Shopping malls and shanty towns

Kota Kinabalu - An exotic name for a western city. 

Malaysia is a very developed nation to nearly-Western standards (sightly more emphasis on Health and Safety issues and it would be just like home, with a better climate). Which is why it finds itself home to many migrants from it's poorer neighbours. In east Malaysia, or Borneo particularly, there are many Filipinos filling in the jobs that are undesirable to the well-educated Malays, such as labouring on the constant new developments. As a result of these poorly paid, illegal workers with no rights, slums spring up close, or on, the building site to house the workers for cheap.


I can hardly criticise this system, as I have well and truly been reinforcing it, willingly or not. We've been moored at the beautiful Sutera Harbour Marina, (2 private beaches, four pools, separate saunas for men and women and all the other conveniences of a 5* resort).  Although it's been a luxurious holiday, the proximity to the nearest slum is astounding. In fact, it's only a very short stretch of water that separates the brightly lit 'Sutera Harbour Resort' sign from the nearest village on stilts which doesn't have electricity - and plumbing? Why would that be necessary when the houses are built over stagnant water? 

After spending 6 weeks almost exclusively in the city of Kota Kinabalu, I think I've got a good feel for the place now. If this is coming across as slightly bitter, please excuse me. I'm not. I understand the system exists because it works. The Filipinos come here because they are earning more than they ever could at home, even if their current living standards are lower. Maybe it's a temporary thing, or the fact that they can support their entire family easily. I also know that just because somebody lives in a hut on stilts doesn't mean they're not happy. In fact, many of the happiest people I've met on my travels live in similar circumstances, with barely enough money to rub two coins together, but the love and support of their immediate family, and an unchanging job that supports them through the wet and dry season is enough. However, the Malaysian government should be aware that these people are the backbone of the economy and certain rights, such as giving them legal citizenship, or at least the right to a temporary work visa would benefit everyone. 

Kota Kinabalu is a walkable city (unusual in Asia) with a population of some 600,000. I think of KK as one big shopping mall with some roads to negotiate in the middle. The rich here seem to be incredibly rich - in the marina there is a  brand spanking new US$5million boat, which is just a floating party venue to the owner. He has no idea how to drive the thing, and doesn't even own a pair of swim shorts! What a tragic waste! 

There is also a bit of a nightlife scene here - 'The Bed' is a large and popular nightclub right on the waterfront, with an entry fee of 20RM (even for girls, despite the fact that it can easily be described as a sausage fest). It was a good night out anyway although I wouldn't recommend going unless with a large group. The other fantastic night out I had in Kota Kinabalu was at the white room, which was epic just because it was so unexpected: we made friends with a large group of Indians who were dancing their Bollywood hearts out. This location seemed to have a slightly more gay crowd. I managed to get a completely unironic high five for my dancing (a first); Siem held the end of my hair out and the surrounding group of people used it to shimmy under as a limbo pole. 

The other, slightly random, night out I had was with Petrina. We were at Shamrock, enjoying the live music and embarrassing ourselves at pool, when a group of mostly Australians arrived, presumably already drunk (one of them wasted no time in stripping off his clothing and dirty dancing with the owner, who was turning 60). We took a stroll outside to explore the other options and drink cheap beer outside 7/11. When we came back, most of the mostly-Aussies were in a SUV, apparantly waiting for us. We were hustled into the car, en route to Sutera Harbour (the parents of some/all of these guys had a beautiful house on the edge of the golf course). What a crazy party it was. Everyone went swimming in the pool as soon as we arrived, (we regretted it straight away because it was freezing) and one of the mostly-Aussies sprayed champagne over everything. We spent a few hours partying with the nutters, had breakfast and got back on the boat seconds before Brian woke up (to this day, he doesn't know how late we got back). 

We spent some time exploring health care options in KK - Madara has a badly bruised ankle from a classic accident: motorbikes in Thailand. One day we borrowed a wheelchair from the marina and spent the day in town finding out just how disability unfriendly Asia really is. For one thing, all the local people are looking at us like we're strange. There are enough white people hanging out in KK that it's not just because we're differently coloured. I felt they wanted  to say, 'well, she's clearly broken, so what are you doing taking her through shopping malls and getting in the way of those of us who aren't crippled?'. Finding pavements that had a slope into the road rather than a step was insanely difficult. Also any ramps we found tended to be either too steep or slippery to push up/down a wheelchair without loosing control/getting squashed on the main road. Foreigners should note that if you manage to get to a hospital or government-run clinic you pay a flat rate of 15RM ($5US) for: access to a Doctor, any X-rays or treatment you might need and whatever medication they prescribe you. Unfortunately we weren't aware of this - we went to a private clinic at the beginning which charged extra for X-rays and meds.
 
 We also found a dentist (eventually) and got a check-up. Petrina and I wasted quiet a bit of time initially - we were recommended a local dentist and booked an appointment by phone. On the date and time of the appointment, we arrived at the location (directions from the friend who'd recommended the dentist). Strangely, the place appeared to be shut. We walked around the block, looking for a different door in or another dentist with the same name. Tidak ada. We called up and got directions from the receptionist whose level of English consisted of, 'go to 7/11', which was on a parallel street. When we drew level we realised the store was actually shut down although the signs were still up. No sign of another dentist though. The saga continued for at least another 30mins - we listed all the hotels, banks and restaurants we could see. They directed us towards something they recognised. We requested they send someone out onto the street to find us. No luck there. Eventually when we were thinking on giving up on the quest and indulging in ice-cream instead, I passed the phone to a local lady walking by. After a very short conversation, she informed us: 'You need to take a taxi. This dentist is 100km away.' We had much more luck with our second attempt.

I've also met some brilliant local friends in KK. I had a bout of tonsillitis and was fortunate enough to be picked up by Sim whilst en route to the nearest farmasi on foot. He was kind enough to take me to get my drugs AND waited to give me a ride back too. When I was feeling more sociable, he introduced us to some of his friends who took turns in escorting us to various local attractions. We particularly loved the Sabah museum (I suck at walking on stilts) and the best laksa restaurant in town.