to pop a few capsules.

They didn't work. My nose was still stuffed after some hours. The afternoon rain forced me to stay in and do a bit more writing or reading. Also a lot of lying down on one side till the upper nostril cleared, then turning over to unblock the previously open but now stuffed one. Ad infinitum...

After dinner, thoroughly fed up, I wandered quickly into town again to the Guardian Pharmacy I'd spotted on my way back earlier. Armed with a box of Clarinase I was sure would do the trick, I rushed back, popped a pill and said goodbye to the nasal drip.

The Batu Pahat Rest House is owned by the government of course, and is run by Mr Teo, assisted by 2 general staff and one or two in the kitchen. Although the location is charming, rest houses were never about luxury and this one is no exception. The fittings are old (even broken), the bed was sagging in the middle and the blanket thin.

Having said that, the garden and patio are pretty, the people very attentive and friendly (even if Mr Teo seemed to enjoy his TV), the food was very nice indeed, and the location simply superb. Also, it was practically empty so quiet was assured - well until the night. More on that in awhile.

The laid back attitude was also very welcome - when I announced my intention to have an early start (they open the place at 7am and close up the lobby and kitchen at 11+pm), Mr Teo said to simply leave my room unlocked and the key inside. Now, my room is accessible by anyone wandering into the unfenced grounds so this seemed quite casual. Anyone wants a 14" TV, an old aircon with no controlling knobs or a sagging mattress?

My last night promised much better - the Clarinase helped, I dug out my sarong to help where the blanket was not particularly effective, and I tried to get to sleep.

Now I've thrown away the box so I cannot tell, but perhaps someone here can advise me if the 24-hour version of Clarinase has Caffeine in it? I could not sleep! I played Solitaire on my iPod for awhile, read for a bit, then lay back in the darkness for even longer getting worried I would be pushing myself too hard the next day.

When the couple in the next room began their bedroom aerobics, complete with sound effects audible through the thinnish walls, I knew it was a lost cause.

I eventually slept in short snatches through the night and got up just before 5 am for a leisurely start to the day.

So, what of Batu Pahat - at least the bits I saw? Well, it's certainly not a small town and these tend to be less personal. My own physical condition and the rain meant I explored little but liked what I did see. Would I come back? Yes, definitely. And to the Rest House.

But not for the reason you think - I left my Balinese Sarong on the bed when I left and Mr Teo promised to keep it for me. I bought it on my honeymoon and I'll be damned if I'm letting it go!
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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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Day 4 - The Batu Pahat Resthouse

Day 3 Pontian - Batu Pahat

Distance: 75.72 km
Max Speed: 37.8 km/h
Forget the average - I took hours!

What a day! If Day 2 taught me not to ride in the midday sun, Day 3 taught me to rethink my definition of 'early start'.

I had breakfast at a little after 6 at a 24-hour Indian shop a few streets away. I ordered a Roti Telur Bawang which the guy had to specially make. I sat down and had my teh but could not eat much of the roti. I suspected it was a simple case of my stomach waking a little later than the rest of me. This has been the case for most of my life but this time I anticipated the owner would ask me why I hadn't finished the food he'd had to prepare just for me. I had a pat answer and when I got up to pay, true enough he saw 2/3 of the roti left untouched and asked why. I thought he would laugh when I said 'My stomach is still sleeping I think'. But he didn't. He gave me my change and didn't even look me in the eye. What the heck, I'm not likely to eat there again anyway!

Now let me reveal something very personal. I do have mild Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Sparing you the details, I will admit that I may, during the course of the day, have to avail myself of the conveniences more than most people. If I'm at work this isn't a problem of course, but on a bike it can be. So this morning, I decided to make sure I'd got that well taken care of before I set out.

When I finally got the bike downstairs and packed up, and said my goodbyes to the Makcik, it was just getting on 8am. I headed out of Pontian and for the first 15 kms it was good riding. Cool air, decent average speed - I was feeling good! After that, things started heating up a bit and at about 10:30 I began to feel a bit warm again. Careful not to push too hard, I still felt compelled to get as far as I could in what I began to realise would be a two-stage ride in to Batu Pahat. It became clear, what with my frequent stops (first at 15 kms, thereafter every 10 km or so) to take in water and rest up a bit, that I would not make the 75 kms in 4 hours.

Once again I was astonished at how many people waved or smiled or called out. One kid ran across the road from his bunch of friends on the other side, shouting something at me. He stuck his arm out and I thought he wanted to yank me off the bike or something so swerved around him to his great disappointment. It was then that I realised he just wanted to high-five me. Oops...

There was a dearth of Air Tebu stalls. In fact, there was a dearth of any stalls open at all. The Hari Raya holidays are still in full swing apparently. So I stopped often at bus stops, sheltering from the increasingly hot sun.

Close to lunch time and I'd only got as far as Rengit (yup - no hotel) where I decided to stop at a coffee shop just before the turnoff to Punggur Beach. Gan wasn't far off and he turned up less than an hour later having driven down from KL to pass me the Maxis broadband wireless modem which now means I have some connection to the net. Hurray!

There was an old Pakcik at the shop with his daughter and I chatted briefly with him. Remarkably, he worked for 40 years in Singapore, not far from where my office is. As if that wasn't enough, he also lived in the Bedok area, just a few minutes from where Mei and I live now!

We left the bike locked up at the shop, packed my bags in the car and drove back to Rengit to have lunch. Two orders of Nasi Ayam and a couple of drinks for RM12. Not bad at all. I decided to wait until past 4 to head off, thereby avoiding most of the glare and heat of that sweltering afternoon. See? I do learn. Usually...

After Gan left to head back to KL, I stayed around a bit at the coffee shop, reading. At 4 pm, I said my goodbyes to the coffeeshop owner who had been kind and patient. I bought a couple of bread rolls just so he'd have a bit more business out of us and got back on the bike to head towards Batu Pahat, about 32 km away.

During lunch we'd remarked how this part of Johor is quite flat. Well, after travelling quite a distance, and not within 10 kms of Batu Pahat, I discovered it isn't flat. At all. Looking at the map now, I realise there is a 427m hill on the east and a 250m hill on the west of the road in. I think I went up both.

I came to the first climb, realised I wasn't going to make it up, despite going all the way down the gears and travelling at less than 8 km/h. A short litany of expletives and I decided enough was enough I was going to get off the bike and push. Mustering all the dignity I could I did just that. The stream of traffic going by did remarkably offer the occasional toot of encouragement. When I got to the top, I stopped for a couple of minutes to catch my breath then got back on the bike and zoomed down the hill, round a corner only to see another climb ahead of me.

I tried. I really did, but I just couldn't make it up. I'm shuddering, just thinking of the hills in Perak as I type this! The irony of it is that on the left of the road was a Chinese cemetery... Well, I got up by pushing the bike then stopped by the roadside again to have a drink and splash my, by now, extremely hot body with squirts from the fast-emptying water bottle.

The third hill almost wiped me out but I sat down at the top, on a kerb, and rested for a good 15 minutes. Traffic going the opposite way was struggling too - they were changing down to a low gear to make the grade. Around the bend ahead of me I could just make out traffic swinging up another hill so I steeled myself for that by sitting quietly on that kerb, panting and cursing. As if the lack of hotels in the 3 towns I passed wasn't bad enough, the fact I had to do a 75 km ride on only my third day was quite sapping. Then factor in the heat of the day, and you begin to get some idea of my increasingly fragile mental state. And now, the hills....

I finally got back on the bike, and zoomed down the steep slope. The hill on the other side wasn't as bad as I'd thought and I managed to get all the way up and zoomed down a beautiful stretch after that. There was a long gentle climb after that so I decided to rest again outside a large supermarket. At this point I began to think it would be wise to mark on a map specially for cyclists 'Here be hills'. No make that 'Here be big bloody mountains'.

Sitting there in this empty carpark, I cooled down considerably and started feeling a little refreshed. I even felt a sense of some achievement for having weathered whatever circumstance had thrown at me. Then I heard thunder... a few drops of rain splattered me... I fought down an urge to look up to the heavens and say 'Look, do you mind?'.

The drizzle didn't get worse however so I eventually got back on and cycled up the long road. That was the last of the dramas though as just after that crest was one long slope down after another. It was amazing - my speeds were hitting 35 km/h or more at this stage and that's how I came into the outskirts of Batu Pahat. When I saw the first rows of shophouses I couldn't restrain myself and let out a whoop of delight. Cruising in to town at over 25 km/h I saw a sign indicating the Rest House up ahead and on a whim thought 'why not?' and swung in.

Now, rest houses were common in the old days of trunk road driving and I had thought they'd died out long ago. Well, I'm glad they didn't. The Batu Pahat Rest House was at the end of a short lane bordered by bushes and trees. As suddenly as I'd turned off the main road, the traffic noise ceased and it seemed a gentle breeze carried me up the slight slope to the driveway.

A chap at reception said there were rooms and I could even park my bike in mine. So I did.

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