The Rabbit Proof Firewall

A couple of things have been bugging us lately dear viewers, but since we promised to use our blogging powers for niceness and not evil (opinionated grandstanding), we debated whether to post this one.

What could possibly be bugging us you ask? Well, admittedly we’re fairly unwound these days, so it takes more than it used to make us cranky, but please bear with us, because these things concern our beloved Oz and the continuing erosion of your (Ozwegians that is) civil rights; already a slippery slope. And we say your civil rights, because we’re over here in Thailand, where we have no rights.

Firstly, internet filtering. If any of you care one little bit about censorship, freedom of information, and freedom of speech, you will realise that the Australian government’s imminent implementation of an ISP-based content filtering system is not just something you should be wary of, its something, as Australians, you should be ashamed of. We certainly are.

Australia Introduces Web Filters
Joining China and Iran, Australia to Filter Internet.

These are the global headlines.

It is important that all Australians, particularly young children, are protected from this material.

This is the spin. This has always been the spin. The whale-sized herring used as justification, and trotted out for years by the nanny-state mongerers, the religious right and the loony left.

In fact, we were surprised to discover recently its not just China and Iran who practise content filtering. For example, this innocuous little site is blocked not only by The Great Firewall Of China, but also Malaysia. We tried accessing it from all over the country, using various service providers, but the site consistently times out. Cross the border into Thailand however, and up it pops. Spooky.



On a related topic, there are also vested commercial interests who would like to serve you up the internet like Pay TV. That is, you only get to see the bits you pay for. Would you like the MSN subscription with the optional Facebook upgrade pack? Or how about the Google and YouTube subscription? Oh, and this month we’re offering Wikipedia for an extra $2.95 per month. Tragically, we get the feeling that a lot of people, especially the younger generation (we’re really showing our age now) couldn’t give a damn. Many of these kids have been bombarded with advertising since birth; utterly brainwashed and lacking the capacity to discern reality from spin.

We owe it to our children to improve the filter between their ears that will help them know whom to trust, how to click the "back button" to avoid inappropriate content and how to enjoy the wonders of the Internet, safely and privately. Internet safety education is key to this, and should be mandated, not filtering. Parry Aftab, Executive Director-WiredSafety.org

The second, and admittedly far less serious issue, is something for our beloved Qld viewers to ponder. After spending the year riding through some of the world’s worst traffic and braving some of the world’s most idiotic drivers, we’ve got one thing to say to you lot back at home. You are so under the thumb. You are so over-policed, over-regulated and over-health-and-safetied it boggles the mind.

Speed is cited as a contributing factor in 5% of all accidents on Qld roads. The biggest factors, with a combined total of 61%, are Alcohol, Inexperience and Inattention. And yet, apart from the odd RBT, the only real focus on accident prevention is speed cameras (usually hidden), and cops with speed guns (always hidden).



These statistics are publicly available. We’ve been aware of them for years. We’ve bitched about them for years. But the reason we’re all hot and bothered about this today is that we’ve just heard the Qld government will be introducing point to point speed cameras in 2010.

Seriously you guys, in the Not Too Distant Future all these decisions will be out of your hands. Your cars will be externally speed-limited, governed according to whatever traffic zone you’re passing through. Unlikely you say? Bollocks. The technology is very straightforward, and was trialled years ago to improve the efficiency of long-haul trucks traversing the outback.

Do you really want to be reduced to automatons? Because your dipstick representatives, with their scheming Sir Humphries, will just keep chip chipping away, until the morning you wake up and its too late. Why don’t you just swap your Pajeros for the train now? Oh, sorry. Bad joke. Qld Rail that is.



For us, these issues reflect all that is wrong with Australia. Time and again, legislation is passed which is designed to satisfy the do-gooders, vocal minorities and those in power with personal agendas, and then sold to the public by their spin doctors. As a result, the law is no longer a framework designed to protect you and around which to build your life, it is instead a framework designed to imprison you.

Sigh... but anyway...

To end on a positive note, we saw the best piece of television in a long time recently, which exposed the Australian mainstream media for the bunch of dolts we’d always suspected them of being. And because its plainly obvious that most metropolitan water supplies are doused with Mogadon, it gladdened our hearts to think that there are still pockets of the country left where this isn’t the case.

Kind of a downer of a post at Christmas admittedly, but if its any consolation here’s a photo of us when we weren’t cranky in the least.



Have a great Christmas everybody. We miss you all.

Selamat Tinggal

Wed 25/11 – 30/11
We’re back. Back in KL with the family.



Back to replace clothes that have fallen to bits, pickup other bits for the GPS, a clutch release for one of the bikes, and a few pounds round the waistline, courtesy of Sharifah.

While fitting the new and long awaited GPS mount, we also take the tacho on Ann’s bike to pieces to see what’s going on, as its been erratic since Java. Which is a complete waste of time, since the needle is powered by some form of electrickery, not like one of those old fashioned cable-from-the-gearbox jobs. Some days its fine, some days it idles at zero, and others it gradually winds its way round past the redline and you can’t help watching it thinking the engine is suddenly going to follow suit and self-destruct.

It behaves itself on the way out to Putrajaya, somewhere we’d been meaning to return after being whizzed around it once before. Like Canberra, its an artificial town. And like most people who assume Sydney is the capital of Australia, the reality that Putrajaya is Malaysia’s capital comes as a bit of a doh! moment for us.



The fact that parliament still sits in KL seems to be a minor detail when glimpsing the city for the first time; the grand design gradually revealing itself.



Built on the site of a former oil palm plantation, and conceived by a former dictator, Putrajaya is dotted with signature buildings, designed by signature architects.



We double Richard and Stani out from KL to wander around the place, Ann for the first time on her bike.



And for a while, early on an overcast Sunday morning, we seem to be the only people on the streets.



The only ones doing this anyway.



The two huge signature mosques are a contrast in modern...



... and conservative...



...sophisticated...



... and... this... is the second silliest photo you’re likely to see today.

This is the silliest.

Tue 1/12
The same guy who designed the old KL Railway Station is responsible for Kuala Kangsar’s mosque so, after a late start (by the way did we tell you we were leaving again today?) we slowly make our way north on the old highway, stopping for food and photos, the whole time keeping an eye on the ominous looking clouds building on the horizon.



We’re already wondering about the wisdom of taking the back roads after passing several kampongs which have been badly flooded only days before and whose houses still bear muddy high-water marks, when the annoying showers of this morning begin worsening to torrential rain. Visibility is down to 40, which is the worst we’ve ridden since Timor. Its a shame, since the country from here to Sungai Petani is quite beautiful.

Wed 2/12
We’re feeling a little old the next day; our reserves of energy seem to have drained away in yesterday’s downpour. Or most likely we’re just out of shape, pampered by too much good living in KL.

And possibly its the thought of today’s goodbyes. Thobrani and Sharifah, who had followed us up to Sungai Petani yesterday, are heading back to KL again today, and we’re left floundering for words of thanks, finding it impossible to convey our gratitude and how much we’ll miss them.

Thu 3/12 – 8/12
So we head over to Penang the next day for a bit of touristic therapy.

We were told to go visit Peranakan Mansion the last time we were here, but didn’t seem to find the time.



Did you go see Peranakan? “Well, we were going to...” What, no? You. What, you didn’t see it? Oh, my god. I don’t believe it.



And so on and so forth.



To be quite honest, we reached a point several months ago in Sulawesi, when we realised that it made no difference where we went, how long it took to get there and what we did when we got there. It may sound a little pretentious to say, but was a real epiphany for us, and we’ve been thankful ever since that it happened early in the journey.



But back to Peranakan...



Which apparently represents the typical home of a wealthy 19th century Chinese family.



And is an eclectic mix of east and west.



Oriental and colonial.

Meanwhile, over at Sungai Petani, Atik, who is still in Medan, has been replaced by a Pakistani “security guard”, who is living on site “guarding” the house.

Apparently, ever since he started the place has been lit up at night like the Griswald’s Family Christmas, so one of our jobs is night-light patrol. The other is simply being here to give him company. Which is really part of the same job, or both jobs are linked at any rate. It seems that either the ghost stories have gotten to him, or he’s the world’s wussiest security guard and afraid of the dark.

Verbal explanations seem to fail, so it becomes a nightly game to see how many lights we can switch off before bed and how many have been switched back on again the next morning.



At least Penang is still there when we return a few days later.



Photogenic as ever.

Possibly the most interesting city in Malaysia.

It might also interest you to know that for months Celcom, the Malaysian telco we bought our sim card from, has been spamming our hand phone daily with lists of prayer times. Maybe we neglected to opt out of this redundant and irritating service after deleting one of their previous spams, but suddenly, on the eve of our departure from Malaysia, we find the service quite useful.

Rana, the Jean-Claude Van Damme of security guards, is a devout Muslim who never misses his prayers. How do we know this? Well, it seems nearly every time we want to leave the house (he has the only remote for the gate) and make our way to the front door, there he is on his prayer mat on hands and knees. Which causes us to back away, silently cursing, to wait a suitable interval for him to finish.

Its our own stupid fault of course. The daily broadcasts from the mosques become almost white noise after a while, and only now do we realise how successfully we’ve tuned them out.

Wed 9/12
Anyway... this’ll be the third time now. The third time we leave Malaysia feeling down, leaving behind people we care about.

Normally we get on the bikes feeling positive; energized with the anticipation of moving on. But after the Thai border at Sadao we blow through one dusty, depressing, no name town after the next.

Its not in our nature to get all gushy and sentimental, but a month ago Thobrani and Sharifah took in two complete strangers, housed them (in style), fed them (in style) and made them feel like part of the family. We can’t thank them enough.

And Malaysia itself? It may not be quite as exotic as its neighbours, but its almost as corrupt. Free speech isn’t exactly free yet, and there’s a real feeling of underlying racial tension, but nevertheless we seem to have become emotionally attached. And so, day one in Thailand is mostly spent reflecting on how much we’ll miss the place...

Penang

Mon 16/11

The family’s gone and left us in their haunted house. There were 15 of us here over the weekend, and now they’re all gone we miss them.

Atik’s all excited though. She’s the housekeeper, and even though we speak more Bahasa than she speaks English, at least she’s got some earthly company for a change. Oh yeah, plus she’s going home to Medan on holiday for the first time in ages. Not that you’d know or anything.

Sembilan malam lagi! she exclaims (nine more sleeps – roughly translated), while attempting a classic Michael Jackson move and failing, somehow managing a Peter Garrett impersonation instead.

Tue 17/11
The house sits in a quiet part of Sungai Petani, which is about a 40 minute ride to Penang on the E1. Or, when you’re sick of the E1 like we are, a something minute ride on the back roads.



And across on the ferry. Which is optional (there’s a big bridge). And slower. And yes, Lucas still hates ferries, but it suits this morning’s back roads mood.

Penang is all about the Chinese. Well, a lot of it is anyway. Like Ipoh, it has a distinctly Chinese feel, the streets lined with old shop houses, clan houses and temples. And gold.



The Chinese are second only to the Indians as the world’s largest consumers of gold (see children, education can be fun).

And a large chunk of it covers their temples and clan houses.



Most of which are built with materials and plastered with bits and pieces transplanted from mainland China. Trendsetters weren’t they?

Later, templed out and before the rain sets in, we take the bridge back to the mainland and up to the house, a patiently waiting Atik and her ghosts. The ghosts are shy creatures, but the same can’t be said for Atik.

Delapan malam lagi!

Wed 18/11
It rains a lot in Kedah. Another useful piece of trivia, viewers.

Tujuh malam lagi...

Thu 19/11
We were told we’d like Penang. Actually it was more like You will luurve Penang! Or Pinang, as the locals pronounce it.



And so we do.



Although the food, which everyone all across Malaysia raves about, is not as spectacular as its reputation. Ok maybe it is a notch above, but we figure its mainly because they try harder here, not because there’s something magic in the water. Then again, its possible we’re just Philistines.

Oh by the way, that’s a photo of the world’s only railway station built for a city with no railway.

You’ll thank us for these tidbits one day viewers.

Enam malam lagi...

Fri 20/11
We’re not sure how anyone does any business here. Nobody ever calls back. Ever.

“If you can just text us your bank details, we’ll pay the 700RM straight into your account.”
Sure, no problem.

A day later...

“Can you please send us through the details so we can have the parts couriered to KL?”
Ok, I’ll be right on it.

Two days later...

“Fuck it, we’ll just go back to KL and pick it up ourselves.”



Francis Light Esquire, establisher of settlements in Penang and Adelaide is buried here. We’ve got a photo of his gravestone, but this one’s more interesting.

Lima malam lagi...

Sat 21/11
Its raining again. House-bound, we sit around doing some planning for Thailand and catching up on the blog, while the ghostly figure of Atik moves from room to room.

It must be incredibly lonely for some of these immigrant workers. Malaysia has a huge underclass working as maids, housekeepers, security guards, gardeners, plantation workers, construction workers, and countless other unskilled jobs. In a country like Oz, some of those jobs pay quite well and aren’t necessarily filled by immigrants, but doing that sort of thing here usually signifies that you’re an Indonesian, Philipino, Nepalese, Indian or Pakistani and pretty much bottom of the heap.

Singapore and Malaysia would grind to a halt without these people, who in return enjoy a better quality of life than in their own country, and usually manage to send money home to their families. Still, its a helluva price to pay.

Empat malam lagi...

Sun 22/11
Its a rainy overcast day in Penang but an even rainier one in Kedah, from which we’ve managed an early escape.



We admit we don’t get places like Kek Lok Si. As far as Buddhist temples go, its way up the grandiose end of the spectrum; a huge, multi-tiered complex which sits in the shadow of a monstrous bronze statue of Kuan Kin – goddess of mercy. Donations go to help pay for the construction of an equally monstrous 16 columned roofed structure to house her.



It all seems a bit pompous, which isn’t the Buddhist way at all, and we can’t help thinking of alternate uses for that money. Maybe others agree; the 16 columns were supposed to be cast in bronze, but the reality of pre-cast concrete is pretty unmistakeable.

We get soaked again on the way back to the house. Thanks a lot Kuan Kin.

By the way, what do you do when its raining, you’re house-bound again, and you’ve exhausted the stack of 90s magazines in the cupboards? Watch the entire Dr Dolittle collection on DVD of course. Alas, the Eddie Murphy Straight To DVD Collectors Edition was missing but its ok, we don’t want your pity viewers.

Tiga malam lagi...

Mon 23/11

The Chinese are a superstitious lot. Its great to see them in action at a busy temple, shaking their sticks, throwing blocks of wood on the floor, ringing the bell, burning incense.



The smoke from which can get incredibly thick at the Sisters of Mercy temple in Penang.



But the whole process is stage-managed, and we’re assuming the whole supply chain is controlled by a few people. Who knows where the money goes. But there’s lots of it being splashed about and it seems to alleviate the consciences of whomever is doing the splashing and the burning, so who cares?



Well ok, its not exactly carbon neutral.



But a lot of cute little birdies get set free. Oh wait, they were bred into captivity in the first place. Doh!

Back in Sungai Petani and marooned at home for tea again, Atik takes pity and offers us some of her Maggi omelette which, for the benefit of our less culinarily educated viewers, consists of a bit of omelette floating on top of a bowl of two minute noodles. Its the thought that counts.

Dua malam lagi...

Tue 24/11
Rain rain go away.

Satu malam lagi...

Wed 25/11
Kosong malam lagi.



Atik’s on the first plane to Medan this morning and is beside herself. We could probably stay in Kedah indefinitely, but we’re off today ourselves. Back to KL, Thobrani and Sharifah and the rest of the family, and finally some bike bits. We’re kind of disappointed the ghosts didn’t show. Maybe the Hell’s Angels jackets scared them off...

Civilisation II

Sun 25/10

A lot of people arrive at Taman Negara via speedboat, which winds it way up a beautiful stretch of jungle-verged river. We should be so lucky, arriving via the tradesman’s entrance and mile after mile of oil palm instead.

And so finally, when confronted by the thick wall of ancient rainforest, it takes a little adjusting to fully appreciate where we are. So we grab a boat across the river and scramble up one of the easy trails, up the side of a reasonable sized hill which looks out over the jungle.



Easy? Bollocks! Well that’s Ann’s assessment of the afternoon’s activities anyway.

Mon 26/10
The jungle here is extremely jungly it must be said, and we see more wildlife today than all the other Malaysian parks put together. Most people get pretty blasé about monkeys in this part of the world; you see them everywhere, usually being fed peanuts by tourists at the side of the road. But out here, away from all that, you can sit and watch them for hours just being themselves. Playing, fighting, picking fruit, picking their noses, swinging from the trees, peeing, rooting and generally just monkeying around. We’re pretty knackered that afternoon after the boat guy deposits us back on the other side of the river.



And could really use a good night’s sleep for a change, but it just isn’t working out that way. Maybe we’ve led sheltered lives, but up until now neither of us has laid eyes on a bed bug. Or maybe we’ve just been lucky, because Malaysia seems to have a reputation for bug infested beds. Either way, at around midnight, our luck finally runs out. So for those of you unfamiliar with the joys, let us enlighten you.

First of all they live in beds. And luggage. And clothes. And any other cool dark place they can ferret themselves away. They’re about the size of a tick, look a bit like one, and are of course biting, blood-sucking, evil little bastards. Oh yeah, and when you squish them, they stink. They stink like something you think you know the smell of, but can’t quite place. And what comes out when you squish them is something not exactly blood and not exactly purply smelly goo. You really don’t want them; they’re the traveller’s equivalent of lice. Crabs even. Something socially unacceptable at any rate.

And so, especially after last night’s family affair next door, and the fact that the “resort”, which we’re paying top ringgit for, is more like some 70’s pigsty summer camp, we are fucking furious.

Tue 27/10
The guy who runs the place gives us some “So what?” attitude the next morning, saying that a lot of places have bed bugs and we should just deal with it. As a consequence, after two days slogging through leech-infested jungle and two nights without sleep, he becomes the recipient of our outrage, some of which is actually latent Indo outrage if we’re honest, but the asshole deserves every bit of it.



Maybe the whole thing is still playing on his mind, or maybe its the fact that your average Malaysian is an appalling driver, but a couple of hours later Lucas is run off the road by some dolt in a Proton. We see this sort of thing happen to the locals all the time, but when you’re on top of an oversize trail bike weighing ¼ of a ton you really don’t want to be in a drainage ditch doing 60 on short notice.

About 30 seconds afterwards, Proton Boy becomes the next recipient of our Latent Indo Fury when he finds himself boxed in by two stationary BMWs and two furious bikers.

Malaysia’s a deceiving place to ride. One the one hand the roads are great; KL’s network of toll roads is astonishing for example. But on the other, the roads are populated by the most appalling drivers we’ve ever seen. Most of them wander all over the road like Farmer Brown’s cows, regard indicators as optional extras, pull out right in front of you without looking, cut you off, merge into your lane as if you don’t exist, run, jump or just plain ignore red lights, are clueless negotiating roundabouts, and to top it off there are so many Indos and Indians riding mopeds here who don’t give a damn about anything at all, that riding in traffic is like riding in the Wacky Races.



So we’ve decided to compile a list. There are loads of lists these days, ranking countries according to cost of living, transparency, happiness etc. Our list will have nothing to do with the state of the roads or the amount of traffic on them, its simply an Idiot Behind The Wheel index, and the country with lowest driver IQ will sit in last place. Here’s how it looks so far:

• UK
• Canada
• Oz
• USA
• Timor Leste
• Indonesia
• Malaysia

Sorry about that Malaysia, but we’ve given you a few months... Its a bit of a shame really, because some of the roads here are spectacularly good. The one today is maybe the best we’ve ever ridden and snakes its way up to the Cameron Highlands like an empty formula one track.

Wed 28/10 -29/10


Up here in the Highlands it rains quite a lot, especially during the (surprise) rainy season. So while sitting out some of it we get to know a couple who are travelling the world on two pushbikes. Its taken them 5 years, but Richard & Stani have managed to pedal themselves from Europe across to Mongolia and down through China, Laos etc., and have mostly camped and cooked their own food along the way. Including, unbelievably, bread (they have a freakin oven for chrissake). On the one hand they make us feel like complete wusses, but on the other, after hearing that Stani carries 60kg on the bike and Richard 80, we wonder why we’ve been giving ourselves such a hard time about luggage. All up, including the weight of the panniers, we’re probably carrying the same.



The Indian hotel owner seems to think having all four of us in his hotel at once is good karma or something, because he decides to shout us all tea tonight. The guy’s a bit obnoxious and seems to regard himself as lord of the manor, which is appropriate, being as he’s drunk as one most of the time. But we’re all sluts for a free meal so happily agree anyway. In fact it really doesn’t register with us at all, because like many alcoholics he seems to manage day to day. So when the time comes and he insists that he drive us to the restaurant in his old Honda, everyone thinks this is a great idea. 10 minutes later, watching the centre line pass between the front wheels and the oncoming traffic scatter, we're starting to wish we’d walked to the nearest 7-eleven in the rain instead.

Fri 30/10 – 7/11


Ipoh Ipoh Ipoh. Another town most tourists give a big swerve.



But there’s a cheap Chinese hotel here with underground parking (a first for us in Malaysia), the staff are friendly, the room is old but huge and clean, and we have no neighbours. Woohoo! We may never leave this place. That’s a photo of Kellie’s Castle by the way.

The town even has a bit of character, including the seedy part we’re in.



We’re not quite on first name terms with the prostitutes on the corner, but they’re usually hanging around on our way to breakfast every morning. We sit outside the little Indian restaurant sipping a cup of kopi o kosong, waiting for the roti to arrive. The shopkeeper next door throws a couple of handfuls of rice out onto the road for the pigeons, while the ginger tomcat waits patiently before beginning his stealthy approach. Let’s face it, we’re not big pigeon fans (they’re really just rats with wings), so we’re always rooting for the cat, but at the last second one of the shop owners always chases him away, and he stomps off, balls swinging proudly. On our way back to the hotel, the purple pimped Proton carelessly parked across the road signals the arrival of the pimp. Some mornings, when he’s a little late out of bed, he can even be seen arguing a parking ticket.



Yes folks, we are living an Asian cliché.



By the way, Ipoh has lots of interesting temple caves as well.



Ok sure, some are a bit tacky, but once you get past the tackiness they’re... still pretty tacky.



But Lucas loves photographing them...



...so Ann indulges him and amuses herself people watching.

Sat 8/11 – 14/11
Paradise was never meant to last, and so it is with Ipoh. We’ve been waiting and waiting for bits and pieces to arrive, and KL is too expensive and awkward to wait in. But Ann has been on the phone to a friend of a friend, who virtually insists we come down to KL and stay at their place and assures us that they have plenty of space for the bikes.



Nothing can quite prepare us for Thobrani & Sharifah’s place however, and as we ride through the gates past the security guard, past the rows of German cars, up into what looks like a resort, we each experience a brief moment of panic and wonder if we’re actually in the right place after all.

Sharifah welcomes us like honoured guests (we’ve only just met her), and asks if our “room” will be ok. Um. How can we explain this? The room is actually a 2-storey house (one of six), complete with a huge kitchen, dining and living areas and one massive bedroom. We’ve lived in apartments half this size. “Yes its lovely, thank you.” we reply politely, trying not to act too much like the poor relations from Out Of Town.

Over the next week we’re housed, fed and treated like part of the family. We may even put on weight here.



Actually, our sharper viewers would have spotted the other photo was still Kellie’s Castle. This is really their place.

Really though, the whole reason we came back to KL was to try and track down a package of bits for the GPS. Finally, after a visit to MASKargo at the airport, the matter is resolved once and for all. Somewhere between Canada and here its gone missing. ####ing morons at Canada Post sending it without a ####ing tracking number means no one can tell us jack, and no matter where we source some replacements its still going to take another 3 weeks. ####!!!

Thobrani generously offers us a room until then, but we can’t help feeling like we’re overstaying our welcome.

Sun 15/11
In the meantime though, the whole family are heading up to Penang for the weekend and ask us to join them.



On the way up, and just to enrich your lives with a bit of motorcycle trivia viewers, Ann’s bike hits a new mileage record. Before we chicken out and stop to refuel, it gets 423 kilometres from 14 litres. At 30km/l this works out to 525 kilometres from one tank, on a fully laden 650. We’re pretty impressed. We knew you would be too...