Friday 29 June 2007

A Promise Fulfilled









Dear Friends, as promised, above is an image of the Malaysia-China Friendship Park, situated at Jalan Song, Kuching. This shows the gateway on the right, with the Pavilion on the left. I usually pass between these two edifices on my morning walk!







Here are some of the Tai Chi Crowd I told you about in my last post!





And finally, here's the Admiral himself! Give him a wave!!
These images are provided courtesy of www.catcity.com.my






Walking with the Admiral, Part Two

Now where was I? Ah yes. The Taman Sahabat (Friendship Garden) is very surreal and spooky at 6 in the morning. Normally, after seeing the wife and kids off to work (my wife's a teacher and they start at 7 in Malaysia!!), I will waddle down the road, weather permitting, to claim a place in the daily procession of early morning walkers.

They say the early bird catches the worm, and it's very true if you want to go jogging or walking in the tropics. You simply MUST go early in the morning, preferably before the sun comes up, because after about 7 or 7. 30 it starts to heat up big time. Then it gets worse.

This time of year is the dry season, which means the temperatures during the day average around 36 degrees. But, if you go out for a waddle at 6 in the morning, the temperature might be a cool and comfortable 27!!

So, every time I reach the park, usually around 5.50, there are plenty of ghostly souls power walking or jogging in the dark along the path round the lake. Those of you reading this in countries like the UK or the US, where a walk in the park before dawn could be your last, might be wondering how on earth I manage to survive this dangerous activity. Don't I get mugged? Don't I carry a gun or something?

Well, so far, all I see is fellow joggers, walking or running along, chatting away mostly in Chinese, too busy with their own thoughts to bother about me. There are security men who look after the park at night (in between sleeping anyway), and there are security cameras looking down from above (that is, if they really work which I doubt!).

So far, I have never felt the need to be careful, though I remember I used to carry a stout stick with me when I first started walking! To me, the Taman Sahabat, rather than being a place to be feared, is a place of health and positive energy. Everyone I meet in the park are there for the same reason as me - a good bit of exercise.

As well as being a safe place, the park seems to attract people of different ages. Most of my fellow travellers round the park are quite old. This is a great thing about Asian culture, especially Chinese culture - you will see people in their sixties and seventies and beyond actively seeking exercise and seeming not to suffer because of it.

Every Tuesday morning is a case in point. When I pass by the Chinese Pavilion on my first lap, there are a few middle-aged Chinese men and women milling about, stretching their arms and legs and obviously limbering up for something. Most are wearing a white jumpsuit with the name of a club embroidered on it - judging by what usually happens next I assume it's the Taman Sahabat Tai Chi Club.

When I reach the Pavilion on my next lap, there they are - about fifty people, standing in neat ranks, practicing the sublime art of Tai Chi, moving in unison like stalks of grass waving in the wind. There is always eerily beautiful Chinese flute music playing on a ghetto blaster at the front, and a couple of masters in red shirts leading the dance.

This is a common sight at the Pavilion, which plays host to several large public exercise sessions throughout the week - including a mass aerobics class that I often see in the evenings when I drive past on the way home.

And when I see all of this activity and health, it gives me great satisfaction because I realise that if I can only persist with my little panting walks around this garden, inspired by the great Admiral Cheng Ho, then all will be alright with the world and I will be healed.

By the way, the pictures will be on their way soon. Technical difficultiezzzzzzzzz

Wednesday 27 June 2007

Walking with the Admiral, Part One

Every morning, before dawn, I like to walk around the statue of an old Chinese Admiral.

What's he on about, you might be mumbling to yourselves. First he goes on about bananas and Robin Hoods, haircuts and idiotic driving, now it's Chinese Admirals! Throw him a few coins and he might shut up!

But no. Let me explain, and please, no more coins!

I am referring to my morning exercise, something which has become increasingly necessary as my stomach has steadily expanded over the years, and my once athletic frame has started to turn to jelly.

Swimming is no good (I'll tell you about that in a later post), and I don't find exercise bikes particularly thrilling. So, I drag myself out of bed every morning before six, pull on my walking shoes and go for a walk in the Park in the Dark (after getting dressed obviously!)

My chosen place of exercise is the Taman Sahabat (Friendship Park) recently built close to my place with financial assistance from the People's Republic of China government. And because it's half paid for by the Chinese, it really does look like it's been transported directly from the Middle Kingdom.

What was once a drab, rather basic family park has been turned into a place of oriental wonder. When you enter the park from the direction of my house, you pass under a magnificent Chinese Imperial gateway complete with dragons and intricate decorations in red, gold and many other colours. I promise to put some photos on my next post, as soon as I learn how to do it, OK?

In the middle of the park is a lake full to the banks with goldfish and carp, which the Chinese favour because they are associated with wealth and prosperity. During the daytime, dozens of kids crowd round the edges of the lake feeding bits of bread to the fish, which are so numerous the water seems to boil with them!

On one end of the lake, behind the heavenly gate, is a gorgeous pavilion which doubles during the day as a restaurant and mini-museum and sells Chinese tea and various tea-making accessories.

At the other end of the lake stands the Chinese Admiral I talked about earlier. The huge statue represents Admiral Cheng Ho (or Zheng He), who in the 1400s was NEARLY responsible for China conquering the world. Cheng Ho's fleet of immense treasure ships roamed the world's oceans, trading with everyone they came across and, some say, even discovering America and Australia long before the Europeans did.

However, the plug was pulled on the whole operation when the emperor, under the influence of his mandarins, decided to recall the treasure fleets and set fire to them along with most of the records of their journeys. After that, China entered its own dark ages....

But luckily, the great Admiral still stands proud, in the Friendship Park near my house. His statue is truly heroic - Cheng Ho was reputed to be about seven feet tall and his statue reflects that with a height of more than twenty feet. His statue looks out toward the planes approaching Kuching Airport, sword at his side, his arm pointed ever forwards.

The statue is set onto a base shaped just like an ancient galleon on the lake, beyond which are several small gazebos and display plaques showing historical data about Malaysia's different states, and the history of the Chinese diaspora to Malaysia. The walking path runs right around the lake, the statue and back again to the pavilion.

It really is a peaceful place to visit, situated somewhat incongruously right in the middle of a residential area. For me, it's a place of quiet and healthiness, where I can struggle and puff and waddle along, trying to burn off some of my considerable fat! There's no James Bonding, no Banana Man, and it doesn't matter if I've had my hair cut or not!!

Tell you more in my next post!

Tuesday 26 June 2007

Life as a James Bond Movie

Hey guess what? I’ve just invented a new verb: ‘To James Bond’. It’s not in the Oxford Dictionary yet, but it might be defined as: ‘to drive recklessly like a raving bloody lunatic’.

An example in context might be: ‘the BMW was James Bonding it along the highway..” or “I James Bonded through town on the way to work”. Let me explain further…

Before I came to live in Kuching, I never imagined I would be taking my life in my own hands, every single day. I always believed that if you want to risk your life on a daily basis, join the army, go to Iraq, don't go and live in a lovely peaceful tropical country like Malaysia.

But how wrong I was! I think I have come close to death more times since I came to live in Kuching (seven years ago) than I have in my entire life. As a famous British comedian once said: I've never had an accident, but I've seen thousands!

The problem in Kuching, and, maybe, much of Malaysia, is that firstly many roads are in a poor state and secondly the attitude of some drivers stinks like a sewer on a hot Friday afternoon in the dry season. Let me elaborate...

In Kuching, for example, some roads are badly built and poorly designed. Two lanes suddenly merge into one lane, or sometimes become three lanes, causing many bumper-to-bumper contact situations and loud honkings. Also, the signposts are sometimes missing or confusing, adding even more to the fun of discovery. And of course there is the road surface itself.

The road I travel to work on every morning is a classic example - I have got used to it by now but every mile I travel is a boneshaking bumpfest because of the potholes and uneven road surface which often makes my daily drive resemble a flight in a light aircraft in a thunderstorm.

Of course, I must add that not all roads in Kuching are like this - in fact many have been marvellously improved and straightened out in the last couple of years. But, the road I travel on to work every day is still a legendary challenge worth writing about.

In fact, I would argue that the state of some roads is not actually the real problem. The real problem is the state of the drivers themselves.

The Malaysian government has made a lot of commendable effort recently to change people's attitudes - introducing tougher penalties, warning people to drive slower, exhorting people to think of their families waiting at home, and showing grisly TV adverts in which whole families get mangled because of one reckless driver. And yet despite all this creditable moral pressure, some people still drive like they are in a perpetual James Bond movie.

Simply put, people drive too fast. Full stop. When they get behind the wheel of a car, many drivers undergo an instant personality change. I think it might be caused by the fact that a car’s interior in the tropics is a cool bubble of comfort which seals you off from the stifling heat outside. Your brain goes cold, and so does your blood.

Let me give you an idea by listing the 15 most common driving phenomena and behaviours I have observed in Kuching.

1. Driving too fast (James Bonding it). Any time, any place, anywhere. Night or day. Men, women, young, old. Nobody ever seems to get caught by the police. I see the results every day in the form of broken glass near junctions, bits of motorbike strewn on the roadside and, quite frequently, smashed cars lying on their sides in fantastically unlikely positions surrounded by onlookers taking note of the registration number.

2. Not using indicators - I have lost count of the number of times that I have had to screech to a halt to avoid hitting a car in front of me because it did not use its indicator. In fact, I have gradually developed "Malaysian Telepathy" (MT) - a Jedi-like power which enables you to predict another driver's intentions - especially useful when the car in front of you is about to turn left or right at a junction.

3. Hogging the right-hand overtake lane - especially trucks and often quite powerful cars - they deliberately drive slowly and stay in the overtake lane, forcing drivers to (illegally) overtake on the left.

4. Overtaking you at high speed - not really such a bad driving practice unless it is carried out by overloaded trucks or buses, vans full of school children, or little 1.0 litre cars packed to the windows with young students.

5. Ignoring lane markings - Very common practice. People don't indicate before changing lanes or they drive straddling two lane markers. I have frequently seen cars moving from right to left across three lanes to get to the lane on the left, without indicating or slowing down for other drivers.

6. Tailgating - driving right up behind you - especially taxis, big trucks and four-wheel drive jeeps. Almost tempts me to hit my brake suddenly, just to scare them.

7. Driving with arm and or feet dangling out of the window. Not really unsafe, but very irritating and rude, in my opinion. Reminds me of orang-utans, but less cute!

8. Driving while using a mobile phone. What else can I say?

9. Driving with your little boy or girl sitting on your lap holding the steering wheel. This happens. Honest!

10. Weaving in and out of traffic - especially motorbikes who presumably have the upper hand in traffic jams.

11. Riding a motorbike with mum, dad and three kids all holding on for dear life - a forgivable sin in some ways as many people don't have a choice.

12. Overtaking ten cars in the face of oncoming traffic - I saw this once when the traffic on the way to work stopped for a few minutes because of road works.

13. Not stopping to give way at roundabouts - roundabouts don't really work here in Kuching because people never ever stop to let you out of a junction - instead you are forced to risk your life by pushing into the first gap that you see.

14. Coming straight out of a junction without looking - this has nearly killed me and my family several times.

15. Driving too slowly. Believe it or not, this sometimes happens too!!

And I could go on and on and on. All we need is helicopters chasing you with machine guns and motorbikes with rocket launchers to make driving in Kuching the complete James Bond 007 experience.

But please don't be put off from coming to Kuching - it really is a great place and it’s not quite as bad as all that. After all, I’ve survived seven years and my no-claims bonus is still intact, as is my skull...

Monday 25 June 2007

Getting a Haircut in Kuching

Ever since I came to live in Malaysia, my hair has started to grow faster.

I don't understand why - maybe it's the clean air, the bright sun and plenty of rain that always falls in tropical places like this. I don't know.

But I remember that when I was back in the UK, I could often go for a couple of months or more between trips to the barbers. Now, here in the tropical paradise of Borneo, I need to have my salt and pepper locks trimmed once a month.

Not that that's a problem. One thing you notice about Malaysia is that there is no shortage of places to go and have your hair cut. Hairdressers (you will rarely see this word used in Malaysia by the way) come literally in all shapes, sizes, colours and socio-economic profiles.

For instance, there are glitzy, modern mirror-palaces staffed by slim, cool youngsters with hairstyles that look like the aftermath of a car bomb. Places like this have trendy names like Fantastic Sams, Alan Ting Hair Design or Alan Salon. They are often laced with potted plastic plants or decorated in lurid plastic.

Mirrors are everywhere.

There is often lots of chrome, shiny porcelain and of course the ever-present hydraulic multi-adjustable chairs which are surrounded by a spare carpet of black or brown hair clippings.

The ambiance is rushed and youthful in salons like this, rap music booming out of a sound system that looks like the flight deck of a 747. If you are lucky, you will be treated to the local radio station, or even sweet silence. But not often.

Most of the time, I have my hair done at a place like this. It is situated in a large shopping mall in the centre of Kuching (the one with the Space Warp!), and has the added bonus of being a short walk from one of the best bookshops in town.

Some time ago, then, I noticed that my hair was starting to grow back into the 1970s, or, as an old friend once put it, was looking decidedly professorial (meaning messy). So I drove over to the Parkson Shopping centre and, after finding a lucky parking slot down in the depths of the place, I made my way to my favourite hair emporium, Fantastic Sams.

Instead of the usual booming music, fast, youthful pace and mirrored activity of the place, I was greeted with staff members dismantling the fixtures and seemingly putting everything into boxes! I was told that the place was undergoing renovations and I would have to come back in a couple of weeks.

Well, I wasn't having that, and neither was my hair. So I activated my back-up plan, which involved a visit to one of the other kind of hair-dressers that you still find in Malaysia: the old-fashioned, no-nonsense street barbershop.

Although I relish the modernity of the Fantastic Sams type of hair salon, conferring on an old man like me some measure of dying youth, I am still deeply impressed and satisfied by a rare trip to the barbers.

I remember the best haircut I ever had was in the basement of Paddington Station in London, many years ago with my mother. It was a tiny establishment run by an old Jewish gentleman who had two chairs, one long mirror and a proud array of photos of celebrities who had visited his little shop.

That man gave me, for just five pounds sterling, the best Tom Cruise short back and sides I had ever had. I felt a million dollars and looked a million dollars. I still have the picture. Yessss!

Now, as an overweight academic with overweight hair, I took myself to the nearest equivalent of that old London barber I could find in Kuching - a small Chinese barber shop situated in the middle of the Tabuan Jaya shopping area, not far from my place.

Normally, this hair emporium is extremely busy, with four or five potential customers waiting outside on little wooden chairs in the heat. But luckily, I was able to go straight into the airconditioned shop and, after a short wait reading a 1997 copy of the Malaysian Airlines in-flight magazine, I was ushered to my seat by a middle-aged Chinese man who didn't speak much English and looked like he didn't care.

"Shot?" He asked me, meaning 'short', after draping a spotless white cloth over my ample frame. I replied by giving him those international generalised hand gestures used by all barber shop customers in situations like this, to let him know how I wanted my hair to be chopped.

And, for the next 20 minutes or so, I was treated to an experience that is sadly going out of date these days. A small room, three chairs, two middle-aged hair-cutters chatting away to each other in loud, raucous Hokkien with an old man chipping in his two pennies' worth in the background, and the radio playing nice tunes, not too loud, no rap, no eminem.

My haircutter used his clippers, scissors and cut-throat razor with such calm, casual expertise to turn my bush into a neat, short-back and sides with some semblance of order on top.

After shaving my neck with slow, surgical, almost loving strokes of his cutthroat, and brushing all the bits of loose hair out using a comb laced with cotton lint, he wiped my neck and face with a hot towel, removed my cloth and was finished.

I looked neat, tidy and younger. When I asked him how much, he simply said '8 ringgit'. The old man in the background called out 'eight dollar' as if to reinforce the message, which was: you can still get good service for a cheap price.

I walked out of the barbers having spent only eight dollars, but feeling a million dollars again, just like I had all those years ago in Paddington Station. Who needs to spend 30 ringgit to have your hair pampered in the latest fashionable salon by trendy young things using space-age haircare products when you can go back in time, to when hair cutting was a simple art performed by ordinary men in white shirts with no pretensions, only skill, experience and brylcreem?

I think I'll be seeing the old Chinese man again, next month.

Sunday 24 June 2007

Politics and the English Language

So you want me to be political?

OK - I'll be political:



TONY BLAIR!!

There. What? Not political enough for you?

Alright then, you asked for it:



GEORGE BUSH!!

How's that? Better? Still not political enough? Fine, I did warn you…



TONY BLAIR AND GEORGE BUSH!!

What? You think I'm not being political enough for your tastes? Right. That's it - no more Mr. Nice Guy. This is it - I'm going to be REALLY political now……



TONY BLAIR AND GEORGE BUSH SUCK!!!

And that's as much politics as you'll get from me on this blog!! Good night.

Space Warp Found in Kuching, Sarawak

Guess what? There are two places in Kuching where there is a gateway between different universes! I'm not kidding!!

In these places, it is possible to travel from one reality straight into another one without any need for sophisticated futuristic technology. All you need is a car, a pair of feet and bucketloads of patience. I am, of course, referring to the Wisma Saberkas shopping centre, and the Crowne Plaza Riverside (Parkson) complex.

Places like this are found everywhere in many Malaysian cities, especially Kuching. They usually have level upon level of shops (mostly selling mobile phones and electronic toys), and always have a big, multi-storey car park tacked onto the side somewhere.

Which causes a serious problem for the urban space traveller, intent on a hassle free afternoon enjoying the Malaysian Shopping Experience.

I can't understand: why is it that whenever I go to do my shopping or to have my hair cut in the Parkson complex, I can never find my car when I come out? Why do I always forget which level my car is on when I come out of the Saberkas building?

The reason is that there is a strange time/space warp situated in both buildings, just at the point where the car parks and the main shopping centres meet. How do I know this? BECAUSE THE FLOOR NUMBERS IN THE CAR PARK AND THE SHOPPING CENTRE DO NOT MATCH EACH OTHER, THAT'S WHY!!!!!

If you park your car on level 4, for instance, you have to enter the shopping centre on level 8, not level 4, which you would expect logically. If you come out of the shopping centre at level 6, does that mean you will find your car on level 6? NOOOOOO! Because it's been mysteriously altered by the space warp machine installed near the entrance!! You'll find your car on level 4! Or level 9!!

This is so much like a science fiction novel by Dan Simmons, called "Hyperion". In the story, human beings, with generous help from artificial intelligences, have devised a series of space gateways which enable one to literally walk from one planet to another through wormholes in space. So, one of the features of the book is a thoroughfare constructed from segments of streets on different planets linked together by wormhole. A great idea for a high-speed link, and you don't even need Broadband. Instant interstellar travel without the jetlag or the airline junkfood!

But, when this technology is applied to the planet Earth, in Kuching in 2007, it just causes chaos! I just can't understand it, why can't the people who designed the car parks in Kuching just leave them alone, without having to resort to futuristic technologies which must be costing the Malaysian tax-payer billions of Ringgit, not to mention the astronomical electricity bills…

Or maybe I should not scoff at this excellent example of locally-grown technology, and instead I should celebrate this marvellous piece of Malaysian future-tech that reminds us that "Malaysia Boleh!" ("Malaysia Can!"). Maybe, maybe not…

But seriously, folks, let's face it, it is rather confusing using the car parks in Saberkas and Parkson. You would expect, wouldn't you, in a perfect world, to find that the floor numbers in the car park would at least nod in the direction of some sort of parsimony with the floor numbers in the shopping centre itself.

Or if they didn't, you would have thought that the Management would provide a handy map for us IDIOTS who hold PhDs in linguistics and who have walked the convoluted streets of New York and London and San Francisco without getting lost.

Fu-Yoh, as they say in Kuching!

Saturday 23 June 2007

Banana Man Versus Robin Hood

The epic battle between Banana Man and Robin Hood is finally over, and it seems that Robin Hood has won. The tautly stretched bow and notched arrow of Robin Hood have prevailed from their commanding heights, while the lowly bananas are sadly no more.

You may be thinking that Prof Madder is really living up to his name today, gentle readers, but don't worry - I will happily explain all this stuff before you call for the men in white coats to come running for me across the fields.

Banana Man and Robin Hood refer, of course, to a pair of little known features of the Kuching urban landscape that my wife and I first encountered some years ago. I am talking about a small road junction along the Foochow Road where on one side there is a sign-making firm and on the other, until recently, was a small dilapidated shop selling bananas.

The banana shop was not particularly notable except for two things. Firstly, every time our car topped the rise to pull up at the traffic lights directly opposite the shop, my wife and I always noticed the shining bare belly of the shop's owner, shining almost as brightly as the rows of bendy fruit that were always without fail out on display like yellow fish.

The second thing that was notable about the bare-bellied banana vendor's place was that it was hard to imagine how anybody could actually get into the shop to buy any bananas. It was situated smack bang in front of the traffic lights on the brow of a hill with virtually no space for any car to stop. And it was quite a walk from the nearest houses. Well, that's Kuching for you…

Yet every time we drove through that junction, there it was, the old man with his bare belly sitting next to his proud rows of yellow fruit, many of them turning black, but somehow always looking nice and yellow. And of course, whenever we passed the banana shop, the little children in all of us forced their way to the front of the queue. And we would start yelling "Banana Man!!" in salute to the man, his belly and his bananas.

This automatic tradition continued for a few years, but took on a new turn when my mother and father came to visit us in 2003. One evening, on our way back from a night on the town, we passed by the Banana Man's place as usual, shouting "Banana Man!!" at the tops of our voices (having already trained my mum and dad in just the right tone of voice and loudness of course!).

But my dad, always observant, was the first to spot the fateful being which would prove the final nemesis of Banana Man. And this is where Robin Hood comes in, because almost directly opposite the banana shop there is a large sign-making business. And its advertising logo, big and bright and brilliant, is none other than Robin Hood himself, or at least someone that looks like him, holding an immense pencil in such a way as to make us imagine it is a longbow full of pencils instead of arrows.

And you know what my dear dad did as soon as he saw that sign board? Of course! He started to sing "Robin Hood, Robin Hood, Riding through the Glen, Robin Hood, Robin Hood, with his merry men…." (from the 1950s TV version starring Richard Greene, for those of you who may remember).

And my wife and I would shout out "Banana Man! Banana Man!!" like opposing cheerleaders, to ward off the arrows of Robin Hood and, presumably, to help them to bounce off the bare belly of the banana seller……

So this pantomime continued long after mum and dad went back to England. Annie and I would drive up to the junction, she would call out "Banana Man!!" and I would intone "Robin Hood, Robin Hood……", as you do when you miss your parents…

However, we have recently discovered, to our profound sadness, that the banana seller is no more. The shop has closed down, and is now just a wall of blank, dark metal shutters. No more bananas, no more shining belly, no more Banana Man. But Robin Hood, straight as an arrow where the bananas were bent, still stands in his sign board on high, stretching his bow to take aim, perhaps at another innocent victim…….

Small things please small minds, you might be thinking.

Well, you might say that, but it shows us how our human brains like to try and make sense of the ordinary, mundane things they encounter every day. A relatively uninteresting little corner of Kuching took on a profound meaning for two passers-by, and that is what human experience and creativity are all about.

It's things like this that separate humans from animals. Or humans from bananas, anyway.

And that's the story I'm sticking to, when they come to take me away….

Friday 22 June 2007

Long Sort of Introduction...

Funny word, blog, isn't it?

Sounds like a sort of name you might give to a small dark slimy creature you find in a drain. Or something a plumber with a bad cold might say when arriving on your doorstep: "I've come about your blog".

Anyway, I think it has too many negative connotations, the word 'blog'. So I'm here to try to give it a bit of 'gentrification' as they used to say in linguistics. I'm going to raise the status of the word blog from the linguistic drains to the dizzy heights of lexicographic superstardom.

I'm going to make the word 'BLOG' a household name, a name worth shouting out to the world without fear of embarrassment or social stigma, I'm...Oh dear! My son has just told me that the word 'blog' actually has nothing to do with drains and is in fact a blend of the words 'web' and 'log'.

How rather clever!

So in fact I'm writing a web log. Like a Captain's Log only on the web and without the need to ride around in a space ship saving the universe. So I'm actually doing something which is established and has a lot of 'street cred' already.

Jolly good!

Ok then. I remember the last time I did something like this, writing a log, it was a diary kept on bits of paper, hastily scribbled on in the last hours of the day, full of mental garbage, fears, hopes, blah blah blah. I was in my early thirties then.

But thanks to technology, things are going to change now I'm in my forties. Oh yes. This time, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, the mental garbage and hopes and fears etc will still be there, but they will have more POLISH.

I will be able to edit out all the swear words, sexual innuendos, references to friends and enemies and bad stuff that might get me into trouble with the Big Boys. Pity really....

My new Blog will be kinder, gentler and altogether nicer to know. So I hope you will enjoy these bits of stuff from my head, which will appear in this space from time to time. Please feel free to do a Simon Cowell and say it's rubbish. I don't mind. Honest. "Poisons poured into the oceans cannot be drained out again".

Let me tell you a bit more about myself, apart from the blatant lies I wrote in my profile to confuse the Secret Police.....

I work in a large university in Malaysia. Specifically, I work and live in the lovely city of Kuching which is in the state of Sarawak in Malaysian Borneo. More on that later. I teach English, so hopefully there will be no spelling mistakes. Perhaps later on as I settle into the blogging genre more I might throw in a few typos to show I belong! (sorry - English teacher humour!!).

You are probably wondering how a university English professor in Malaysia has such good English. Well, that's because I AM English. I was born in that lovely rainy island without a roof known as Great Britain and because I married a Malaysian lady, I decided to lay my hat down here in Malaysia.

So you see, I am in a fantastically good position to 'blog' you about what is going on in this part of the world, this wonderful wild Borneo island where I live. Please log onto my blog if you want to know more about this place. I'm not being paid by the Sarawak Tourist Board (though that's a thought...).

Well, my little fingers are getting a bit stiff and painful now, and my wife just called to check up on me (the Secret Police!!). I look forward to telling you more adventures of a lost professor on the magical island that is Borneo.

Toodle-pip!!

By the way, I'm not mad really!!??!!

The First Post (Again!)

Well, so here we are again, folks!

This is the second time I've done this, and I'm feeling a bit deja vu because I'm doing exactly the same thing I did almost two years ago when I started this same blog the first time.

Why the first time, I hear you all scream?

Well, I'm embarrassed to say that I forgot my password the first time I set up my blog, and well, life just moved on... There's only so much you can do in a day and, well, that doesn't include trying to fish through drawers and drawers and drawers stuffed full of bits of paper and old ATM receipts and dog-eared business cards just to find that ONE magic little torn piece of paper which has your password written on it.

A sentence with the words needle and haystack comes to mind here.

So just this morning, one of my colleagues at work who blogs for fun (isn't it just wonderful how we can turn nouns into verbs!) told me about her own blog (it's a noun again now!) and when I logged on to read it my mind was well and truly blown over like a leaf in a leaf-blowing machine.

To be honest, her blog was so good, I was embarrassed! Imagine me, an expatriate university professor living in a foreign country for so many years, with so many stories to tell and I didn't even have a blog! Shame on me!

An Englishman abroad without a blog is like Darth Vader without his light sabre. Or KFC without chicken. Or some other thing that can't exist without something else, you know what I mean!!

So I thought: I'll get even with my blogging friend. I'll create my own! Heh heh heh (cue dramatic Vincent Price villain music).

So why do I call it the Prof. Madder Chronicles?

Well, let me tell you in my best old English professor voice. It's quite simple really.

Firstly, it's, you know, chronicles, right? Like a diary sort of...

Secondly, I'm a professor...

And thirdly, I'm quite mad!

So it's the chronicles of a mad professor!! So obvious, why didn't I think of it?!?

See you tomorrow...........