Let's Rock!

One goal down: see an Indonesian rock band in concert. I’ve got to say, it was great. How I’ve managed to go this long without seeing a proper show here is beyond me, but I broke the spell Saturday night and I’m glad I did. No shitty cover bands in dingy, dark pseudo-whorehouses. Oh no, a proper show complete with booze, professional sound and lighting — fabulous! To say that I got drunk and had a blast would be an understatement.

We had a small snafu getting in the club, but nothing that you can’t finagle a bit and get around. The only two guys (friend and I) were wearing sandals and apparently at such a high-class establishment, people don’t wear sandals. No problem we said. We went back to the car and took two pairs of women’s shoes, forced them on, I walked like a hooker in heels (got big feet you know) and entered without a word. Once inside, I promptly changed back into the sandals — sorted.

Anyway, the show was sponsored by Surya 16 (the best cigarettes in the fucking world I might add) and when you bought your ticket, the promo guys and gals literally thrust pack upon pack at you. I managed to snag six. Too bad I’m not a chick and had a purse or I would have taken the whole lot. Only in Indonesia could this happen. Anywhere else, if a tobacco company sponsors something, there are a thousand dipshit groups that come out of the woodwork crying foul and how unethical and wrong it is — bullshit! None of that nonsense this time around, thankfully. The cigarette companies sponsor everything and that’s just life.

Inside, it felt like any other show I’ve been to that was relatively nice. The venue was an enormous hotel here that quite honestly, I usually try and avoid. I’ve been a few times to eat, use the pool and what not, but it’s such a large, gaudy compound and goddamnit, it’s expensive! To make matters worse, it creates horrid traffic for me that greatly increases my chances of death and I happen to resent that as well. Anyway, I caved in and went and it was great. I saw a lot of friends, drank something akin to battery acid that put me in the stratosphere and just had fun. For a few hours I forgot where I was and I need that now and again to stay grounded.

Now, if only we could get some international bands coming round. Granted, I do like some Indonesian bands (Slank, Jamrud, Ari Lasso, Peter Pan), they just don’t do proper metal and damnit, I miss that. I’ve yet to find the metal underground or find out if it even exists. In Jakarta, yeah, I’m sure it does, but I don’t live there so it does me no good. Speaking of Jakarta, they’ve had a string of good shows come through and every time I see the ads, I curse myself for not being there. However, I wonder if being able to attend a few metal shows a year would be worth living in a sinking shithole? Eh, probably not.

Okay, enough bullshit for today. I’m going to go try and enjoy Valentine’s Day. At least tomorrow’s a holiday.

Another Day

Talk about a shitty day. First, my water stopped working. Well, rather the tank was empty and I was unsure of how to operate the two pumps I have, so for the sake of this piece we'll say it wasn't working. Anyway, no water for a day or two is rather bad. If you're unable to wash dishes and refill the water tank to bathe (my shower doesn't work as I don't have enough water pressure), life is rather bad. Regardless, I managed as I always do, went to work and promptly managed to get it fixed. It cost me an hour of my time and a couple packs of smokes — not bad. Yet another reason I love this place: you can pay for services rendered with things other than money. Sugar, cigarettes, food and other various goods work just as well — it's great!

After that, I went back to work, finished out the day and just as I was about to leave, the skies opened and released two-hours of unholy rain. As expected, it flooded afterwards and at some point killed the power as well. No worries for me as I went to eat after it stopped and then back home to change clothes before going to the gym. The power was off, but that's not exactly anything new. Where I live, an hour or two is about all it's out for, so I wasn't too worried.

Anyway, it was already dark, I couldn't see and I somehow managed to bump my security door shut while my keys were still in the main door — whoops. I figured there was no need to get all worked up, so I went on to the gym and started making some calls once I was there. I think I rang everyone I thought could possibly locate a locksmith to come at night, but no answer except from one person and then she gave me bad news. I couldn't for the life of me think of the word for locksmith (tukang kunci — simple enough) so I was shit out as to where to look myself. I figured almost nine, no power, post flood: I'm fucked.

Later, I finally got a message back that someone was coming from school and I naively assumed with a spare key in tow. I went straight back home — where there was still no power and pitch fucking dark — to find that the door was opened, but not with a fucking key. He cut through the security door to get to the main door! Ah well, at least I could get in, take a shower, eat and sleep in hot, sticky misery and bond with the mosquitoes. For services rendered, it cost me a pack of smokes — brilliant!

Honestly, this whole chain of events expertly underscores everything I like and subsequently hate about living here. Sure, the power might be unreliable, the water dodgy at best, horrid traffic and complete anarchy on the road and a culture of things happening so slowly that it makes grass growing seem fast, but at the end of the day, all I can do is smile. I eat great food for nothing, live for next to nothing, basically barter for services, pay people off to do things quicker and more efficiently and more or less live stress-free save for the problems I create for myself. I guess I can't complain all that much.

Anyway, I don't know what the point of this is, but it does feel rather good to write a bit. I've been a bit lazy and unmotivated as of late. However, I do have a slight bit of hope that it will get better. Wait, no it won't. I've been waiting twenty-eight years on that. I don't think it's going to change now.

Blast from the Past

I'm a bit disenchanted with music currently. Well, I guess I should clarify and say that I'm disenchanted with most bands currently making music. Simply put, it's fucking boring. Last year was quite possibly the worst year in recent memory for good music. It was fucking grim. Really fucking grim. So, to keep my ears happy and my mood up, I've been turning to the old stuff for pleasure and boy has it been rewarding. Last night, in another fit of insomnia, I turned to some late 90's Machine Head and it did the trick.

'The More Things Change'came out in 1997, I'm quite sure I bought it the day it was released (yes, we still bought CDs then) and I probably played it non-stop for a month. Yes, I was a huge Machine Head fan in high school. I remember reading a review for their debut 'Burn My Eyes' in Metal Maniacs (yes, we actually bought magazines then) and I made my mom take me to the record store where I promptly purchased the CD for $9.99. I remember the price because it was on sale and I had $12, which was just enough to secure the purchase. Yes, my mother usually made me buy my own CDs and didn't mind. However, my father used to chide me constantly for "blowing all my money on worthless CDs". Consequentially, I thought he was an idiot.

Anyway, I loved the debut, played the piss out of it and couldn't wait for the next album. It took a few years, but fuck me was I glad when it hit the stores. And what a great album it was and still is. Listening to it last night took me back to another time—even if it was only for about 53 minutes. Start to finish, it's heavy metal bliss. In my eyes, it's Machine Head's magnum opus. It's more polished and refined than 'Burn My Eyes', much heavier and better than the two albums that followed it, it was the last album with Logan Mader on guitar, the first with Dave McClain on drums (who is an absolute stud and best experiened live) and has the perfect balance of thrash, melody, riffs and solos. There's no filler, everything is done with a purpose, the songs are unbelievably strong and it has stood the test of time. If I had my iPod with me, I'd be listening to it right now.

So, I'm not so sure what the point of this post is other than that I feel mildy inspired for some odd reason and feel the need to gush about my childhood. Ostensibly, this is about music, but it's probably much more than that. Some albums hold special, sentimental meanings to them—songs as well I suppose—and this is one of those for me. When I hear this album, I'm transported back in time to being 15, rotting away in high school, dealing with my conflicting teenage angst and all that other shit we experienced as naive teenagers. I wouldn't change it for the world though. It's not as if I need an album to remind of that, but it damn sure doesn't hurt when it's this good. Cheers Machine Head!

Oh Christ: Back to the Grind

Honestly, what the hell was I thinking? If I ever accept another job where I must get out of bed at 5.30, someone please shake me, kick me or whatever it takes to make me see the light. Aside from a few drunken antics, it’s probably the worst decision I’ve ever made in my life. Every day that I roll over to silence my alarm, I curse myself for what I’ve done. And it won’t end until at least November—fuck.

There are a few good things about being up early: it’s not hot; traffic isn’t so bad, I feel mildly more productive and I finish in time to enjoy the afternoon. However, is it worth the struggle of rising just before the sun is up? The answer is a resounding “fuck no”. I thoroughly enjoy staying up late and sleeping late. While on holiday, I didn’t get up before 10.00 on any day unless there was a train or bus to catch. Sorry, that’s just how I am. Some things you just can’t change.

I’m finding it a bit tough to readjust this time. It’s not just the sleeping, but a lot of other things as well. It really became clear to me how restricted, tied down and isolated I feel. I guess I never thought much about the insane and archaic immigration laws here until I was gone. Chatting with people working other places really put things in perspective for me. It makes me wonder what the hell I’ve done and why I’ve done it. Not that I anticipate problems and what not, but still. Life can change quickly. You just never know.

If things were to take a drastic shift for the worst, I could potentially be supremely fucked and out in the cold (figuratively of course since it’s anything but that). Anyway, I guess in my periods of boredom, frustration and drunken thinking, I’ve thought of a few thousand scenarios to improve my life—none of which would be so easy all things considered. To make a long story short, I’m stuck for a bit no matter how many ways I try and trick myself otherwise.

Now, is that to say I’m unhappy and looking for a way out? Well, yes and no. On a positive note, my personal life is in the midst of making a massive swing into the positive and if things go well on that front, I’ll probably scrap all this nonsense and everything will be fine. However, if disaster is imminent, it won’t be so easy to sit idly by for much longer. November is a long goddamn way off and I don’t get another long holiday until June. Can I hold out that long? Fuck, I hope so.

I guess meeting some new friends and hearing their experiences got my blood pumping a bit. The excitement has been ramped up, I return and now it’s just a major letdown. Thinking about the future is really all that’s keeping me together at this point. The thoughts of once again living somewhere that hasn’t been brainwashed by religion and how sex, drugs, drinking, rock ‘n’roll, showing some skin and being yourself is inherently a bad thing— you can smoke till your fucking silly, but have a beer and fuck your neighbor, well, your going to hell for that—is supremely enticing.

How happy would I be if I could sleep till 10.00, work in the afternoon or early evening, pop off from work after dark, head out for dinner and some drinks and then come home and do as I please? Man, I’d be as happy as a pedophile at the playground. With any luck, this will happen soon. For now, I guess I’ll settle. Well, until I run out of books to read. I’m fucked after that—and with any luck, literally.

 

Asian Haircuts and Other Odd Bits

There's just something about getting a haircut. For me, it's this rejuvenating, almost spiritual experience. For twenty minutes, I can relax in sheer bliss while my shaggy mop is transformed into something that makes me look presentable. I open my eyes and poof: I'm still ugly, but just a bit less so. It's money well spent.

Now, the best part of an Asian haircut is the obligatory massage that comes afterwords. Now look, I'm not gay, but when it comes from a man, it's just nicer. They are stronger, their hands are bigger (I'm not exactly tiny you know) and it just works well. I felt like shit today. My neck was still aching from the stone mattress I had to sleep on a few days ago. However, after I got my trim, which was absolute perfection I might add, I got the back, shoulder, neck and head massage and now I feel like new. 10 ringgit well spent I'd say and now, maybe something with tits will associate with me since I don't look like a fucking bum.

Anyway, it's raining again. Predictable I suppose all things considered. However, even in this tiny blip of a town, I did manage to do a few cool things. I met a super cool German guy who's banging around SE Asia for three months. With his extremely limited vocabulary and extensive use of 'Mama Mia', we were still able to get on okay, have some laughs and pore over his immaculate maps and find nice places to visit. Fuck me the Germans know how to make a map! They were big enough to use as tablecloths and had every train track, side road, waterfall, cave and museum you could imagine. Absolutely immaculately crafted. I need these.

I somehow found a cheap hotel—not a fucking hostel this time—that was quiet, clean, had an attached bathroom and had a mattress that was long enough for me to sleep on and wasn't made of concrete. The fact that I negotiated the price down to a mere 25 ringgit (~$8) was just brilliant! Fuck, Asia is just great. There was also wonderful food in this tiny town. I ate a few Malay specialities for lunch, had some relatively cheap beer at a Chinese spot and then had the best murtabak I've eaten for dinner. I woke fairly early and found a small roti canai (sorry, I don't know what these translate to in English) shop and had breakfast for a whopping 3 ringgit with a huge teh tarik (pulled tea). Once again: fuck, Asia is just great!

Okay, one more time for good measure: fuck, Asia is just motherfucking great!

Rain...ugh!

It's raining—a lot. I could handle just a bit, but a full day and sleepless night of non-stop, pounding rain is just too much. I'd rather it be sunny and hot. At least I could walk around without fear of drowning and sleep at night. Last night, it sounded like the whole building was going to come crashing in when the rain picked up. It was just sheets of rain. There were no raindrops.

That said, I did get a good walk in around painfully boring Kuantan. For a rather large city, there was nothing going on except the usual. I tried to find somewhere to have a drink, but failed miserably. The only place I entered had no customers, horrendously expensive booze and the music was so loud, I couldn't have talked to someone had I wanted to. Not that there was anyone to chat with, but still. So, I met two Indonesian guys, finally had some proper smokes (Malaysian ciggies are just shit), went for some beers and it was all good—until the heavens opened and ended my decent sleep.

I say decent because I actually managed to get that way. The night before, the pillows were so fucking hard, I thought my neck was broken in the morning. It took me five minutes and stretches before I could move it around. It's sad because that was the only bed I've slept in that has been long enough for my body. They had to ruin it with the fucking petrified wood pillows. Same last night. The bed was just too fucking tiny. I scrunched up, put on some music and was out in no time. I probably would have stayed that way if it weren't for the fucking rain. Of course, once I awoke at 4.00, it was hell getting back to dreamland. So, I feel like ass today, it's still raining and there isn't a goddamn thing to do in Mersing except bang around in the cheapest Internet cafe I've found, eat, walk around a bit and hope I get some decent sleep tonight.

However, I guess I'm getting what I deserve since it is monsoon season and it's supposed to rain a lot. Maybe, but I wasn't going to leave the east coast untouched monsoon season or not. I met one German in my hotel, but so far, that's it here. I guess today is another rest day, laundry, reading and tasting the local specialities. Booze looks like a no-go, so I'll have to try and enjoy it sober. Fuck.

Banging Around Rural Malaysia

Honestly, I think I've enjoyed relaxing and just strolling around these quiet, quaint places more than anything. Well, the jungle and the highlands were amazing, but this is different. I quite like this languorous pace and way of life. I don't give a shit about fancy museums and art galleries, beaches, tacky tourist attractions and cheesy city tours. I just enjoy experiencing a bit of real life and this is fucking great. Walking around aimlessly, stopping for a drink and a smoke, having a chat here and there, giving a smile and a wave—this is where it's at.

Along the way, I've also hooked up with some fellow travellers that make it all worthwhile. I'm young, but there is something about the fifty-year-old, long-term expat that I'm drawn to. They've always got an interesting story about seeing someone decapitated in India, mysterious suicides in Thailand, drunken shenaningans and what not. Most people my age, well, we just don't have that perspective yet—with 'yet' being the key word.

Imagine it: a guy buys a huge Land Cruiser in Australia, ships it to Malaysia and plans to drive it all the way to Kristianstad, Norway. Now, that's balls enough, but taking a route through Myanmar (Burma)—fucking Burma!—Pakistan, Iran and places like that: now that's fucking ballsy. I was half-tempted to ask to join in on the fun, but the Burma part put me off a bit. It sounded wonderful drunk, but now, not so much. Anyway, I wish him the best of luck and hope he makes it unscathed. And remember: write that fucking book!

If there's a bad side to all this, it's that it's quickly coming to an end. Four more days and I'll be back in my big, boring, polluted, chaotic city—which I also strangely adore—and all this will be a fading memory. Yes, it sucks, but that's life. No more heaping plates of delicious Indian food, no 'teh tarik' (pulled tea) unless I make it myself and pork will once again be a rarity—damn it! While we're on the topic of food, on the east coast I've finally been able to get proper, fresh coffee and not the shitty Nescafe and what not in sachets. Christ, that stuff is terrible. Anyway, they roast the beans in palm oil and sugar. It sounds disgusting, but the resulting flavor is distinct and quite nice. It's got a powerful, thick, smoky flavor and I'm beginning to adore it just to be honest.

Kota Bharu didn't have much going for it in terms of being lively, but there was some wonderful food, I met the most interesting travellers there and I just enjoyed hanging out and taking it easy for two days. I also met a diehard Malaysian metal fan too, which was just great. I don't remember the last time I had a proper chat about which band is heavier, what genre do they fall in and who is the best metal guitarist of all time. Just fucking great!

Kuala Terengganu, where I am now, is about the same. There isn't much going on, but I'm enjoying myself nonetheless. "But why are you writing blogs in an Internet cafe" you ask? Well, it beast meandering around in the pouring rain that's for sure. Anyway, I already had a wonderful Indian meal—spiciest and cheapest one thus far—and the food courts and stalls in Chinatown are apparently going to be hopping tonight, so I can't wait for that. Pork guts and beer—yummy! I love the Chinese.