[LJ2ME] Can't You See I'm Having A Rail Good Time
Many writers have expounded on the romanticism of rail journeys in the vein of the fabled Orient-Express, and yours truly was finally going to act on one's impulses and take the train to Malaysia. Of course, the fact that the imminent confirmed closure of the Malayan Rail Tanjong Pagar station plays as much a role as catalyst and impetus on this midweek day off.
Before I left the house, the skies were already threatening to open up, and it did. A light drizzle building up to a steady rain that would warrant the cancellation of elective plans and curtailment of travel. However, this intrepid explorer was not going to be put off by inclemental conditions. Rain or shine, there was no contingency wet weather programme for the day. No rain check will be considered, and the most will be made of the circumstances, regardless.
Besides, the aspect of rain-streaked windows with rivulets of water running down the exterior of the carriage as it trundles through and past prime land in the wooded Bukit Timah vicinity adds to the prospect one has yearned to witness for sometime but yet an experience so far unmaterialised. As rose-tinted the images conjured up, the journey itself is as yet unfulfilled.
It would encompass multiple transfers between buses and the MRT (one up for distance fares) before even breaching Malaysian soil on Singapore land. The rain is not abating and deluge-like conditions seem likely and already half-drenched, one is almost tempted to fall out but for the research and planning executed. Oh well, maybe I'll cheat and cab it to the KTM station halfway instead.
Which I did. At the station, after buying my ticket and a satisfyingly substantial mutton briyani lunch at the canteen, I still had some time to spare wandering around admiring the historic building and taking in the trapped-in-time locale. Everything from the vaulted atrium and its painted tiles of rustic scenes was nostalgia itself. As it was, apart from the slightly incongruous fact that we were technically "on" Malaysia, it did feel like we were "in" Malaysia, though on less favourable terms such as flies in the canteen and a permeating odour in the toilets despite the seemingly clean conditions.
At the departure platform, my ticket was validated and the white departure card was stamped at customs. What about my passport? It was reserved seating on the train and I had been assigned a window seat. The rain had stopped by the time we pulled out, and as the sky brightened and cleared, was it too much to hope or pray for some sunshine? And we're off! The once-experienced but long-forgotten rattling and rumbling sounds soon recalled dormant memories lost in the deepest, darkest and dustiest recesses of the mind. So exciting!
As we cut a swathe through Singapore, the eyes were peeled for hints at our position vis-a-vis the normal perspective on the roads. CMPB, AIA, MOE, KAP were but some of the landmark abbreviations that flew by. Along the way, should I have been surprised that there were small squatter settlements by the tracks? And when the tracks went over a road, I had to resist waving to the waiting motorists who had to wait for the barrier to lift.
They say that holidays planned around trains and cruise ships are for the elderly, for the expansive and prolonged journey, but isn't that the whole appeal, looking out to an everchanging landscape or waking up to a new port. I'm all for these journeys, but maybe on the Queen Mary and E & O Express and not the floating casinos or cattle-class types my current budget only allows. As Scarlett O'Hara said, "As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again."
Within the hour, we pulled into the Woodlands station to clear Singapore customs and it was like an extended family clan outing where they emptied the train and then waited for everyone to have their documents checked before allowing us back on the train. Mere minutes of pulling out of the station, an announcement was made for the Johor Bahru station. Stepping off the train and walking out through the doors, I was deposited in JB, opposite City Square. The weather was similarly dreary over there.
What about my passport?! That was taken care of upon my departure. I eschewed the return trip by train as the schedule was later than I planned to stay. Going back by bus, at the Sultan Iskandar complex, when I presented my passport with the white immigration card complete with the arrival portion intact, he initially faltered for a moment, before recomposing himself and endorsing my departure, albeit documenting in writing that my arrival was effected by "Entry by KTM". So there.
Before I left the house, the skies were already threatening to open up, and it did. A light drizzle building up to a steady rain that would warrant the cancellation of elective plans and curtailment of travel. However, this intrepid explorer was not going to be put off by inclemental conditions. Rain or shine, there was no contingency wet weather programme for the day. No rain check will be considered, and the most will be made of the circumstances, regardless.
Besides, the aspect of rain-streaked windows with rivulets of water running down the exterior of the carriage as it trundles through and past prime land in the wooded Bukit Timah vicinity adds to the prospect one has yearned to witness for sometime but yet an experience so far unmaterialised. As rose-tinted the images conjured up, the journey itself is as yet unfulfilled.
It would encompass multiple transfers between buses and the MRT (one up for distance fares) before even breaching Malaysian soil on Singapore land. The rain is not abating and deluge-like conditions seem likely and already half-drenched, one is almost tempted to fall out but for the research and planning executed. Oh well, maybe I'll cheat and cab it to the KTM station halfway instead.
Which I did. At the station, after buying my ticket and a satisfyingly substantial mutton briyani lunch at the canteen, I still had some time to spare wandering around admiring the historic building and taking in the trapped-in-time locale. Everything from the vaulted atrium and its painted tiles of rustic scenes was nostalgia itself. As it was, apart from the slightly incongruous fact that we were technically "on" Malaysia, it did feel like we were "in" Malaysia, though on less favourable terms such as flies in the canteen and a permeating odour in the toilets despite the seemingly clean conditions.
At the departure platform, my ticket was validated and the white departure card was stamped at customs. What about my passport? It was reserved seating on the train and I had been assigned a window seat. The rain had stopped by the time we pulled out, and as the sky brightened and cleared, was it too much to hope or pray for some sunshine? And we're off! The once-experienced but long-forgotten rattling and rumbling sounds soon recalled dormant memories lost in the deepest, darkest and dustiest recesses of the mind. So exciting!
As we cut a swathe through Singapore, the eyes were peeled for hints at our position vis-a-vis the normal perspective on the roads. CMPB, AIA, MOE, KAP were but some of the landmark abbreviations that flew by. Along the way, should I have been surprised that there were small squatter settlements by the tracks? And when the tracks went over a road, I had to resist waving to the waiting motorists who had to wait for the barrier to lift.
They say that holidays planned around trains and cruise ships are for the elderly, for the expansive and prolonged journey, but isn't that the whole appeal, looking out to an everchanging landscape or waking up to a new port. I'm all for these journeys, but maybe on the Queen Mary and E & O Express and not the floating casinos or cattle-class types my current budget only allows. As Scarlett O'Hara said, "As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again."
Within the hour, we pulled into the Woodlands station to clear Singapore customs and it was like an extended family clan outing where they emptied the train and then waited for everyone to have their documents checked before allowing us back on the train. Mere minutes of pulling out of the station, an announcement was made for the Johor Bahru station. Stepping off the train and walking out through the doors, I was deposited in JB, opposite City Square. The weather was similarly dreary over there.
What about my passport?! That was taken care of upon my departure. I eschewed the return trip by train as the schedule was later than I planned to stay. Going back by bus, at the Sultan Iskandar complex, when I presented my passport with the white immigration card complete with the arrival portion intact, he initially faltered for a moment, before recomposing himself and endorsing my departure, albeit documenting in writing that my arrival was effected by "Entry by KTM". So there.