Our guide was late, so we only crossed the border after midnight and this, coupled with the rain, meant that the members of our convoy who desired ample drinking time were disappointed.
Malaysian traffic lights have countdown timers which flash in the last 10 seconds. Very useful. Too bad we don't.
On the way up, someone saw a sign for Ponderosa and remarked that they hadn't seen one in Singapore for quite some time, and lamented that the quality of the joint had gone down. I remarked that maybe they got bad and moved to Malaysia (unfortunately, on the trip down I saw a sign for Ponderosa golf resort, so it probably wasn't the Restoran Ponderosa which they saw).
Even the roads in the Moors in Yorkshire - the middle of nowhere - aren't as bad as those in some parts of JB (the parts approaching Austin Hills).
When we arrived at Austin Hills Golf Resort, we found that it was huge - even palatial. The entry hallway had huge pillars, but was otherwise sparsely furnished and populated, contributing to a Mines of Moria feel. The corridors, halls and rooms were all large; the corridor on our floor was probably as wide as Raffles Link, and our room could easily have fit 4 king-sized beds (it already had 2) - considering the promotional price of RM$100, this was dirt cheap. However, the interior of the room was too bare, and looked too empty. Perhaps a table and a chair in the middle of the room would have made it feel less barren. Also, one of the power plugs in our room was spoilt, the fridge was empty (no minibar) and the toilet had no shampoo (let alone conditioner), toothbrush, toothpaste or hairdryer (I heard some girls went to the toilet downstairs). A map laid on the table helpfully marked out possible walking/running routes, but we were told that we "must register with the reception a day before your jog/walk/cycle" (yeah right). Annoyingly, the lifts had no sensors (meaning the doors closed on people while they were walking in), and one of them had a button for the second storey which couldn't quite work, and after pressing it repeatedly to no avail, I gave up and whacked it - causing the doors to open. One room's kettle also didn't work. Maybe after building such a big place they had no money left over. And to top it all, a sign on the way out of the resort read: "Thanks and welcome again" - this is probably not one of the resorts managed by a Singaporean. [Addendum: The resort was not terrible, in fact for the price it was great; I'm just pointing out some pertinent points.]
When we got down to the bar there was a tudung-ed woman sitting there. I hope she was drinking Jus Oren.
The security people wore black berets and looked quite silly. I even spotted what was proably a baton on their belts.
The next morning, after 3 (!) hours of sleep (admittedly after a game of Scrabble which I in usual form lost), a procession set off for the bride's house to fetch her. As we pulled into the general area, all the cars started blaring their horns (must be some quaint Malaysian custom). We were looking forward to what devious plans the bride's "姐妹" ("jie3 mei4" - lit. "younger and older sisters" - in this context referring to her coterie of hangers-on and female companions tasked with protecting her from the depradations of the groom and his bully-boys) had come up with to torture Cowboy.
Disappointingly, we were made to wait for a long time, so they got only about 15 minutes to torture him. In the end, one person spun a hula hoop around his arm while Cowboy sang a song, and then we all charged the staircase (with one person even vaulting over the railing), only to be stopped at the door. Various people were forced to eat various unsavory things (corresponding to the Chinese categories of "酸甜苦辣" ("suan1 tian2 ku3 la4" - lit. "sour, sweet, bitter, hot") including wasabi sandwiches and bittergourd. A raw egg was then passed up his trousers (an encore performance of which was witnessed at night) and he finally was let in to see the bride. So, question: why is it always the groom who is tortured, and not the bride?! Gah.
After that, it was off to church for the ceremony. Unusually, the wedding march was played by a girl on a violin, though it was a touch too slow (someone said it sounded more like the funeral march). The priest, in his homily, urged the couple not to be influenced by Hollywood ("We are Asians, we have very high conservative values" - uhh...). He also remarked that as a confirmed bachelor, he couldn't really give the couple advice for their marriage (which makes one wonder how the Catholic Church, full of confirmed bachelors, can make pronouncements with such authority on sex and marriage). I was very happy, though, that unlike the last Church marriage I was at, there was no nonsense about the wife obeying/submitting to the husband (maybe because this one was a Catholic wedding, and the last was a fundie wedding). There were 2 flower girls present, but they didn't throw any flowers on the carpet (maybe there were worries about cleaning up).
After the end of the ceremony, the bride threw her bouquet, but no one wanted to catch it, so it ended up hitting a pillar... and landing on the floor. In the end someone picked up, so maybe there'll be more good news in the blogosphere soon!
After lunch at Cowboy's place, we returned to the hotel to catch up on sleep, except for poor Terz who was sorting photos for the slideshow in the evening.
It is interesting to see teenage girls walk. They haven't yet mastered the more subdued swaying gait that adult women have and are still transitioning from the bouncy walk that pre-pubescent girls have (like how sub-10 year old boys and girls tend to move the same way).
The waiters looked somewhat shoddy; many didn't even wear proper footwear, and they didn't look very happy (another reason why I think the resort is not managed by a Singaporean, and so much for Malaysians being more friendly and jovial, flaming aside).
Someone remarked to me that hotel food in Malaysia is inferior to restaurant food, since it can't have the magic ingredients (pork, lard and alcohol - some of the latter is added to fish, for example). I agree - fish steamed in "superior" soya sauce (it tastes like the normal soya sauce) can't beat fish steamed in XO sauce. Also, our first dish was not the usual "BBQ combination", but a "Four Seasons Platter", since a BBQ combination is not a BBQ combination without char siew and suckling pig.
The flower girls made another appearance, and this time they threw flowers on the carpet (the resort staff will clean it up anyway). I wonder if Screwed Up Girl still wants to be a flower girl.
The evil man operating the dry ice machine smiled evily at us as he gassed us with copious amounts of sublimed carbon dioxide.
I wonder if anyone has solved the problem of the awkward silence that ensues when people who don't know each other are seated at the same table.
All brides look the same. So what's the point?!
Usually during the yamseng(s) there'll be at least one guy who goes "Yam-yam-yam-yam" when he runs out of breath. There wasn't this time.
I noticed that some of the songs played during the wedding were the same as ones played during JC orientations. Which makes you wonder about their evil social engineering agenda (or alternatively, just what the Students' Councils have in mind).
After the dinner the barflies were jabbering entertainingly. And my Asian Prince card was very well-received (so to speak).
A new perspective on couples counting angbao money on wedding night (a practise which my sister has spoken about in less than glowing terms in the past): It lets them settle the bills as soo nas possible, and they can get rid of all the money, since it's not good to carry so much money around. Both parties are probably too tired to perform anyway!
A trip to Malaysia is not complete without having some (preferably late night) hawker food, so at about 1+am, Cowboy led some of us out for supper. I've always wondered about the quaint Malaysian practice of going to a
At the Restoran, signs very strangely informed us that the Air Halia (ginger water) was "Ikut Pasaran" (priced according to the market price), and the Nasi Campur and Nasi Beriani were "Harisa Ikut Pasaran" (don't ask me how this is different from "Ikut Pasaran"). The supply of Ginger and cloves in Malaysia must be very inelastic! Or maybe in Malaysia they're like saffron and caviar elsewhere.
I tried sup kambing. Very good, but probably as bad for you as Ma Ling Luncheon Meat (though the recipe I found didn't look that bad).
I have thought up an arcade game based on driving in Malaysia. At first it was called "Miss the Potholes" - your objective is just that, but this has since been relegated to the easy mode of a more complex game, the advanced mode of which has you racing to your objective within a certain time limit. You also have some cash, into which spare time is converted at the end of a stage. This cash can be used to repair your car (damage is suffered if you go over a pothole) or illegally zhng (modify) it. To get to your destination more quickly, you can (nay, must) make illegal u-turns, run red lights and generally break all the rules in the book (you even get a small time bonus when you do so). You have to be wary, though, of the police, who will appear every now and then to catch you. When they do, you have the choice of paying a hefty bribe or doing things the legal way and losing a lot of time. I considered adding in mobs of people coming after you with parangs, but couldn't think of a way to add them in without compromising gameplay. Pity, that.
Almost all the time, I didn't smell the Malaysian smell, and when I did, the food was comparable to (or once, worse than in) Singapore. So this is more evidence in favour of my theory of relativity!
Some of the Malaysian suburban neighborhoods can pass for Eastern Singapore (the Katong area) - lavish praise!
On Sunday morning Cowboy again led us out for breakfast and we got to try KL-style chee cheong fun (it's mostly other stuff, with very little chee cheong fun - plain chee cheong fun just can't compare, though the type with prawns/char siew inside is good). I thought of asking for wanton mee with ketchup just to see whether the hawker would freak out, but decided against it.
At the Restoran, when the rain got heavier, it started flowing down the ceiling beam and dripping onto the table, including into someone's glass. Someone suggested taking a picture and captioning it: "Malaysia boleh!"
Some Malaysian roads are paved with brick - maybe it's a way to avoid potholes.
The Perodua Kenari and Kancil both look like very cock cars. I hope the rest of the line isn't as bad. Looking at their homepage, one is inclined to think not, but then again the Kenari and Kancil don't look that cock there either.
On the three-laned road just before JB immigration, there were 4 cars travelling abreast. And on the Singapore side there were many signs cautioning against littering and asking drivers to slow down.
