The jarring difference began setting in the moment I stepped into the Tanjong Pagar railway station in Singapore. Barely passed the immigration checkpoint and still in Singapore soil, I have this feeling that I am back home in Malaysia already.
Dirty toilets, faded signs, walls which layer of paint is left to rot… well, I’m back in Malaysia all right. As the train pushed away, I can see that the tracks and the area around it were utterly horrendous. Separated by a flimsy wire mesh fence, rubbish are thrown
everywhere while the bushes grow creeping on every available surface that is Malaysia; while just beyond that fence lies Singapore with its eerie immaculate appearance.
It is scary to know that despite its shoddy appearance, a sense of relief overwhelmed me as the train crawled past the Singapore-Malaysia border. I looked closely as the train passes the causeway. The moment we pass that line, a sense of fear sweeps over me as the causeway appears like it won’t hold up the weight of the train. It’s horrible, it’s kinda fucked up but I have to admit that I have grown accustomed to the ways that are Malaysia.
And as if to really remind me that I am now back in Malaysia, the train buffet coach attendant just approached me to inform me that my overpriced fried rice could not be served. Why? The chef just found out that they’ve ran out of gas. Ahhh… Malaysia Boleh. Instead I settled for a microwave heated burger that required much less cooking. It tastes like crap but I’m hungry as hell.
It is now one forty in the afternoon…. According to schedule I should arrive in Kuala Lumpur in 2 hours time. That is if the train stays on schedule. When I got my ticket, everyone was puzzled as to why I bother taking the train; it’s slow and always delayed. Well, there’s something between me and trains that is quite sentimental. Let’s just say that it is sometimes like meeting an old friend. Such meetings are seldom rushed.
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