The Sultan Doesn't Swing

Update: 28

We were both excited about landing in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysian Borneo - it has such an exotic ring to it. Straight off the bat, we found Malaysians to be very welcoming. From the moment we left the arrivals hall, it seemed like everyone was going out of his way to help us.

Some friendly guys (I think they were father and son-in-law) took us in their jeep, subtly furnished in black-and-white cowhide - which I thought was a nice touch; never seen that before - to a decent enough guesthouse in town. Famished, we checked in and ventured out in search of some food.

While promenading along the (relatively) acclaimed waterfront in search of an emergency feed, that sense of welcome experienced earlier at the airport began to intensify into something more than warmth. Random people started to wave at us, shout hello and smile as they passed us. It was while basking in this minor celebrity status that we came across an Indian restaurant which won our custom purely because there were no skinned chickens hanging upside down in the window. The waiter asked if I'd like my Rogan Josh mild, medium or hot. I went for medium because his answer to the question "how hot is 'hot'?" was "the chef is from Mumbai" which I took as fighting talk. Only the next morning was I reminded to note that the medium is still hot enough to cause internal burning.

After dinner, still on the waterfront, we stuck our heads through a few doors and quickly learned that a prerequisite for a bar here is a karaoke machine. This is the home of karaoke. Note to Malaysians: A karaoke machine doth not a good singer make.

Generally, the sounds emanating from these places were awful but establishment managers had addressed the problem by implementing the tried and trusted crowd-pulling technique of using girls dressed in such a way that in Thailand they could pass for cheap masseuses. But I know they were just barmaids - this is Malaysia - I think you get stoned for shagging out of wedlock.

It would be rude not to visit Brunei when it's only three hours away, so early next morning we found ourselves catching a ferry to the Malaysian tax haven of Labuan, changing ferries and crossing over to the tiny sultanate.

In the hour we had to kill between ferries, we had a delightful lunch of noodles and something meat-like right next door to "The New Hai Tong Hair Saloon" which proudly advertises that it provides an eyelash perming service. Ooh, Kevin Keegan would've loved that.

***

While you may expect Negara Brunei Darussalam, as it is officially called, to be an opulent, expensive fantasyland (all that talk of the Sultan being the world richest man, benevolent dictatorships and playboy princes led me to expect super rich people driving around in Mercs and Land Cruisers. I mean the Sultan's worth something like $40 billion dollars. There are 360,000 citizens.... that's something like $100,000 dollars per person. Per family, before they leave for work... that's starting to get silly.) Needless to say, I was expecting something impressive.

But life isn't like that. The Sultan needs his helicopters and sports cars to successfully perform his duties as Prime Minister, Finance Minister and Minister of Defence of a country who's capital city looks like the map handed out to me when I joined a beginners' French class: Post Office, Theatre, Police Station, Shop, Hospital and ok it didn't have Mosque or Palace, but it did have Church and Town Hall.

A very prominent half-built shopping mall abandoned due to a lack of funds was a surprise for both of us.

I'm glad we went to Brunei but I can state this categorically: THERE IS NO VIBE THERE. On arrival, walking past the gentle warning sign at customs that says: DEATH TO DRUG TRAFFICKERS UNDER BRUNEI LAW, we were befriended by an Indonesian man who works in Bandar Seri Begawan (the capital city). After some chatting, he offered to take us into town which seemed like a good proposal as it was either his new Golf or an as-yet-to-arrive bus. The trip in was informative. Andy (not me, him) told us about life in this unusual place - basically it comes down to earning tax free money and having no entertainment to spend it on so a great place to save if you can put up with the boredom. Alcohol is banned so you can't even drown your sorrows. Andy showed us as much as we could see of the palace which looks like a couple of hundred million dollars well spent although, personally, I think he could have held back a bit on the fountain and perhaps bought another, bigger country.

After our half hour guided tour of BSB, where I think it's fair to say we pretty much saw all we could, Andy dropped us off at our hostel.

"Ladies' dorm on the left, men on the right."

"But we're married".

"Those are the rules, Sir."

So they can't even do THAT for entertainment! I pity any tourists unwittingly picking up some "Snake Oil and Ginseng Viagra" that is so readily available from Malaysian hawkers and then crossing over to Brunei. You'll be in for an uncomfortable night, my friend.

So, not in the mood for a fatwa, Tam and I soberly went to our separate areas. Even though we were the only people in the hostel.

After we'd unpacked, we reconvened in an open area where we were free to talk to each other and made plans to explore. First stop was the landmark mosque in the centre of town. But we weren't allowed in until after prayers, so we walked around a bit, sent some postcards and killed sometime in a bookshop. Books about teenage investigators in hijabs are not really my bag, so I went for Boris Bekker's autobiography. The bookshop wasn't great either.

Dinner was a novelty. It was alcohol-free. Our Filipino waiter (why is a Filipino from the Philippines?) told us what we already suspected. He was there for the money and goes back to Manila for some action (arguably extreme measures, but desperate times....).

I'll say this for the Bruneians: they are friendly, kind and helpful, but we were glad to get back to Malaysia early the next morning.

***

From Sabah to Sarawak by air is a quick hop with an interesting fact for geography buffs: although they're both Malaysian states, Sarawak has it's own immigration and so we were stamped into Malaysia for the second time in the same day without actually leaving the country. (Brunei - Sabah-Sarawak).

Kuching is a quaint, pretty colonial city dotted with buildings dating back from when James Brooke was the First White Raja. History tells us that The Sultan of Brunei gave gave Sarawak to Brooke in 1841. I guess the Englishman implemented a change in drinking rules pretty swiftly.

One of the things that struck me about Sarawak - although I'm sure this is true for all of Malaysia - is that certain words have been taken from English and adapted to Malay. Signs, bizarrely, reminded me of those in Wales of all places. Let me give you some examples:

• Red telephone booths are marked "Telefon"
• Police is "Polis"
• Should you come across a notice, don't miss is as it will be headed "Notis"
• Taxis are "Teksis"
• And a postcode is a "Poskod".
• But my favourite was the Ais Krim shop. (Of course you know that's ice cream).

As an aside, were walking around enjoying the t-shirts some of which, although written in English, are incomprehensible with slogans like:

• WHAT'S NOW! (Not "what's new", and with exclamation in lieu of question mark)
• 78 BUY MY WAY

Others, which make sense but are just weird like:

• in big gold glittering letters: WORLD WITHOUT STRANGERS
• IT'S NOT MY FAULT

So, as I said, we were walking around, amusing ourselves with this woman comes up to Tam and stares at her. Tam, startled, looks back wracking her brain for any hint of memory that she might know this woman from somewhere. After and uncomfortable few moments, the woman says to her, "I know you, you're from that website." It made my day to know that Leesie.org is now conquering Borneo. To be fair, she had received an email from Tam asking about accommodation, and clicked on our link, but still, we'd left an impression.

Unless Tam is on another website I'm unaware of.

***

Opinion is divided on Malaysia. We agree that the people are genuinely the friendliest and most welcoming of the twenty countries we've visited on this trip (perhaps this is Borneo as opposed to Malaysia because the same can be said for the Bruneians), but seriously, they stand out above all the others for open warmth.

We differ on food. I really liked it, but Tam, not liking fish, found her options really limited.

Most of all though I think the main reason Tam wasn't overwhelmed with the place, was because she found it slightly repressive. I think the fact that so many women wear hijabs (headscarves) made her, as a woman, both sympathise with them (although I have no doubt they'll tell you they're happy dressing like that), but also feel exposed herself for wearing what in all honesty is normal summer gear for Westerners - like a vest and a skirt.

***

Our flight back to Johor Bahru on the Malaysian Peninsula left at 9pm, so you'll agree that this leaves ample time for getting to the airport. As we had the time, we enquired about getting there on public transport rather than taking a teksi, this we try to do as often as possible.

Our landlady explained to us that the bus left from near the market on the hour, every hour. That should be in quotes: ON the hour, EVERY hour. We took that to mean on the hour every hour, but to confirm (missing a flight is not great for general vibe) I asked her "you mean like one o'clock, two o'clock etc...?"

"Yes. One o'clock, two o'clock like that."

So when we arrived at the bus station at twenty to seven, you can understand my alarm at being told that the last bus had just left. At half past six. You can't get further from 'on the hour' than half past. Being the LAST bus also hinted that perhaps they weren't EVERY hour. Walking back to where we thought there might be another bus, we passed  two policemen chatting to some locals (Kuching is a pretty laid back place. I doubt they're ever really busy). When they couldn't help with bus info, I half seriously said "Officer, can you deport us? We'll go easily, no need for handcuffs."

They both laughed and then the senior officer says "Ok, get in - but if we have a case, you'll need to come with us."

So there we were, just like any ordinary Wednesday afternoon, getting a lift to the airport in the back of a cop car. On arrival - obviously the police don't hang around normal parking areas, they go straight to the front door - all these confused Malaysians looked on as two backpackers climbed out of a marked car, had a group photo and waved as the cops drove off. What really made it for me, was that they hooted as they left. I really, really like Malaysians.

We're in Singapore now enjoying some fine living with our friends Toots and Katie who live in a kind of beach resort holiday camp. This can make seeing the country very difficult as we're finding ourselves not wanting to leave the luxury of Mandarin Gardens.

Hong Kong tomorrow and then some beach time in the Philippines. We could both do with a holiday, so that will be nice. To get away from it all.

Take it easy and don't be scared to send us an email.