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Can two places on the same planet be as different from each other as
Singapore is from Delhi? I experienced the contrast either side of an
8-hour flight and it certainly took me more than another 8 hours to
adjust. The noise, clamour and general mayhem of the Indian capital,
home to 14 million people, gave way to the tropical tranquillity of
Singapore; very much the 21st century city state, pristine, sterile
even, high-tech, modern, sophisticated, but most of all, quiet!
Whilst my ear-drums had a chance to recover, I spent 5 lovely days as a
guest of the Singapore Police Senior Officers' Mess. The current President
is also a Past-President of the Tanglin Rotary Club. I was invited to speak
at their weekly meeting and spent quite a while answering questions from
bemused members.
My bicycle, complete with new gears and chain and some more clean red
handlebar tape, called, and I said my farewells to Singapore and crossed the
border into my 20th country of the trip, Malaysia. Crossing a border,
especially by land, I have found to be the most exciting and the most
annoying experience of the journey. Exciting, because in the space of
maybe 100 meters, there can be such a discernible change of culture, money,
food, attitude, dress, customs, religion, traffic regulations, road
conditions, standards of living and of course, language. Sometimes, (I think
of Belgium into Luxembourg, and Hungary into Romania), even the weather
changed right on cue.
Annoying, because every country I enter seems to think it is more
important than the one I have just left. Forms and checks, stamps and signs,
rules and regulations, often from officious border guards, who all have the
impression that I want to take over their country, not just cycle through
it. I have to exempt the Thai border guard from this though. Taking one
look at my bicycle, and extracting from me the information that I intended
to cycle to Bangkok on it, he took a fit of the giggles and left me
standing, passport in hand for several minutes, whilst he recovered
from the shock.
I have to say that, overall, Malaysia was a disappointment. I expected
somewhere very eastern, very Asian, and found a country caught between East
and West. Whilst Kuala Lumpur was magnificent, with both the old Chinatown
and the new high rise business district sitting happily side by side,
provincial Malaysia seemed to be having an identity crisis. In the
smallest towns, traditional hawker stalls stood next to the Nike
sports shop, and the night market food stalls competed with Pizzahut and KFC
for custom. The young Malays seemed to be opting for the latter, although I
tried the traditional food as often as possible and found it delicious.
I was in a hotel on the west coast of the Malaysian mainland when the
Sumatra earthquake struck. On Boxing Day morning I was in the hotel lift -
not a place I would recommend in a quake - which for a few moments swung
around like a fairground ride. I realised it was an earthquake, shaking the
building, rattling windows and over spilling the pool, but only found out
the full extent of the whole disaster 24 hours later, when I started to see
the TV bulletins. I crossed into Thailand 2 days later, which had suffered
badly on the west coast islands, and the King had asked for New Year's Eve
celebrations to be cancelled as a mark of respect, so I greeted 2005 with an
early night and a cup of hot chocolate.
I want to talk about cycling into a headwind. I can tell you all about
it. I am an expert, having done so continuously now for 2000 miles. I hope
that the cyclists amongst you will recognise and empathise; that the
non-cyclists will sympathise. It starts with the early realisation; the
first few pedal strokes; it's blowing in your face, and you check the map
and the position of the sun and, yes, this IS the direction you are due to
pedal for the next 70 miles. There won't be a bend in the road or a
deviation to give you some respite. For the first 10 miles, your legs are
strong, but the almost imperceptible tension caused by holding the
handlebars that bit tighter causes your neck and shoulders to ache. 20 miles
gone, and sitting on the saddle is an effort. You stand on the pedals for a
while, trying to find a more comfortable position. Hunger strikes. The
additional effort has used up any energy derived from breakfast already.
Breakfast? That was 2 fairycakes and a can of Fanta, due to the early
start you wanted to make. Additional effort? In a headwind you don't
have the luxury of freewheeling. Every turn of the wheels must be earned by
pedalling.
40 miles, and hands are going numb, yet your grip on the bars increases.
The pedals now push into the soles of your feet. The sun is up, and it is
hot. You can feel your skin burning and stop to put on sun-cream, easing
your aching body from the bike. 50 miles and you start to reason with
yourself. The intended target today was ridiculous - 70 miles - it's too
far, too hard. But now there is no choice. If only the wind would
change, would drop, would ease.
20 miles to go. There are kilometres posts on the road. 32 kilometres. It
always seems worse than miles, but you eat them up more quickly. Now is the
countdown. A "reward" for each target reached. 5 kilometres done - a drink
of juice, 10 kilometres, a piece of energy bar, 15 kilometres, a rest ? But
you don't rest because by this time, the effort required to stop and get off
the bike is actually greater than the adrenaline-induced effort required to
carry on pedalling. And then, you're there. The town, a hotel, a shower, a
meal, a night's sleep and you're ready to go again with renewed optimism,
thinking that maybe, just maybe, that wind will have changed......
Of course, all this could have been avoided. More careful research during
the planning of my trip would have told me beyond doubt that the prevailing
wind in India and Asia from November to February, is from the north east.
Despite the wind, I actually did enjoy Thailand. It is a friendly,
interesting country, and although I was a novelty on the road, the polite
restraint of the local people meant that I was able to retain some privacy,
whilst still engaging with them. All that effort on the bike was worth it
when I took advantage of the Thai expertise at oil massage. I could almost
hear the masseurs thinking, "what on earth has this person been doing?" as
she untied knotted muscles and rearranged joints. Painful but wonderful....
Somewhere in Malaysia, I finally succumbed to the many many travellers I
have met en route who have said "You can't miss out Australia." I decided to
sacrifice Cambodia and Vietnam for a 3 week ride from Sydney to Melbourne,
and will fly out of Bangkok for Australia. I spent 43 days in Asia,
cycling 1317 miles and taking 109 hours to do so. And....do I even have to
say it?........no punctures. |
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