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Workers of a different kind |
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Sunday, Jun 13 2004 There’s some sort of discrimination here for various sorts of foreigners. It appears that “foreign workers” receive ‘work permits’, while those classed as “ex-patriates” have ‘employment passes’. What the difference is, or how they decide who’s who or which is which, I don’t know. There was an item in the paper about it this weekend, which assumed the reader knew all about the distinction. Very frustrating. So I checked DB’s passport, and yes, he has a Pass (Employment). I think they are proposing all sorts of tougher restrictions on people with a work permit, but thankfully, it seems that won’t apply to us. It seems (but I could be wrong), from reading between the lines, that “foreign workers” provide blue-collar labour (e.g., plantation workers, housemaids etc), while ex-pats are business or professional people. However, I would have thought we were all “foreign workers” (or dependents, like me). Just a little bit of class distinction at work. *** Reading the Sydney Morning Herald today: The Labor Party's president, Carmen Lawrence, suspects US President George W. Bush's administration is working for the re-election of the Prime Minister, John Howard. Well, d'uh?! Whatever makes her think that? *** Today we are keeping an eye on the scoring of a State Championship Rally – they are trying to do what they can on site, at Bega, on the far south coast of NSW, but they keep referring problems to DB. It would have been better if we did the whole thing from here, as we did for the first round, which went pretty smoothly. However, it is good to see them trying to get new scorers blooded (oops, I mean trained). Monday, June 14 Brooke Webster arrived back from her week-long visit to the north-eastern islands yesterday. From her tales of adventure, I think it’s just as well most back-packers are young like her – they have the stamina and endurance to put up with the rigours of budget travelling. Against that, one of her travelling companions was a 60 year old Kiwi woman, so maybe there’s hope for us oldies yet. I’m not sure if it’s the pleasure of our company Brooke seeks when she comes to visit, or the dip in the pool followed by a hot shower. The hot shower is a luxury for backpackers, but that’s not such a problem in a warm to hot climate like Malaysia’s. Today, she is taking a one-day bus trip down to the historic town of Malacca – I turned down the opportunity to go, since I’ve been there twice already, and had just invited Chris Georgio to dinner tonight). We owe Chris a couple of dinners for the many bottles of wine he regularly brings us from Australia + he's delightful company Tuesday, June 15 What a coward I am. Brooke just rang to suggest we eat tonight at Jalan Alor, billed as the street with “the best hawker food in KL”. Nah. I’ve walked down Jalan Alor as the hawkers were preparing for the evening’s onslaught, and thought “Well, the food must be OK, otherwise half of KL would come down with food poisoning”, but I’m not convinced. My problem is that the food storage arrangements don’t appear to include such essentials as refrigeration; just piles of food, chicken and the like, sitting there in the heat, waiting to be whacked on to a hotplate. Maybe the theory is that the searing heat of the hotplate kills any bacteria. Wednesday, June 16 Today, my legs are going to walk no further than is absolutely necessary. An excursion yesterday to the Islamic Arts Museum with Denise Bruce started out well enough – although it is a fair distance, I thought: OK, I’ll walk there and get a taxi home. Not a problem. Except when the time came for the taxi home, none were in sight. Every taxi that passed me was already taken; understandably, since it was by then 5.30pm, peak hour in KL. So, it was a return trip of pounding my feet along KL’s rough, slippery, uneven footpaths (you get the point? They have crummy footpaths here ) all the way back to the hotel. The museum was a different story – quite beautiful in its architecture, calm and peaceful, light radiating through the glass walls, with the invasion of the potentially burning sun controlled by very efficient air conditioning. Where there were no glass walls there were soothing white ones instead, leaving the art and artefacts to be the focus of attention.
During the afternoon, I mentioned to Denise our plan for some time away this coming weekend, hiring a rental car and driving up Malaysia’s east coast, maybe as far as the Thai border, before turning west to rejoin the North-South national highway. The idea must have appealed to her, because she rang late last night, having just talked to husband Rob, suggesting that they join us on the trip. Not a bad idea – they have a car (they are here on a longer-term basis than we are), so we’ll pay the petrol bills, and Rob and Dave can share the driving. Besides, Rob’s a bit of a petrol head too, and like a glass or three of red. Does that remind me of anyone? Denise’s call came as we were walking back from dinner, from yet another new (to us) restaurant, this one a Chinese establishment, the Bamboo Bar. They had too few customers and too many staff with not enough to do – at one stage, we had four waiters hovering around the four of us, rearranging our cutlery, refilling our water glasses, and generally fiddling around. Besides, it was bit over-priced, so I doubt if we’ll be going back there. (Later) Brooke visited today, to have a last swim, hot shower and a meal before leaving for Thailand. Her budget doesn’t stretch to air fares, so she’s on her way on the over-night train from KL to Hat Yai, a transport hub in southern Thailand. This was a bargain – only RM47, about $A20, and that includes a sleeping berth. Southern Thailand is not a very safe place at the moment, with Muslim insurgents there conducting a low-grade guerrilla war against the Thai government, but she should be OK on the train. She’ll be at the Hat Yai station for a only couple of hours, until her connection to Bangkok departs, and then she’ll be off again. I think a train trip from KL to Bangkok would be a great adventure, a terrific way to see the countryside, even though the trip will take the best part of two days. *** So Queensland has levelled the State of Origin series. I can’t get really partisan about that these days; I have a foot in both camps, so whichever way the result goes, I win.
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(right): The elegant cafe in the Museum of Islamic Art, where we
took a breather from culture. It was the only place they would let
me take a
photograph