After about 16 hours in transit from Dublin to Amsterdam to Kuala Lumpur, I am in the Pan Pacific Hotel at Kuala Lumpur Airport. I usually try to stop overnight to break the trip as I rarely sleep on flights and need to at least lie down for a few hours to try to make the whole schlepp bearable. (My daughter hates it when I use the word schlepp – but I love it – feels good to say, you know what I mean.)
This hotel is attached to the airport, so you just take a golf buggy with your luggage and wham – two minutes later – you’re checking in.
It’s lovely – has all the great accoutrements of a business class hotel – grand lobby with impossibly high ceilings, columns and potted palms. A pool, gym, sauna, room service, good air con etc etc. I intend to just stay here and get back on my plane in the morning. I got in around 3pm local time and am on a 9am flight tomorrow.
In fact, I don’t even intend to get the local currency – the ringet – my room is prepaid and I will just use my credit card for the rest.
Too bad I was so tired that I failed to get to the pool, gym or sauna and the in-room massage which looked wonderful, would have taken too much sleeping time.
So I shower, order a Nasi Lemak: coconut flavoured rice accompanied with beef rending, fried kerisi fish, fried egg, onion sambal, cucumber, anchovies, acar rampai and peanuts (RM41.00). Yum.
After two plane food meals, the dinner being Sweet and Sour fish (the fish was cubed!) and breakfast cubed fried potatoes and scrambled eggs with cheese and a remnant of a tomato – both bland and tasteless beyond belief and only sampled by me – I needed something good to bring me back some joy.
By the time I ate the food around 5.30pm, I was ready to conk out. Tried to contemplate a swim and/or massage but my body wouldn’t let me. Zzzzzzz
Woke at 2am local time. Hmmm. What to do. Pool closed. Massage not available till 9am. Bummer.
Dozed for two hours then got up and had tea, repacked bag, did full make up for final leg home. Dressed etc...now just waiting till 6am so I can head down for some fruit and yoghurt. They do great buffet brekkies in these hotels and, even though they will serve food of some description on the plane, I can feel happy that I have nourished the body before leaving for the day. Australia here I come!
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Drunk Irish man in Kerry
My mum, big sister, daughter and I went on a road trip to the Dingle Peninsula. We left Galway in the morning and headed down to County Clare to see Aughenure Castle, the Burren, and the Cliffs of Moher on the way and then decided to leg it as far as we could before stopping at a B&B.
You see, it doesn’t get dark in Ireland till about 11pm in summer – even then it’s not super dark. Daylight starts 4am.
So, with Ireland’s known preponderance of B&Bs, we just thought we’d stumble across one at the right moment. About 9pm.
I was driving, sister and daughter were in the back reading and my mum was upfront with me. We were all happy (I think).
We crossed the Shannon River on the car ferry near Kilrush and that was fun. When we got off at the other side, we could have stopped there – there were quite a few B&Bs...but I felt fine – the sun was still shining – so we drove on to Listowel (Irish pron: Lis-tool).
This is a largish town in Kerry – not far from the capital Tralee. Surely there’ll be loads of great B&Bs there? Wrong. For some reason, tourism has forsaken Listowel – and while there was a largish hotel in the town centre and some rooms above several pubs, Listowel just didn’t have the nice rural B&B we were after. By this time I think it was 9.30pm.
My mum had a lonely planet with three B&Bs listed that all sounded good – two problems. The Lonely Planet was from 2006 and the phone numbers seemed incredibly short. Also, I had forgotten my Irish sim card. Doh! We tried the local phone but it wasn’t letting us through. So, my mum asked three Irish ladies as they were passing if they had heard of this place.
They were women of action...they whipped out the mobile and called the first. No, the number’s disconnected. OK, let’s try the second. They got someone, but the place is not a B&B anymore. Irish practicality to the fore – do you know of another? Yes, they do. Yes, here’s the number. Is it a good one – we are assured it is. OK. She rings the 3rd – so generous – speaks to the lady, we get directions. The three women reconfirm the directions and we’re off to Nora and Jim’s B&B. Thank you delightful Irish ladies.
Let me explain something. Nora is a lovely lady and a great cook. She immediately offers us apple pie and tea but we haven’t had dinner. So Nora offers to drive us back into town so we can eat dinner and then, afterwards, there’ll be pie.
Ah the Irish hospitality.
We head to a pub which tells us it’s only the bar menu available now (about 10pm or so). However, this menu is huge. So, we have our chowder and other bits and bobs plus our Guinness with blackcurrant cordial (my mum introduced us to this one) and are stuffed totally full at 11pm.
We’re about to head to the ATM to get come cash when a young, drunk Irish man with large ears and a broken arm comes around the corner and immediately wants a chat. This guy is drunk...staggeringly drunk.
And he’s trying to be clever and guess where we’re from. First he tries English. We’re not really interested. Then he thinks we’re German and that we just have really good English. We do not enlighten him and also we see that he’s going the way of the ATM – so we don’t want to go that way either. He makes some joke which we don’t really understand about how to pull a Kerry man – use a hurly and a soccer ball or something. This puzzles us – I know that in this part of the world to “pull” someone means to get lucky – but I don’t think my sister, mother or daughter know this – and it just sounds – well – lude.
So, eventually we extract ourselves from this big-eared fellow and go to be collected by Nora who drives us back to her B&B. Just a ten minute drive.
The views from our rooms are lovely – out over the pastures, with a great view of the cows.
Then it’s homemade pie and homemade black forest cake and tea made with fresh water from the well, which is on the brother’s farm. Accompanied by Jim’s delightful Kerry brogue and charming commentary which is hypnotic – no matter what he says.
We roll off to bed too full to function and laughing at the wildly varying experiences we’ve had with the Irish today. Did I mention it’s midnight and still not quite dark....
You see, it doesn’t get dark in Ireland till about 11pm in summer – even then it’s not super dark. Daylight starts 4am.
So, with Ireland’s known preponderance of B&Bs, we just thought we’d stumble across one at the right moment. About 9pm.
I was driving, sister and daughter were in the back reading and my mum was upfront with me. We were all happy (I think).
We crossed the Shannon River on the car ferry near Kilrush and that was fun. When we got off at the other side, we could have stopped there – there were quite a few B&Bs...but I felt fine – the sun was still shining – so we drove on to Listowel (Irish pron: Lis-tool).
This is a largish town in Kerry – not far from the capital Tralee. Surely there’ll be loads of great B&Bs there? Wrong. For some reason, tourism has forsaken Listowel – and while there was a largish hotel in the town centre and some rooms above several pubs, Listowel just didn’t have the nice rural B&B we were after. By this time I think it was 9.30pm.
My mum had a lonely planet with three B&Bs listed that all sounded good – two problems. The Lonely Planet was from 2006 and the phone numbers seemed incredibly short. Also, I had forgotten my Irish sim card. Doh! We tried the local phone but it wasn’t letting us through. So, my mum asked three Irish ladies as they were passing if they had heard of this place.
They were women of action...they whipped out the mobile and called the first. No, the number’s disconnected. OK, let’s try the second. They got someone, but the place is not a B&B anymore. Irish practicality to the fore – do you know of another? Yes, they do. Yes, here’s the number. Is it a good one – we are assured it is. OK. She rings the 3rd – so generous – speaks to the lady, we get directions. The three women reconfirm the directions and we’re off to Nora and Jim’s B&B. Thank you delightful Irish ladies.
Let me explain something. Nora is a lovely lady and a great cook. She immediately offers us apple pie and tea but we haven’t had dinner. So Nora offers to drive us back into town so we can eat dinner and then, afterwards, there’ll be pie.
Ah the Irish hospitality.
We head to a pub which tells us it’s only the bar menu available now (about 10pm or so). However, this menu is huge. So, we have our chowder and other bits and bobs plus our Guinness with blackcurrant cordial (my mum introduced us to this one) and are stuffed totally full at 11pm.
We’re about to head to the ATM to get come cash when a young, drunk Irish man with large ears and a broken arm comes around the corner and immediately wants a chat. This guy is drunk...staggeringly drunk.
And he’s trying to be clever and guess where we’re from. First he tries English. We’re not really interested. Then he thinks we’re German and that we just have really good English. We do not enlighten him and also we see that he’s going the way of the ATM – so we don’t want to go that way either. He makes some joke which we don’t really understand about how to pull a Kerry man – use a hurly and a soccer ball or something. This puzzles us – I know that in this part of the world to “pull” someone means to get lucky – but I don’t think my sister, mother or daughter know this – and it just sounds – well – lude.
So, eventually we extract ourselves from this big-eared fellow and go to be collected by Nora who drives us back to her B&B. Just a ten minute drive.
The views from our rooms are lovely – out over the pastures, with a great view of the cows.
Then it’s homemade pie and homemade black forest cake and tea made with fresh water from the well, which is on the brother’s farm. Accompanied by Jim’s delightful Kerry brogue and charming commentary which is hypnotic – no matter what he says.
We roll off to bed too full to function and laughing at the wildly varying experiences we’ve had with the Irish today. Did I mention it’s midnight and still not quite dark....
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Life is but a series of distractions
“If you snort nuts, do you still get the nutrients from it?”
This is the kind of distraction I am now faced with while trying to write to you dear reader.
I’m sure you have noticed and are most aggrieved by my absence of late. This is because I have had an avalanche of visitors bringing change and new biorhythms to my solitude.
Here’s another quip just heard (in squeaky patronising voice): “My name’s Sue. I like writing.”
“Porridge and yoghurt isn’t as good as oats and yoghurt... it’s just kind of warm and gooey.”
A little over a week ago, my daughter arrived (18). The next day, my mum and my big sister...and two days later, one of my oldest (and very dear) friends – the friendship is old, we are not – and her husband also stopped by.
Wow, some change. It was great. Party time!!! Touring time!! Road trip!! Laughing fits!! High-5s (do people still do that or am I extraordinarily daggy?)
Twas a whirlwind of social engagements. Where’s the paparazzi?
But short-lived. All but one has left (can you guess which remains?)
Only a week left of my big sojourn. However, I have merely scratched the surface with this blog and do intend to keep blogging to fill in the gaps. I am inconsistent with this...but will prevail.
This is the kind of distraction I am now faced with while trying to write to you dear reader.
I’m sure you have noticed and are most aggrieved by my absence of late. This is because I have had an avalanche of visitors bringing change and new biorhythms to my solitude.
Here’s another quip just heard (in squeaky patronising voice): “My name’s Sue. I like writing.”
“Porridge and yoghurt isn’t as good as oats and yoghurt... it’s just kind of warm and gooey.”
A little over a week ago, my daughter arrived (18). The next day, my mum and my big sister...and two days later, one of my oldest (and very dear) friends – the friendship is old, we are not – and her husband also stopped by.
Wow, some change. It was great. Party time!!! Touring time!! Road trip!! Laughing fits!! High-5s (do people still do that or am I extraordinarily daggy?)
Twas a whirlwind of social engagements. Where’s the paparazzi?
But short-lived. All but one has left (can you guess which remains?)
Only a week left of my big sojourn. However, I have merely scratched the surface with this blog and do intend to keep blogging to fill in the gaps. I am inconsistent with this...but will prevail.
On the road again
Ireland is a compact country. If you google (the term now replacing ‘look up’) distances in Ireland from place to place, you will see that it’s not very far to go from, say Galway to Dublin: 200 kilometres – and that’s almost the full width of the country.
But Irish Roads, like many of other aspects of this country, are not quite what they seem.
Roads outside of motorways are all single-lane two-way with no overtaking lanes (that’s N roads and R roads). They are also often very narrow.
The Irish, I have deduced, are very sensitive about “their land” (for good reason). They like to mark out boundaries very clearly and as my daughter observed yesterday, “There are more walls in Ireland than sheep.”
The consequence of all this clarity is that on most of the roads, there is no verge – no spare space to pull over – not a scrap of it. In fact, there will usually be a wall or a high hedge or some trees along both sides of the road – so not only can you not pull over, but often you can’t see very far ahead. The result? Many blind corners.
So, when it says on the map that it’s just 40 kilometres to the next castle, that’s not the Australian version of driving.
You would be very lucky to sit on 70 for most of the trip. Oh, and did I mention that no towns are bypassed. Speed limit in towns? 50ks.
Speed limit outside of towns – mostly 100ks! This can be translated in two ways (Apply Irish accent):
“Go on – we dare you!” or “Well, if you really must go 100, then alright then, we’ll let you. But we’d like to see how you get along with that. It’s madness altogether.”
PS: Incidentally, they still sell that product “I can’t believe it’s not butter” here. Can you believe that?
But Irish Roads, like many of other aspects of this country, are not quite what they seem.
Roads outside of motorways are all single-lane two-way with no overtaking lanes (that’s N roads and R roads). They are also often very narrow.
The Irish, I have deduced, are very sensitive about “their land” (for good reason). They like to mark out boundaries very clearly and as my daughter observed yesterday, “There are more walls in Ireland than sheep.”
The consequence of all this clarity is that on most of the roads, there is no verge – no spare space to pull over – not a scrap of it. In fact, there will usually be a wall or a high hedge or some trees along both sides of the road – so not only can you not pull over, but often you can’t see very far ahead. The result? Many blind corners.
So, when it says on the map that it’s just 40 kilometres to the next castle, that’s not the Australian version of driving.
You would be very lucky to sit on 70 for most of the trip. Oh, and did I mention that no towns are bypassed. Speed limit in towns? 50ks.
Speed limit outside of towns – mostly 100ks! This can be translated in two ways (Apply Irish accent):
“Go on – we dare you!” or “Well, if you really must go 100, then alright then, we’ll let you. But we’d like to see how you get along with that. It’s madness altogether.”
PS: Incidentally, they still sell that product “I can’t believe it’s not butter” here. Can you believe that?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
More on Edinburgh...but I'm actually in Galway now.
What was I thinking, trying to combine holiday with a discipline like writing! It's so easy to spend the time just wandering around and breathing it all in.
On my first full day in Edinburgh - I did some writing in the morning then went to the Scotland National Gallery - this was a treat - saw some wonderful Gaugins that I had never seen before - some Bernini sculptures (in miniature) that I had seen the full version of at the Galeria Borghese in Rome! Also, an extraordinarily beautiful set of four embroidered panels done by a female Scottish artist - they were so amazing I must had stood there for 10 minutes.
I went to the shop afterwards to get the postcards but the one that I liked the best they hadn't reproduced as a postcard and also they lost something in reproduction and just weren't as stunning. Because all the texture was lost in the photographic image.
I saw a poor young boy, probably about my son's age, sitting in the rain begging. It nearly broke my heart. I felt like saying to him - get out of the rain you silly bugger. But I'm sure that was part of the plan.
I thought, if he's still there when I come back out of the gallery I'll give him some money...but he was gone - so I guess he got some donations and hiked it to a warm place. Makes you wonder.
On my first full day in Edinburgh - I did some writing in the morning then went to the Scotland National Gallery - this was a treat - saw some wonderful Gaugins that I had never seen before - some Bernini sculptures (in miniature) that I had seen the full version of at the Galeria Borghese in Rome! Also, an extraordinarily beautiful set of four embroidered panels done by a female Scottish artist - they were so amazing I must had stood there for 10 minutes.
I went to the shop afterwards to get the postcards but the one that I liked the best they hadn't reproduced as a postcard and also they lost something in reproduction and just weren't as stunning. Because all the texture was lost in the photographic image.
I saw a poor young boy, probably about my son's age, sitting in the rain begging. It nearly broke my heart. I felt like saying to him - get out of the rain you silly bugger. But I'm sure that was part of the plan.
I thought, if he's still there when I come back out of the gallery I'll give him some money...but he was gone - so I guess he got some donations and hiked it to a warm place. Makes you wonder.
Monday, June 14, 2010
The good word
I saw a man reading a bible in the airport departure lounge and I wondered...was that his bible or had he a filched a Gideon’s from his hotel room? He didn’t look particularly religious – meaning he wasn’t wearing a dog collar or anything (what’s with that anyway?). But it certainly stood out for me.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Please pay attention as we demonstrate the safety features of this aircraft
Does anyone NOT know how to fasten your seatbelt? The airlines think so. However, those in that minority group would certainly be travelling with someone who DOES know how to fasten a seatbelt and will make sure that theirs is fastened. Possible worst case scenarios: A kidnapper flying with his kidnapee – a child – does not care enough about his victim to fasten said seatbelt. Would a hostess or steward see that the child is in imminent danger and a) fasten the seatbelt themselves or b) instruct kidnapper to fasten seatbelt? I think so. Scenario 2: Recently rescued man raised by wolves is being flown to large metropolis for a) corporate exploitation b) reprogramming c) a hot bath. Said man does not know how to fasten a seatbelt. Would the vigilant steward or stewardess whose job it is to walk the aisles prior to takeoff and landing, making sure that EVERY seatbelt is fastened miss this anomaly? Perhaps if a) the wolfman/boy is super hairy b)aggressive or c) has a jacket on his lap.
Can I ask – do we even need to wear seatbelts on flights? The only theory I would venture as to why this is so necessary is in case the plane hits an air pocket and drops suddenly. Would your seatbelt protect you from lifting up off your seat six inches (in my case) and banging your head on the stuff up there (the roof)? Tell me dear reader.
Because, in the case of car seatbelts, they are purposeful in holding you in place in the event of a collision with something where the force pushes you forwards or sideways. But, that’s not really the situation in the air is it? Although an aircraft could crash into another vehicle whilst on the ground. Help me out here....is this it? Or, is it just something that was thought necessary at the beginning of the flight era and has never really been thought through again since?
By the way...I have tried to fix things so you can comment now if you like. Give it a try. :)
Can I ask – do we even need to wear seatbelts on flights? The only theory I would venture as to why this is so necessary is in case the plane hits an air pocket and drops suddenly. Would your seatbelt protect you from lifting up off your seat six inches (in my case) and banging your head on the stuff up there (the roof)? Tell me dear reader.
Because, in the case of car seatbelts, they are purposeful in holding you in place in the event of a collision with something where the force pushes you forwards or sideways. But, that’s not really the situation in the air is it? Although an aircraft could crash into another vehicle whilst on the ground. Help me out here....is this it? Or, is it just something that was thought necessary at the beginning of the flight era and has never really been thought through again since?
By the way...I have tried to fix things so you can comment now if you like. Give it a try. :)
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