Wednesday, March 23, 2005
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!
* * *
The new ferry terminal for the boat to Pulau Ubin looks like something from the Indonesian island of Bali. Okay, not authentically Bali, but a Singapore-styled Bali design.
There's even an elevator and a shop selling beverages - a far cry from the original where it was simply a sheltered T-shape jetty. There wasn't enough space for all the boats to dock, so you had to jump from boat to boat to get to your launch. A bit like the kind of obstacle thing on water, where each step is floating and swaying from side to side and you have to jump to get across the water body with falling in.
The ferry ride is $2, and it will only go when there are twelve passengers, no more no less. It's more worth it to go off with maximum capacity - he doesn't have to waste fuel just sending one person there, unless his passenger is so bloody rich he can provide the boatman a pension. There're very strict about this - so if you don't have twelve people, or let alone a partner, then HK to you.
I fear getting seasick. It's been a long time since I last took a boat. That was during BMT, when we were ferried from the mainland to the island of Tekong by the fast craft (i.e. Penguin ferry). My last sea journey - I can still remember the exact date - was 5 June 2004, the day I passed out, never to return again (okay, perhaps later this year when I go for the evaluation exercise).
Soon Lee asks me, "Does this remind you of Tekong?"
Ironically, yes.
* * *
The boat journey lasts about ten minutes - Ubin is pretty close to the mainland, such that you can even see the chalets from the main town area.
The boatmen are damned skilled. They have no elaborate unloading procedure, as what modern ferries have. In the latter, you'll see a member of the crew standing outside the cabin as the vessel approaches the jetty. If I'm not wrong, as soon as the vessel is alongside the jetty, or close enough, the man will jump with the rope and loop it around the post on the jetty. The vessel will then be moored in.
Not for this. The boatman simply reverses the launch like how one would reverse a car. He will drive the back of the boat against the stair wall of the jetty - the rubber tyres dangling at the side act as a buffer. The boat stays there as the motor pushes it against the wall. The boatman will give the signal to disembark. We scale the stairs quickly. Then he drives off.
The so-called Ubin ferry terminal is a simple affair: a sort of shelter at the end of the jetty, with two steps leading to the water, like those you may find along the Singapore River. The boats act like taxis or shuttle buses - they arrive, drop their passengers and go off, if it is the peak period. There are no high-tech barriers or security posts - you can stay on jetty as long as you like for nobody cares about you. If you want a boat you just have to open your mouth.
Bicycle rental is $3 - for the WHOLE DAY. At East Coast Park one bicycle costs a whooping $4 or $5 for one or two hours.
Of course, the compromise is lousy bicycles - bicycles with broken gears, broken breaks (which is the worst case) and for some, out-of-shape rims.
For those who cannot cycle, they hop onto two-seaters, with those who can ride sitting in front.
The whole company sets off down the road. Very familiar - the very road I took the last time I came with my school on a Heritage Tour trip. We walked all the way to some kampong house where we went in and had a look. Then we went to visit the Headman's house on the way back. We are now taking the same route, except we are going further than the kampong house I visited.
Soon everyone has dispersed. People ride at different speeds. The faster riders have shot off in front.
I try to stay clear of other bikes. Once they go out of control I will feel extremely anxious and lose my nerve and grip.
* * *
Some of the villagers live alone in isolation, far away from others. I forget what that term in Geography is . . .
At the same time, they are pit-stops for the weary traveller around Ubin, offering cold drinks and resting areas.
Some even have animals on display. At one house, located near the beach overlooking Malaysia, the owner rears a peacock, which proudly struts its fan of feathers at us while some of the guys enthusiastically snap up photos of it. After some time it turns to walk away from the cameras, and the guys have to coax it to turn back. Like some diva, it eventually complies.
The owner of the house also rears a wild boar - a rather smallish one, the size of an adult pig. But you know how large boars can really go . . . anyway this one is lying on the ground, sleeping. There is some infection near its stout - it is bloody red. The poor thing. Its pen is not even cleaned - the smell of shit lingers in the air and drives us away rather quickly, and there are pieces of dried-up shit on the floor of the enclosure.
The village headman owns an ostrich. We thought it'd be about the height of a man. No, we are wrong. It is about the height of a single-deck bus. And by golly - it is HUMONGOUS. Its eyes are the size of marbles. A few times it opens its mouth - Weng Fai says he's going to spit and we quickly back off.
* * *
C is damn unhygienic . . . and pretty vain too.
He loses his nose stud while cycling. Feeling his nose itchy, he scratches it. Oops! The stud drops out. He and I backtrack to look for it - we can't find it. He says, "Never mind", and asks me to pull out his ear stud and STICK IN INTO HIS NOSE. Then he takes out some ring from his bag, places it on the floor with a piece of tissue as a protective base - but I can't see how that protects from the germs in the air - as I fill up the hole in his nose. The ring - as you guess it - goes into the ear to fill it up.
I am actually quivering as I slot the stud into the nose hole. I keep asking him, "Will it hurt?" - he retorts, "Just put it in." I slot the metal pin into the hole - it slides in easily like a key into the hole it fits.
Well, not exactly ALL the time.
Yucks. The whole thing is so unhygienic.
* * *
MJ runs into a mishap.
There is this extremely steep hill that we all travel down. The brakes on MJ's bike have all failed, and he sails down the road uncontrollably, goes off it and crashes into the grass patch. Thank God - there is a beehive on the tree directly in front of where he lands; beyond that is a mangrove swamp.
He is badly cut - on the stomach, the thigh, the arms, and an entire side of his body is entirely covered with grease.
I'm one of the last, and when I arrive at the scene I see a few fallen bicycles, more parked ones, and the guys clustering around . . .
It is difficult to place calls, as reception on the island is poor due to the lack of coverage. A van passes us - we want to hail the driver to stop and ferry our injured back to the town. The stupid thing is that we wave to the driver and the passengers to get their attention - in return they think we are saying "hi", wave back and continue to drive along.
SHIT!
So we have to transport him back ourselves. Luckily there is a two-seater bicycle with us - we load MJ onto the back seat and Ronald gets behind the wheel - I mean, steering handle. The rest of us form a convoy, and we ride back to town.
* * *
One should be careful when ordering Hor Fun. Apparently, the "wet" version can mean Hor Fun SOUP. It consists of all the ingredients of Hor Fun, except it is all thrown into clear soup. When it arrives in front of Jeremy (he ordered it) everybody is putting question marks on their head.
¶ 3/23/2005 09:48:00 pm * * *
The new ferry terminal for the boat to Pulau Ubin looks like something from the Indonesian island of Bali. Okay, not authentically Bali, but a Singapore-styled Bali design.
There's even an elevator and a shop selling beverages - a far cry from the original where it was simply a sheltered T-shape jetty. There wasn't enough space for all the boats to dock, so you had to jump from boat to boat to get to your launch. A bit like the kind of obstacle thing on water, where each step is floating and swaying from side to side and you have to jump to get across the water body with falling in.
The ferry ride is $2, and it will only go when there are twelve passengers, no more no less. It's more worth it to go off with maximum capacity - he doesn't have to waste fuel just sending one person there, unless his passenger is so bloody rich he can provide the boatman a pension. There're very strict about this - so if you don't have twelve people, or let alone a partner, then HK to you.
I fear getting seasick. It's been a long time since I last took a boat. That was during BMT, when we were ferried from the mainland to the island of Tekong by the fast craft (i.e. Penguin ferry). My last sea journey - I can still remember the exact date - was 5 June 2004, the day I passed out, never to return again (okay, perhaps later this year when I go for the evaluation exercise).
Soon Lee asks me, "Does this remind you of Tekong?"
Ironically, yes.
* * *
The boat journey lasts about ten minutes - Ubin is pretty close to the mainland, such that you can even see the chalets from the main town area.
The boatmen are damned skilled. They have no elaborate unloading procedure, as what modern ferries have. In the latter, you'll see a member of the crew standing outside the cabin as the vessel approaches the jetty. If I'm not wrong, as soon as the vessel is alongside the jetty, or close enough, the man will jump with the rope and loop it around the post on the jetty. The vessel will then be moored in.
Not for this. The boatman simply reverses the launch like how one would reverse a car. He will drive the back of the boat against the stair wall of the jetty - the rubber tyres dangling at the side act as a buffer. The boat stays there as the motor pushes it against the wall. The boatman will give the signal to disembark. We scale the stairs quickly. Then he drives off.
The so-called Ubin ferry terminal is a simple affair: a sort of shelter at the end of the jetty, with two steps leading to the water, like those you may find along the Singapore River. The boats act like taxis or shuttle buses - they arrive, drop their passengers and go off, if it is the peak period. There are no high-tech barriers or security posts - you can stay on jetty as long as you like for nobody cares about you. If you want a boat you just have to open your mouth.
Bicycle rental is $3 - for the WHOLE DAY. At East Coast Park one bicycle costs a whooping $4 or $5 for one or two hours.
Of course, the compromise is lousy bicycles - bicycles with broken gears, broken breaks (which is the worst case) and for some, out-of-shape rims.
For those who cannot cycle, they hop onto two-seaters, with those who can ride sitting in front.
The whole company sets off down the road. Very familiar - the very road I took the last time I came with my school on a Heritage Tour trip. We walked all the way to some kampong house where we went in and had a look. Then we went to visit the Headman's house on the way back. We are now taking the same route, except we are going further than the kampong house I visited.
Soon everyone has dispersed. People ride at different speeds. The faster riders have shot off in front.
I try to stay clear of other bikes. Once they go out of control I will feel extremely anxious and lose my nerve and grip.
* * *
Some of the villagers live alone in isolation, far away from others. I forget what that term in Geography is . . .
At the same time, they are pit-stops for the weary traveller around Ubin, offering cold drinks and resting areas.
Some even have animals on display. At one house, located near the beach overlooking Malaysia, the owner rears a peacock, which proudly struts its fan of feathers at us while some of the guys enthusiastically snap up photos of it. After some time it turns to walk away from the cameras, and the guys have to coax it to turn back. Like some diva, it eventually complies.
The owner of the house also rears a wild boar - a rather smallish one, the size of an adult pig. But you know how large boars can really go . . . anyway this one is lying on the ground, sleeping. There is some infection near its stout - it is bloody red. The poor thing. Its pen is not even cleaned - the smell of shit lingers in the air and drives us away rather quickly, and there are pieces of dried-up shit on the floor of the enclosure.
The village headman owns an ostrich. We thought it'd be about the height of a man. No, we are wrong. It is about the height of a single-deck bus. And by golly - it is HUMONGOUS. Its eyes are the size of marbles. A few times it opens its mouth - Weng Fai says he's going to spit and we quickly back off.
* * *
C is damn unhygienic . . . and pretty vain too.
He loses his nose stud while cycling. Feeling his nose itchy, he scratches it. Oops! The stud drops out. He and I backtrack to look for it - we can't find it. He says, "Never mind", and asks me to pull out his ear stud and STICK IN INTO HIS NOSE. Then he takes out some ring from his bag, places it on the floor with a piece of tissue as a protective base - but I can't see how that protects from the germs in the air - as I fill up the hole in his nose. The ring - as you guess it - goes into the ear to fill it up.
I am actually quivering as I slot the stud into the nose hole. I keep asking him, "Will it hurt?" - he retorts, "Just put it in." I slot the metal pin into the hole - it slides in easily like a key into the hole it fits.
Well, not exactly ALL the time.
Yucks. The whole thing is so unhygienic.
* * *
MJ runs into a mishap.
There is this extremely steep hill that we all travel down. The brakes on MJ's bike have all failed, and he sails down the road uncontrollably, goes off it and crashes into the grass patch. Thank God - there is a beehive on the tree directly in front of where he lands; beyond that is a mangrove swamp.
He is badly cut - on the stomach, the thigh, the arms, and an entire side of his body is entirely covered with grease.
I'm one of the last, and when I arrive at the scene I see a few fallen bicycles, more parked ones, and the guys clustering around . . .
It is difficult to place calls, as reception on the island is poor due to the lack of coverage. A van passes us - we want to hail the driver to stop and ferry our injured back to the town. The stupid thing is that we wave to the driver and the passengers to get their attention - in return they think we are saying "hi", wave back and continue to drive along.
SHIT!
So we have to transport him back ourselves. Luckily there is a two-seater bicycle with us - we load MJ onto the back seat and Ronald gets behind the wheel - I mean, steering handle. The rest of us form a convoy, and we ride back to town.
* * *
One should be careful when ordering Hor Fun. Apparently, the "wet" version can mean Hor Fun SOUP. It consists of all the ingredients of Hor Fun, except it is all thrown into clear soup. When it arrives in front of Jeremy (he ordered it) everybody is putting question marks on their head.
