| Submitted by: Evelyn C. LeeperUnited States |
| Submission Date: 09 February 2005 |
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Some of the books mentioned a cable car up, but that had been
removed at some point, so there was nothing to do but climb up.
There were monkeys here also, and since I had some leftover peanuts
with me, we had the opportunity to feed them. This made the climb
easier as we made frequent stops.
When we got to the top we discovered that even caves can be
under construction--the section containing most of the statues was
cordoned off. In addition to their geologic interest, the Batu
Caves are also a Hindu temple. Perhaps they waited until after
Diwali to do the construction work. At any rate, although the
natural appeal of the caves was largely unaffected, only one shrine
remained accessible in this part. Behind the large 'Cathedral Cave'
(as it's called) is another area which opens up to the sky.
However, the walls are so high that access through here would be
even more difficult than the stairs.
We descended the stairs and went to two more caves, described
as an 'art gallery' and 'museum.' I couldn't really tell what made
one an 'art gallery' and one a 'museum'--they were both filled with
very brightly painted plaster statues representing various scenes
and beings from Hindu mythology. As with the Sri Mariammam Temple,
if I knew more about the mythology I would have appreciated this
more. Even so, I found it fascinating, particularly the imagination
given to the beings which were half-human, half-animal (human torso
with a pig's head, for example). It struck me that here was a
wealth of resource materials for costumers to use at science fiction
convention masquerades, yet all too often they stay in the same
Celtic/Germanic rut.
We had seen a public mini-bus pull up to the caves themselves
earlier, so we waited there a bit, but eventually decided we would
have better luck on the main road. We waited quite a while at the
bus stop across the road from where we had gotten off, and were
beginning to wonder if the bus came this way, when we saw the bus
come along on the original side. We decided not to wait any longer,
but to just get on that one on the theory that it would eventually
get back to Kuala Lumpur (we did verify this with the driver, of
course). This resulted in a slightly longer bus ride, as we rode
out into several smaller towns (kampungs) before looping back and
returning to Kuala Lumpur. Again, this was a plus rather than a
minus--some people pay a lot of money for sightseeing buses.
The bus returned to its stop right near the Central Market, so
we walked back over there to eat and do a bit more shopping (well,
some people did more shopping). We had a difficult time deciding
where to eat--eventually Steve's desire for a White Castle hamburger
decided us. Yes, they even have White Castle in Malaysia. No, it's
not at all the same. I think the one thing we all agreed on (even
Steve) was that we *don't* recommend White Castle in Kuala Lumpur.
After lunch, Mark, Steve, and I decided to go to the Masjid
Negara (the National Mosque), a very modern-looking structure with a
73-meter (240-foot) minaret. This is especially notable since it is
across the street from the railway station, which was built in the
Moorish style with arches, minarets, and cupolas, and now looks more
like a mosque than the mosque itself. Though I had worn my most
conservative clothes (long pants and long sleeves), the female
attendant at the mosque gave me a robe to wear over them--I guess
cargo pants aren't quite conservative enough. The robe certainly
covered everything, with about six inches extra at the hem. With
the large head scarf, I was definitely well-covered. We walked
through most of the mosque, though the prayer area was off-limits to
non-Muslims. (This didn't stop some American tourists from
wandering in, of course. Some people either can't read or won't.
The women had been given robes, which they then hiked up about a
foot off the floor, defeating the purpose.) One thing that I didn't
see here that I had seen at other mosques was the warning that
menstruating women were not allowed. I'm not sure why the omission,
unless the prohibition really applies only to the prayer area and
the exclusion of all non-Muslims from there was thought to cover
that. Though the mosque was not Moorish, it had some of the same
characteristics. The central part was open, with few walls. This
was surrounding by a large area which had a roof supported by
arches, but also no walls. The result was that breezes could flow
through, but the 'porch' area kept the weather out of the actual
'interior.'
After the Masjid Negara, we walked down the block to the
National Art Gallery. This was full of modern art, though with a
definite Malaysian influence. I still can't claim to have found it
fascinating--I don't think I know how to appreciate modern art.
Here we ran into Binayak and Barbara, and when we were all done we
took a couple of taxis back to the hotel and rested a while. Just
as yesterday, it started to rain and when the time came to check
out, it was still raining. We had some time before our train, but
decided to call for a taxi anyway. The hotel clerk tried to call;
the line was busy. For the next hour, the line remained busy every
time he tried. We considered going to the taxi stand (in the rain)
but it had a long line of people and few taxis were pulling up.
Finally, we went down to the level of the bus station where the
long-distance taxis were and after much negotiation got two taxis to
take us back to the train station (at a higher than usual price, of
course--but then it was definitely seller's market).
We checked our bags at the station, then went and got dinner in
one of the station restaurants; I had chicken rice. We walked
around a bit, then reclaimed our bags and boarded our train.
Our worst fears were *not* realized. In fact, this was
probably the best sleeper car we had. First of all, it was a
permanent sleeper car--the others had upper berths that folded up so
they could serve as regular cars with seats during the day. The
fact that this didn't meant that the upper berths could have a lot
more head room because they could be set lower in the wall than a
hung berth. And the upper berths had windows--not big windows like
the lower berths had, but small ones (about six inches high and a
foot wide) that would let the breeze in as the train moved. In
fact, I found myself cold in the middle of the night and put on a
long-sleeved shirt and my long pants! (Except for the first sleeper
in Thailand, no sleepers came with blankets.) Oh, yes, the fans
worked also. The other nice thing was that there was a section in
each compartment for luggage so people didn't have to sleep with
their luggage in their berths.
While we were getting settled, a family came on. I don't know
where they were from, but they spoke no English and no Malaysian and
seemed to be totally confused about where their berths where. They
tried to settle in on one berth and the person who had the ticket
came along and tried to tell them it wasn't theirs. He showed them
his ticket with the berth number and kept asked where theirs was. I
think they said that someone else had their ticket, but we couldn't
be sure. Eventually one of their party came back and told them they
needed to move to another car (I think--at least that's what
happened).
October 25, 1990: We woke up fairly early, and the train was
running late, so we had a fair amount of time to kill. I walked
down the car to where the others were and found Binayak talking to a
Buddhist monk in Bengali! The monk (whose name I have forgotten)
also spoke English, though occasionally when someone wasn't clear,
he and Binayak would switch to Bengali to clarify it. He had been a
monk for two years and was traveling to Singapore to work in a
Buddhist youth center there. He had been living in Bangkok though
he originally came from Bangladesh. He said one thing he liked
about being a monk (or perhaps one reason he became a monk) was the
simplicity of the life: with his shaved head he didn't have to worry
about taking care of his hair, he never had to decide what clothes
to wear, and he didn't have to worry about a lot of belongings to
take care of.
We got to what I think was Johore Bahru. Various immigration
officials came through and signed the entry stamps in everyone's
passports, but somehow they missed mine. It wasn't as if I was
hiding; I was sitting right there in my berth. At any rate, when I
found a conductor and said this, he got very worried and hustled me
off the train and into the station to get my passport signed. I
kept worrying that the train would leave without me, but he was
worried that the person who could sign my passport would leave, and
she was on her way out when we caught up with her. After she signed
it I got back on the train at the closest car just in case, and got
to walk back through several third-class cars--I don't think they
use deodorizer in the toilets in the third-class cars.
The train started up right about when I got back to our car.
We traveled a bit more and then crossed into Singapore via the
causeway. Then there was more travel through countryside until we
got to the city of Singapore. At the railway station we had to go
through immigration and customs. There was a long line for
immigration. When I got through I checked my passport and
discovered they had given my Barbara's (who was in back of me in
line) by mistake. I tried to go back to straighten it out, but that
same mysterious family was in the way again. Barbara was trying to
get her suitcase through and they insisted on standing in her way
rather than standing aside to let her through, plus the little kids
kept also trying to push back through the line the wrong way.
Eventually she communicated to the man in the booth that she would
take my passport and we would swap them ourselves and she managed to
force her way through.
Customs confiscated a copy of ASIA WEEK from Binayak. (His was
the only luggage they went through.) We had bought this magazine in
Malaysia and even saw it for sale in the train station in Singapore,
but it was a 'controlled' magazine--each issue needed to be approved
by the government before it could be sold or brought in. It seems
that ASIA WEEK once printed something negative about the Prime
Minister of Singapore and this was a form of revenge. Singapore is
not exactly a bastion of freedom. In addition to controls over the
press, there are all sorts of restrictions. Littering carries a
S$500 (US$300) fine, many offenses are punishable by caning, and
Barbara later saw a sign that mandated a S$1000 (US$600) fine for
not flushing a public toilet! The monk we had been talking to said
that people say Singapore is 'fine for fine' because almost
everything you do has a fine attached to it!
We changed money at the railway station and bought a phonecard.
Binayak had read that the latter was necessary to make phone calls,
but it turned out that there were a lot of coin phones still around.
We called several places looking for rooms, but the YMCA was full,
other places didn't answer, and half the time we couldn't hear what
the person on the other end was saying (never mind hearing a pin
drop!). Eventually we found a place that had rooms, the Bencoolen
Hotel. So we got into two taxis (I'm sure there would have been a
fine if we tried to get all of us into one) and went there. |
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