Leaving the place of the darndest things

Well, the time has come to bid farewell to Subang Jaya... for now. Returning home after living overseas always seems to give mixed feelings. On the one hand you're obviously excited to be going back to what you know and miss. But on the other hand, you're leaving a place you've just begun to feel apart of.

Before leaving I managed to acquire (with the help of a friend) a book which I first saw in a book store in Borneo; Malaysian Politicians Say the Darndest Things. It just goes to show that I've still got a lot to learn about Malaysia. Not that I know that much, but I was just surprised to see a book like this even on sale.

Here's something I definitely wouldn't have heard someone say on the street. Selangor Chief Minister Mohd Khir Toyo said, "Malaysian men are easy to service. [Their] libido lasts only five minutes. A shorter period would mean more customers and that makes it more lucrative for the sex workers to conduct their activities here." This was supposed to explain why there are foreign prostitutes in Malaysia. Coming from a country where an aggressive handshake can have an effect on your political career, this sort of comment seems otherworldly.

Whilst it seems Australians can be very sensitively politically correct about charities, political correctness didn't seem to bother one Malaysian politician. Kelantan Chief Minister, Nik Aziz Nik Mat is quoted as saying, "Only women who are not pretty (kurang rupawan) should be employed by the State government, as these women would not be able to get rich husbands who can support them financially."

From my experiences these quotes don't represent the views of the Malaysian population but are more of a very tenuous link. Speaking of tenuous links, try figuring this out:

"All bloggers are liars, they cheat people using all kinds of methods. From my understanding, out of 10,000 unemployed bloggers, 8,000 are women. Bloggers like to spread rumours, they don't like national unity. Today our country has achievements because we are tolerant and compromising. Otherwise we will have a civil war. Malays will kill Chinese, Chinese will kill Malays, Indians will kill everybody else."

And all because of bloggers.

Skip to the end: I left KL and read a book about Malaysian politics.

Bamako...

It almost seems like a city. It’s definitely not a quaint country village of mud-brick houses and women singing as they collectively pound a harvest of millet. There are lots of people, noise and things happening; I notice some goats trying to have sex as I walk down the street.

Given my experiences in Ouagadougou I didn’t think it would be hard to change money. The first time I had wandered around the centre-ville I went to a Western Union who didn’t change money, and another place that didn’t have Euros. Kind people at both establishments directed me to places that didn’t seem to exist; such seems to be the way in West Africa.

Now on my second outing (after having retreated to the less stressful confines of my accommodation with some actual Juicy Fruit) I stumble into an Ecobank which even has Bureau d’Échange written on its exterior. Alas, they are a new bank without any money changing facilities as of yet. They direct me next door... who are closed.

Venturing back to surety again, along the dusty, bumpy thoroughfares known as streets, I am surprised by the relative lack of people trying to forcefully incite me to make a purchase. I pass a beggar whose ailments appear stronger than he. I wonder what he hopes for.

Crossing the road a friendly voice penetrates my insular thoughts. I am reminded that you need to cross quickly as the roads are busy; I am reminded that people still live here.

Skip to the end: Describing a day in the Malian capital.

That's a Krabi joke!

I did it. I recently bought a tie from Thailand! Whilst north of the border, me and my esteemed colleague, Lee 'is my first name and I'm not in any way Chinese' Taylor, couldn't help but notice the number of mildly amusing place names that the country where you don't even vaguely joke about the king has to offer: Bangkok, Krabi, Phuket and Phi Phi Island (pronounced pee pee).


So, doing our best impression of 'Aussie' tourists, sitting on the beach sipping at a 20 baht long-neck of what we assumed to be very bad goon (after being surprised to discover it's distinctly non beer like qualities), we tried to come up with stupid things to do in places that weren't afforded names of such obvious comic value.

Here goes:

-Buy a new jumper in New Jersey.
-Go out by yourself in Barcelona.
-Reserve a place to stay in Bucharest.
-Annoy some Buddhists in Budapest.
-Tell your girlfriend to hurry up in Russia.
-Block a river with a hampster in Amsterdam.
-Explain that it's actually your girlfriend's drink in Serbia.
-Explain to your travel buddies that you've arrived in Syria.
-Find someone to con in Osaka.
-Agree with someone in Yeman.
-Piss someone off in Hanoi.
-Tell people that you've left, albeit ungrammatically, in Saigon.
-Buy cheese from Delhi.
-Purchase a folder from Manila.
-Commit beastiality in Kathmandu.
-Shake your arse in Djibouti.
-Be friendly in Nice.
-Have a bite in München.
-Watch the tennis in Tennessee.
-Study Islam in Whyalla.
-Finish a meal in Dunedin.

Anyway, you get the point. I best stop now.

Skip to the end: Some krabi place name puns.

NEWS: Temperature tests to ease brochure fear

Monash University, to the south of Kuala Lumpur, has introduced mandatory temperature testing to deal with the general fear that has swept the campus.

It is believed that the fear outbreak originated from a brochure being handed out by one of the student political parties.

The 'Passion' brochure said the following under the heading of WHAT WE'LL DO: "We promise timely and efficient execution in all our divisions so that YOU will ultimately be taken care of."

The party also promised "Shopaholic Rehab" and cooking competitions for women, although there was no mention of the much rumored ironing, cooking and cleaning triathlon which was also popular in the Deep South in the 50's - where the party reportedly emanated from.

Since students affected by fear generally have a temperature above 38 degrees Celcius, the university has implemented mandatory temperature testing at campus' entrances.

Due to invasion of privacy laws, the mandatory testing will be entirely voluntary.

Students with a high temperature reading will be asked to return home for a cooling off period.

Looking for something to do...

The thing about Brunei, that is really quite inescapable, is that there's not much to do. No matter which way you turn you're confronted by... well... not much. This can be distressing at first but you learn to make your own fun, like watching a friend getting beaten up by a durian milkshake or lighting fireworks on the beach.


So, inane of something to do, a list was made. It was conceived in a second floor hotel room of a downtown BSB hotel (appropriately named Brunei Hotel) over two nights of mild inebriation with Hancock or EPL droning in the background. It was a list of me and my subordinates'/travel buddies' life goals... well some of them anyway.

So if you're looking for something to do, here's some suggestions (in no particular order):

- Start your own record label.
- Have a boy and a girl (human offspring).
- Finish a marathon within the allotted time of a race.
- Stay in a relationship for at least six months.
- Buy a synth... asizer.
- Learn how to drink wine and coffee (not mixed though).
- Design and have erected one's own energy & water self sufficient house.
- Drink a dozen coffees in one day.
- Own a really nice and/or expensive watch (circa $5000 AUD).
- Start one's own business.
- Never be classified as obese.
- Own a house, a nice one too, in inner-east Melbourne.
- Become a doctor.
- Be fluent in four languages.
- See the Aurora Borealis.
- Work in/go to Antarctica.
- Travel the UK by bicycle.
- Drive left to right (or west to east if you want to get technical) over the US.
- Get paid to play live music by someone you don't know.
- Own a Corvette Stingray.
- Organise an event with 1000+ people.
- Go in a car race.
- Be a newsreader.
- Buy a pair of super expensive shoes (~$1000 AUD).
- Go to a World Cup final.
- Learn the bass guitar and join a funk band.
- Attend all four Grand Slams in one year.
- Get something published in something that's sold.
- Take the train from Hamburg to Pyongyang.
- Learn French.
- See the pyramids.
- Go to Europe.
- Purchase an SLR camera.
- Go on a six month holiday after the age of 30, but before retiring.
- Hike with fireworks to the top of a mountain and release them into the wild.
- Become a wine critic (for one's own pleasure).
- Climb Mt. Kilimanjaro.
- Finish a triathlon.
- Live in South America for a year.
- Learn to jive.
- Become a psycho... logist.
- Learn Spanish.
- Learn to eat seafood.
- Learn to appreciate alcohol.
- Live next to the beach.
- Finish a university degree.
- Acquire a marine vessel/boat.
- Drive the figure eight around Australia.
- Learn how to cook really well.
- Live in Cairns.

Skip to the end: just a list of stuff to do.

The Manual: How to deal with incest, rape, paedophilia, abortion, drug addiction, dysfunctional relationships, depression and suicide.

There are no sirens, no screaming, nor yelling. Somehow a 38 year old’s foolproof suicide attempt failed. Somehow a 36 year old’s dysfunctional relationship of four years and the drug addiction that came with it is all over. Somehow an 18 year old mother’s newborn child survived a difficult birth and microsurgery. Somehow a 16 year old’s parents failed to notice their daughter’s abortion. Somehow a 13 year old thought it was normal to have a sexual relationship with a man six years her senior. Somehow an incestuous paedophile, who abused his granddaughter between the ages of 9 and 11, lives with himself somewhere in Bendigo.

There are birds chattering and the faint noise of passing cars, like waves gently making their way into shore. Somehow Debbie Jennings, 39, sits before me outside her East Geelong home. She looks like she could be any hairdresser; jeans, a simple black jumper, eye liner, mascara and shoulder length hair. “Sitting here talking to you, I’m amazed I’m here, I’m amazed I want to be here.” We are sitting on a couple of old chairs in the gravel of her car port, surrounded by an assortment of furniture and a shopping trolley. Inside, her vivid artwork adorns the walls of her modest unit.

SUICIDE

Her hair was abnormally short when I first met her in early 2008. Debbie had just survived a suicide attempt which her doctor could only describe as a miracle. “There was no medical explanation as to why I had survived,” she explains.

In the couple of years leading up to her suicide attempt, Debbie was forced to face her demons after a life time of suppressing them. At the age of 36, her destructive relationship of four years came to an end and she acknowledged that she had become a drug addict. At the same age, she finally told her family about the abuse she had suffered as a child at the hands of her grandfather, which they refused to believe at the time.

“It’s probably the hardest time, is being off the drugs, these two years. You band aid things with drugs.” “Coming off the drugs ... everything’s raw, everything comes back, and that’s when all the traumas come back, because nothing is shielding them.” “You actually have to face (them), and that’s when the grandfather thing came back, the flash backs came back, the nightmares started, my world crashed, my family crashed.”

She speaks calmly and pauses for thought every so often. Seldom did she pause to wipe her eyes; she did this in much the same way she would pause to light a cigarette.

“All I want is to have a normal brain, to live untraumatised, to have a normal train of thought, which I’ll never have completely, but just to wake up and to want to get up, to wake up and to want to live.” “It seems probably so simple to some people, but it was such a hurdle to me, it was just something I’d never think I could grab. That’s why you go to suicide, because it’s just too hard, it’s too hard to deal with.”

GROWTH

After accepting her fight to continue to live, Debbie started the “enormous disgusting task” of untangling the crossed wires in her head.

Her artwork didn’t always grace every room inside her unit. “My psychologist made me realise something. I never used to sleep in my bedroom, I always used to sleep, even (last year), on the couch. I put it together when I was talking to her and I said, ‘that bedroom was another world.’” “And I said to the psychologist, ‘why is that?’ The bedroom was the naughty room, it was the dirty room, and naughty things happened in there. When I put it together, throughout my whole life my bedroom has been messy, and when I accepted what the psychologist said I cleaned up my room and I slept in it ever since.” “It was very hard to clean up but I knew I was getting better. I could do it when I wanted and I could do it myself.”

“Moving on, it’s easy to say but to do, it’s very difficult. It was like a full time job,” so much so that she has been writing a book about her life. There is so much more to her story, but like the working title of her book suggests, she is ‘Just a Girl.’

“I’m no hero for surviving it, you just have to.” “It’s not a choice.” “You can live without your eyesight, without your hearing, but not without your mind.”

SERENITY

“Now I’m serene at everything, and when I became serene, everyone came back wanting redemption.” “When I started to heal was when I let go of any revengeful thoughts, anger.” “There’s no point, it’s been done. It’s about me healing from it. No one else can heal me; a judge can’t heal me, money can’t heal me, compensation can’t heal me.” “Karma comes back around. They have to live with that for the rest of their lives; they know what they’ve done.” “You just leave it to their own conscience, and that’s a beautiful karma.”

It is only through this healing process that Debbie has been able to make sense of her life. “I thought I’ve been put here for a reason and I’m starting to see what it is. It’s helping people live through trauma.” “There is no bloody manual, hopefully my book is the manual, and that’s why I wrote it, because I would have loved to have read something like that.”

“No-one can fix your own brain but yourself.” “The moment I loved myself is the moment everything started going right.” “It sounds really clichéd.”

Skip to the end: Nothing to do with Malaysia at all really, a profile of one of my neighbours from when I lived in Geelong last year.

David's World

Why would someone not want to be cooled down when sitting in 60 degree heat in four layers of fireproof clothing from head to toe for over an hour? And why would they pay around $100,000 AUD for the experience? I don’t know, but I feel as though I should because I would do it too.

In any case, David Wall seemed pretty disappointed that a blown engine robbed him of his chance to sit in the hot seat this weekend and race at the Merdeka Millenium 12 hour race here at Sepang. Instead, we are sitting in a prison cell-esque room. It is far removed from the opulent setting where one might imagine a racing driver to relax.

Features of the room include four walls, a floor and a roof, all in Malaysia’s finest concrete; not the German metal he desired. David is sitting on one of the Eskis that is strewn around the room, along with a few bags, pillows, a clothes rack and a coffee earn. It’s 10 p.m. and he seems quite tired even though he didn’t get to do his sitting today.

Despite this he seems quite happy to give a surprise interview. Twenty minutes prior I had talked nicely to the guardian of the tunnel and simply walked past the guardians of the gate that lead to David’s world, as though I belong here. He truly belongs here though, and he’s practically been here since he was born.

“I’ve been at race tracks since I was two weeks old,” he explains.

David entered his world through his father, Des, who has been racing for over 30 years. His world consists of making the hot seat go as fast as he can, and to never stop.

“I’ve basically raced from the time I was 11, in go karts, to the time I am now, which is 26... I’ve raced every year and haven’t had a year off. So, the plan is to keep continuing like that.”

So how do you practice sitting without a seat? “It’s basically a focus thing, there’s not really anything you can (do to) train for it. Really the only way you can make it better is (your fitness.) Over here the heat’s an issue, so when you get half way through a stint you start talking to yourself, it’s sort of funny, you don’t talk out aloud, you keep telling yourself, you know, stay focused, what ever makes you keep your eye on the job... That goes back to fitness training, if you’re fit enough you don’t get quite as fatigued as you would if you’re not fit.”

Aside from going to the gym, the other activity that takes up David’s time is his job as a civil contractor. “Unfortunately it’s still full time. One day, if I could make a living out of motor sport, that’s the... agenda of the whole thing. But like anyone I’ve got to pay bills, so at the moment I have to have a full time job.”

Given the cost of mere participation in motor sport, David is lucky enough to have an understanding wife in his world.

“My wife, Amy, her motto is whatever I spend on motor sport she gets to spend the same. But... I’m a long way ahead of what she’s spending, but ahh, I think I’ll just leave it at that,” he says with a slight chuckle.

His wife and motor sport are about all that is taken into account with his daily routine: “I go to work... during the day, then I go to the gym until 8 o’clock at night, then (I) normally come home, spend an hour, relax with (my) family. Then... the next day... (I) do the same thing. It’s the same thing like that for months on end. The joy you get when you go to a (race) meeting is you get to relax and you don’t have to train. It’s basically my life.”

Any possible threat to David’s life posed by the dangers of the hot seat is clearly over-ridden by his sheer determination to succeed. He had a major accident at Oran Park in Sydney’s west once, and carried on competing the very next day.

“I blew a left front shock, and went in backwards into a concrete wall in a Porsche in fourth gear, knocked myself out for two minutes, the whole deal, but I basically raced the next day with a head ache.”

However, he likes to put such accidents into perspective compared to everyday life.

“To me you’re actually safer on a race track than you are driving down the road to get the milk.”

David’s everyday life revolves around getting the milk for his family as well as racing. Although as far as his personal pursuits are concerned, he has a clear philosophy.

“If I had a dollar and I had to spend it to get a drive, or I had to spend it have dinner that night, I’d buy the drive.”

Who is David? Where did his world come from?

Skip to the end: A brief look at the inner workings of a Australian GT driver, David Wall.

Truly Nature?

The feeding of the animals seems to be one of the ways to draw a crowd, but I see no art in it. However, the practice of tourist boats vying is undeniably prevalent. Whether it be eagles in the sky or fish in the sea, they know where to go. The wait of expectation is all so unnatural. I’m slightly put off but I do it anyway, still, nothing beats an elephant charging towards you. One must do what one must for one’s food. Although is it better to see than imagine? I never imagined seeing a monkey steal a bottle of fruit drink and knowing how to open it.

Skip to the end: How long can you feed wild animals for before they lose their wildocity?

NEWS: Woman ends sticky relationship

A Melbournian woman ended her hour-long relationship with a tube of super glue yesterday.

The woman, Ellen Feely, and her partner were on holiday in Malaysia when she decided to end things.

"It was just getting a bit too much, he was getting a bit too clingy and it turned out to be quite a sticky situation," she said.

Friend Claudia Kowalski, said she believed Ms.Feely had the better side of the relationship.

"If you ask me, she had him wrapped around her finger. But in the end she turned to hard liquor to get rid of him," she said.

The super glue declined to comment.

High End of Town

It’s just after 2pm but there’s no sunlight, the roller shutters are firmly closed. His brother and father had recently decided that it was time for lunch and had ventured out into the day and across the street in search of something to eat. There’s a knocking at the door upon their return. They have brought lunch back with them although it cost more than normal - their eyes are burning. Even in the short time it took Suresh* to open and close the shutters he started to feel nauseous. There’s a large crowd outside on a Saturday afternoon, although the only people coming into Suresh’s shop are looking for respite, not high end fabric.

It’s now almost exactly a week after the anti-ISA (Internal Security Act) demonstrations, the tear gas has cleared up along with Suresh’s nausea, and natural light makes its way back into his fashionable textiles butik on Jalan Tuanku Adbul Rahman. However, there is still little sign of the shopping frenzy that habitually precedes Hari Raya each year. Suresh, a well dressed middle aged salesman of Indian appearance, theorises that people have been put off shopping on this normally busy street by the same reason his brother has gone to work in a different store today; a fear of reprisal of the demonstrations.

“It’s affected business all week, we’re 50% - 60% down on sales. It’s supposed to be the peak sale period, it’s the critical time,” Suresh proclaims in a downbeat tone. “We only had two to three hours of trading last Saturday, which is normally the busiest day.”

“I don’t understand why they didn’t protest somewhere else that didn’t affect others, like in a stadium, but now it’s not looking so good.” Suresh put this in the context that normally at this time of year everyone is buying their cloth to send it off to be sewn before the start of Ramadan, because once Ramadan starts the tailors stop taking orders.

On a slightly brighter note, Suresh said he had seen none of the physical damage to property that Minister Datuk Raja Nong Chik Raja Zainal Abidin has made reference to and that “business has picked up slightly over the past few days.”

Whilst another shopkeeper in a carpet store down the street towards the Sogo shopping centre said that he had seen police beating people as they were detained, Suresh’s views were more reserved. “Based on what (the police) were given they did ok, they didn’t kill anyone.” “I was a little bit scared but I felt safe because I was inside.” Outside, thousands of anti-ISA demonstrators and general shoppers were running from police as they used ‘water’ cannons (with some sort of noxious element in the water) and tear gas to disperse the crowds.

Even so, Suresh’s thinks that the problems were not caused by the police. “It’s more of a government problem.” “If you ask the general population, people who read newspapers, people don’t want ISA.” “They just take all your rights, for however long they like, they can question you but they don’t even have to. It’s just like Guantanamo Bay.”

Skip to the end: I interviewed a shopkeeper on the street where there were some demonstrations recently.

Six Malaysian ones, Half a dozen Australian others.... well half of that anyway.

Arriving in Malaysia from Japan, my first impression was that this country is a lot more like Australia. For a start, the highway signs here are a familiar shade of green, not to mention being in English. I’ve been here three weeks now and I can confidently say that taking comfort in the colour of street signs is a completely delusional thing to do.

In that time I’ve learned to appreciate Malaysia as a completely unique place. Whilst there are other majority Muslim countries where English is an official language, (such as Pakistan) I still find this a good indication of the multicultural nature of Malaysia. However, since I’ve been here I have been shocked by some aspects of this society. That said, after getting over the shock I realised that similar sorts of things happen in Australia.

The first issue I had with Malaysia was the traffic. Lane markings, like a lot of things around here, seem to be for ‘display purposes only.’ And maybe car makers should think about making indicators and seat belts optional extras for this market since no one seems to use them. In my first week, I was content to survive a taxi ride in a rural area on the way back to Kota Bharu airport from the Perhentian Islands. The driver went to overtake a van and a truck at the same time because they were slowing down. Surprise, surprise, they were slowing down for a reason – the truck was turning right. I think the driver felt bad so he took us for a brief stop at a Buddhist temple (pictured above). Whilst this sort of traffic incident seems pretty common here, my girlfriend told me of a near fatal accident that happened right outside her house that would almost never happen here. A car was apparently doing burnouts on the road when I car come round the corner and smashed into the passenger side, luckily no one was in that seat. I can't imagine people doing burnouts here in their front wheel drive Protons with half the power of Australian cars. I don't think it would be culturally acceptable either.


I was also shocked recently to learn that a Singaporean Muslim women was to be caned for drinking. Part of the reason this was shocking is that I believe it to be reasonably common for some Muslims to drink here. However, Malaysia’s hard line stance on drugs, especially narcotics, might not be such a bad thing compared to their quasi acceptance in Australia. One of my flatmates learned over the weekend that a girl she went to school with had been charged with murder for reportedly stabbing someone in St Kilda. Whilst nothing in the media has stated that drugs were involved, it is seemingly probable from all reports.

The third incident that has shocked me of late is the police reaction to protests on the streets of Kuala Lumpur. Whilst this seems like a strong reaction to me, it is nothing compared to the Iranian government’s one to the post ‘election’ rallies. And in the other extreme, Australian governments have a history of simply ignoring whatever protesters have to say. It took around 30 years for an apology for the treatment of the Stolen Generations to be forthcoming, and this was just an apology (albeit a significant one). So, maybe Australia isn’t entirely the mythically wonderful place to live we make it out to be, it’s just what we’re used to.

Skip to the end: Some things shock, but it's partially just due to one not being used to it.

Because of the Chimes

I’d always wondered who invented car chimes. You know, the ones that just start beeping at you because you didn’t get into your car with your seatbelt already on and all of the doors shut. The thing that puzzles me regarding the inventor, is that at same stage they have decided, “Yeah, if I had this car, I’d want it to have this ‘feature’ because it’s just such a nice sound.” I still haven’t found out who the mastermind behind car chimes is, but I’m now quite confident they are Japanese.

Being a first time visitor to the land of the rising sun, I was expecting the unexpected. Surprisingly though, Osaka & Kyoto turned out to be completely different to what I had expected. I was expecting to have language difficulties and to unintentionally commit some sort of major faux pas. Instead it is the smaller, less obvious things that can really surprise you. In my head, walking the streets of Japan was going to be like partaking in an orderly stampede through a hospital – There were supposed to be people packt like sardines in a crushd tin box, the hygiene standards were supposed to be such that I could lick the pavement and it would be minty fresh, there was supposed to be a lot of noise whilst seemingly no one speaks.

Errantly wandering towards the Tsutenkaku Tower in search of our accommodation upon arrival, my preconceived dreams were shattered. Quiet, it was eerily quiet, although it was a Sunday night. And there was practically no one around. Next thing I notice is that they don’t actually scrub the city twice daily like brushing its teeth. Yes, there was no rubbish, and by any standards it is a clean place, but it’s no hospital ward. And there’s a smell, a smell that comes and goes, a smell that I’m sure locals don’t even know exists because it’s just the smell, and everywhere has its smell. Still, it was more than enough to put me off licking the footpath to see if it was actually minty fresh.

The next day something else shocks me. It was not the toilets, I could deal with them, it wasn’t even the shower which would periodically turn off after 20 seconds, it was the chimes and general electronic noisery. A word of advice, don’t walk into a Japanese games arcade unless you really, really, really want to play one of the games. It’s a full on assault on the ears, the mashing of upbeat electronic jingles, a few decibels up from a fighter jet taking off. Chimes are everywhere though, you can’t avoid them. Some of the ones at the train stations and subways were actually quite entertaining; they were just so silly in a place where everyone seems so serious. The main chimes I remember however, was the ‘crossing the street noise.’ You could hear it everywhere. You could be enjoying a Zen rock garden, over 500 years old, and the faint bip beep, bip beep, bip beep would still be seeping in through the temple walls.

The other odd thing I found in Japan, was that the people weren’t as quiet and reserved as you might imagine. At least a few complete strangers would walk up to us everyday just to practice their English. One thing I should mention is that it’s quite rare to see other westerners unless you’re in a ‘tourist central’ area. The funny thing is that every time you see another westerner there’s this look that goes on where you both effectively say to one another, “what are you doing here?” in an accusatory sort of way.

Luckily, the Japanese generally don’t give you such a frosty reception. They seem to be extraordinarily nice and helpful. In fact, we probably would have missed our flight to KL if it wasn’t for a benevolent individual at the train station who walked up to us, told us that the airport train had been cancelled, and that we could get there on a private railway two minutes walk away.

I guess that in some ways, I did get what I expected – Japan is a completely different place to Australia and well worth visiting. On the other hand, I now realise ‘expecting the unexpected’ is a stupid saying and I really should have just said that I didn’t know what to expect.

Skip to the end: Japan is a different culture to Australia

NEWS: Man and Doorway at an Impasse

A Ballarat man in his early twenties was found to be incompatible with a Japanese doorway earlier this month.

Upon arrival at his accommodation in Osaka, the man was shocked to discover that the doorway to his room would not allow for the top half of his head.

"I repeatedly tried to walk in, but every time I tried the doorway would not let my head past," said Lee Taylor.

After several hours of intense negotiations the impasse was resolved with a compromise reached.

"In the end the doorway let my whole body through under the condition that I bow to it every time I walk through," said Mr. Taylor.

Mr. Taylor made his way into the room safely. (Pictured)

The Departure Lounge

Technically it was going through customs at the arrival lounge of Christchurch airport, but unfortunately for one passenger on flight DJ62 it was the last place she saw. After collapsing next to the baggage carousel, my friend Adam (a final year med student I was traveling with) and a few others tried in vain to resuscitate her for about half an hour. As another friend, my girlfriend and I sat there, watching on, waiting, the reality of what we were witnessing began to sink in.

Whilst the majority of Australians have a religion to turn to when dealing with death, for the 18.7% (2006 Census) of us with ‘no religion’ it really is the great unknown. It seems to me that death is something that we’re shielded from in the Australian mainstream. No-one seems to talk about what actually happens after you die in the media, you never really see people actually die on the television, and if you do actually hear about someone dying they seem to become ‘top blokes’ after death. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that I found watching this person die quite shocking.

But maybe I shouldn’t be so shocked. I remember last year Mitch, a friend from work, was showing a group of us some videos taken from US Air Force planes of ‘targets’ being ‘neutralized.’ Naturally at the time I was appalled and was slightly concerned that the man in the same room as me had the desire to seek out such footage. Looking back at it though, it wasn’t as though my friend was actually killing the people. Death happens all the time, and should be accepted as something natural, inevitable.

Even though death should be accepted and not turned into some sort of myth, it should definitely still be feared. A recently made acquaintance, Tom, went to Vietnam before coming here to KL. He told me that whilst getting the taxi from the airport just after arriving in Hanoi he saw blood and bodies on the streets from road accidents. Whilst this might have desensitised him slightly, (although it probably just shocked him) he had every right to feel afraid, later on in his voyage, when the bus he was on was overtaking cars on the wrong side of the road, forcing the oncoming traffic off it. As an atheist I believe death is the ultimate fear, just as Muse says. It is an infinite abyss of nothing. All of your experiences, past, present and future, cease.

And this extreme ailment can come at any time. As Rimmer said in the Red Dwarf episode, The Last Day, the most warning most of us get about death is “Mind that bus! What bus? Splat.” With this in mind, I’m going to state the obvious that we should all make the most of our time as living terrestrial beings no matter what faith you are and no matter what views about death you have.

And thus, I’ve decided to travel to Malaysia to spend five of my valuable months. I am obviously hoping to have a great time but I think whatever happens, these months won’t exactly be going down the gurgler. Experiences and knowledge will be gained. My esteemed Yr. 12 maths teacher, Mr. Frost, once told me that knowledge never made anyone happy. This seems to be true but at the same time it does add interest to your life, a bit of colour. So that concludes the story of why I chose to go on exchange.

Oh, the other reason is that Monash gave us some money to do it.

Skip to the end: Life's short, make the most of it - travel.