Mr Beem's Asian Journal




Malaysia




A great Malaysian welcome

I found my way to Norton’s House through scattered showers which dotted my path all the way down the motorway, actually I didn’t find my way, he had arranged to meet me at the toll both at the turn off to his place and show me the way. I had filled up with petrol on the Malaysian side of the border and that is when I started to notice just how friendly these Malaysian’s really were. Everyone who watched me put fuel in the bike didn’t just look at the strange foreigner, they either nodded or said hello, and one guy came over to ask about the bike. In English.


Mohammad on his Beemer


When I arrived at the toll both only mildly drenched. I found a bank of public telephones, but they were all in use. An Indian guy was sitting on the steps having a smoke and we got chatting, he was the Janitor. I told him I was waiting to call a friend who was to meet me there. He called out to one off the young guys using the phone and he came over, the Indian guy told the young fellow to call the number that I had written on a piece of paper. Next thing I am talking to Norton and he is on his way. When I offered to pay for the call the old guy said, “Welcome to Malaysia” and smiled.

Norton and Penang

Five minutes later Norton pulls up in his car, he jumps out and starts pumping my hand and asks what kind of tyres I have on the bike… a sure sign of a bike freak – we talked 21-90-90’s for a while. I say that 'I hope that I am not imposing', he says that 'if I was he would not have come to meet me', and asked how many days did I want to stay, five or six, I said two would do nicely. I liked him already.




I followed him back to his house and met his wife and their beautiful little daughter who wasn’t sure what to make of the new Masalay (allegedly this term comes from the first contact that the Malays had with Europeans – Mad Sailors). Then we went out to meet one of Norton’s friends and then the two of us had a late dinner.

The following day Norton was having a little family get together, for his sister who was just coming home from working as a nurse in Saudi Arabia, so I got to meet the rest of the Norton Clan which was really nice. That afternoon we caught up with a few of his Biker mates and went for a ride around the Island of Penang, which is about half an hours ride from Norton’s house.




There is a long bridge leading over to the Island, so you don’t even realise that you are leaving the mainland but for some reason you do feel it. Islands feel different to the mainland somehow – don’t ask me why. It was a couple of hours to get around Penang Island and a very pretty ride it was. Then we came back to the mainland on the ferry. That evening we went to visit Norton’s parents home and have dinner with them. His old man was a little different, he had been a Buddhist monk for many years and the house was loaded with Buda statues, he had a fairly low opinion of Masalay, I’m not sure if I did much to improve it.

Three days as a guest at Hotel Norton then I was heading south to Kuala Lumpur. I had sent a message to the K.L. Horizons Unlimited community and a fellow by the name of Amran wrote back enthusiastically asking me to contact him as soon as I arrived in town.

Kuala Lumpur welcome

There seems to be a pattern forming in my travels, it seems that I am always destined to arrive at my destination soaking wet. KL was no exception. It’s about a four hour ride from Penang to KL, so with stops and what have you, I arrived mid afternoon and using the Petronas towers as a land mark started through the traffic towards the centre of town, in the hope of happening across a hotel to fit my meagre budget. As luck would have it, a sign caught my eye with the magic word Ekonomi Hotel.




Sharie Lodge looked like it might be within my means so I pulled into the car park and stood in the rain evaluating my options. I went inside, and it was a typical Asian set-up, five or six people all sitting around, obviously related and acting as if this was the first time that a customer had ever come through the door. I stood at the counter dripping and asked how much. "Do you want to stay here" – "how much", "Oh fifty nine Malaysian Ringgit"(1 USD = 5.2 Ringgit) "ok, one night please".

I went outside to call Amran from a pay phone, he asked 'where are you', and I said 'I don’t really know but I can see the big tower from here'; he laughed. I gave him the phone number of the hotel and he would call them and ask where they were. Fifteen minutes later he turned up on a red Honda Magna.




Amran turned out to be a young forty year old with a boyish smile and a great sense of humour. He had read my website so he new all about me, which I thought a little unfair so I asked him about himself. He was a retired Air-force Major who also happened to be a lawyer. I offered him a drink but he had to decline as it was the middle of Ramadan and he was fasting and couldn’t eat or drink until seven o’clock…it’s not easy being a Muslim.

KL Biking

Amran said that he would come back in an hour and we would go out and meet a few of his friends and find out how he could help me while I was in Kuala Lumpur. Every town should be this good. Over the next five weeks Amran was to be a fantastic friend and a great host. Introducing me to anyone and everyone who was interested in Bikes and travel.


Mohammad on his Beemer


Amran introduced me to Mohammad who is the unofficial president of the unofficial BMW Bike Club. Mohammad organised for a BMW mechanic to come to my hotel and have a look at the rear hub.

The bearings that I had fitted in Phuket had started to collapse and one of the other bearings was spinning in the hub housing which was a little disappointing for a bike that had only done a little over twenty five thousand kilometres. The mechanic came and had a quick look and organised for me to bring the bike out to the workshop about forty kilometres outside of town. Next morning one of the young salesmen came to my hotel to lead me to the workshop. They noted all the numbers took photocopies of everything and said that they would send of to Germany for a warranty claim. I asked about the price of a new chain and front and rear sprockets also the drive damper rubbers, the guy came back with a kit price of RM 1180. He had also priced the items individually. I did a quick mental tally and individually the parts came to a little over RM 900. I pointed out this discrepancy he didn’t understand it either, but didn’t think it was worth mentioning. I said that I would price the parts out of Singapore and maybe have a friend bring them up…'good idea' he said.

Sunny's Bike Shop

The young salesman who’s name was Kamarul, was going to take me to a shop to get a new front tyre, the one I had bought in Thailand was a locally made cheap brand and I had no faith in it so I had decided to replace it. He led me across town to ‘Sunny’s Bike Shop’.




Sunny is the patron saint of overland bike travellers. He has pictures of all the ones he has helped on a desk in his office. He had a tyre in stock, when I mentioned about the price of BMW sprockets and chain he said that he had good Japanese ones in stock which were made for BM’s and at less than half the price, that was including fitting.




I kind of liked the idea of keeping the bike as genuine as possible, but when it comes down to it, these items are to be considered as consumables, and you get much the same wear from an after market product as you would from the BMW original one, so at those prices I didn't have to think for too long.

I went ahead and had the chain and sprockets fitted, At the same time I had a new Michelin put on the front, Randy the mechanic took the bike for a test-drive and came back with the news that the steering head bearings were knackered and that the oil in the front shocks was too light, making the bike bouncy in the front end. Oh well, ‘in for a penny in for a Ringgit’ I always say – sometimes. I was talking with Randy about the front brake being a bit on the ordinary side, he said that the pads were too hard as they were polishing the disc and that the hydraulic hose was swelling which was why the performance was so spongy, “In for a penny in for a Ringgit” I said. The front indicators were a little the worse for ware, so I got those replace too, and then thought I may as well buy a spare rear tube and a pair of gloves, In for a penny…

The amazing thing about this big spend-up was that when it was all said and done the final bill was still less than what I would have paid for a pair of BMW sprockets and a chain – explain that one if you can. I have a theory on this, but I can’t mention it as I want BMW to sponsor me on the African leg of this trip.

All that I needed know was for The Boys from Germany to OK the warranty claim and send the bits and I could be on my way, that and a couple off visas off course.

The Visa Trail

I had been advised to pick up the Visa for the next leg off the trip in KL as it should be the easiest way to avoid any little problem with neighbouring countries who don’t really like each other. I am not going to mention any names, not because I want them to sponsor the African leg of the trip, it’s just that someone will want to argue the point if I do and after my Visa experiences I don’t need anymore arguments.

The plan was this, get visas for India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, and finally Iran, how hard could that be. The Indian one was fairly straightforward; I only had to pay an additional forty Ringet towards telex fees to confirm that I was who my Passport said I was, that and four visits to the Embassy. Next came Bangladesh, their embassy is in a hard to find, it’s on a little back street behind the Princess Plaza Hotel. I later found out that this is no accident of geography; they hide there because they do not want to be found. However a man with a bike, a full tank off petrol, and a never say die attitude can uncover their where abouts, and I dear reader was just such a man.

The joys of Bangladeshi bureaucracy

Once discovered, they will begrudgingly give you a number and an application form, when that has been filled out in Duplicate (no carbon paper allowed) then it is to be presented to the man on the ground floor with photos attached. He will inform you as to the cost, different nationalities different prices. Then you must find a branch of the Maybank in order to pay said charges. Maybank will issue a recept as proof of payment and then you are allowed upstairs to the bigger waiting room. When your number is called you then get to meet the man from Hell – Mr Hakim.

Mr Hakim is a middle aged civil servant whom it would seem has been passed over for promotion more than once and holds each of the poor unfortunates that pass through his door personally responsible for this tragedy. It was my turn to be responsible; 'WHY do you want to go to Bangladesh, to ride a motorcycle, that is most unusual. Do you work in Malaysia, do you intend to work in Bangladesh, why do you want to go to Bangladesh ? I explained about my midlife crisis and how I thought that the answers might lie in Bangladesh ... No I didn’t. I told him all about the trip, where I had been, and where I intended to go, this didn’t seem to clarify anything for him and he got a little more off-hand, which surprised me, because I seriously doubted that it was possible. He said that I would have to get a letter from my Embassy to verify that I was indeed engaged in this highly dubious undertaking.

At this point I may have mention something about Australia being a free country and the fact that as far as they were concerned I could do as I liked as long as I didn’t break any laws and continued to pay my taxes. Anyway he wanted the letter, so off I went to the Australian Embassy, which, by the way, is very easy to find, opposite the Petronas Towers. I must explain at this point that I was making this Visa application on my Australian Passport, as my British one was at the Indian Embassy – something I had gone to great lengths to explain to the dreaded Mr Hakim, remember that because it becomes important later.

Christ, what a difference the Australian Embassy was, full of security and helpful smiling faces, they gave you the feeling that they were on your side, and you were NOT guilty until proven innocent. “Yes we can give you a letter to say that you are a good bloke, but we can’t really verify that you are riding a Motorcycle around the world, I am sure you can understand that”, I said “I did understand but Old Hakim was another matter”. They wanted RM 79.00 for the letter and I could pick it up the next morning.

I went back to the helpful smiling Australian Embassy, and the helpful smiling girl at the counter said that her boss had spoken to Hakim on the telephone and that a letter would not be necessary and there is your RM 79.00 back. I went back to the unhelpful unsmiling Bangladesh Embassy and spoke to the unhelpful, never smiling Hakim, he seemed rather put out that he was unable to force me to incur any additional expense and would make up for that as best he could. He told me that I would have to wait and speak with his Boss, who just so happened to be out right now but would be back within the hour, I could wait in the big waiting room. During my two hour wait I had the chance to observe Old Hakim giving other would be travellers the run around, somehow I felt better knowing that it was not personal. His boss came, another complete fuckwit, just a younger version of Hakim. What is the problem, that is not a problem, go back and see Mr Hakim. Hakim begrudgingly took my passport and said I could pick my visa up at four o’clock the following afternoon.

It goes without saying that Hakim turned out to be a lying bastard and that the Visa wasn’t ready. This time it was some old bullshit about “because your Australian Passport does not have a Malaysian entry stamp then we can not issue a Visa because we can not be sure you are here." I reminded him of our previous conversation on the topic of two Passports and reminded him of his phrase; "it is a Valid Legal Document". He ignored this little piece of unwanted intelligence and said I would have to produce the British Passport. No problem you pedantic old dickhead "I will go and get it now" – and away I went. I was back in half an hour. 'Please wait' – what a wanker.

Young Hakim (the Boss) tried to give me a bollocking for having two Passports. At this stage I was already deciding that I didn’t really want to go to Bangladesh if this is what it was going to be like. So the young fellow was getting on to dodgy ground as far as I was concerned, he no longer had anything I wanted and therefore trying to brow-beat me wasn’t going to work. I asked him “is this the kind of treatment I could expect once I had arrived in Bangladesh” – he was most indignant. But I was warming to my subject and told him about all the fucking around I had received from Hakim. I asked him if he really wanted tourists to visit Bangladesh, or were all the posters on the wall just another waste of time and money. I said, “if you don’t want me to go there, then I am just as happy to fly directly to Nepal”. “Oh, No we do want tourists” go and see Mr Hakim and your visa will be ready tomorrow. I think Bangladesh wants tourists about as much as an unmarried Mother of fifteen children living on welfare wants to be on the evening news – but that just my opinion.

I went to see Hakim, “No problem, we will just make a new application using your British Passport, we can even use the same photos” and then came the final straw, “However it is more expensive for British Passport holder so you will have to pay an additional RM 112.00 – you can go to the Bank tomorrow and do this”. Like fuck I can, give me back my Passport. I got the Embassies address and went back to the Hotel to write a stern letter to the Consul himself, for all the good that did, they never did refund my application fee, or even acknowledge the fact that I had written.

Some easier tries

Next I went to the Pakistan Embassy and got a visa in two days – what can I say. Then I went to the Iranian Embassy to make an application so I could pick the Visa up in New Delhi, India, so I would not have to wait the twelve working days that it takes to process in Kuala Lumpur (you will have to go to the India Journal to see how that one turned out). Nepal issues visas on entry and so does Turkey, so that was all the visa work done – for now.

The Malaysian way

It may sound as if I wasn’t having much fun in Malaysia, but nothing could be further from the truth.


Two charmers


Funny face

I had two fantastic hosts, Amran was my chief social secretary, ably seconded by Mohammad, and they were taking great care of me. Both of these guys knew each other but had a completely separate circle of friends.


Amran and his group of guys rode mostly
Japanese sports bikes.


Mohammad was a staunch BMW supporter


All Mohammad's mates were firmly camped in with the Germans. The other difference was that most of Amran’s mates were single, while Mohammad would bring his wife Sue out with him wherever possible and most of his mates were family men. So I would go to Open Houses with Mohammad and Sue, and to cafes and late nights out with Amran and the boys.

Open Houses are a Muslim phenomena, after Ramadan which is a month long torture, where you are not allowed to eat or drink through the hours of day light, or more precisely from 6.00 am until 7.00 pm. Directly after that they have Hari Raya which is a month of eating and drinking (no alcohol off course) all the time. Basically everyone who can, opens up there home for a day, so that all their friends can come and eat them out of house-and-home, and they in turn will do the same, so I guess it all evens out in the end – except when I turn up eat my fill and never return so much a Roti Chani (cheap roadside snack). It was at one of these do’s that I heard the most memorable phrases of the trip so far. I was thanking the host for another wonderful evening; enthusing about the food and warm company when he said with just the smallest hint of pride “it is nothing, it is the way of my people” I thought that was beautiful

Mohammad also took me to several BMW meetings and for a couple of day rides, once to the Genting Highlands (I got soaked) and once down to Malaka to play tourist. Mohammad would have to go on that very short list headed ‘Natures Gentlemen’ I don’t say this to piss in his pocket, but his selfless hospitality was more than you could reasonable expect even from one’s own bother.

A rare man




Now Amran, how do you even begin to talk about Amran? Well let’s see, he is forty, but if he told you he was thirty (something that I would not put past him) you would squint a little and probably have to agree. He is one of the most unlikely lawyers that you will ever meet (moderate disrespect to lawyer intended, except Nigel my liar) he is caring which makes you wonder how he ever got past the Bar and he says that he is not in it for the money, which makes you wonder why he ever choose that profession in the first place. Amran likes to go out at night and sit around with other grown men and drink tea – ‘teh tarik’ to be precise. There were never any women at these gatherings. After a few of these nights out with the Lads, I couldn’t help but mention the lack of women at the table. All sorts of piss poor excuses were offered, from ‘a woman’s place is in the home’ to ‘we are a bunch of ugly bastards and women won’t have anything to do with us’.

He is a rare man, and by definition there are not too many of them, he is one of the few individuals that I will sit up with until three in the morning, drinking nothing but tea and talking about possible contentious issues with. He allowed me to get some insight into what it is to be a Muslim living in Malaysia, he gave me his views on women and their role in Islam, politics in Malaysia, life in the Armed forces, Fatherhood, Relationships, The Justice system and which is the worlds best bike – something about a Kawasaki ZX12R – it suffices to say that he’s not a bad bloke. We had many differences of opinion, many big laughs and got on like a house-on-fire.

I believe that the right introduction sets the tone for the rest of your acquaintance with someone. I meet Amran through the Horizons Community and he pretty much introduced me to most of the people I was to meet in Malaysia either directly or indirectly. What really struck me about the people I met was that they could actually understand what it was that I was doing (I hope they will explain it to me one day). They would ask interesting and relevant questions and most expressed a desire to do something simular at some point in the future and in some cases in the past. We could talk about things that we had in common, in the rest of Asia most of my conversations were about the differences between myself and my culture and that of whoever it was that I was speaking with.

Final fitting for Mr Beem

Because of a couple of paperwork glitches, and a holiday or two, it took longer that expected to get the rear hub assembly out of Germany, but it did come, and with it they through in a set of damper rubbers and a new sprocket, which I thought was very decent of them. I retrospect it would have been simpler for me to have asked for a whole new back wheel, because once the hub did arrive I then had to take it to Sunny’s workshop to have it fitted, and re-spoking a wheel is a bit of and art, and to get it absolutely right Sunny spent about four hours fine tuning the spokes to make sure that the wheel ran straight and true. He did not charge for this, I think that Sunny is inspired by other peoples efforts, and give them an importance that may be greater than they deserve. If anyone is passing through Malaysia on a bike and has a problem, Sunny’s your man…he loves and understands Bikes those over-priced, unreliable, unsafe, temperamental pieces of shit that they are.

With the rear wheel ‘sorted’ I was ready to leave Malaysia…once I had an Air freighter organised. I had deliberately left this open because I didn’t need any more deadlines hanging over my head, but I had been making a few enquiries and I was recommend to try a lady called Rita. She made all the right noises on the phone but when it came down to it she couldn’t give me a firm price, but could send me a list of cost to be incurred, this filled a whole page. Dangerous Goods featured heavily in the text. She said I would have to take the Bike to the freight terminal for packing and weighing then she would let me have a GOOD price. Amran came out with me to the Airport on his bike, he was going to give me a ride back on his pillion. This worked out well because he hates giving pillion rides and I hate getting them so we were guaranteed that no one would enjoy the hour-long return ride through KL’s rush hour traffic.

We arrived out at the Airport, at the address that Rita had given me; they were not expecting the bike. However they would crate it and weigh it that afternoon, as soon as they found some wood, some nails, a saw and a hammer, and a few pieces of plastic. I said that we would wait and help them, My confidence in their abilities was a little shaken. We spent the next four hours emptying; the fuel, the oil, disconnecting the battery and taking the front wheel off as well as cutting great heavy planks and nailing.




After doing all the work I later found out that it was costing me RM 350.00 for crating services, but that wasn’t the best bit. I had worked out in my own mind that it should cost around RM 2000.00 for the whole deal. I was moaning about the weight of the wood we were using when the freight guy said it probably won’t matter about the weight because if the volume is larger than the weight, then they will charge by volume – that just about doubled the cost RM 3810.00 …close enough to USD 1200 – F...ing Hell. And after this I had to ride home on the back of Amran’s Bike – F...ing Hell.

Goodbyes

I had already said goodbye to Mohammad the week before my departure as he was off leading a group of Beamers around Thailand, Cambodia, Vietnam, and Lao. So my second to last night was spent with Amran and the boys and surprise, surprise a couple of girls (that doesn’t prove nu’fin). Amran had booked a Karaoke room and we all went there for a few hours of “I did it my way” “Love me tender” and the Malaysian equivalents. It was a good laugh, it turned out that they do this on a fairly regular basis and most of the guys could have turned pro – I was my usual tuneless, toneless self. I do my best singing inside my Helmet, at least it sound alright to me – if only I could remember the f...ing words (advice to would-be motorcycle travellers – learn at least two songs all the way through).

My last night, Amran and myself went out to Dinner at an up-market hotel. This was a very cruel ploy on Amran’s part…he said this is where we have been hiding all the cute girls, and sure enough the place was packed with gorgeous women, all this time I had been hanging around cheap Café’s and Tea stalls. Amran dropped me at the Airport at about four in the morning and I caught the plane for Nepal at seven...