“Do you know how to ride motorbike?”
I pause. “I think so.”
“Okay, go for a ride around the shop and see.” He hands me the keys. I have never ridden a motorcycle before in my life.
The Langkawi street from which we rented motorbikes
“It’s fairly easy,” says Tim. Obviously he is a lot more confident than I am. I soon learn that he used to own one as a teenager – meanwhile I have no experience with motorcycles whatsoever.
I suddenly consider what has just happened. Only moments before we were refused motorcycles from a similar place a few blocks down the road on the grounds that we did not hold a motorcycle licence. Malaysian law states that in order to ride a motorcycle you need a specific licence. For this particular store it appeared that this licence was not required and instead you only needed to answer affirmatively to the question as to whether you can ride one.
I get on the bike and attempt to accelerate. I cast my mind back to my childhood where I used to spend hours at video game arcades on those motocross machines. You just twist the handle bar towards you and go right?
ZOOOOM. I am suddenly going far too fast. HOW DO I STOP THIS THING? I try to break with both the rear and front brakes but the bike is still going. I almost crash into a parked car. The bike falls onto the ground. I feel a sharp pain and notice a small scratch on my leg.
Luckily no-one saw me. I wheel the bike back and return back to the store where the shopkeeper and Tim await.
“No problem. How much is it for a day?” I ask.
“40 ringgit. 200 ringgit deposit. If you crash 1000 ringgit.”
“Okay sure!” I say. Inside I am absolutely petrified.
Here Goes Nothing
I get on the bike again and we decide to turn right onto the street. I see elderly Malay women, their hijabs blowing in the wind with their children in tow, zipping down the road. Surely if they can conquer this mechanical bicycle then I can too! I twist the handlebar toward myself and try to turn but the bike is going straight ahead. Oh shit. How do I stop this thing? I pull down on the brake but the bike is still moving. AHHHHHH.
I hit a lady’s motorcycle parked on the street. Everyone on the street stops and shrieks.
“Are you okay?” shouts an American tourist from across the road.
“I am alright,” I lie. I can feel my other leg stinging. I look down and see blood.
Oh god, what have I done? What is going to happen now? I am dead. I don’t have 1000 ringgit to pay. The man runs over and speaks to the lady in Malay who is examining her bike. After a lengthy exchange, I discover that her bike appears to be fine. Mine however has several scratches and a large crack on its frame.
“Not good,” says the shopkeeper. “I told you to go slow! This is going to cost money.”
I don’t know what to say. Teaching yourself to ride a motorcycle in the space of two minutes probably doesn’t adequately prepare you for riding on the road without a collision.
Tim runs over and asks what happened.
“Okay,” says the shopkeeper. “Now go slowly. You should go first.”
Unexpectedly he ushers us to go out again. Despite clearly demonstrating to him that I do not know to ride a motorcycle at all, that I do not hold a valid licence to ride such a vehicle, and even after crashing into a parked bike right in front of his very eyes, he tells me to go forth and try again. I am initially surprised but then remember I am in South East Asia.
Two Crashes Down, Third Time Lucky?
Climbing back onto the bike, inside I am fearing for my life. I am not a religious person but I notice that I am praying for my own safety. I try to calm myself down by thinking it through: I have travel insurance so even if I get badly injured then it will be okay as the travel insurance can take care of it. But then I suddenly realise: if I die then even the travel insurance cannot save me. I need to try to not die.
At first I accelerate down the busy Langkawi road slowly, then I reach a speed of 30 km/h, the fastest I am comfortable doing. I can see a convey of cars behind me wanting to overtake. The hot and humid South East Asian air blows fiercely into my face. It also rushes past my leg and it begins to sting. I have several cuts, two of which are about 8 inches long down the side of my left calf. The warm air gushing onto them is making it a lot more painful.
I am too scared to notice the beautiful scenery. There are lush green mountains and thick forests of palm trees alongside the road. We also pass through many small towns, where locals sit on picnic chairs at seemingly makeshift cafes. I am too busy trying to avoid crashing.
“You know going at 30km/h is unsafe, cars may side swipe you when they try to overtake you. Maybe you should go faster,” says Tim.
Increasing my speed will make this safer? I want to punch him.
We continue to ride through the island, my hands clutching tightly on the handlebars. Up a windy hill we come across a clearing where two cyclists are standing. We pull over to take a break and I allow my heart rate to stablise. I breathe in and out deeply and slowly calm down.
From there we notice a tribe of monkeys. They have assembled themselves onto a water pipe coming up from the ground. The two cyclists laugh at their antics. I whip out my camera and try to take photos but the elder monkey growls at me. I try to be more covert.
Langkawi Monkeys
Suddenly, whilst fixated on this group of primates, we are too busy to notice one scurrying from the side to one of the cyclist’s bike, grabbing the bottle of water attached to it.
“Meine flasche!” yells the German cyclist – but it is too late. The monkey has ran off into the depths of the jungle.
Mastering The Mechanical Bicycle Once And For All
Following this Tim and I decide to go to find a beach, so I reluctantly get back on my bike. However I notice that after an hour or so of practice, my confidence has increased. I can now comfortably drive at the speed limit. I am impressed: teaching myself to ride a motorcycle in an hour is a major accomplishment. It is only now that I am able to enjoy the beautiful landscape.
We stop at a quiet beach along the way. It is small but beautiful. In the water whilst taking a swim, the saltwater stings my legs but I try to ignore it as it is probably sanitising the wound. I examine my battle scars. The cuts look deep.
Back on our motorcycles we attempt to journey back to the hotel but get lost several times. However, it does not worry us. Away from the touristy streets and backpacker haunts, I get to see and experience the real Langkawi. I drive past many mosques, schools and local houses. This is where the people of Langkawi reside. I realise how artificial the area is surrounding our hotel. I realise how so many people happily lie on the beach and never get to see this part of the island.
A mosque we passed on our travels
Despite risking death and having no actual motorcycling experience, I determine that renting a motorcycle and riding around the island is the only real way to properly see Langkawi.
After returning the bike back the next morning, I am thankful that the man from the day before, who witnessed my crash, is not there. Another shopkeeper is in his place, conducting the routine examination of my motorcycle. Perhaps he will not notice?
“This new scratch. This new scratch. This one here bad crack.”
Oh no. This is going to be expensive. “How much do I have to pay?”
“Hmmm,” he stops and thinks for a moment. “Make it 300 Ringgit.”
I hand over 100 Ringgit and he keeps the deposit. While 300 Ringgit is a bit of money to have to pay, I am mildly comforted by the fact that it is not 1,000 Ringgit – but more importantly that after it all I am still alive to tell the tale.
Self-taught motorcycling
This entry was written by Kenan Lucas, posted on March 5, 2011 at 11:23 am, filed under Malaysia, travel tales. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
“Welcome aboard, Sir,” says the tall and slender Asian man in black uniform. He proceeds to clasp his hands together and bow his head. I have never seen anything like it before but appreciate the gesture.
I am on an Air Asia flight from Melbourne to Kuala Lumpur. It has not hit me I am going overseas until now; this momentary burst of culture shock where people are greeting me in a completely foreign way has made me realise that I am actually leaving the country.
7.5 hours later, I am in Malaysia with Tim, my partner and travel companion. We have nothing to do for the next two hours until we need to catch a night train to Langkawi. Exploring the surrounding area, we stumble into a small part of the city known as Little India.
Instantly Transported To The Indian Sub-Continent
I feel like I am in a theme park and experience sensory overload. The lights, sounds, smells – I am in awe of everything around me. In this moment I tell myself I have to visit India itself. The centre piece of Little India is a beautifully colourful elephant fountain, hypnotically sprouting water at various intervals.
Elephant Fountain at Little India, Kuala Lumpur
Hungry, we walk past several enticing eateries and street stalls, but decide to go to Nikab’s Place on the main corner. A poster on the wall proudly displays a photograph of the Malaysian Prime Minister surrounded by a large group of people – he dined here in 2009 according to the text below the poster. Upon discovering that pertinent piece of information, I decide if its good enough for the Malaysian Prime Minister then it ought to suffice for me.
A waiter comes around and although there is a slight language barrier our order arrives and it looks amazing. Roti bread with three types of dal curry. I love Indian food and eat it regularly back home but I have must say I have never tasted anything like these amazing flavours before.
Roti Bread and Dal at Nikab's Corner
After finishing our dinner, our bill arrives: 8 Malaysian Ringgit. Approximately $1.30 each. That is inclusive of drinks. I have never visited South East Asia before, so forgive me for stating the obvious, but OH MY GOOD EVERYTHING IS SO CHEAP. I feel like it is all on sale and I must buy everything.
We walk back to the train station and board a night train to Langkawi with our stomachs content. I am excited at the thought of tomorrow being on an island paradise. For now, I lay on my train bunker, exhausted from a day of travelling. I try to stay awake to look at the scenery outside the window but quickly fall asleep to the sounds of the train chugging off into the night.
This entry was written by Kenan Lucas, posted on March 2, 2011 at 6:20 am, filed under Malaysia, travel tales. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
The metropolitan trains in Tokyo are filled with a sea of black business suits. Japanese salarymen and women surround me like sushi rolls packed tightly in the window of a food stall. Meanwhile I am busy trying to avoid asphyxiation. The train is completely full and I feel somewhat ill – I never considered myself claustrophobic until I arrived to Japan. It is my first time here and I am standing awkwardly with my luggage on a train from Haneda Airport into the city centre.
From my limited view of the train window from where I am standing, I catch a glimpse of the sprawling metropolis outside. Neon lights flash from soaring skyscrapers while crowds of people file through narrow city streets. Tokyo is just how I pictured it would be: breathtakingly bustling.
As the train approaches its next stop, I hear a noise which reminds me of my childhood. It sounds like something from the video game Super Mario Bros but was coming from the train’s PA system: it was the start of the on-board train announcement advising we were approaching the next stop. I soon discovered that all train announcements, whether on-board or at the station, start with these 32-bit sound effects, sometimes lasting for 30 seconds at a time. Each time you hear it cannot help but feel like you have progressed to the next level of a 90’s video game.
Then from the far corner of my eye I see a familiar face. It is Tommy Lee Jones. He is on a billboard endorsing Boss, a coffee beverage that comes in a can.
I take out a folded map from my back pocket and stare at spaghetti thrown across the page in a seemingly unfettered fashion (otherwise known as the Tokyo Metropolitan Subway System). I have never seen a more complex rail network in my life and pray that we do not get lost. Finally after four trains, two different train carriers, and several thousand Yen, I arrive with my travel companion and good friend Chris to our final destination: Bakurocho station.
Exploiting Japanese Culture For Financial Gain
We check into our hotel, and carefully recite our pre-planned speech about how we don’t know what employees’ rates are and we just booked that rate online. In actual fact, prior to our trip we somehow located the URL for a major hotel company’s booking site only available to its employees, and thought we’d tried our luck with heavily discounted accommodation – I have no morals whatsoever, I do realise. The polite and timid Japanese lady standing behind the counter looked visibly uncomfortable when she was trying to inform us we were not entitled to that reservation. The acting skills I acquired through Year 10 Drama class with Mr. Mitchell were put into action as I did my best to pretend to look puzzled and mildly disgruntled. The rest of the desk staff conversed in Japanese. Then, we were handed our receipt, the price of the room at half price the usual rate. We had succeeded.
I walked up the hotel stairs to our room, contemplating how this exchange would have been vastly different had it occurred in a different country. The hotel staff were so polite and obviously wanted to avoid any sort of confrontation. My guilt-tinged conscience attempted to defend our act on the grounds that without it we would not have had such an insight into the culture and customs of Japanese people. But above all else I was glad to have saved ¥20,000.
After swiping my key card into the door, my first impression of the room was: very, very small. I could not help but feel like I was being forced to live under the stairs at 4 Privet Drive.
Bolognese Burger With Grape Flavoured Soda and Di Caprio
Searching for food at 10pm in the surrounding area, we found nothing but residential buildings and corporate offices and Leonardo Di Caprio. He looked defiant on a large billboard, endorsing what appeared to be car tyres. While Tommy Lee Jones is probably a fan of caffeinated beverages, I am not so sure of the Di Caprio association with automotive goods.
Eventually after some persistent wander, we come across what looks like a fast food restaurant. It was called Mos Burger. Neither of us have had heard of this particular chain of restaurants before but upon entry it was clear that it was a distinctively Japanese attempt at a McDonalds type eatery.
“いらっしゃいませ!” yells the person behind the counter. I did not know what he just said but he did exclaim it rather enthusiastically. A picture menu is on display on the counter which we point to like mutes, completely silenced by our inability to speak the language. My selection: what looked like a beef mince Bolognese burger with what I guessed was grape flavoured soda. The man at the counter bowed after taking my money. I bowed back but then realised I would have looked like a fool.
The restaurant was mostly empty. We took our order, and then sat in silence while eating our meals. Despite the unusual flavour it was quite tasty.
Image Credit: jimgris
This entry was written by Kenan Lucas, posted on February 4, 2011 at 2:07 am, filed under Japan, travel tales. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.
Happy New Year! I am so excited for what this year will bring and have been looking forward to 2011 immensely. For this year I have decided to devise a list of goals which concentrate specifically on travel and on enhancing my time overseas.
Happy New Year!
My travel goals for 2011 are as following:
1. Learn Japanese to an N4 Level.
The Japanese Language Proficient Test is a standardised test for non-native Japanese speakers with levels beginning at N5 to the most advanced N1. At present I know no Japanese. I am aiming to become semi-fluent before the year’s end and my goal is to be able to effectively converse and understand day-to-day conversation. The N4 level requires about 300 hours of study, with knowledge of 300 Kanji characters and understanding of 1,500 words.
2. Experience Massive Culture Shock Like Never Before.
Unlike most people, I actually enjoy this part of travelling. For me, putting yourself completely outside of your comfort zone is exactly what travelling is about. As I am about to depart for South East Asia for the first time, I can envisage that there will be plenty of opportunities to confront these kinds of situations. Squat toilets, fried insects, scam artists, food poisoning, constantly being sold to – I want to experience it all.
3. Visit A Country Others Don’t Travel To.
Early last year I visited Kosovo. I was fascinated by its recent history and wanted to explore what it would be like walking the streets of a country which is only partially recognised, its nationhood disputed. It was intense and chaotic and I am looking forward to more of being a tourist in countries with no tourists.
4. Live Out of a 50 Litre Backpack.
This year I am seeking to embrace minimalism like never before. The old 70 litre backpack that I lugged around Europe and the U.S. is being retired and I have just purchased the smallest Kathmandu travel backpack I could find. My plan is to fit the entire set of my possessions within the confines of a 50 litre bag – by doing this I will ensure that I take with me only the most essential items, allowing me to travel light and move around easily.
5. Make Friends With Locals.
Only by meeting the locals of the country you visit will you ever get to experience the culture of that country first hand. Some people travel to foreign destinations on the other side of the world but surround themselves with other travellers who speak the same language, from similar nations. I try to avoid this. That is not to say I avoid other travellers or English-speakers but I do try to break free from falling into the same crowd. My Austrian friends I made whilst studying abroad in Austria are some of my closest friends and through them I learnt so much about Austrian life and culture.
6. Send More Postcards.
I need to send more postcards to friends and family back home. Occasionally I will remember and have enough time to go into the post office but most instances I fail in this regard . A handwritten postcard sent to family or friends is always well received and appreciated. This year I am going to make it a goal that I have to send at least 1 postcard from every new country I visit.
7. Save Money Whilst Traveling.
For most people, the cycle tends to go like this: save money for a year or two, travel for a month or so, come back home, rinse and repeat. Recently I have had a bit of a paradigm shift in thinking in terms of traveling and money. Just because you are abroad does not mean you cannot be earning funds to finance your travel or even saving additional amounts. Find casual jobs overseas, work remotely from where ever you are, teaching English – there are a multitude of options available. I am keen to explore several avenues for financing travel this year and will update everyone on my progress.
So that concludes my goals for this year. What are your travel goals for 2011?
Image Credit: Merritt Boyd
This entry was written by Kenan Lucas, posted on January 5, 2011 at 9:52 am, filed under how to, travel. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.