Malaysia: The Westernised West

Peninsula Malaysia is a beautiful melting pot of cultures. Steeped in colonial history and shrouded in ancient forest, this land mass offers a plethora of opportunities. Yet the pattern that was oh so repetitive during my travels reaches its climax on the western frontier of Malaysia. The capitalist culture has ploughed it's way through valley, hill, mountain. It holds no bounds in a country who's pockets are bulging but poor are suffering.

A parallel universe to the one we are accustom. Buildings loom heavy as they tower above. The feeling of insignificance ever more asserting. Pollution. Violence. Unrest. Corruption. It is all too familiar.

Kuala Lumpur. An architectural playground. A rich mans dream. The epitome of wealth in a continent that is so desperate to survive. A laugh in the face of its inhabitants. The Petronas towers. An infamous landmark but a blatant kick in the teeth. A building that defines our pursuit of progress. Our greed and gluttony. The oil. Black treacle seeps from the pours of this country, one that has learnt nothing from our failings.

The intoxicating capital draws you in and then never lets you go. I endured almost a week in KL as I feel ill near the end of my trip. I tried to find the beauty but there was none. The only nature to see was in the fabricated amusements that occupied the downtown. A bird park and butterfly farm could be visited for a premium or you could see the stars if you handed over your ringget. Stars are no longer visible in KL. Light pollution and car fumes create an impenetrable layer in the night sky.

The towns of Melacca and Georgetown provide brief amusement away from the city but even these colonial areas have fallen to the intrigue of consumerism. Shopping malls and fast food vendors are creeping their way in, slowly chocking the town with tourists. Nature is non-existent. Amusement can only be purchased. Our 'happiness' has a price tag.

Borneo: A beautiful disaster.

My Idol, Sir David Attenborough, first grabbed my attention in 2001 after the Blue Planet documentary series. Ever since I have been absorbed by the beautiful camera work and dulcet tones so iconic to the programmes. Digging through the archives, I remember watching the Secret Life of Plants. Seeing both an insectivorous plant (pitcher) and one measuring around 2 meters (raflessia) for the first time, I was left with my jaw hanging and my eyes transfixed. I craved to encounter these phenomenons and as such, Borneo shot to the top of my bucket list.

I remember butterflies in my stomach as a boarded my flight from the Philippines. I wonder what species I will encounter? Will Borneo be what I had imagined? Short answer: No.

Sabah. Capital Kota Kinabalu. Population c. 500,000. Not what you would expect from primative Borneo right? Well times have changed. Being part of Malaysia, one of the fastest growing economies, the pristine preconceptions I had envisioned soon faded. A landscape dominated by concrete and high-rises, it didn't set of to a good start.

Venturing into the interior, there was a glimmer of hope as shades of green emerged as I approached the National Park, but the major species... was palm. Palm oil is THE biggest cause of deforestation. Our insatiable appetite for oil and convenience food has driven species to the brink and jeopardised the livelihoods of local Borneans.

I remember, vividly, a late nigh conversation I had with a local tribesmen over beer. I had visited the Kinibatangan river to see some of Borneo's famous flora and fauna. Unfortunately the oily film clogging the watercourse (effluent (POME) from the interlaced palm oil plantations that lined the river banks), erosion on the banks and signs of eutrophication are my long lasting memories. I discussed my discomfort and concern to this man who happened to be our 'tour guide' if you will. He mentioned that the government of Malaysia receives very little money from tourism. Locals are able to keep all the profits, which is a bonus, but this gives Malaysia no incentive to preserve its wildlife. Considering development as help not a hindrance, I almost fell of my chair when the man responded:


'To us, buildings are more beautiful than nature'

                                                      Palm oil plantation on the Kinibatangan

Borneo is synonymous with endemism and rarity. Beauty and mystery. A utopia, where jungle is thick, water is deep and sky is infinite. But each year this bubble is burst as more forest is cleared and more roads are paved to allow for the trucks to penetrate the forests.

I am a positive person, but the situation in Borneo in bleak. Sabah and Sarawak still have many places that remained untouched but even the ignorant tourists want to pay top dollar to visit communities that should be left alone. There needs to be a balance between tourism and exploitation. Many people I met in Borneo went to harder to reach places that had little impact with the outside world and said their experience was unforgettable. Yet these trips cost $100s. When did people begin to cash in on nature?? O yea, since the invention of money.

It seems conflicting. But I am often at odds with my own conclusions. I went to Borneo to see untouched wilderness, but who doesn't these days. I want to travel the world, but more and more are doing so. The chance to do something someone else hasn't brings out our competitive nature. I have a somewhat compulsion to seek out the unique and challenging experiences and my generation is also craving this desire. But with this we must bare the consequence as we too are to blame for the destruction of nature.

We escape our reality as we are often dissatisfied, but as our western desires and gluttonous wants start to rub of on the east, the world we try to escape rears its head as soon as we arrive. From western food, to modern transport and an absurd need for fashion, my journey through SE Asia is starting to generate a pattern upon reflection.

Yes, Asia is beautiful. Yes, I would move there in a heart beat. And, yes the people you meet will be with you a lifetime. But I can't help but think that this will all be gone within a few decades. But what is the solution when we seek to see the last remaining tiger or the only tree remaining in the forest? What came first, tourists or tourism? Consumerism or consumption?

I hope someone has the answers as I am struggling. I think if we travel light and leave only footprints than we can live a sustained and wonderful life. Not only will we protect nature, but we will protect ourselves. That feeling you get, that anxious one, the one that makes you want to flee to the rest of the world. Part of it may be inquisition. But most of it will be dissatisfaction. Dissatisfaction from life. Dissatisfaction from yourself. I'll let you sleep on that one.

Nostaligic notetaking

Something I wrote during a rather long bus ride...

Travelling has allowed for many a day of reflection. Looking out of the window of our bus, the 4th in four days, I am reminded of all those long family car journeys. At the time, those trips seemed endless. Although never lasting more than a few hours, me and my sister would bicker and brawl. Inevitably one would arrive in tears, possible missing a tuft of hair (needless to say the baulding child was me more often than not with Hayley making it out unscathed). Yet, despite all the 'are we there yet[s]?' and 'if you don't shut up I will turn this car round' comments, there were moments in these journeys where I found great peace and satisfaction by sitting in silence, peering out of the back seat window, fixated on the life outside of our silver Passat. It is a supposedly insignificant memory, one that everyone has experienced but few dwell on. Yet, for me, they were some of my happiest moments, away from the bickering and away from consumptive distractions, I would become immersed in my thoughts. Questions would arise such as the 'why are the sky blue?' variety, but every now and again moments of genius of an aspiring environmentalist would emerge. But my inquisitive nature, a defining feature that is always with me, often lays dormant.

Today, like many a day in the life of a traveller, I am sat staring out of the window. Another day, another ridiculously long bus journey. But today, unlike most spent in transit, I am feeling relaxed, at-ease and reflective. I am not mindlessly staring, but am actively engaged by the life visible outside the confines of this particularly uncomfortable, excessively-air-coned bus (think wind tunnel in the arctic).
Instead of complaing of the child whining in front, the couple arguing behind, the smell of fried pigs ears coming from my right and the slightly concerning plastic seat coverings (OK, so I complained a little), I find myself gazing out at the Philippino countryside.

Rice paddies create a green smear in the distance, while the road markings strobe white to grey. The clouds dark and heavy, the impending rain about to break. Jeepneys and buses hurry past, struggling to break the speed limit due to their heavy load. A man slumbers under a tree, another urinates against its trunk. Tricycles hopelessly awaiting passengers instead provide shelter and a rather crammed bed for its driver. Tin shacks, sponsered by Malboro or Coca Cola, line the roadside, there to feed the hungry truckers or anyone with a strong stomach.

Crop land becomes marsh-land, marsh-land becomes rivers. Shanty towns surround towns, dead carcasses lining the shop windows. Towns become country again and before long the power lines becomes intertwined and numerous. The concrete jungle of Manila veers its head. Towering above, a boundary, a barrier.. what lies beyond this impenitrable fortress. Shopping malls, SM .. sado-masichism comes to mind. For some, the sick yet rewarding pain for others the pleasure of a consumerist culture.

Rain splatters the pavement. Umbrellas pop open, creating speckles of colour against the grey backdrop.
People walk with purpose, with a need and a frustration not seen in the countryside just a few minutes away.

Buildings grow taller, lights become brighter. A thick smog creeps in as the dirt roads change to paved. Lamp posts, the lines of the metro, car break lights, the hustle and bustle becomes uncomfortably common, seemingly worlds aways from green fields and pasture.

Feable attempt at suburbia, trees scatter the roadside, a poor distraction from the obnoxiously large billboards, promising  you will look like an American teenager if you buy these jeans.
Six malls in 5 minutes, a new record.

The skyscrapers of Metro Manila and the cranes that have become a permanent feature fill the skyline, adding to the unerving feeling of insignificance. Unique and beautiful has become uniform and claustriphobic in a matter of minutes. Green has been replaced by grey and even the weather seems to be in a constant state of glum. Yet in all its shameful glory, a charm still remains.

It buzzes and hums with life. Despiration and despair interlaced with hope and excitement.
A city craving acceptance.
A Desire to explore. To find that redeeming quality in the unconventional beauty.

So... the Philippines

I booked my trip to the Philippines on a bit of a whim really... I decided I needed a break before I ventured into the jungle. It was the best decision I have ever made.

Manila. The name sends shivers down the spine of many. Violence. Gang culture. An over-populated metropolis where beggars roam the streets, prostitutes tout the tourists and men carry guns (it is legal in the Philippines). The images and info I found whilst roaming the web left me feeling rather dubious about my choice. Nonetheless, I left feeling excited about a change of scenery. I arrived during the monsoon season. I have never experienced rain quite like it but even though I was pounded and drenched by the time I made it to my hostel, there was a kind of eery yet magical quality about the power of the storm. Nature is a wonderful thing.

Exploring the sights of the city, I dragged Sinead, Gavin and Geoff out in the rain. A motorised taxi (a pimped out but run down motorbike with side car) followed by a Jeepney (former US military WW11 jeeps) and we were there. The heart of metro Manila. Wading through inches of water and tonnes of rubbish and sewage, we passed many a vendor selling counterfeit goods.

Boarding the metro, me and Sinead in our 'female only carriage', we made it to China town (somewhat disappointing but still a right of passage when visiting any town in Asia). Passing through the arches of China town, we caught sight of a beautifully out-of-place anglican looking church. Minor Basilica of St. Lorenzo Ruiz towered over the central square, dominating the grey sky above. Inside is an Aladdin's cave of statues depicting various saints. Entering during mass, it was rather haunting to see the amount of men and women on their knees praying to the man upstairs.

A few hundred yards away, through the tangled web of streets and bodies, we arrived at a church of a far grander scale. Quiapo church was built by Roman Catholic missionaries (aka 'Franciscans') in the 16th century. A vast cavernous space which seemed rather lifeless in comparison.

Intramuros. Far removed from the typical imagery envisioned when Manila springs to mind, yet one of the most alluring. Although it is now essentially a walled student village, it history is steeped in Spanish influence. The oldest district, it was built during the height of spanish colonialism. White facades, balconies and a unified structure, Intramuros seems at odds with the rough and ready reality of Manila. Finishing the day with a San Miguel, we chilled in a coffee shop whilst, um, 'serenaded' by the singer waiters. They REALLY like their Karaoke.

North Luzon, the most northern region of mainland Manila. A beautiful mountainous landscape famous for its fertile soil and chilly climate. A long way from the capital, the journey to the north is split up by a stop gap in Bagio. A student town set high up in the mountains, it reminds me of the swiss alps in late spring. In keeping with the tacky chalet style digs, most accommodation is suitably kitsch, suitable for all the men and women who love a bit of thigh-slapping and lederhosen. Nonetheless, its hilly charm and penchant for good booze, it helps satisfy the weary traveller.

Sagada. The real gem of the Northern territory. A tiny populous of Philippinos who enjoy the simple things. With limited power, you really get to appreciate the natural beauty that shrouds this village. Caves are vast. There narrow passages and exquisite formations are most alluring. Limestone deposits act as velcro against your feet allowing you to become an amateur spiderman for the day. Spelunking and absailing are all included for the extra adrenaline kick and a generous helping of icy water leaves your skin supple - thats if you can avoid the potential frost bite. Food is tasty, but only for the truly carnivorous. Roast chicken became my staple and any thoughts of my vegan conscious were put on hold. Did you expect me to go hungry? Known for it's hanging coffins, fans of the underworld will get there fix in Sagada. A spooky spectacle.

Palawan. One of the largest islands of the coast of the mainland, but one of the least inhabited. Pristine forest and untouched wilderness makes Palawan the Philippines final frontier. Protected from the monsoons, a ray of sunshine always manages to penetrate the clouds. El Nido (meaning the nest) is a bay of clear blue and sandy yellow. You know those postcards of unspoilt beaches and an almost surreal vibrancy... the place you always expect to find. Well you will find it here. As you feel your heart beat ease and take your first breath of the truly fresh air, you know you have arrived. Beach huts scatter the shore and outriggers stand proud in the shallows. Apart from a few places to eat and the odd house you could easily think you were on your own private island. Mainly hanging with the locals, my experience of the Philippines was excelled to a higher level. With smiles on their faces and beer and guitar in hand, they lead the life that most dream of. Spending the day on many of the islands surrounding the coast and the night on the beach serving drinks, playing music or cooking grouper on the beach barbecue, there is very little to complain about in this little piece of heaven.

New Beginnings

It has been a tough start to the year, and I have had to make some big changes, but things are finally on the up! In a bid to declare my new start I have taken it upon myself to rewrite my previous articles and finish my stories from the far east.

But don't fret, I aim to provide you with compact and evocative snippets of my experiences, not hourly accounts of my time away. I realised I had too much time on my hands in Bali and made you endure some rather lengthy tales.

So here's to new beginnings.

I dedicate this blog to my friends and family who have been my rock and support system of late. Tears have turned to smiles at last. xx