The Gentle Rhythms of Riding are Forgotten

Our last set of instructions

Riding long distance requires a degree of discipline, albeit little responsibility. Up at 5am, bags down by 6.15, breakfast at 6.30 and off on the road by 7 at the latest to follow the route for the day. No time for lying in, shillyshallying around or preening in front of the mirror. After the ride there's laundry to be done, a shower to wash off the day's sweat and grime, maybe a read and a nap, or a beer and a chat, perhaps some emails or Skypeing before rider meeting at 6.15pm and dinner at 6.30.

But now the ride is over we can throw discipline to the wind, wake at 9am and still have time for breakfast, wander about as the oddly tanned accidental tourists that we are, loll about in bars and laze by shady swimming pools. Oh what a life it is.

Peanuts served at the Long Bar at Raffles

And so Day One of the Return to Normal Living has proved incredibly successful. A long breakfast after an unfortunate early rise, but I guess we have been conditioned, a bit of bike boxing, then off to Raffles to enjoy one - or more - of its famed Singapore Slings. I can tell you the ingredients if you want to mix up one at home and have it sneak up on you on a Saturday afternoon.

Take a cocktail shaker and pour in 30ml of gin. Add 15ml of cherry brandy and 120ml of pineapple juice. Top this with 15ml of lime juice and 7.5ml each of Cointreau and DOM Benedictine. Add 10ml of Grenadine and some ice then shake. Pour into a tall glass and garnish with a sweltered maraschino cherry and a chunk of pineapple side by side. Mind, one will make you feel pleasantly relaxed, two a trifle tipsy and three, positively drunk.

Janice, Jim and Walli

Ah, Singapore. I never thought I would ever relish your orderly cleanliness, predictable customer service and quiet comforts as I now do after this whirlwind tour of motorbikes and trucks, potholes and poor shoulders, palm oil and rubber plantations, fried rice and noodles, and skinny dogs and underfed chooks. But I will miss the warm smiles and greetings. These people know what it is to be part of the larger human community in ways that we in the west may only occasionally glimpse.

 

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Last Days

Dining in Little India

The Straits of Malacca have always sounded intriguing to me, stories of pirates and trade, links with Europe and Asia. So it was wonderful to at last look out to sea from the city of Meleka, or Malacca if you prefer, and wander the narrow streets and lane ways imagining how things were 150 years ago.

An Islamic outfitter

Life today in Meleka is busy and commercial, but the highlight in the trading department are the decorated rickshaw cyclists, gaudily decorated sidecars for tourists to sit in and be pedaled around town. Some of the riders looked none too young or fit, but pedal they did.

 

Small bars supplying rose scented liqueurs and Chinese spirits could be found, as well as Chinese apothecaries. Little India boasted clothing and incense and busy restaurants where the food came promptly and plentifully.

 

The river walk was inspired by Austin, Texas, and was a picture of flowers, pleasure boats and cafés. It was fun spotting the water monitors and the slippery agile mud skippers, too.

A car full of drying biscuits

Ricks haws

Water monitors in the Meleka River

Port Dickson, on the other hand, is a busy and bustling seaside resort town where the locals flock in summer. Riding in we experienced peak traffic conditions. The hotel we stayed in was something like a Billy Butlin's holiday camp, according to Matthew, with its pool full of kids and blaring music.

 

One of the elements I have enjoyed most is the beaming smiles directed my way by Muslim women. They call hello, grin and wave and if we're stopped, make a little small talk. I think the way their open brown faces are framed by their scarves is very beautiful. Today construction workers called out, "Welcome to Malaysia!" A peloton of serious cyclists on a training ride all threw their hands I tot the air and clapped as they passed us. Drivers toot and wave sometimes, and at traffic lights people regard us curiously.

River dwellings, Meleka

Some of my fellow riders find Muslim dress for women rather confronting. This has been especially so when we are at swimming pools, seeing the girls and women in the head-to-toe outfits. I guess it is commonplace in Melbourne and I barely give the issue a thought, but it has certainly provoked some lively discussions around the dinner table in recent times.

Today's highlight was the roti maker, deftly slapping and shaping his dough and filling it with a spicy fish mixture. The roadsides are dotted with small home-run food stalls. I don't think there can be much domestic cooking taking place as everyone seems to crowd the cafés at breakfast and lunch times. We have been served a variety of food, some spicy and some mild, tending to bland. Eating out all the time is not for me though, and I can't wait to get back to my kitchen again to whip up some favourites.

 

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Crooning in Kuala Lumpur

Thank goodness we caught a bus into KL as the traffic is plentiful and fierce. A couple of hardy souls rode the 150kms in, but not for me. Then again, they're the ones who found riding into Phnom Penh "exhilarating" and Bangkok, "thrilling".

Walli, the complete athlete

A few more kms on the bike through pleasant Malaysian rolling hills and rural vistas. We have spent a night in Ipoh and another in Teluk Intan. Neither place was particularly interesting or pleasant, although there is a leaning tower in the latter city. Getting out of Ipoh involved a 20km plus conga line as we dodged and darted through the morning traffic.

Monks go shopping in Petaling St

We are staying close to Petaling Street in Chinatown in this city, so have been accosted by many handbag, t-shirt and watch sellers. Street food vendors are selling anything from satay, to roast chestnuts, to fruit. A walk through one of the nearby wet markets revealed caged chooks waiting their fate, cats cashing in on unattended fish for sale and rats galore, running hither and thither.

Lucky puss

Roast chestnuts

The poultry seller

The highlight for Kendy and me was meeting a former government worker on the monorail. It began as a Shakespeare quoting conversation rounded off over lunch in Little India - his shout - and a few rounds of his favourite Nat King Cole and Doris Day songs. What a serendipitous pleasure. He spends his days riding the trains, walking around and eating out. 'It keeps me fit,' he said.

Our friend, Rashid

Five more riding days and another rest day, this time in Meleka, before we ride into Singapore. My fellow riders are tired in the main and looking forward to the final destination. And I can't wait for my first mouthful of a cold Singapore Sling at Raffles.

 

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Smiling Malaysia

Almost halfway through Malaysia and the rain still falls. Apparently there was hardly a drop of rain until Bangkok, and now it seems to pour or thunder or drip, or all three, every other day.

 

An early lunch

Georgetown on Penang Island, a UNESCO heritage city, is calm and relaxed compared to many Asian cities. British buildings speak of a former era when a gin and tonic could be enjoyed high on the hill, sitting comfortably on a shady verandah awaiting the evening spread of delicious Chinese, Indian and Malay fusion dishes. Or roast beef and horseradish, depending on madam's instructions. This mannered era has gone but the vestiges of grandeur, master and servant deference and quiet commercialism can still be detected.

 

Jimmy Choo's original shop

Backpackers congregate in Love Lane, so called as this was the street Chinese well-to-do men kept their mistresses, according to one of the many iron pieces of street art placed on walls to inform the visitor about previous occupations. It is a narrow street with low colonial style housing, fronts now filled with motorbikes to hire and tables and chairs spilling out, cheap cold beer and modest snacks with mainly a western flavour - pasta, pizza, sandwiches, that sort of thing. We passed by the shop where Jimmy Choo began his shoe business, and another comical iron piece depicting the Japanese camera sellers that dominated the shopping strip as suspected spies, as cameras back then were considered dubious pieces of equipment.

 

Rural street market

Swallows are lucky birds in this country. We have passed many several storey cement constructions where they are housed so their nests may be harvested for the iconic bird's nest soup. Rice paddies in the north painted the countryside a verdant green but they have given over in the main to endless palm oil plantations. Near the coast there is fishing and aquaculture. Some rubber - Malaysia produces the highest quality surgical gloves in the world, we have been reliably informed.

 

Roads without shoulders that are busy with traffic are challenging but don't feel dangerous. Road rage does not seem to exist. Let's hope it never catches on. Our ugly roads are such a pain.

 

The food is pleasant, if the chili is assiduously avoided, and comes as Chinese, Indian or Malay. There are numerous western influences including coffee shops, patisseries and the whitest white bread I may have ever seen.

 

I am riding at a leisurely pace. If it rains, I try not to ride as my device gets very wet, slips a bit, but acts as a soaking bowl for the wound. We are approaching Kuala Lumpur the slow way, taking to the mountains for coolness and probably less traffic.

 

Many of my fellow riders are tired, and some are nursing injuries. There is a general desire to reach the next rest day and rest, the urge to engage in tourist activities having diminished somewhat. For me, still fresh so to speak, sights are new and the odd museum and old building worth a look. Taiping boasts Malaysia's oldest museum, crammed full as it is with faded and patched natural history specimens. The 23'9" long python skeleton gave pause for thought. I'm kind of glad they're fairly rare now, as to meet one coming out of the vegetation would come as a shock. Lots of kingfishers, a sighting of two hairy nosed otters, a few squirrels or similar, and some monitors are pretty much all we have to report in the live animal stakes. Of course there are the rats in the cities but I prefer not to count them. At least they don't turn up in our dinners.

 

Waiting to board the ferry to cross to Penang Island

 

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Some random pictures

The route is flagged each day to assist riders with navigation. Apparently 400 rolls were used from Shanghai to Bangkok. Flagging is a great visual for riders. On wet days it can stick to poles and become invisible.

A container full of flagging tape

     

We have local support vehicles that meet us at each border crossing. The Thai. Malaysia border was relatively easy compared to China Vietnam where each bag and bike had to be carried and wheeled individually across the border

Local staffand some of the support vehicles

Flat tyres are common enough and most riders can ably change a tube.

Geoff fixing Dianne's flat while Walli looks on.

Kendy, Claire and Henry take shelter from the storm

Riding occurs in all conditions. A number of riders have suffered heat stroke and some have nasty coughs and colds that may be attributed to riding In the warm rain. For torrential showers, it is wise to seek shelter. During regular rain, most pedal onwards.

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