I went swimming at the Sarawak club on Wednesday which was an interesting experience.
Before leaving for the pool I checked with Shirlina that it would be alright if I just wore a bikini as I didn't want to offend anyone. Bear in mind that Kuching is a predominantly Muslim city. I was assured that it would be fine and kept repeating this to myself as I walked to the pool, pasty skin glowing in the afternoon sun and turning heads of the comparatively demurely closed women in the changing room.
No matter, once I was in the water I was sure that I would blend in better. It was not to be.
For one I forgot to take out my contact lenses so it was a toss up between swimming along with my head above the water or closing my eyes and weaving madly all over the pool. My sense of direction is decidedly less than stellar.
Couple that with only bringing a rather impractical bikini with me. As I pushed off from the wall of the pool I realised that the top could have probably fitted me a little better as it fell off. Tightening the straps I valiantly swam forth once more, crossing back and forth across the pool as I tried to avoid people coming towards me. Everyone else was wearing goggles and I wanted to preserve whatever remnants of dignity I had left. Abandoning breaststroke (no pun intended), I thought maybe freestyle was the way to go. This was even more problematic as I turned to take a breath and one side of my top decided that my armpit was in dire need of support. Resorting to backstroke at least spared me memories of my streaking days, though it did mean the old lady by the side of the pool could catch my eye as she glared dissapprovingly at me.
The sad thing is I didn't really care that I may have caused any young men swimming towards me to think impure thoughts. I was more worried by the fact that everyone would have thought I couldn't swim as I kept having to stop on my way down the pool to reassess my modesty situation.
Monday, March 15, 2010
A peasant on Royal Brunei
After relishing the delights of Auckland International airport from 11pm till 5am I boarded my chariot to deepest darkest Borneo, aka Kuching with a population of 400,000.
My 'Royal' Brunei flight consisted of the following elements:
- Empty. This was fantastic as it meant I could stretch out across two seats. I would guess that the plane was half full at best. Perhaps this should have been an indication to me not to expect too much.
- Inedible food. At least it whiled away a little time while I tried to work out what on earth they had actually served. To anyone considering this carrier, go for it but bring your own nibbles.
- Old. From the seats with broken headrests to the entertainment screens that did not work this plane screamed for some tlc. You'd think a country like Brunei that is not lacking in the wealth department would want to upgrade it's flagship carrier. I particularly liked the steam that poured out of the air-conditioning vents as we waited to take off from Bandar Seri Begawan.
-Muslim. I actually quite liked the prayers that were said as we taxied down the runway asking Allah to bless our plane (I assume). In fact, to avoid offending anyone with my heathen ways I even wore long pants on the plane. However, later in the flight, while playing with my 'dinner', I glanced across the aisle to see a lady with her top off breastfeeding what looked like a three year old. Perhaps I shouldn't have worried about flashing a little bit of leg.
Post flight I dutifully proceeded to customs to declare my precious cargo of bubble-wrapped organic apples from the Butcher Orchard. Despite the signs informing me otherwise, the immigration officials couldn't have cared less. In New Zealand I probably would've got a taser to the face.
Safely out into the arrivals hall I wondered what all the fuss about me needing to acclimatise was for, it wasn't even that hot. I had forgotten about air conditioning and was bought swiftly back to reality when Barney showed me through the doors and my clothes promptly stuck to me. Ahhh sweet sweet humidity, how I loath thee.
My 'Royal' Brunei flight consisted of the following elements:
- Empty. This was fantastic as it meant I could stretch out across two seats. I would guess that the plane was half full at best. Perhaps this should have been an indication to me not to expect too much.
- Inedible food. At least it whiled away a little time while I tried to work out what on earth they had actually served. To anyone considering this carrier, go for it but bring your own nibbles.
- Old. From the seats with broken headrests to the entertainment screens that did not work this plane screamed for some tlc. You'd think a country like Brunei that is not lacking in the wealth department would want to upgrade it's flagship carrier. I particularly liked the steam that poured out of the air-conditioning vents as we waited to take off from Bandar Seri Begawan.
-Muslim. I actually quite liked the prayers that were said as we taxied down the runway asking Allah to bless our plane (I assume). In fact, to avoid offending anyone with my heathen ways I even wore long pants on the plane. However, later in the flight, while playing with my 'dinner', I glanced across the aisle to see a lady with her top off breastfeeding what looked like a three year old. Perhaps I shouldn't have worried about flashing a little bit of leg.
Post flight I dutifully proceeded to customs to declare my precious cargo of bubble-wrapped organic apples from the Butcher Orchard. Despite the signs informing me otherwise, the immigration officials couldn't have cared less. In New Zealand I probably would've got a taser to the face.
Safely out into the arrivals hall I wondered what all the fuss about me needing to acclimatise was for, it wasn't even that hot. I had forgotten about air conditioning and was bought swiftly back to reality when Barney showed me through the doors and my clothes promptly stuck to me. Ahhh sweet sweet humidity, how I loath thee.
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