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Taiping, 8 January 2001 |
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What's the distance between Kluang and Taiping?
Anyway, it sounds like a double distance. The entire cross country train journey takes around ten hours, about as long as the intercontinental flight from Holland.
The train schedule mainly shows tranquillity, no hurry, no fuss. In Malaysia the express train takes it easy as well. Yet the train are quite punctual, an hour late departure is exceptional. A day in the train is an exceptional experience. A train is a collective of people, strolling along in a stretched cookie jar on wheels, all in the same track. The train is crowded. Today is the last day of school holidays. Tomorrow many Malaysians will return back to school or jobs. In a train heading for the opposite direction it must be similar. Strange how many people are always on the move, in opposite directions. Why o why? On the whole it should be possible to optimise those flows, balancing them out. The crowd changes. My fellow passengers slowly all make way for new ones. In Kuala Lumput the whole train is abandoned. For me the journey is only half way. Taiping is a lot more up north. New passengers board the train, it gets cleaned and the crew changes as well. It's like the start of a new train journey. The train and myself seem to be the only constants. The day goes by. At Ipoh the evening has fallen. I don't like it. I would have preferred to arrive in the afternoon, so I'd have all the time to look around. It resents me to stumble through a dark Taiping. So, took the easy way out, and safely, like a genuine tourist: |
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All hotels in
the bookare sure of a steady flow of backpackers. They know that the visitors have made their choice, even before getting out of the taxi. The price doubles, with the risk of being kicked out in the next edition. But well, don't worry today about tomorrow's problems. The books of Lonely Planet (lonelyplanet.com/.../malaysia) are meant for the individual, adventurous traveller. Yet they result into risk avoiding massive flocks. Meanwhile I'm in Taiping for almost a week now. The flow of tourists passes by. I am an exception by staying at one place for a long time. The hotel and myself seem to be the only constants. Yet I do make a journey, albeit a virtual one, as my environment continues to change. Distance is relative.
I associate the stream of tourists with lemmings.
Even though the steam is disguised, in small size two groups, they run from one tourist attraction to the other,
blindly following
the same beaten track,
as prescribed in
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