Jun. 18, 2006 - Renditions of Narnia in Kuala Lumpur

Another trip to Sentosa, this time in the form of a company function, the Family Fun Day.  It was a brilliantly sunny day – heat shimmered off the sand too hot to walk on barefoot and perspiration dampened us the moment we left the interior of the taxi.  The function was held on Tampong beach and we entered through a makeshift gate heralded by colourful vertical fluttering tubes that were air-forced into standing like sentries over ten foot high.  The day was planned superbly and we had nothing but admiration for the event organisers as it was a huge job catering to over a thousand people.  They had little stalls of activities for young and old, candyfloss and hotdog huts, sandcastle competitions and several hired entertainers who did their acts on a stage under an enormous white marquee.  One of the most memorable observations I had was that nowhere did I spy the Company name or logo, never was it mentioned and there were security guards posted every few meters along the perimeter of the area we were in.  The reality of working for a global oil company meant that we were potentially a target to the public and that thought did take a little getting used to.  The turnout was massive, although very light on the ex-pat side and we generally kept to ourselves and pottered around, mostly sitting under the shade of the marquee as the heat was so intense.  They did provide complimentary sunblock for us (130spf) and free water bottles which we were able to fill from the chilled water points dotted around the edge of the marquee. 

When the event had officially closed mid-afternoon, we joined the throngs and caught an island tram which trundled us off to a bus stop.  From there we squeezed ourselves onto a bus (picture Richard Scarry’s story of the train commuters piling in and out) which took us to the cable car station.  The cable car ride back over the harbour to Singapore was my personal highlight and I could not stop the grin on my face as we jerked along high above the water.  It was a most memorable day.

A week or so after that was our trip to Kuala Lumpur with about a hundred fellow church members.  An early start saw us out of the apartment at 6.30am, miraculous really as we are completely out of practice with going anywhere in a hurry. We joined the group outside the church and shortly after that boarded the coach that was to take us to Malaysia.  Sadly, it was not the luxury coach we were told we would be travelling on, but rather was a budget model and boasted no toilet, second level or personal tv screens.  This was a challenge with the ten or so children we had on board, but remarkably they managed fairly well for the eight hour trip.  We had two toilet breaks along the way which were unlike any restroom experience I have ever had.  The first was at a truckstop/bustop with rows of buses lined up and crowds of transit passengers milling about a huge square building, minus air conditioning and ridiculously filthy to the point that we could not bring ourselves to buy food there and as our fellow travellers dispersed into the crowd to tuck into big bowls of rice or noodles, we perched on the edge of greasy plastic benches and delicately licked our imported icecreams out of sealed packaging, feeling very out of place.  When it came time to take ourselves and offspring to the toilet we were about half way through our allotted time at the bus stop.  The remainder of the time was squandered with me pleading with Maddy to try to use the squatting bowl in the restrooms.  The poor girl had completely lost all urge to go, not that I blamed her.  The stench was literally so acidic it burned your eyes, liquid waste puddled the floors and the lack of a proper toilet was grievously missed.  I literally cried with desperation as I knew Maddy could not possibly last another four hours without a toilet stop, and I knew there were no other restrooms available until we reached the city.  I tried every means of bribery and just about promised her the moon if she would only try, but eventually realised how futile the fight was and surrendered.  On our sad way out of the rest rooms I caught sight of a shimmering vision through my tears.  One real, uppy-standing toilet among the dozen squatting bowls.  It may as well have been made of ivory the way I approached it, with a disbelievingly thankful heart.  I caught sight of a very distraught husband at the door with the other child, waving frantically that we were about to miss our bus, but I truly did not care at that stage.  Everyone was able to go, despite the lack of hygiene, loo paper or soap, I was filled with triumph.  Until we reached the bus.  And I slunk down the aisle to my seat having kept everyone waiting.  Squelching as I walked along the metal bus floor from wet stained sandals and damp jean hems up to my calves from the filth that coated the bathroom floor.  I slid mortified into my seat and pressed my forehead against the glass as tears crept down my cheeks.  I felt traumatised and despised myself for being so reliant on such a common luxury.  I felt slightly dirty the entire weekend and double washed our clothes when we returned in the hope that they had no trace of that horrific half hour. 

When we finally all tumbled off the bus at the hotel, cramped and tired and grumpy, it was to find we had minimal time to unpack and find Greg’s work attire, iron his business shirt and send him off to a meeting in the company's KL office.  The girls and I wandered around the hotel after he had gone and tagged along with a church couple who invited us to join them to take the kids to an indoor theme park.  This was impressive and completely foreign to us and was such an experience for the children.  Even an adult sized, stomach-hurling monster of a roller coaster was suspended indoors and occasionally roared overhead, accompanied by high shrieking and much waving of arms from the seats inside it.  While the girls were in the theme park with the children and childminder of our friends, I walked around the mall with the parents.  The shops were amazing but dizzying and soon I felt completely mentally overloaded and just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.  Greg caught up with us just before we left and joined us for the half hour wait on the baking tarmac for our complimentary shuttle bus back to the hotel, really a rattling little white minivan with no air-conditioning and a door that wouldn’t open from the inside.   Once back in our room we had to change the children for bed and get ourselves ready in double quick time to attend the first evening meeting of the church camp. 

The following day was spent in the meeting room with the speakers who spoke a sincere, simple but rich message that we found life impacting.  We were also split into teams and had to perform a drama or song involving every member of the team no matter how young or old, based on the Chronicles of Narnia.  This was a challenge without props or half the team understanding the story line, but we gritted our teeth and played our part in a mangled rendition of the search for Aslan, me dressed as a Geisha in the hotel robe and Greg as a rebellious youth.  Don’t ask how those fit into the storyline, I’m not quite sure I understand it yet myself.  There were some hysterically funny moments to be had; our Mr Tumnus was a sidesplitting rendition of the original and our Mr and Mrs Beaver caused paralytic laughter, enhanced by the fact that they had no idea what beavers were.  Our mascot, Aslan, completely stole the show wearing an elaborate headdress fashioned from crepe paper, feathers and fronds from a local broom.  I have no stomach for acting and no talent whatsoever in that area, but I did enjoy watching Greg’s antics as his acting talent came to the fore and he pranced around with the Snow Queen getting riotous applause from the crowd. 

It was quite an experience and to top it off, we went off alone on our last free morning to the massive aquarium by the famous Petronas Towers.  Greg took the girls to see the fish and I walked around a glitzy mall, gazing at glossy Prada and Dior window displays and the shopping habits of Muslim women.  At lunch time we boarded our bus homeward bound and actually walked into our apartment about 9 hours later, extremely travel crumpled and relieved to have been posted to Singapore and not Malaysia.