Is it “Truly Asia” as the advert tries to convince us?

I ask this as I was recently in KL for a weekend, Nila had to go there on business and I needed to do a visa renewal run so it seemed like a perfect idea and I had always wanted to go there anyway so I jumped at the opportunity. I had recently just moved to Jakarta on a full time basis and was becoming accustomed to all Jakarta had to throw at the unwary expatriate. I was aware of what standards Singapore had to offer and many people had advised me that KL fell in somewhere between Jakarta and Singapore. Falling in anywhere above Jakarta would be a huge improvement or so I thought.

We booked our taxi from the office that Friday afternoon and little did I realize that after this things could only go one direction ………………….. downwards. The taxi was a Bluebird taxi and in all my visits to Jakarta it was the first time that I was in a taxi when the air conditioner stopped working. Fortunately the weather wasn’t too bad and the driver to his credit never stopped fiddling with the controls all the way out to the airport to try to get it to work and was very apologetic that it failed during the trip. The traffic whilst building up into the usual late Friday afternoon - early evening Jakarta traffic wasn’t too bad and we didn’t fall foul of the expected “macet” similar to the one we experienced when we last did the airport run during our trip to Bali. We got to the airport and checked in and I thought yippee now we can relax and have a really nice weekend away from Jakarta.

The flight was good and we even had some laughs when two girls got into the seats in front of us. The girls wanted to be together but had to sit in seats in separate rows with one behind the other. The girl in front of us we are of the joint opinion was “a few sandwiches short of a picnic”. First she continued having a conversation in a loud voice with her friend in the seat in front of her who tried her best to ignore her friend, and at one stage started to sing. Nila was creased up - half with laughter and half with embarrassment. Me I was just happy she was sitting beside some one else. To add to the fun she was cold and as there were no blankets available she decided to get out and get some sort of cover for herself. She was not a slim girl and as she was sat beside the window she had to get the two people beside her to move out into the aisle and when she came back she had a scarf wrapped around her head, we hoped that was going to be it and the show was over but it was only to be the intermission. The loud one way conversations and singing carried on.

When we landed she started off on her grand finale and her digital camera was taken out and the people beside her photographed, the fact that they hadn’t had a conversation throughout the flight didn’t bother her - she wanted photographs and before the passengers could protest or move she had her head stuck in beside them and with a big cheesy grin the flash went off and a strange group photograph was captured forever – “one person with a big toothy grin and two bewildered tourists captured for posterity”. No sooner had the flash gone off was she up and out of the seat and whilst the tourists were still blinded by the flash she was squeezing her rather ample frame out of the row this time without asking them to get out of their chairs. This in itself was no mean achievement and required a considerable amount of dexterity that up until now I hadn’t believed she could have achieved, and neither did the two tourists who once they realized they were trapped and at the mercy of the gods had a sudden intake of breath and a quick murmur of a prayer. Once out in the aisle our intrepid adventurer beat her way and I mean “beat” past everyone else up the aisle. It looked like she had to go to the loo and go now or else there would be an accident. But this wasn’t the case as she simply stopped and photographed her way up the aisle and with anyone and everyone who stood still long enough to be focused in the frame, including several bewildered and bemused stewardesses.  

The airport in KL was an amazing spectacle it was big bright and looked very efficient. Nila did however mention that we should take the train service into KL as the taxis were not very good here. As it was late and the taxi desk looked very efficient I thought what the hell I’m not going to drag myself and our bags on a train and then look for a taxi afterwards in town so I almost shoved the taxi option down her throat. I went off and bought my ticket for the taxi and then went to the queue or at least where the queue should have been if there had been one. So far so good!

The person in charge of the queue pointed us towards a taxi and the door opened and that’s when the bubble burst. Before we could grasp the reality of where we were and what we had got into the door was closed behind us and the weekend and the “Truly Asia” experience went downhill very quickly. The taxi driver (and I use the term loosely here) was a big brusque character and we soon found out that communication would be very difficult, was that a recognized language he was attempting to speak? In the end we adopted his approach to communication and decided that if he didn’t understand what we were saying we would speak louder and that would make him understand. I tried giving him the taxi receipt which had the name of the hotel we were to go to printed on and let him read it for himself in case our pronunciations were confusing him. This was a bad choice as pretty soon he was pulling off from the kerb whilst still trying to read the ticket, which happened to have extremely small print on it. We may as well have given him an instruction booklet for a sophisticated piece of machinery in Greek. He squinted even harder and tried to focus on the small print whilst rolling the name of the hotel off his lips trying to make himself understand where the hotel was. It looked like we had the original blind deaf and dumb driver. The thought went through my head if I was to open the door and jump out were we going fast enough to injure myself - but then I also realized Nila was with me and I couldn’t leave her behind either. We looked at each other and both of us realized we had – well I had - made a mistake here but neither wanted to show the other how phased out we were. And all this in the space of 50 meters from the kerb as well. The driver grunted and pressed the accelerator down even harder and off we went.

Now I’m not a nervous traveler, I have been to Nigeria and other far flung places but this guy got my heart racing and there was no way no matter how tired I was that I was going to nod off on this trip. To add to the drama the airport, I won’t say it was in KL as it was no where close to KL, was a long distance away from any apparent place of civilization and was on a long lonely and  empty road. There were a lack of signs announcing distances and directions KL and when I did finally see one it was still a long way away. Throughout the trip I was looking around for signs to comfort me that this was a taxi and this person was a taxi driver. I couldn’t find any. There was no “meter” visible in the front of the cab, and even if there was I would never have been able to see it as the front of the car looked like a municipal rubbish dump. There was rubbish everywhere, the only thing I could see were three pairs of sunglasses dangling on the front dashboard. I just prayed he wouldn’t put one pair on at night. I kept thinking how I wished I could be in a bluebird taxi back in Jakarta, there would be a meter highly visible and it would work, there would be a driver identification card in open view on the dashboard, and on all the doors including the rear ones would be a sticker from bluebird with contact phone numbers and a note advising of minimum charges to be administered if the taxi was booked over the phone. The driver would have a uniform and they would know where they were supposed to go. This experience we were currently undergoing was so different it wasn’t funny.

Finally we reached lights and we entered the city limits, not long or far to go now or so I thought. Soon we were driving around and it became apparent that we had a better idea of where we wanted to go than the driver did. Once again a shouting match begun in the hope that the louder we told him our destination the better he would understand it. Finally he stopped at a late night food stall and asked advice. Initially I was heartened by this action as one of the guys responded positively and pointed “that way”. This was short lived as his friend pointed “that way”, trouble was they were opposite directions. Then the driver was back into the car again following the motorcycle driver who had given the first directions. Soon we went off the well lit streets to a seedy area and my heart began racing, I thought we have been set up here. Fortunately we had our Indonesian phones with us and thank god for Telkomsel and international roaming facilities. We phoned the hotel and told them we were lost and could they try to talk to the driver and tell him where to go. I thrust the phone into his hands and told him to stop the car and talk. The conversation was painful but eventually the hotel made him understand where to go. We turned around and headed off back into well lit areas and what looked live civilization.

We drove on and soon on the skyline in big green neon lights we saw the name of the hotel and pointed it out to him. It was a huge well lit name that you could see from miles away. You couldn’t miss it or so I thought, but the driver was to have one final attempt to freak us out he pulled into the foyer of a hotel that didn’t even come close to our one and at this stage I was tempted just to get out and walk the few hundred meters to our hotel whose name was lighting up the KL skyline. We did get him to drive us there and it’s the fastest I ever got out of a taxi and headed inside to the comfort of the reception desk. Had he even asked me for extra fees for the drive around KL or looked for a tip I would have had to spend a night in a Malaysian jail for assault. As I looked back our bags were being rescued from his car by the doorman and he was shuffling back to the driver’s door and a collective sigh of relief was breathed when he headed off to be out of our lives forever.

Our hotel was right bang in the centre of KL close to the Petronas Twin towers so it wasn’t like it should have been too difficult to find, except for our intrepid driver that night that is. Over the weekend I was to experience many different taxi experiences that left me wishing my life away for Jakarta and a bluebird taxi service. The next day I discovered that taxis do have meters and that sometimes the meters are used and sometimes they negotiate a price with you. I found the price from our hotel to the towers was 3 ringitt, when metered. Over two days I was charged the following, metered taxis 3 to 5 ringitt and one taxi who asked for five and didn’t use a meter so I thought OK no problems he’s within a safe range and then one idiot who asked for 15 ringitt and was politely told to go and have a sexual encounter with himself. On the final day we took a taxi to the airport and he started his meter so I thought OK no problems here. We got to the airport and the meter showed 54 ringitt and he asked for 75. He said there was an airport surcharge and when asked to prove it he couldn’t show me anything until another taxi pulled up and fortunately for him this guy did have a notice on his dashboard stating there was a 12 ringitt airport surcharge. I settled up the appropriate fees and ran inside the building to get the flight back to Jakarta. I couldn’t wait for the flight to board and get me home. I had enough of KL and its “Truly Asia” experiences and just wanted to go home.

I thought with all the wealth and opulence that Malaysia likes to show off that it has it has only invested in material things, nice buildings and roads and obviously a good quality of life for its citizens, it has delivered all this to a populace that hasn’t moved or grown with the wealth and its service industries have simply been left behind. Its like people have too much money and no one wants to work or provide a public service as working and being polite and efficient is below them.

When I got back to Jakarta I walked outside the airport to an efficient and organized taxi queue and got a silverbird and it was heaven. The door closed the meter went on and the inside of the vehicle was spotless and cool and the driver uniformed and polite, and on the road from the airport to our apartment there was other traffic. Immediately you were enveloped in a warm and comforting cocoon. Home sweet home!

To her credit Nila has never mentioned or has thrown back in my face that it was my choice and my pigheadedness that got us into the taxi from hell in the first place, despite the fact that she could have given me hell and all I would have been able to do would be hold my hands up and say “guilty …………….but insane”.

So looking back on the trip I have decided that if you were to take the three big cities in SE Asia, Singapore, KL and Jakarta you could liken them to three women in your life ……

Singapore would be like your mother – dependable, efficient and always warm and working efficiently.

KL would be like that model girlfriend you always desired – expensive, very superficial and shallow hard work and a pain in the ass.

Jakarta would be like your old grandmother sitting in the corner of the room, drooling and dribbling, all broken up and not working and embarrassing you when your friends came around by belching and farting at inappropriate times, however despite all these deficiencies you never stopped loving her as you could remember all the good times you had in her company as you were growing up and how when you were down she held you in her arms and protected and comforted you. She may be old and decrepit now but you remember her as she was and as you love her so much you can ignore the way she is now and see her as she was.

So is Malaysia is “truly Asia” or did I just have a bad experience?

I was going to call this article “loosing my virginity in Bali” my “diving virginity” that is but thought the title would confuse some people and the article might disappoint others and the title would certainly get me in trouble with Nila so I erred on the side of caution and self preservation.

I had just spent 70 days working without a break and working an average of 14 hours a day in Indian and Pakistan. As I was going to be in Indonesia on a break to be with my partner Nila who was already an accomplished diver and had been planning for this trip for a long time I was graciously invited by her to come along and carry her bags. I thought “what the hell” it will be a chance for me to unwind and I had never been to Bali before and after the diving trip we would go off around Bali together for a few days “real tourism”. It all seemed ideal I would lie under a coconut tree whilst she went off on her diving trips and hopefully if I stayed awake long enough I would probably get some insight into what she found so appealing about diving and in the process either learn to share or at least understand where her passion for the activity came from. Me I was simply looking to unwind after a very long and difficult work set.

For a while we had been talking about the need to find an activity that we could both do together that would help to strengthen our bond, we had already tried and given up on golf and as the old saying goes “if you cant beat them you may as well join them”, so off I went on her diving trip. I was going to be the “non diver” on the trip but I didn’t mind as I saw it as a way to relax and chill out. Slowly it began to dawn on me that the trip might be a bit more strenuous than I had planned. For the last 10 weeks I had been fantasizing about a long lie in bed in the morning and not having to get up at 05:30. Just before I headed out to Indonesia Nila “advised” me that the “fantasy” would have to be delayed for a few days as the trip was quite intensive and  would require early starts (really early) and long days. Oh well too late now I had better put on a brave face and accept my fate and console myself with the fact that we would at least be together after a very long time apart.  

So I arrived in Jakarta on Thursday night and the next evening was on my way to Bali (after another day in the local office of the company I work overseas for – so my first day of vacation was still an unpaid workday and another unplanned early start). That evening we had a mad dash to the airport from the office and as the traffic was especially bad someone …….. and it wasn’t me had their knickers in a twist as they thought they would miss the flight. As they had been so looking forward to this trip they were even looking for a  motorbike to make a mad dash to the airlines counter to try and speed up the ticket issue and check in process. I thought about this but also thought I had better not raise the issue at this time as stress makes people do strange things and I didn’t fancy being beaten up in the back of a taxi, but I have never seen motor bikes – ojeks – on the toll road going to the airport so why was she suddenly looking for one here now, and if somehow she did manage to find one and got to the airport minus me and the baggage and the flight was called and me and the baggage were still stuck in traffic what would she do? I decided silence was the better way to go here as I could see a major sense of humor loss materializing were I to trivialize the issue in anyway. As it was we made it in plenty of time. 

It was late when we arrived at the hotel in Bali and it seemed as if my head had only landed on the pillow when I was being awoken and dragged off to the meeting point for the dive group. As I stood around watching the traffic and people of Bali drive past I asked myself what was I doing standing on the side of a road at that hour of the morning watching traffic and school kids go past and why wasn’t I still in bed as I had been looking forward to for the last ten weeks and had been promising myself. As for the rest of them they were running around like kids on Christmas morning packing cars with tanks and associated diving gear and I was hearing a word I would be tired of hearing in a few days – “mola mola”. Up to this point of my life if a fish wasn’t on a plate and surrounded by chips I didn’t recognize it and wasn’t interested in it. Now here I was early morning surrounded by a bunch of crazies calling fish on first name terms and each trying to outdo the other by having seen and photographed the biggest, the most species or the most colorful specimen in the most exotic location. Anyway it was too late to turn back as Nila had the money and knew where we were staying each day and Tom was driving, so I thought to myself - “when the rape is inevitable lie back and enjoy”.

Eventually everyone calmed down enough to be assigned to groups and got into their respective vehicles and we headed off on what was to turn out to be a rather good holiday with a great bunch of people.

The first destination was to be Menjangan and so I settled down in the back of the car and drifted in and out of a routine of checking the inside of my eyelids for cracks, and in case anyone’s interested I didn’t find any so all is well. I briefly recall some of the journey but feel I missed most of it except for the classic from Mia to Tom of there being only two answers he needs to remember to all her questions “yes” and “yes honey”. Unfortunately Nila also heard this and thought the statement was the dogs bollox so I am now consigned to a life of subservience and answering “yes” or “yes honey”, so a big thank you to Mia for that and to Tom – “you are not alone !!!!!”

Once we reached our destination it was everyone pile into a boat and suddenly I was faced with a choice of do I stay on the beach, which to be honest at the boat station didn’t look like much or did I join the group and head out in a boat. I decided on the latter as I also discovered that was where the food was going, and as I had elected to miss out on the hard boiled eggs for breakfast at quarter to five that morning as it was too dark to eat and I felt I should still be sleeping instead I thought “bugger it Ill take my chances on the water and follow the food”.

Once out at the dive site and all the divers had gone it was really quite nice, the weather was beautiful and warm, (after spending 6 weeks in a rainforest in Assam in North East India where the rain never seemed to stop and if it did it was only to allow the heat to build up and the humidity to go even higher and even with all the best  quality rain gear in the world that Nila had made me buy when we were in London I was often wetter wearing it due to the high humidity than if I stood out in the rain naked (no I didn’t and there are no photos so don’t ask)). So suddenly I found myself out to sea in an empty boat, well I still had the helmsman there, and with the engine off the silence was beautiful. Between the gentle bobbing of the boat and the relative silence and the warm sunshine I soon decided I would forget about the reading and listening to music I was attempting to do and get into some serious chilling out. Finally I had some of what I had been dreaming about for the last 10 weeks, relaxation. I was in heaven and thought “this is the life”. Eventually it came to an end when the divers came back to the surface and wanted to be picked up ……………. How inconsiderate of them I thought - I was comfortable there. We went off to the island and had a lunch and then they went for their second dive that day. Once back on the surface we headed off for our hotel that night in Tulamben and although I didn’t know it at the time what would be the highlight of the trip for me. Again it was late when we arrived at the Matahari Resort in Tulamben and rolled into our rooms. The resort here was a beautiful little family run business, the rooms were excellent - simple but tasteful and the food they served up that night was excellent. It had been a long tiring day and despite the many power naps I had partaken of that day I still slept well that night.

The next day was slightly more relaxed and whilst we didn’t have to get up at dawn it was still a relatively early start as the divers had fish to go and see and stories to tell when they got back. Before the trip had commenced Nila had dangled the carrot of a discovery dive to me to try to make me feel better about going along on the trip with her. Up to this point in the trip nothing had been mentioned about such a dive or planned and as she is normally such a meticulous planner I thought she had simply not bothered and now as I was along on the trip anyway she didn’t need to dangle the carrot anymore. However that morning before I realized what was happening she had organized with the owner of the resort for me to be taken on a discovery dive and next thing I knew I was being fitted up for a wet suit. I had the five minute tour of the bits and pieces I would be wearing and using and before I could think I was plodding a few hundred meters up a stony beach to a place called the drop off.

Within a few minutes I had the tank and mask and fins on and was under the water and after only a few meters away from the beach I was in a new and exciting world. It was incredible within a few kicks of the fins I looked up and back and was surrounded by fish ……………… more fish than you could imagine and so many different sizes and colors. I will never forget looking up and seeing my first school of fish. Up till now I had only seen such a spectacle on a national geographic program and suddenly here I was and it was live and in color in front of me. I almost forgot to breath I was so excited and that would have been the end of my diving at that point – as Erwin told me later the cardinal rule of diving is keep breathing even when your tank is empty. Fortunately there was so much happening down there I was on the move again in milliseconds and my head was in danger of falling off my shoulders as I was snapping it from side to side so quickly trying to see everything at once. And this was only the top tier of life as we went down there was more to see and not only fish. The drop off was spectacular the gently sloping seabed suddenly dropped off hence the name “drop off”. This was breathtaking there were corals and all sorts of bits and pieces to see – hey it was only my first dive you don’t expect me to know the names of what I saw. Before I only knew fish by numbers “off menus” or their cartoon names like Nemo or Doreen for example.

All in all I spent about half an hour under the water and the time flew by there was so much to see it was amazing. You see more in half an hour under water in a location like that than you would in a months safari in some well known national parks I have been to in Kenya.  To those who haven’t dived before all I can say is “do it”. I really enjoyed the experience and the only regret I had was I didn’t do it twenty years ago.

I am sure they mix something in the oxygen they give you as when I got back to the hotel I was as high as a kite and as Nila keeps reminding me I was very high, and probably gibbering like the village idiot, but who could blame me as I had just had a very enjoyable experience. I don’t know whether Nila did it to get rid of me and get some peace and quite for herself and shut me up for a while or whether she had already arranged it earlier anyway but after another hour I was being brought off for my second dive and this was even more spectacular that the first. This one was a wreck dive and is one I will have to do again as I was so awestruck I am sure I missed loads and loads of things.  In fact when I got to the surface I couldn’t recall whether the blue fish had yellow stripes or was it the yellow fish had blue stripes? But hey who cares - whatever they had it was beautiful down there.

The whole experience was so good that I immediately cajoled Nila into agreeing to get me another dive the next day. The next days dive was to be in the Padang Bai area and once again it was to be an early start, and if I thought I had slept well the night before after a long day then I slept really well that night after the physical effort of two dives.  

For those of you wondering what it was all about Nila has some underwater photographs that show the beauty of this world - Nilas photos of underwater Bali

And if that whets you appetite then she has a further collection of underwater photos from various other dive sites she has been to - Nila's underwater world

I was really looking forward to doing some more dives the next day but when we got there we discovered that everyone was really busy and there was no opportunity for me to have a dive. This didn’t fully sink in until the afternoon as up until that point I was still holding out hope that an opportunity would arise. As I was waiting around for the opportunity for a dive I was entertained by the beach hawkers who all saw me as their “kill” of the day. If you ever wanted to do a business management course never mind going to a high class expensive university just spend some time dealing with and watching these people in action. It was better than TV. Over the course of the morning I was approached by all of the hawkers and was subjected to their salesmanship and hard luck stories and learned to identify all their scams and then sat back and watched the tourists getting ripped off.

There were three hawkers in particular who entertained me, the first was a young lady selling sarongs and after attempting to get me to buy one for a considerable period of time finally gave up and asked me if I had any euro coins as she wanted to make a ring, or was it simply pass them back to other tourists at inflated exchange rates so as to relieve them of the burden of having to carry useless Indonesian currency back home with them? I told her I didn’t even have Indonesian coins or currency on me never mind Euros and with that she was gone.

The second and my favorite was a lady called Doreen ……………… just like the fish from “Finding Nemo” obviously keeping in line with the nautical and beach theme. I was lucky Doreen wasn’t charging me for her time otherwise she would have been a rich woman.  Doreen had a shop full of items in a small basket on her head, I wish she would pack my suitcase when I traveled then I really would have been able to get the kitchen sink in as well. She squatted down beside me under the tree I was hiding under and simply wouldn’t take no for an answer. I knew from an early stage that I wasn’t going to get rid of her too easily so told her in what I thought was an emphatic voice I couldn’t buy anything as I had no money and my wife who was gone diving would kill me if I committed to buying anything without her consent. The “no money” routine didn’t bother her and the “wife who was the boss” didn’t slow her down a bit she just kept on and on with her sales pitch. In the end I thought well I have told you no and have made it clear I will not buy anything so if you want to continue go ahead. She then proceeded to go through each and every item she had in her basket and show the workings of them to me and if one object came in a small and large size I was shown both and had their respective virtues extolled to me. Try as hard as I could I was unable to shake her. I heard how she lived near Ubud (once I had let it slip that’s where we were going after the diving) and had to take the bus down everyday and it cost her 20000 rupiaha, hint hint hint. She almost wore me out on a few occasions but whenever I felt like weakening I simply threw the “no money” and “the wife wouldn’t be happy” routine back at her. Eventually she moved off but only on the belief that once the wife returned from the dive she would be successful and have a sale.

The next to move in on me were two young girls selling small replicas of the traditional boats with the outrigger stabilizers. These two nymphs could have been no more than 15 and should have been in school and indeed that was their routine with me “would I buy a souvenir boat to help their school”. Again the “no money” and “dominant wife” routine were used to good effect to ward off the sale but once again they left on the hope that once the diving wife returned they would conclude a successful sale. It was quite difficult for them to comprehend why I was still on the beach whilst my wife was off diving and then why was I so afraid to make a decision without her being present. They were wondering who wore the trousers in this relationship or maybe they weren’t and simply felt sorry for me being so brow beaten.

Eventually they all moved off but only a short distance away and kept a wary eye on me. I now had three groups of hawkers watching my every move so that once the divers returned they could be first off the mark to identify and capture “the wife” and conclude the sale whilst she was still in a good mood from the diving. I felt like a sick or wounded animal on the open African plains being observed by a group of vultures waiting their chance to pounce, and every so often they would make sure I could still see and remember them.

I now had the opportunity to sit back under a tree and witness them work their act and fleece tourists who either had softer hearts than me or were more gullible than me and got taken to the cleaners for something so tacky it was indescribable, it was embarrassing to watch people purchase it.

Just as the boats were coming in I got up and wandered around on the beach with a camera in my hand and missed Nila arriving and getting out of the boat. This nonchalance added greatly to their confusion, firstly there were no foreign women coming out of the boats and then I hadn’t acknowledged any of the women alighting from the boats or none of them had acknowledged me either. You could see them looking at each other asking the question “where is she”. Then Nila (in her diving gear) came across onto the beach with her camera to take some photos as well and when we saw each other we got together and this really blew their minds. “She’s an Indonesian” you could almost hear them shout and in that instant they knew they would never have a sale. They had spent so much time though believing they would have a sale they just couldn’t walk away and had to ask once would she (a sister) buy something from them and at this stage Nila answered and said no and finally it proved to them what I had been telling them all along “the wife wont buy this stuff”. So now the score was Bule 3 – Hawkers 0.

I didn’t have time to get Nila up to speed with what had been happening before they pounced but she handled the situation beautifully and once they had slunk away I gave her the run down of my mornings entertainment and we had a good chuckle together. After a few minutes she too went back to the dive shop to finish her lunch and then the hawkers moved back in on me again and I had to listen to how they were confused and disappointed that my wife was not a “bule woman”, one who would be an easy target for them and they simply couldn’t understand why Nila was the one diving and I was the one waiting for her to return.

This was a role reversal they couldn’t handle, it completely threw them and phased them out. Why was she doing the diving, why did she have the big camera and lens and me the small one, why did I not have cash and why would I not make a decision without consulting her? It was all too much for them and they went away shaking their heads. Doreen was so disappointed she could only walk away muttering and the young girls were in a spin. One of them kept coming back several times asking me why she (Nila) was the boss and not me. They kept telling me they assumed my wife was also a foreigner like me and not a local. And definitely not a strong willed and successful local who was the dominant partner in the relationship. All I could do was laugh and tell them they had probably learnt an important lesson here today “never assume”, and when or if they go back to school they should pass this lesson on to their friends. I thought it would be too much to tell them that Nila had paid for the complete trip for me including flights and the previous days discovery dives and that I really didn’t have any cash on me and was totally reliant on her for “pocket money”, their heads would have caved in with that information so I left it.

Once the divers had finished their lunch they all headed off back out to sea for another dive and suddenly I was left alone on the beach again with the hawkers, only this time it was different they knew I wasn’t a soft target and now instead of being their next overpriced sale they avoided me as if I had the plague. On several occasions I had to check and see if I had a bell around my neck warning people off or if there was a sign on my back that warned people off. It was to be a long quite and very peaceful afternoon …..................

It was very disappointing that the discovery dive never happened that day but this was balanced off with the fun I had with the hawkers.

Then it was back off to the hotel we had stayed in the first night we had landed in Bali and the next day was to be the highlight of the trip for all the divers when they went Mola Mola hunting. I still have no idea what a Mola Mola looks like despite hearing it in almost every second sentence for the duration of the dive trip and being shown a very fuzzy picture by an ecstatic Julia upon her return from the dive.

Whilst everyone was off mola mola hunting I was going to go to Theas and Hengky’s place and do the first stage of the diving course I had promised people I would do after my initial discovery dives. Whilst this had seemed like a damm good idea two days previously when I awoke that morning my body had other ideas, suddenly a loooooooong lazzzzzzzzy lie in seemed a much better idea, remember it was now up to 75 days of early mornings and long days with no day off and here was my chance to vegetate. I took it.

The Hapel Semer hotel was a nice quite place set back from the main street so I wasn’t bothered by noise and as almost everyone in the hotel was a diver I was left alone in silence and could just lie there. I eventually dragged myself out of bed for brunch and then sat in the sun reading and relaxing with interspersed bouts of attacking the mattress and checking my eyelids for seal failures.

Fortunately Nila’s group saw mola mola that day so she was a happy little camper on her return, unfortunately her camera didn’t work but even so she didn’t get her knickers in a twist over the missed photo opportunity, and there always next time when we can do it together.

As that was the last dive of the trip there was to be a BBQ that evening at Thea and Hengkys place where everyone could wind down and tell mola mola stories.

All in all it was an excellent trip and I’d do it all again – it was good weather, good scenery, fantastic food (I know the diet will never work in Indonesia, as the Sea food diet turns into a See food and eat it diet) and a great bunch of people.

There are only two things I will do differently next time and they are

(1) drink alcohol on the last nights BBQ

(2) go diving with Nila - as since we got home (and this would kill the hawkers on the beach in Padang Bai) she has paid for me to do the PADI certification.   

I never was one to show interest in places of military interest, especially as most of them are associated with what is perceived as British military history and that topic never interested me, an Irishman. I have been to some forts and barracks associated with WW II during visits to Singapore but went there more out of a need to “kill time” rather than as a place I wanted to visit because I had a fascination with the history that took place or was enacted there.

For the past 6 months I have been working in the North East corner of India in the state of Assam, famous for its tea industry and I didn’t need to leave Ireland to be aware of that fact. Since coming here I have also become aware of the fact that Assam has one of the oldest oil fields in Asia and had also gained a passing knowledge that during the Second World War it had been a base for Allied troops fighting against the Japanese. More than this I didn’t know and didn’t have any real interest in finding out about.

That was until one of the people I worked with asked me if I knew where the war cemetery was in Digboi, the town I am stationed in. He wanted to borrow a camera and visit this when he was going back home on his rotation. As he was based in a remote field location and may not have had the opportunity to visit on his way home I decided to visit and photograph it for him, well it was really for his father.

Initially I was skeptical about going there and had no real interest to go there and thought I could get it over and done with in a few seconds. The town of Digboi is not a contender for a tidy town’s award and is not a township I would call neat or pretty. It is derived from and based on and around the oil industry and it shows it. You could say its “had a hard life”. Therefore I wasn’t expecting much from my visit to the “war cemetery”.

It was however a very different experience, from out of the squalor, including potholed roads and small unkempt houses and pieces of land that masquerade as gardens for them, that normally makes up the Digboi township appeared an oasis of green well manicured and maintained lawn and fencing signifying the presence of the War Cemetery.

From the outside it was breathtaking and as you walked up to the gate your breath was taken away by the emerging views of neatness and the beauty of the gardens contained inside. It was like stepping out of time and space and transporting you back to the well manicured lawns and public gardens you find in many European and world capitals.

It was so different from the surroundings you were afraid to step inside it in case you broke the illusion.

History

During WW II Assam was an operational area for the Burma Campaign. Digboi in the North East corner of the state, near the Burmese border was on the line of communication and a military hospital was established there.

The Japanese army got within 3 marching days of Digboi.

The War Cemetery is just outside the town of Digboi. Originally it was started from burials from the hospital, 70 in all. After the war the Army Graves Service moved other remains here from burial grounds in Panitola, Jorhat, Tinsukia and Ledo as permanent maintenance could not be assured at these sites. It also moved one from the US military Cemetery at Shingvuoiang in Burma.

Originally the cemetery stood on a small spur rising sharply from the main road, but an earthquake in 1950 caused cracks and subsidence, one fissure extending the full length of the cemetery. Subsequent landslides occasioned by heavy rains, particularly in 1953, so endangered the cemetery that it became necessary to move the graves to the present site which is not likely to be affected by erosion. The cemetery now contains 200 Commonwealth burials of the Second World War.

One female – a nurse – is also buried here.

The soldiers interred here come from the many different regiments –

·        Indian Pioneer Corps

·        Indian Army Medical Corp

·        The Kings Regiment

·        Royal Welch Fusiliers

·        Royal Artillery

·        Gloucestershire Regiment

·        East Lancashire Regiment

·        Royal Engineers

·        Royal Corps of Signals

·        Royal Sussex Regiment

·        Royal Armored Corp …………………….

Just to name a few of them.

A full and more detailed list of the dead and their regiments can be found on the Commonwealth War Graves Commission website at the following link Digboi Cemetery Reports

The cemetery was built and is maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission and it really is a credit to not only the commission but also the people in Digboi who look after it for them.

It is a real shame that more people cannot visit and see this facility. I wonder if family members of the people who are interred there even know where the graves are or if they are forgotten by their “blood family” and only known about and cared for by their “military family”. 

Several things apart from the neatness and the care and attention that are lavished upon the memorial struck me about the place as I wandered around amongst the markers reading the inscriptions. The most significant were –

1                    The young age of many of the people who died and are commemorated here. (I myself am what I consider young and to see most of the people here are younger that you are is a sobering event. This was compounded by the fact that for the last 17 years I have been working and living overseas and have traveled extensively, something these young men probably never did in their short lives and that this overseas posting to Assam in the North East of India was probably their first and last trip out of England or their home country, and that wasn’t for a holiday but to fight an enemy far from home in a country they didn’t know and for a cause they probably didn’t fully understand. The conditions they lived and fought under must have been very difficult. Even in 2005 with all modern day conveniences life in Assam is not easy.)

2                    The cemetery has graves for not only White – Anglo Saxan – foreigners but also contains Indians (including what would be Indians from present day Pakistan) which comprise of Hindu and Muslim. In today’s world where religion and color play such prominent and not always right parts in defining day to day beliefs and social practices isn’t it  -

(A) nice to see people commemorated as a group who were “up for a common cause” and not simply labeled as black, white, brown or yellow and Catholic, Protestant, Hindu or Muslim and labeled accordingly and segregated by those groups

(B) Unfortunate that people have to be dead before such unity can occur, would it be possible nowadays even as the world is so caught up in labeling people as Muslim, fundamentalist etc ….

For anyone who is interested in seeing what the cemetery looks like and a selection of some of the memorials in it the following link will take you to my selection of them.  Digboi War Cemetery photos

Appreciation and thanks should be offered to the War Graves Commission, the Cemetery attendants and the people of Digboi  for  establishing and looking after and maintaining the cemetery and not letting these people who fought for freedom and liberty from oppression and helped set up our futures be forgotten.

For us in the present day we sometimes forget that many young people gave up their lives in a time before we were even born and we are now reaping and living the benefits of their selfless sacrifice.  

The following song even though it’s about a young soldier from the First World War is timeless and the questions asked and raised here in these lyrics are still valid.

The Green Fields Of France

Well, how do you do young Willie McBride?

Do you mind if I sit hear down by your graveside,

And rest for a while ‘neath the warm summer sun.

I’ve been working all day and I’m nearly done.

I can see by your gravestone you were only nineteen

when you joined the great fallen in nineteen sixteen.

Well I hope you died quick, and I hope you died clean,

Or Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Chorus: 

Did they beat the drum slowly, did they play the fife lowly,

did they sound the death march, as they lowered you down?

Did the bands play the last post and chorus?

Did the pipes play the flowers of the forest?

And did you leave a wife or sweetheart behind

In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined,

Although you died back in nineteen sixteen

In some faithful heart are you forever nineteen?

Or are you a stranger without even a name

Enclosed now forever behind a glass frame

In an old photograph torn, battered and stained

And faded to yellow in a brown leather frame.

Chorus:

Now see how the sun shines o’er the green field of France

There’s a warm summer breeze makes the red poppies dance,

And see how the sun shines from under the clouds

There’s no gas or barbed wire, there’s no guns firing now.

But here in this graveyard it’s still no-man’s land

The countless white crosses in mute witness stand

To man’s blind difference to his fellow man

To a whole generation who were butchered and damned.

Chorus:

Now young Willie McBride, I can’t help wonder why

Do all those who lie here know why did they die.

And did they believe when they answered the call

Did they really believe that this war would end wars.

Well the sorrow, the suffering, the glory the pain,

The killing, the dying they were all done in vain

For young Willie McBride it all happened again

And again and again and again and again.

Chorus:

One final thought that ran through my head as I visited this site was …….. if they could comment what would the people who are interred here think of today’s world?

Would they feel cheated that the world they gave their lives for to make a better place is still so violent, racially and religiously and politically discriminating and still has nations and peoples at war with each other.