Now that the thong tan on the tops of my feet is starting to fade and the glaring red of my hydroid sting has turned to soft pink bumps it is time to pour myself a glass of the good stuff, sit down, pick up an electronic paper and pencil (aka keyboard and blogger window) and chronicle one of the most amazing adventures this little peanut has had the pleasure of undertaking so far in her short life.
And so, without further ado -
Trail Mix Take Malaysia!
DAY 1. SYD_PER_SIN_BKI (via Qantas and Air Asia)
On the 30th of June, 2009 I packed my large yellow North Face duffel full of all sorts of oddities including 6-inch black heels (of the "all sorts of hot" variety), Tiger Balm, irreplaceable and expensive jewelry, jeans, shorts, band aids, 2 rolls of Charmin Ultra (the 4-ply version sporting colourful images of golden retriever puppies donning snorkels, quite fitting I thought..), 2 pairs of sunglasses, 1 pair of socks, the oldest thongs in existence (which inevitably makes them by far and away the most comfortable), ranch flavoured Goldfish crackers, the self-constructed "Small Book of Sabah" with all sorts of well-organised and odd information plucked from blogs, off-the-beaten-track-tourist info sites and the odd "rough guide" page, a checklist of required experiences (see below) and clothes for most occasions.
The taxi driver picked me up far too early and
drove like a demon through the pre-dawn, empty streets of Sydney ensuring that I arrived at Kingsford-Smith with a ridiculous amount of time to kill, at 4am.
I curled up looking like a snoozing oxymoron in a black and white tailored skirt suit, aforementioned 6-inch stunners (heels), gently napping on a duffel the size of my entire person.
Soon after the small check-in booths gained their disgruntled Qantas ground-staff occupants I checked my beloved bag through to Singapore and breathed a happy sigh which can only come from a lack of luggage.
Exercising some ghost-like swiftness (aka "confidence and seeming like you belong will get you anywhere") I pulled up a cushy armchair in the Qantas Club and munched on some pikelets with rhubarb and ricotta for second-breakfast.
SYD_PER was uneventful (as it generally is at 6am) but third breakfast of sausages, "poached" (yeah, seriously guys, that egg was hard bloody boiled!) eggs and grilled tomatoes was actually decent. I considered having a glass of champagne and orange as a pre-morning mimosa but decided it might endanger admitting to my inner-alcoholic and stuck with sweetener-saturated tea instead.
*Unfortunately due to a delay - ok, hang on, quick interjection on behalf of airline personnel everywhere:
I understand, dear friends and frequent fliers, that it is annoying when your aeroplane is delayed. You miss meetings, have to rearrange taxis and friends acting as such and it generally puts your day out by a few hours or so. Oh you poor baby! Suck it up, you chose to fly. You could have chosen to drive, or take the train, both of which have fantastic OTP (on time performance) but take a substantial amount of time, money and effort (yes - from YOU, McLax!) Flying is quick, efficient (particularly with the crash record of our beloved national carrier), you might even get fed a single-serving meal or make a single-serving friend (5 points if you get the reference..) and hop from city to city with your bum firmly splaying
itself on a relatively comfortable seat. Airlines are enormous, bureaucratic, cluster-f*cks of companies with people buzzing like proverbial bees in a two-letter-abbreviated hive attempting to relay information like signals in the brain of someone with Alzheimer's. You have absolutely no idea of how many papers, computer codes, telephone calls, befuddled and unintelligible hand-held radio communiques, tags, and loud-speaker announcements it takes to get your relative pressurized metal tube in the air to deposit you in your destination city of choice. This doesn't even begin to mention the papers, buttons, switches and other debacles the boys (and occasionally, girls) up the front have to sift through to get the thing to V-1 and not spill their coffee. So please in the future if you are annoyed, rather than making a fuss which can be heard in the other hemisphere, post-pone your 8.30 meeting to 9am, take a deep breath, push the call button to order an alchoholic beverage and say "oh well, at least I don't work for them!" - ok, rant over.*
Now, We were slightly delayed into Perth and due to a tight connection I was fidgeting with my jewelry and tightly crossing all of my fingers.
After a little running in heels and an annoying $8 domestic-to-international-transit-bus ride I checked in, grinned at my single-digit boarding pass, happily accepted the proffered glass of Charles Heidsieck Brut Reserve, pulled a woolly maroon blanket over my legs, slipped off my shoes and relaxed into my bed in the sky.
Fourth-breakfast (aka "lunch") was a lovely roast beef salad with cherry tomatoes, feta
and my favourite vinaigrette dressing. Delicious! Particularly when imbibed while swathed in Morrissey pajamas.
Singapore Changi Airport was...an experience. I undertook a spot of duty-free shopping (perfume), finally treated myself to a piece of jewelry I've been hunting since I was 10, Facebook-stalking which resulted in a nauseous and utterly irate resolve and what (little did I know) would be my last normal-tasting diet coke for the next 9 days. Out through customs, grab the bag, check in, drop the bag (12kg - yes!), back through customs, sigh.
Air Asia deposited me in budget, jovial, Jetstar fashion from "Singapore to Kota Kinabalu, Sa-BAH!" as the chief flight attendant told us no less than 20 times on the 1 hour and 45 minute flight. Not bad, particularly since I've had more expensive cocktails in happy hour at my local...
I arrived in KK, terminal 1 and happily greeted my bag, scooped up all brochures, maps and other pieces of future scrapbook paraphernalia on offer and exited the terminal. I was greeted with photographers and people dressed in odd island costumes. Needless to say after 20 hours and 3 flights this was disconcerting and I failed to notice my Meandering (and occasionally misguided) Macadamia sneak up behind me, spy style.
*slap!*
Into a cab we went and off to the budget accommodation M had arranged via iPhone earlier. A cockroach met us at the door and brought our things to his lair.
Ew. The "double room", equipped with 2 bunk beds built in the era of Julius Caesar and
disconcerting splash-like stains on the walls (picture Leonardo di Caprio's room in Bangkok in "The Beach") was a disaster and decidedly NOT what M, nor I, had in mind.
One more late night/early morning cab ride took us (with enormous difficulty as seems to befall the majority of the local population) to the Best Western Kinabalu Daya - fantastic! We deftly dropped the bags and duck downstairs for thin beers and locals belting karaoke sub-standard even to drunk aircrew at The Cage. We had a marvellous evening/morning culminating in 7-11 take-aways comparable in price with a seat on Richard Branson's inaugural Virgin Galactic flight and odd snacks, for the origins of which neither of us could even generate a hypothesis.
DAY 2. KOTA KINABALU_RANAU ("via Zephyr") (part 1.)
PEANUT: "Hey! So I heard about this place in Ranau where they give you fish bait, dip you in a river and hundreds of carp "massage" you! Seriously, let's go.."
MACADAMIA: *wtf*
PEANUT: *grins and shifts from foot to foot with excitement*
MACADAMIA: "shit."
And so, it was decided the next morning that a quick tour of KK in search of sustenance was in order (breakfast at the hotel had inevitably been slept through). It eventually consisted of food of an unknown origin at a small outdoor "cafe" where, despite the 2-page menu there really was only 1 dish on offer and I believe it consisted of rice and...things... M had a juice the size of Centrepoint and I enjoyed some crispy banana with satay sauce (I had hoped it was a form of caramel or chilli - no such luck).
Kota Kinabalu is a bit of a dive during the day. It's grimy and, if the cat feeding its kittens in the gutter didn't make it feel like home the smell of rotting excrement prevalent along the docks surely would.
I gather from the locals that it is quite a spread out city and some parts are nicer than others but personally, it doesn't rate very high on Peanut's Preferred Places.
Back to the hotel and I dropped the "fish massage" bomb on my nutty buddy and after he scooped up his heart (which fell out through his rear) he, being a true adventurer, gritted his teeth, hired the cheapest car on offer and took the wheel bound for an afternoon of being fondled by the fishies.
To my immense amusement and utter delight we were introduced to the "Zephyr". A minuscule motorcar which barely rose to 6-foot M's mid-section and made the Smart Car look like a Mercedes Saloon model. It was maroon in colour and power-steering? No way!
My first "ripped-off-in-Asia" story came shortly after we stopped at the Sabah Parks office and I used my Yankee heritage and Toorak phone voice to secure us a climb up the tallest peak in SouthEast Asia (little did I know what I'd unwittingly signed us up for!) the following day.
Pulling into a petrol station the ape-like attendant scooted over to us and made a face which eluded that he wanted to know how much petrol we required.
Imagining the Zephyr had a tank larger than a can of coke we estimated 50RM (about $15AUD). While M and PetrolMonkey filled the tiny car I went in search of a chilled can of phenylalanine-drenched, carbonated liquid. I had no luck and returned to the car where M asked if I'd paid the bill yet. I hadn't been aware this particular responsibility had been left in my hands but obligingly went inside and said "pay?". Exchanging 50RM and requesting a receipt (for scrap booking) I went back to the car to find out from M that the mini-motor coach had only held 30RM worth of petrol. *sigh* M was decidedly pissed off but as it was my first Malaysian-mishap I shrugged, told myself that perhaps it would go to fuelling the missing-link culture's evolution and regarded the tropical but unremarkable landscape zooming past.
