Scramble!
A Malaysian Interlude

More than any other community on the internet, I should think that FlyerTalkers are familiar with the need to drop everything and travel at a moment’s notice.

This was exactly what happened to me this week. Between my grandmother’s funeral and a few extra days, a journey that had to be made was made into a journey to remember.

This will be a one-shot trip report. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my last one.

Sunday

It all began on a quiet Sunday afternoon. I was at home, working on some insipid thing or other for university, when the message came through from the parents on WeChat.

“Grandmother has passed away. Funeral on Thursday. Good if you could come.”

She was eighty, with thirteen children and thirty-five grandchildren.

The parents instructed my brother to stay until Sunday, but I was permitted to leave on Friday. The funeral was to be held in Muar, Johor; my brother and I live in Sydney, so the trip suddenly laid before us was not an insubstantial one. In my head, I already knew we would need to route in and out via Singapore.


As the sun began to set on Sydney, we fired up our MacBook Pros and looked at fares. My brother and I agreed we’d fly out on Tuesday together on QF5; we’d fly back on QF6 on different days.

We were booked, ticketed and packed by Sunday night. Monday would be a survival day, just getting by with a heavy heart yet the yearn to fly.

Tuesday

My last class was a bore. We delivered our fortnightly sermon and got the hell out of there.

I’d brought my bags to class and proceeded directly to the appointed rendezvous with my brother. Bang on 12:15pm, we were on our way in an UberX.

An über bad idea.

It started off on a suspicious note. From our area, it is substantially easier to go to Sydney Airport via Botany Rd and O’Riordan St. We’ve been doing this journey for years and I know all the combinations. I’ve even helped State Transit bus drivers drive the airport rail replacement buses.

Armed with this knowledge, my alarm bells started ringing when our friendly driver started off by going down King St.

Anyone who lives in Sydney can tell you that this is a bad idea. If you don’t need to go to Newtown for your quinoa rehab or kale brownies or single-origin soy flat white made by a bearded dude in skinny jeans and a checked shirt, you don’t, because the congestion is ridiculous. I am told that buses have not managed to run on time through Newtown for some decades.

The sat-nav started talking about the Princes Highway and turning at Rockdale, so I let it slide. It was a valid route to the airport, and I wasn’t going to castigate the poor guy for thoughtcrime.

Until we got to the Marsh St area and he turned onto the M5 motorway.

Eventually, I had to step in and save us all once we got to King Georges Rd. I took command all the way back to Terminal 1.

He was nice enough to stop the meter once we got into the M5, but still, I think I’ll give UberX a pass.

We rolled into the Terminal 1 that we both know all too well. It hasn’t changed in years, with the same tired white interior and the same duty-free lineups and the same everything. My brother was last year matched to airberlin topbonus Gold, a oneworld Sapphire tier that is equivalent to Qantas Gold, so we fronted up to the Business check-in to check in for our Economy flight.

It was busy but First was not, so we were called over to First.

A few minutes later and we were clearing immigration and security.

We only had access to the Qantas International Business Lounge today, so we shuffled past the hallowed First Lounge door and hit up the dining area for some lunch; by now it was about 1:30pm.

There was no more plate of the day, so it was up to the hot buffet. Today’s picking was a surprisingly good sweet and sour pork with jasmine rice.


We had two rounds of the buffet and then called it. Dessert was a single sublime macadamia brownie.

The most important function of a lounge, though, is the shower. It really sets the tone for the flight for me. To feel clean and comfortable is a prerequisite to enjoying a long flight.

After the long, relaxing shower it was time to head to the gate.


We then settled into our aisle seats on opposing sides of the aircraft. I was seated next to another Australian, a girl flying to Athens via Singapore and Dubai.

The pushback was on time and the takeoff was routine.

I had pre-ordered my dinner of lamb moussaka.


Since its introduction, the new ‘trayless’ international meal service has received a lot of non-positive feedback. I like it, however, and think it’s a good step forwards.

The lamb was tasty and filling but could easily have been beef; the meat didn’t really pull through all the sauce. The vegetables were a little too soft, but the accompanying garlic bread and chocolate mousse were more than sufficient.


Later in the flight, we were served a Weis bar and an apple, both of which were very refreshing indeed.

The sky got darker and darker until it was pitch-black outside. The lights were turned off in the Economy cabin after dinner, presumably to let us have a post-dinner nap to help cope with the very late arrival.

The IFE on the unrefurbished A330s is terrible, but I’ve covered that before. My brother plugged in anyway with his Bose headset; I pulled out my MacBook Pro and my Coloud Pop and entertained myself by writing.

About an hour and a half before landing, we had the second meal service foisted upon us: Beef sliders or some vegetarian thing. On the menu we had Hokkien noodles, but that didn’t happen.


The sliders were alright. They weren’t dry or tasteless or foul, so they passed the test. I had with them a cup of tea.

We landed early and were in the terminal by 10:18pm. We were travelling with hand luggage only, so we rolled immediately through immigration and straight out to the taxi to our hotel.

A good night was had at the Holiday Inn Express Orchard Road. Tucked away down Bideford Road behind Paragon, it’s a new and very functional hotel.


We were showered and out like a light by midnight.

Wednesday

We woke up around 8:00am. Our godbrother would be picking us up to proceed onwards to Muar at 9:30am, so we had a short window.

Because hotel breakfasts are the same around the world, it would be a waste to depend on them solely in Singapore. The decision was made to seek some real local food, so we each had a quick shower before heading downstairs.

I realise that ‘downstairs’ refers to Paragon, which is hardly the most authentic coffee shop experience. But we were pressed for time and there was a Ya Kun Kaya Toast in the basement, so that was perfect.


We then returned to the hotel to check out the buffet. At an objective level, the spread was good enough, but the options weren’t very interesting compared to local food. We cleared out some favourites like congee before heading back upstairs to grab our bags.

Our godbrother rocked up at 9:30am sharp in his fiancée’s father’s car, as his own had been commandeered by his own father. We loaded the bags and were on our way out to the Second Link in no time.

Being off-peak on a midweek day, the Second Link was empty, and soon enough we were rolling past endless palm estates on the North-South Highway.

We got to Muar around midday and per the parents’ instructions we were delivered straight to the Streetview Hotel. The parents came down to check us in.

I didn’t take any pictures of the Streetview Hotel because quite frankly it’s nothing flash. It is comfortable and clean, though and you can’t really fault it. Rather amusingly, there was some miscommunication between my father and one of his uncles, which resulted in two rooms being booked for said uncle, so I got the extra room and my brother got to sleep alone too.

Winning.

Muar is not a very exciting town. In fact, it’s downright boring. It has a population similar to that of Newcastle, New South Wales and has everything you need but little you want.

But a hometown is a hometown, no matter how boring it might be.

Due to a traditional ritual that requires prayers on the seventh day (which would see my parents already at the Grand Hyatt Hadahaa) my brother had to stay until Sunday. But as all the relatives would leave Muar after the funeral (and those who needed to come back for the seventh day would come back Saturday morning), my brother was left with the question of what the hell he was going to do in Muar.

“You should go to KL,” I suggested, and that was that. More on that later.

The remainder of Wednesday was spent eating, socialising and engaging in several rounds of Buddhist prayers as part of the wake. We were all dressed in traditional mourning attire, colour-coded by relation to the deceased (children wear white with white bands, grandchildren from sons wear white with blue band, grandchildren from daughters wear blue, etc.).

The family required a team of overnight sentries at the wake. The responsibility fell to the grandchildren who have mastered the all-nighter. Neither my brother or I were up to the job after flying in from Sydney, so we were excused to sleep.

The Streetview Hotel in Muar might not be flash, but the bed was much better than the joke of a mattress and frame I get from my university housing.

Thursday

Thursday dawned with noodles for breakfast.


We then showered and got back into the mourning attire. Bags were packed and stowed in the cars.

The funeral itself was very grand. The family is generally quite well-off, so it was a big ceremony. The rituals took most of the day to complete, including sending off my grandmother and brining her to her final resting place next to the grandfather I never got to meet. It was a very emotional moment for many of my relatives as the final goodbye really sank in.

After that, we then returned home to shower again, as standing in the heat all day takes its toll. It’s also a symbolic washing away of grief. The mourning attire was disposed of.

Showered and back in civilian clothes, we got into my cousin’s car and hit the road. This is where things really picked up. We’d attended a great sendoff to a great matriarch — time to make a small holiday out of the trip home.

First stop: A&W Ayer Keroh.


This was our lunch — waffles, root beet, curly fries, Coney dogs. A&W is increasingly difficult to find, but this particular branch has lasted while many others have not. For myself as well as my cousins and my brother, A&W holds a special place in our hearts.

Suitably fattened up with All-American Food, we were soon rolling again and at 8:30pm, we arrived at our destination.


The check-in was very pleasant — and the view of the Twin Towers is spectacular — but we’d missed the canapé hour.

Onto Suria KLCC for dinner at Madam Kwan’s.


We ordered the favourites and they didn’t disappoint.

I’ve eaten in this exact restaurant just thrice in my life; this was the third time. The first time was when I was very young and bubble tea was a new thing. I’d managed to get a bubble stuck in my straw, and sucking harder wasn’t helping. So, being the genius child I was, I decided to engage reverse gear.

The bubble came flying out like a musket ball.

My aunt was less than impressed at the reaction from the other table, but more than a decade on I look back and laugh.

We picked up some cider and snacks from Isetan on the way back.


It was a good night.

Friday

It was coming to an end all too quickly.

But first, breakfast upstairs. I had the usual suspects for breakfast.


I had the usual suspects for breakfast: sausages, pastries, etc. I skipped the eggs as I was having a bit of a cough.


After breakfast, my brother went for a swim. I elected to fill up the bathtub, which ended up being a little too hot, necessitating a cold shower afterwards.


We then hung around and enjoyed the room until about midday, when I hit the road. My brother would stay a little longer and do afternoon tea with his godsisters; I would be seeing friends and then flying to Singapore and then onwards to Sydney.

I shook my brother’s hand, thanked him for the stay and hit the road. I’d see him in Sydney.

It was Labour Day, so being a public holiday in Malaysia everyone and their uncle came to Suria KLCC. Navigating through the scrum, I found my way to the Kelana Jaya Line and hopped on a train to KL Sentral.


I found myself at Nu Sentral, a big new mall in Brickfields directly connected to the KL Sentral transport/commercial complex.

KL Sentral truly is a great project of the kind I believe Sydney needs. It’s a huge multi-use project that is only now in the final stages of completion. The original station complex and hotels date from the late nineties, but Nu Sentral was opened recently.

I had lunch with friends I haven’t seen in a while in the food court. On the whole, eating out in KL is more noticeably more expensive than in Muar or Penang.

After we wrapped it up, I stormed down to the KLIA Ekpres and paid the RM35 fare to KLIA2, the new tin-pot operation for low-cost carriers. The fare is by local standards very expensive, but it’s the fastest and most reliable way to get to KLIA and KLIA2.

The trains are very comfortable and are fitted with padded high-backed seats, luggage racks and even on-board toilets. I neglected to photograph the interior, but suffice to say it’s one of the few things Malaysia does that is still world-class even after thirteen years. (For the purposes of comparison, after thirteen years the parallel KTM Komuter was in meltdown.)

My thoughts drifted out the window, musing on how to make commuting by rail in KL more effective.

Bang on the thirty-five minute mark, the train pulled into KLIA2 (after its stop at KLIA proper) and I stepped off into Malaysia’s most ridiculous shopping mall.

I like to think that I’ve seen it all. After all, my home port is Sydney and my forward hub is Singapore. Both of these places have mastered the art of commercialising airport space, making most of the interior a mall.

KLIA2 is a mall.

With gates attached to be sure, but a mall first and foremost.

The place is huge. It’s ridiculous. Tigerair’s check-in row is lettered ‘Z’ for Zulu.

Oh yeah, I booked Tigerair the night before because AirAsia wanted drug money. The suffering is about the same on either carrier, so I went with the cheaper torture.

Anyway. Walking to ‘K’ in Sydney is bad enough, but KLIA2 is really something else. You step off the train and are confronted by an enormous mall. You need to go up a bunch of escalators to get out to a terrace so you can cross over into another mall, which opens out directly into the enormous check-in area.

I checked in and for the trouble of surrendering my bag to the hold, got assigned 1B. No idea how, but a bulkhead is a bulkhead.

I passed some time trying to make the WiFi work. It was a desperate race against the clock to see which would win, my efforts to log onto the WiFi or the boarding call.

Boarding won, so I shuffled onboard and wedged myself between my travelling companions: some random Chinese dude and an English backpacker.

We said nothing the entire flight apart from ‘excuse me’ when needing to flick open the damn armrest tables.

I had a Milo. It was hot. It soothed my soul. That was the meal service.

We landed on time and pulled up to the gate in Terminal 2. Civilisation at last!

I was in quite a hurry so I skipped the photo opportunity again, but I should note that now with Terminal 1 at Changi having been tarted up very nicely indeed in the last few years, Terminal 2 is showing its age quite poorly.

Anyway, immigration took a ridiculously long time to clear (something like twenty minutes, which in Singapore is an eternity) and by the time I got through and collected my Fox lolly, my bag had been taken off the belt and dumped on the floor.

I stripped off all the tags indignantly and stormed out to the landside area.

It was by now dark, so there was little point photographing the Skytrain. If you want to feel the experience from the comfort of your own home, just say aloud, “Please hold on to the handrails. We are now leaving for Terminal 1.”

I got to Terminal 1 and felt much better. The place feels like home.

I proceeded straight to the Qantas check-in row and presented myself at the Silver/Qantas Club row and got myself assigned a better seat.

30G.

Okay, not too bad considering I asked for a shadow and got one.

Now, being the unlucky blighter I am, I managed to misconnect with an inbound lounge invite that was posted to my brother’s mailbox. It probably arrived just as we pulled up into International, but I’ll just have to use it another time.

So stuck without access and with about four hours to go, I decided I would make the most of my one lounge-less visit to Changi and hit the swimming pool.

Ah, the joy that S$13.90 can buy.


The ability to enjoy a soak and a shallow, casual swim is fantastic, even in the warm, muggy night with audible aircraft.

Don’t let the aircraft worry you, though; I was able to get into a jacuzzi conversation with three people, all flying to Helsinki on Finnair: an Ethiopian lady who has lived most of her life in Oslo; a Scandinavian surfer who was going back to collect his family for another two months in Bali; an Italian-Australian Melbournian heading out to Italy for something related to gelato.

After this, I had a light dinner of local food in the 24hr Food Gallery.


I then settled down next to some power points and juiced up while sipping another Milo.

At 11:10pm or so, I decamped and wandered down to the gate. Tonight’s ship was VH-EBH ‘Hunter Valley’.

I got to my seat to discover I was parked next to a couple with a wailing infant on the mother’s lap and their stuffed toys and handbags and other stuff dumped unceremoniously on my seat.

I glared them into retreating back into their area as they brought out the tablet computer to feel their infant insipid nursery rhyme videos. I dare suggest that this irritated me even more — in Asia, it is becoming dangerously common for young parents to outsource the attention the child needs by parking them in front of an iPad. When the father moved to take away the tablet for takeoff, the child made a grab for it and swatted his hand away — a warning sign if I ever needed one.

Takeoff was the standard A330 affair and when the seat belt sign was extinguished, I saw an opening and made a dash for it.

24G was mine! MINE!

There were no bassinet infants on board, so I was able to snag 24G as a lady settled into 24E — plenty of space to go around.

Shortly after levelling off, we were served a midnight snack — I picked the ‘calzone’. The heavy meal would be served as breakfast prior to landing, an inverse setup to how QF6 used to be run



The snack was a rather poor one, I might add, as it was dry and quite empty. I think I would have preferred something like black pepper chicken tightly wrapped into a white wrap.

Anyway, after that, I took out my backpack and laid it on the floor in front of the bulkhead to form a makeshift ottoman.


I was out like a light.

Saturday

I swear I get better at sleeping on Singapore to Sydney flights every year, because the next thing I remember was waking up to the breakfast cart rattling next to me.


The hot breakfast was substantially better than the midnight snack. The eggs were flavoursome if a bit strange in texture, but otherwise it was pretty much the hot items from the Domestic Business Lounge shoved into the one plastic box: scrambled eggs, baked beans, chicken sausages, potatoes and tomato.

I polished it off with some coffee with milk before heading to the lavatory to brush my teeth.


I’ve noticed that generally people cope better with QF6’s later flight time than they do with the much earlier red-eyes like QF82 that lands right after curfew lifts. I believe the later arrival is much softer on the jetlag.

I dozed off a little before we prepped for landing and were treated to the CSM’s valedictory speech — she was retiring after twenty-six years at Qantas — and thunderous applause.

We hit the tarmac a few minutes after the scheduled 9:45am and I was through immigration, customs and at the AirportLink station in exactly twenty-two minutes — my personal record.

I didn’t need to be at work for a few hours, so after my timing run I went back upstairs to shower and shave. The showers in Sydney are free, but naturally they’re not as nice as a paid shower at Changi, never mind a lounge.

I then had lunch in the form of a A$5 Double Filet O Fish from McDonald’s before jumping on the 400 bus to Bondi Junction and returning straight to work to drown myself in a toxic cocktail of hormonal teenagers and integral calculus.


It went by all too quickly, that Malaysian interlude.


I’ll be back on the road in June. I can’t wait. Until then, I guess — at least it gives me time to work on my last trip!

END