|
|
My hotel was so annoying that I decided to hit the road rather
than relax a day or two in KL. I rented a car from Budget and
drove north. I like to do this--driving is a decent way of experiencing
a country.
It also was a triple whammy challenge or so I thought: a different
country with different driving behavior, driving on the left side,
and back to the stick shift. None of this turned out to be a problem,
except for the signaling lights switch, which is on the right
side of the steering wheel, while the switch for the windshield
wipers is on the left side. I don't know how often I wanted to
signal going left and switched on the wipers instead.
Maybe this is also the reason why the other drivers weren't
using their signals at all. While I was still driving in KL, Malaysian
drivers didn't seem to be much different from drivers in Boston
or Hamburg, certainly not more aggressive. The only difference
I observed was that they ignore signaling and leave the lane concept
in the abstract, switching lanes left and right or just driving
on the lane marker. I probably confused the hell out of them,
as I used the signaling lights and tended to stay in my lane.
If I'm not mistaken, I even made the evening news: "Attention,
foreign driver sighted heading north on Rt 1. He is using the
signals and stays in his lane. Take utmost caution."
Roads are well maintained, certainly better than those of "pothole
city" Charlestown in the Boston area.
Once in the countryside, I finally learned why Malaysia is
the country with the highest number of frontal car collisions
in the world. For the first hour or so I was constantly holding
my breath. Overtaking must be a national sport. You have to see
it to believe it, so close your eyes and picture this: A country
road with only one lane in each direction. On the left, a bike.
Right next to it, a moped. Right next to that, a truck. Finally,
partly driving on the shoulder of the opposite lane, a passenger
car. All moving at different speeds, trying to overtake each other.
And only two hundred meter ahead, the same scenario, headed the
other direction. It is like a swarm of bees, assembling for a
complicated maneouver, dissipating shortly before the collision,
only to form the same maneouver shortly thereafter, with new players.
Given this training, I wonder why there aren't many more successful
Malaysian race car drivers. My best guess is they die young before
they reach their bloom.
I arrived in Ipoh, my destination for today, in good shape. My first impression was not too positive: a rather industrial city, quite dirty and filthy, with little interesting to offer. At night, it became more alive and more interesting. I didn't explore it too much though. I watched soccer on TV, and when I saw that Germany was leading 4 : 0, I figured I had fulfilled my patriotic duties and went for dinner.
After two weeks of fried rice or noodles, I decided to go to
McDonalds, where I had a cheeseburger and a McFloat. For the Non-Malaysians
among you, a McFloat is something brownish with large blobs in
it, that is to say a coke with ice. Isn't this funny? But which
British gentleman would have thought there once would be a company
that sounds like "skiver" or a conference named "plop".
[ previous | next ]
|
|
|