The Malaysian Insider :: Opinion
The Malaysian Insider :: Opinion |
| Posted: 26 Nov 2011 04:08 PM PST NOV 27 — Are you one of those people who link a smell to a particular place? Strange as this may sound, Europe has always had a "smell" to me, like a scent that can be bottled up and released whenever I step out into a European airport. I don't know why this is the case, but my memory seems to have archived this smell from my first trip abroad 22 years ago. Lately, for me, it's been about buses and the places they take me to. The public light bus (much like the minibus that used to terrorise the streets of Kuala Lumpur and Petaling Jaya) I take to nearby Aberdeen (Hong Kong, not Scotland) where I do my weekly shop reeks of fish. This is to be expected as the Aberdeen wet market is known for its cheap and fresh seafood (but really, if it is all that fresh, surely it should not smell?). Yet, the bright yellow double decker Citybus that plies the same route does not suffer the same fishy predicament. I have deduced that this could be because the Citybus stop is farther away from the market and perhaps by the time our wet soles step into the bus all fishy aroma would have transferred onto the streets of Aberdeen. On Friday, however, I encountered another odour, one I was certain should never be on a bus in the first place. I had ventured to the Eastern tip of Hong Kong Island to attend a birthday party. This was not my usual stomping ground so my senses were more alert than usual. I was in Kornhill, a densely populated private housing estate packed with shopping malls and towering apartment blocks built above the Tai Koo MTR station. Shortly after boarding the bus back to my little southern tip of the island, a stench began to waft around. I tried to figure out who the culprit was. But first, what was this smell? It was bad, for sure. It was somewhere between stinky-taufu bad and body-odour bad. Could it be from the man who had just sat down in front of me, who seemed to have a scalp problem? Snowy white flakes hung precariously from the tips of his short, permed hair. Smart move on his part though, wearing a white windbreaker. Or could the funk be coming from the lady who had just rolled her cabin-sized luggage to the rear of the bus? My son, in his sleepy state, mumbled about the "chow-chow" smell. By this time I realised why it was familiar. I had come across it many times while walking my dog. Usually it would involve a rotting carcass of a bird or rat. I hoped the lady with the suitcase wasn't harbouring any dead animals. So that will now be our Kornhill scent. "Chow-chow" rotting corpse in a suitcase. There is also the Central stink, which, if you find yourself waiting for a bus at the Exchange Square bus terminus, will be that of burnt rubber and gas fumes. A short distance away along Des Veoux Road in Sheung Wan, even while ensconced in an air-conditioned bus, you will not be able to escape the overpowering dried seafood smell from the dozens of shops specialising in exotic marine delicacies, some of which line the pavements as they bake under the scorching sun. Anyone living in Hong Kong will be able to tell you about the non-stop pounding and grinding that takes place everywhere. It seems we can't travel more than a few hundred metres without encountering some kind of road work or building construction work. Accompanying these sounds are the smells — burning metal, choking dust, wet concrete. It is no wonder some folks choose to walk around with surgical masks even when they are not ill. And strangely enough, even though we are surrounded by the sea, all I smell when walking past the sampan docked along the Aberdeen Typhoon Shelter is... diesel. While this is about the smells of Hong Kong, let us not forget what else goes up our nasal passages: The annual mean roadside reading of fine particles in Central is 35 micrograms per cubic metre. Only seven cities of 565 surveyed by the World Health Organisation around the world exceed this reading. My favourite bus journey smell though has to be when I alight at Stanley Market on a quiet Sunday morning. This is before tour buses arrive, before cars and buses choke the narrow winding coastal road. I can pick up the faintest hint of salty sea air. For me that will be Stanley, fresh with a hint of salt and greasy French toast fried up at the "dai pai dong." * The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the columnist. Full content generated by Get Full RSS. |
| On breaking wind, Kenyans and smelly socks Posted: 26 Nov 2011 04:03 PM PST NOV 27 — Two Saturdays ago, I took the express bus up north to participate in the 2011 Penang Bridge International Marathon. Having seen pictures of the masses of people running on the bridge from previous years, I was quite excited to participate in this prestigious race for the first time. Truth be told, I was also racing to get the finisher's T-shirt. Yeah, I am a sucker for that sort of thing. Oh, and also the bragging rights: "I ran the length of Penang Bridge last night." Of course, there would be no mention of whether I actually made it back on foot or was slumped at the back of a truck or ambulance. Hush, we don't talk about that sort of thing here. Beginning and ending at Queensbay Mall, the marathon involved running down the coastal road and the length of Penang Bridge and back. Despite the full marathon only flagging off at 2am, everyone was in high spirits and excited to get it on. It also helped that most of the marathoners were pumped with adrenaline, caffeine and power gels (quite a few had bright eyes and darted around looking like nervous squirrels hunting for the potty). It really was a carnival. There were lion dancers amidst an ocean of pink, blue and yellow. The numerous volunteers and runners from a telco wore their trademark yellow. Women runners were given pink singlets and men wore blue. We really should stop gender stereotyping and assigning colours this way. Maybe some of the guys wanted to wear the pink one or the girls the blue? Apparently 27,500 people had signed up to do a spot of morning running. There were runners from Singapore, Kenya, Canada, Nigeria, Thailand, Philippines and Japan. Young and old, there appeared to be quite a few who had obviously been running for years. One guy in his 60s was wearing a finisher's T-shirt of a 100km ultra-marathon! Gila ka? There was even a runner who wore a prosthetic limb or "blade" similar to that worn by Oscar Pistorius, the South African "Blade Runner." Another guy was running the race barefooted! This being only my second marathon, it was quite inspiring to be among a community of people brought together by their love of running. Suddenly, it was time. The Penang chief minister fired the starter's pistol, and we were off! In the excitement, somebody broke wind loudly, laughter broke out and a few hundred mad women and men lurched forward. An interesting start. It was certainly a beautiful night. There had been a thunderstorm earlier but the downpour stopped leaving a cool, night breeze (no, not the earlier kind of wind). Running towards the brightly lit bridge in the distance, it was great to see a bunch of people running together to raise civic consciousness on various causes and issues. There were several who ran to raise awareness on diabetes and obesity; a guy in a cape and partially blindfolded (he was tethered to a running buddy) ran for the blind; I wore a red ribbon for HIV and AIDS awareness; and a pair of sisters ran with a sign to highlight the issue of cancer. I noticed that running fashion has also evolved. Why wear a boring singlet and a pair of shorts to run when you can run in style and make a statement at the same time? One guy wore a sarong while another, a bear's head. There were a few fairies in white frilly skirts and little tiaras. A woman dressed as a school girl in a short skirt and pigtails breezed past. Admirers of the male and female forms would have had a great day looking at the large number of fit athletic bodies on exhibit. Seeing several well-toned and muscled midriffs and abdomens, I had earlier quickly looked at my own imagined six-pack and saw nothing to show or shout about. More like a packet of crumbled cookies. Let me be honest. I would be lying if I didn't admit that running behind a few spandex-clad well-toned derrieres provided much needed motivation on some of the more difficult stretches of the route. Of course, when they start pulling away from you and leaving you in the dust, it can also be quite distressing. Speaking of being left in the dust, police sirens instructing runners to clear the way signalled the arrival of the lead Kenyans and Nigerians from the half marathon! We were barely a third through the full marathon course. Already the lead Africans from the half marathon were at our level despite an hour of lead time between the start of the full and half marathons! Looking at these superhumans, we cheered, clapped, cursed, and groaned. These guys run super-fast, achieve fantastic finishing times and often go home with the prize money at the end of international meets. They truly are jaw-dropping athletes and a sight to see on the road (that is when we are able to see them long enough). Who knew that going to the loo would become such an issue when running? Quite a few people went into bushes and behind trees. There were queues to use the porta-loos available on the bridge. Some were forced to huddle near bridge pillars and do their number one over the side. When you got to go, you got to go. I just hope nobody was down below (hmmm... that rhymed). I spied some of the pacer balloons far up front and tried to keep up (being colour blind I wasn't sure what balloon I was chasing). There didn't seem to be that many cheerleaders or moral support teams. They were probably in their nice warm beds. The Chinese drums were also mostly silent when we passed them at 4am. Some of the water stations were also empty; their volunteers slumped at the roadside sleeping. As the sun broke over the horizon, I ran across the finishing line along with many others. Who knew that the scent of success would smell quite bad? Everybody who arrived after completing the full and half marathon were not only extremely exhausted and probably incoherent, quite a few smelled strongly of sweat and smelly running attire and socks. No longer needing to run, a few of us also started to walk funny. I never thought I would find myself completing a marathon on the Penang Bridge. It was an amazing feeling. By the way, the winner of the full marathon completed the entire course in 2 hours 22 minutes and 56 seconds. He must have bathed, taken a nap, gotten a massage and had breakfast by the time we got to the finish line. And had another nap. Yup, he was Kenyan. A couple of hours later, while boarding (more like crawling onto) the express bus back to Kuala Lumpur, I realised with a start that in my haste to go back, I had not eaten a plate of char keow teow. Instead I now have blackened toes, and a tired and sore body. But I do have my finisher T-shirt and a nice medal. * The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the columnist. Full content generated by Get Full RSS. |
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