Of muhibah, kampungs and the slow travelling movement

I don't normally do news round-ups - see Jeff Ooi for that - but a few things caught my eye today.

The first is Johan Jaaffar's lament on "Those long-gone days of muhibah in the kampung" in today's New Straits Times. Johan's point is not new: In the past, during more innocent times, before and just after Malaysia gained her independence in 1957, it was not unusual for families of various ethnicities to not only live cheek-by-jowl with each other, but have genuine interactions and friendship. This pining for the good old days is particularly prevalent among Malaysians of a certain vintage as well as politicians out to mask their tendency to fan ethnic chauvinism with empty rhetoric of multi-cultural harmony, or muhibah.

I highlight Johan's lament because my friend John is right now undertaking a ride across the country in search of that muhibah spirit, and is at this very moment, passing through Muar, the setting for Johan's commentary. What was remarkable about Johan's picture of an idyllic kampung was that "in 1948, the area surrounding my village was the scene of the worse racial turmoil the country had ever known."

Meanwhile, two Morrocan scouts are walking through Asia to promote "love, peace and tolerance", and has arrived in Malaysia. What is it about people taking the slow road to spread positive messages? Is it because the physically draining act of walking and cycling humbles a person and makes him or her more sensitive or self-aware? Is it that the slower pace allows one to truly appreciate the worth of every single human being one encounters? Or is one just too darned tired to argue?

Riding is of course an environmentally-friendly, low-impact way of playing tourist, as this feature on Pulau Ketam bike tours attests. My recent post on the charming island failed to include some of the nitty-gritty travel details that good, responsible bloggers are supposed to have provide. Oh well, *shrug*.

But I did have a pix of pepper crabs! :)

P.S. If any of the links to the articles become broken, leave a comment and I'll fix it!

And he's off!

Updated version: I had blogged earlier about my friend John who planned to ride from the southernmost to the northernmost part of peninsula Malaysia in a journey to uncover his place in his nation and his nation in him. Well, he left this afternoon and you can follow his progress in his own blog.

The southernmost tip of Malaysia is Tanjung Piai, a National Park that has visitor friendly boardwalks criss-crossing parts of the 526 hectares of coastal mangrove swamps and canals.

A Ramsar certified site, Tanjung Piai is also the southernmost tip of the Asian continental land mass.

We headed out to Tanjung Piai at mid-morning and reached there just before noon. John, Mei and I decided to play tourists for a while and we walked along the boardwalk marveling at the swamp and the rich animal and plant life it sustained.

We finally reached the southernmost point, a stark, soulless jetty with concrete floor, bizarre sayings nailed onto the railings, and ...

... a globe that looks like it has seen better days in a 3rd rate amusement park. John, though, seemed transfixed by it, perhaps plotting his next trip?

After a lacklustre lunch in Kukup at a seafood restaurant designed to relieve unsuspecting Singaporeans of their dollars, we headed back to Tanjung Piai for the real business of the day... The Journey.

First off, getting the gear out of the car. "Hmmm, I seemed to be missing something?"

After much moving things about...

... out comes the frame and the bags.

Take out the second wheel...

... and make sure there is enough air in it...

... before securing it to the frame.

Tyre pressure check for the back wheel.

And make sure all the bags are secured properly.

Now it's time to put on the right gear, starting with shoes.

Load the bags at the back...

... making sure they are balanced.

Put on the funny little thingamajig they call a bicycle helmet...

... and some mean gloves....

before taking a swig of holy water, blessed by the patron saint of cyclists, St. Wheely.

Give the ol' gal a good, long hug. Notice how I cleverly focused on the background, rendering the tender moment in soft focus, something I totally intended to do when releasing the shutter of my idiot-proof camera.

Then it's time to climb on board, test the gadgets and go for a quick spin.

All set, the man flashes his trademark cheeky grin...

... and he's off. Good luck, John. Be safe.

Jungle jive

A couple of months ago, some family and friends spent the weekend camping on the fringes of the Endau-Rompin National Park, run by the Johore state government. The camp, a collection of basic huts situated along the very picturesque Sungai Lemakoh, soothed our weary, urban souls with panoramic views of glistening pools that seemed to shimmer as the first rays of sunlight gently alighted on it. At other times, we could hear the gentle gurgling of the river as it flowed by in no particular rush to go anywhere, except when it rained.

Upstream view (view) from the campsite.
Many pools (below), large and small, can be
found along the river just a few minutes walk away.

The camp is run by Buyin and his wife Ami, with help from their children and nephews. Buyin, an Orang Asli (the indigenous people of Malaysia), is a minor celebrity, and has been featured in some press and online articles on eco-tourism. This particular one showcases Buyin’s original camp that stood before the floods of early 2007 struck Johore and damaged it. Buyin rebuilt his camp and we were one of its first visitors.

The camp itself is made up of a collection of open wooden huts – a large dining/social hall with an attached kitchen; two communal sleeping huts; a shower; three bathrooms and a useful changing room just by the river. One can spend the day following guides on treks along the river or into the jungle; making a day trip to the Orang Asli kampung; swimming in the pools; or just doing nothing…

… except lying on the long benches, contemplating the meaning of life or admiring the sun-lit patterns on the roof of the huts.

Buyin takes care of all the food, and the oohs and aahs during mealtimes is testament to his and Ami’s cooking skills. Apart from our yummy daily three meals Buyin also provided numerous tea breaks: This must be what it's like in the civil service. Elevenses, mmmmm.

One of the treats was the BBQ dinner we had one night – chicken, beef, lamb etc.

You cannot go on a diet here. It’s impossible.

Come night time, Buyin puts up the hurricane lamps. After dinner, with no Astro (satellite TV) to kill all conversation, normally tired worker bees like us actually had long conversations around the dinner table and had some low-tech fun.

No, we were not trainees for the new Singapore casinos (oops, sorry, the Singapore government would like them to be called Integrated Resorts). We were literally playing for peanuts!

On one of our days there, the heavens opened up in the afternoon and subjected us to a typical tropical thunderstorm – a dramatic downpour with appropriate audio and visual accompaniment that lasted all of 20 minutes. It turned dark-ish really quickly, and one of the seven dogs that came with us scurried under the table. We were in awe at the display of nature’s power and quite a few of us just sat quietly and watched the rain.

What better way to spend a weekend.