Merging borders

The 4th IPEd National Editors Conference has come and gone. Seven of us represented Western Australia at a forum that brings editors together both nationally and internationally every two years. Not only were the sessions informative and interesting, it was very motivating talking to a range of editors in different publishing arenas across Australia. In an age of electronic communication, face-to-face interaction remains key. It’s always refreshing to hear the human voice after working in the world of emails, blogs or just plain editing every day.

Some of the most motivating speakers for me were at the plenary sessions. Natasha Stott-Despoja, former Senator of the Australian Democrats, now visiting research fellow in politics at the University of Adelaide, gave an inspiring talk not only by presenting with confidence, humour and humility but because she researched what our lives as editors are about. She drilled into what it means to be an editor, from the micro level of correcting spelling and grammar, to the macro view of how to promote ourselves in a community that so badly needs our skills (she also liked our sensible shoes!).

Julian Burnside AO, QC, human rights lawyer, recently honoured with the title ‘National living treasure’, brilliantly illustrated the growing acceptance of euphemism in politics, the military, government and everyday language – something he calls ‘doublespeak’. This acceptance masks at best, a blissful ignorance or at worst, a manipulative dissembling of events hidden behind ‘collateral damage’, the soft words covering harsh facts.

Check out more on this here:
http://www.abc.net.au/rn/talks/perspective/stories/s1315347.htm

On blogging

Going back to study is always a pleasure for me and I like to think of myself as a lifelong learner. Early university days were not only about study. Socialising and interacting with
fellow students was equally, if not more, important than the course we were undertaking (in fact I often forgot about attending lectures altogether!). University days were a while ago now and my needs and habits have changed. Working full time makes the hours outside work especially precious. Hence, I have chosen to study completely online with fellow students located all around Australia. Some may believe this is isolating but I find posting into cyberspace liberating. I love the online environment and find the ease of logging on whenever I’m available, extremely satisfying. My current unit, ‘Interactive writing’, is forcing me to look over the coalface of technology, specifically in relation to writing for the web, and present online content in an interesting dynamic format. The enormous growth of the Internet has given writers (and editors) additional opportunities never thought possible only a few years ago.

I'm still learning about blogs and trying to understand how they differ from websites. The following websites provide information on this topic:

http://www.backbonemedia.com/blogsurvey/23-difference-between-blog-and-website.htm

http://appraisalnewsonline.typepad.com/appraisal_news_for_real_e/2006/09/what_is_the_dif.html
http://seo2.0.onreact.com/the-most-importantdifference-between-websites-and-blogs

While there is a place for both websites and blogs, the lines of definition are blurred. Though opinions differ, most agree websites are the more static and require more technical knowledge in uploading content. Blogs are, in effect, online diaries or journals with content that is more current, available to more users and hence, more interactive. They offer a way of keeping in touch with your clients or contacts and getting to know them more intimately. A blog provides the opportunity to post articles of varying topics and interest.

Here are some examples:
http://jilltxt.net/ [recommended good blog]

http://grammar.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?zi=1/XJ&sdn=grammar&cdn=education&tm=3&f=00&su=p897.4.336.ip_&tt=3&bt=0&bts=0&zu=http3A//www.editdesk.blogspot.com/ [for copy editors]

http://www.evidenceanecdotal.blogspot.com/ [literary blog]

http://www.dgmyers.blogspot.com/ [discussion of reading]

http://www.nytimesbooks.blogspot.com/ [design of book covers]

Wherever there is writing, there is also editing and it is important for editors to develop skills in
this constantly developing online universe.

Funny Games - a critical analysis using the structuralist approach to narrative

‘Funny Games’ is the 2008 American remake of the Austrian version of the film produced in 1997; both were directed by German–born Michael Haneke. The American version is a shot-for-shot remake of the Austrian film; its sameness insisted upon by Haneke for an American audience, the film he said they ‘needed to see’. The film has variously been categorized as horror and psychological thriller.

There are many ways to analyse this film; the formalist approach with its distinction between plot and story (in this case, it is plot driven rather than character driven), the classical narrative approach which ensures the spectator control (or a belief of it), a psychoanalytic approach with the powerful ‘looked at’ woman who has to be dealt with, and the post-structural approach by using deconstruction, symbology and ‘points of crisis’ to understand the story. These are superficial descriptions. Parts of all of these approaches could have been used to analyse this film. However, I’ve decided to use a structuralist approach as I believe the film can be analysed more effectively and in more detail using theories within this approach. It fits the structuralist approach as it works on many different levels and is really a comment on Western culture and society, an aspect encapsulated by Barthes’ concepts.

The structuralist approach
There are several structural approaches to the analysis of film. ‘Structuralism attempts to interrogate the laws that govern narrative structure. It regards texts as organized systems of signs'. ‘”Structuralism” can be viewed as an extension of “formalism” in that both “structuralism” and “formalism” devoted their attention to matters of literary form (i.e. structure) rather than social or historical content; and that both bodies of thought were intended to put the study of literature on a scientific, objective basis’ (from http://www.iep.utm.edu/1/literary.htm).

Fiske (p 130) said that ‘character acts primarily as a function of the plot; only then is it given individualizing characteristics as an ideological hook for the audience. Even then these individualizing characteristics are best understood not in their uniqueness but in terms of the overall structure of social values that are embodied in the structure of characters (hero + heroine + villain + villainess)’. So in Funny Games, the characters do not represent themselves per se, but are representations of structured social values that provide the message of the story within our own knowledge of the world. The characters can be viewed as icons; Ann as mother/protector, George as power lost, the white-gloved men as an illogical manipulative political system or an uncontrollable virus.

I will analyse Funny Games using mainly the theories of the early structuralists, Propp and Barthes, with a few additional comments about Levi-Strauss and Fiske. The film does manage to follow the structures prescribed but in no way is it predictable in theme or discourse. It does not completely map to any one theorist’s views.

Synopsis
A well-heeled couple, their son and dog head off on holiday to their house by a lake. They are soon visited by two very polite white-gloved young men who, for no apparent reason, proceed to torture them physically and psychologically. The father is incapacitated early on, the child murdered and the wife, after attempting an escape, is brought back to the house to watch her husband murdered by the ‘game-players’. The young men bet the family that they will be dead by 9 am. They kidnap the wife, sail out on the yacht into the middle of the lake, and push her overboard by 9 am. The film ends with the white-gloved men moving on to another home on the lake to inflict the same crimes on another unsuspecting family.

Propp’s theory
Propp, an early structuralist, analysed text through structure. Propp’s analysis of the structure of 100 folk tales suggested that one single structure can represent a whole series for story in popular narrative (with his 32 narrative morpheme functions and eight character roles in seven spheres of action). Even though his research was done in 1928, many contemporary stories fit into this structure.

Not all of these functions are necessary to identify the story, and several characters can play different character roles or merge into one. I have attempted to map Propp’s structure against Funny Games (structure copied from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vladimir_Propp): Preparation, complication, transference, struggle, return, recognition.

Characters
Propp concluded there were eight character roles placed into seven spheres of action:
The villain — struggles against the hero – The white-gloved men
The donor — prepares the hero or gives the hero some magical object – The dead neighbours (through the rifle to Georgie)
The (magical) helper — helps the hero in the quest – The rifle
The princess and her father — gives the task to the hero, identifies the false hero, marries the hero, often sought for during the narrative – Ann
The dispatcher — character who makes the lack known and sends the hero off –George, the husband
The hero or victim/seeker hero — reacts to the donor, weds the princess – Ann or her son, Georgie
False hero/anti-hero/usurper — takes credit for the hero’s actions or tries to marry the princess.

Barthes’ theory
Barthes uses myth to ‘naturalise concepts in the interests of the bourgeoisie (myth works to preserve the status quo)’. So-called ‘myths’ in story, Barthes says, are presented as stereotypes, and, like stereotypes, myths are often based on preconceived ideas and thoughts developed over time. Unlike Levi-Strauss who based his theories on culture as a homogeneous concept and ignored the difference between cultures and classes, Barthes based his theories on the role of myth in industrialized capitalist societies with his theory of story based on class conflict rather than homogeneity.

In this way, Barthes provides an appropriate avenue for analyzing Funny Games. It is a comment on class; the struggle between classes and the assumptions we, as the viewer, make about class constructs. At the beginning of the film, the viewer sees an upper crust, wealthy family on their way to their holiday. At this point, we are not aware where precisely they are going but the strong signifieds are the Landcruiser (or similar brand of four-wheel drive) towing the yacht. Music plays an interesting part in the diegesis of the story. This diegetic element introduces the couple, the parents of a child, as having intellectual pursuits. Most families would play ‘I Spy’ on a road trip rather than ‘Guess the classical composer and if that’s too easy, guess the composition?’ This immediately sets the class of the family. The trappings of wealth increase when they drive past stately homes with long driveways and grand gates, the inhabitants of one they obviously know. It soon becomes obvious that they are visiting their holiday home in ‘the Hamptons’ by a large lake. Suddenly the credits appear with the words ‘FUNNY GAMES’ in upper case red accompanied by discordant heavy metal music (‘Bonehead’ by Naked City), in total opposition to the introductory chords of Mozart indicating that all will not be well in this world.

Barthes defines a set of five narrative codes that denote meaning and intextuality of all narratives. I’ll attempt to analyse Funny Games using Barthes’ five narrative codes.

Symbolic code (voice of the symbol) – This code forms sets of antitheses against an organized cultural code or what Barthes calls binary oppositions. These oppositions are good versus evil, hero versus villain, male versus female, upper class (wealthy/established) versus lower class (poor/unestablished), innocence versus experience (or learner versus teacher), older person versus younger person (generations), family versus single male, passive versus active, controlled versus controller, thinking versus ‘object of look’, powerless versus powerful, imprisoned versus free (physically and emotionally), mind versus body, community versus isolation. These also work on the deep structural level cited by Fiske (p 132). The French structural anthropologist, Levi-Strauss, said that ‘myth is an anxiety-reducing mechanism that deals with unresolvable contradictions in a culture and provides imaginative ways of living with them’. Barthes’ binary oppositions have synergies with Levi-Strauss’s idea that myth consists of oppositions.

Connotative or semic code (voice of the person): This is the construction of character by semes, thoughts and traits. Ann appears to be the hero in the film. At the start she becomes aware much more quickly than her husband that things are going awry. As her husband is incapacitated, she becomes the able-bodied hero who can leave the prison to get help. Interestingly, it is Ann who has the aspects of herself slowly taken away: her dog is killed, she is stripped (metaphorically and physically made vulnerable), she plays their game, her husband is killed, until it is her physical self that is finally extinguished. This represents the slow psychological torture inflicted on communities who remain oblvious to the signs of degradation around them until it is too late. Signifiers that help to develop her role as protector are her floral dress (representing purity, womanliness, motherliness, propriety), she is in the kitchen organizing the dinner, directing movements when they reach the house. She is the capable mother and wife, protector of the family. The husband on the other hand, is incapacitated early in the story. The use of the phallic golf club (also a connotation of wealth) disabling his leg shows his castration at the hands of manipulative, powerful, illogical higher forces that cannot be stopped. His incapacitation enables her, the female, to enter her continuous yet pointless struggle against these same forces. The fact that George strikes the first blow (even though the spectator knows that this has had no bearing on the continuing trajectory of the white-gloved men), gives the perpetrators an unjustified reason for their attack, and makes George the scapegoat for their actions.

Cultural or referential code (voice of science or knowledge): This is the narrative of the cultural meanings outside the text/film that the viewer uses to interpret story. The perfect nuclear family is depicted as smiling, playing intellectually highbrow games (guessing the name of the classical composer and the composition on the way in the car). The trappings of wealth and power are illustrated with the four-wheel drive, the yacht, the house in the Hamptons (or similar), no need of a landline as this beautiful home is just a holiday house by the lake. The family is presented as having it all pitted against the two young men who for no reason, resent this establishment, and are intent on destroying the equilibrium of the wealthy. Peter and Paul inhabit a world of irreverence; it is a world of cartoon violence that they are playing out realistically. They constantly refer to each other and Tom and Jerry, Beavis and Butthead and use gaming techniques in the violent acting out of their aggression. This points to the assumption that Peter and Paul are products of a society that allows its children no discipline; they have no ability or desire to recognize fantasy from reality.

Proairetic code (voice of empirics): This is the meaning of any action in relation to our experience of similar actions in other narratives. Any actions started must be completed and as a whole, constitute the plot events of the narrative. When the film begins, everything is perfect, setting the scene for things to go horribly wrong. The action differs from most films in that the perpetrators are dressed in white (for good and pure), and are so polite to be almost obsequious until their true motives are known. The major action signifier is that in most narratives, the suspense is brought about by the hope (and most often correct knowledge) that the hero will escape and the villains will be overcome (the viewer is continually tricked into believing that good will prevail, for example the planting of the knife in the yacht which eventually leads to nihilistic failure). In this film, every hope is dashed insidiously until the final push of Ann overboard, when the spectator realizes that all is hopeless; violence has won.

Hermeneutic code (voice of truth): This is the pattern of narrative, how the story unfolds and the code of enigmas or puzzles. The linear plot line follows the canonic format: equilibrium, disequilibrium, renewed equilibrium (in a manner of speaking) but does not provide an ‘overall trajectory of enigma resolution’. There is equilibrium at the start with the family happily on their way to their perfect holiday hideaway. They are the picture of the perfect nuclear family above everyday concerns in most other people’s reach. Very soon disequilibrium is achieved and continues throughout most of the film. After the husband and son are killed, there is still hope for Ann. When she is finally pushed overboard, the spectator knows that the forces of evil have won and are in power. Even still, in some sick way, we as viewers are drawn into the psychotic journey of the two young men. A kind of equilibrium is again achieved at the end of the film when Peter makes his way to the next neighbour’s house to start the violent process all over again. We, the spectator and equally the bourgeoisie that both Barthes and Haneke criticize, are implicit in their violence, albeit against our will. After all, we were just following Haneke’s orders.

Marx’s view of the bourgeoisie concluded with agreement that this Barthesian myth narrative confirms particular ideologies, and that by constant use it enables these ideas to be made natural, and seem the correct order of things. The bourgeoisie have privilege and power over others most often seen as negative; the term has come to be used pejoratively. ‘Barthes believes…all myth is bourgeois, that is, it always promotes the interests of the dominant classes by making the meanings that serve these interests appear natural and universal’ (Fiske, p 134). In Funny Games, then, is the spectator required to question this privilege and power (somehow equally embodied by the white-gloved men as by the family) so that we believe that in this society, the perpetrators are from the same class as the victims? Might we think that this violent society, however polite and insidious, overtakes and humiliates its own society by some quirk of fate, like National Socialists in the Austria of the director’s parents? Haneke, as director, is criticising the oblivious, unaware bourgeoisie for their insistence on ignoring the world around them, e.g. the acquiescence to Hitler in the 1930s, the plight of the Bosnians in the 1990s, even perhaps the world’s blindness to the carnage in Rwanda. Basically the message is Haneke has shocked us; we are the bourgeoisie he is trying to awaken out of our blissful ignorance and smugness. The violence is without reason or malice; it is merely a tool to shock.

The film works on simple and complex levels and within many structures only one of which I have discussed here. And while Peter purports to speak the truth many times in the film (‘Truth is…), Michael Haneke has the final word:

‘There is never just one truth; there is only personal truth.’ (from http://en.widipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Haneke)

********************
REFERENCES

‘Funny Games’: Last Laughs, by Kurt Loder, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://www.mtv.com/movies/news/articles/1583404/story.jhtml>.
Fiske, J 1987, ‘Narrative’, in Television culture, Methuen, London, pp. 128-148.
Funny Games (2008 film), viewed 15 October 2008, <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Funny_Games_(2008_film)>.
Michael Haneke, viewed 15 October 2008.
Roland Barthes and the coding of discourse, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://courses.nus.edu.sg/course/elljwp/5codes.htm>.
S/Z, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S/Z>.
Senses of cinema, Funny Games by Chris Justice, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://www.sensesofcinema.com/contents/cteq/05/34/funny_games.html>.
The Internet Encyclopaedia of Philosophy, Literary Theory, viewed 15 October 2008, <http://www.iep.utm.edu/l/literary.htm>.

Travels to the desert

Having travelled the world rather than my own backyard, I thought it was time I visited the North of Australia (Western Australia and the Northern Territory) after hearing the stories and seeing the images not seen anywhere else in the world. Green, tepid waters invite the unwary traveller to a number of ways to die - sharks, crocodiles, fast-flowing tides and a myriad of other organisms waiting for a meal.

Kakadu National Park is a long day trip from Darwin. Several days are needed here to do it justice. Yellow River is home to numerous crocodiles and thousands of species of birds. Lichfield Park has incomparable waterfalls and freshwater streams, all home to friendly freshies, the crocs that don't eat humans - often. Katherine Gorge exhibits rugged cliff faces of yellow sandstone and rock art high in the cliffs.

An hour's flight to Darwin is the quick way to get to Kununurra. The township doesn't have much going for it - a Coles, a few restaurants and a pub. It's miles and hours out of the town where the jewels of the desert lie. Lake Argyle is a huge inland sea holding drinkable freshwater three times the size of Sydney Harbour. The Ord River is a picturesque view of the microcosm of organisms found in the area living in a majestic habitat. An expanse of ancient land covered in yellow dust and sandstone 350 million years old greeted me from the doorless cabin of the helicopter flying over the Bungle Bungles (an Aboriginal word meaning sandstone). A tentative hand held the camera close and I didn't even look when I snapped. Not too much can go wrong with a photo of such extraordinarily rugged beauty.












Broome is a hot town paddling the mostly unswimmable teasing green waters of Cable Beach. Our caravanserai of tourists on camels passed the nude beach and a veritable car park of 4WDs enjoying the sunset. The Horizontal Waterfalls gave us a spectacular seaplane ride to a million- dollar houseboat on Lake Talbot. The 20-year-old jet boat driver hurtled us through the adjoining cliffs which causes the world-famous white water rapids. We finished off the day with some fishing, and a lunch of Barramundi atop the houseboat with the red cliffs of the Kimberley behind us.

First grade love

His name was Michael. Nothing unusual about that. He wore a grey shirt and shorts, and brown sandals. In winter, he varied his wardrobe by adding grey jumper and pants, and exchanged sandals for white socks and black shoes. His hair was short, perhaps too short, and his skin glowed white beneath the grey of his uniform. He was just like any other kid. The only difference was that he was a boy.

There were three in our class. Three in a class of thirty. Three boys and twenty-seven over-confident, brash, strong, tough little girls who were growing up in a woman's world, dominated by brash, strong female teachers. Female teachers who, in the cold winter months, would keep their rheumatoid hands warm by smacking supple young calves.

I was running late that first important morning when seating arrangements could make or break a future reputation. But my luck wasn't running that day. All the blocks of six chairs were eagerly grabbed by babyhood girlfriends clutching each others' hands in first morning frenzy. They would no sooner give up their new place in class than dress their Barbie doll in leather.

As I bumbled my way through the door to my education, I looked across the room and managed to fix my attention on one spare seat in the classroom. The spare seat is, of course, never next to the funniest, most intelligent member of the class. My chair, as it had to be, was located directly in front of the teacher, in a group of four opposite Neville and Tony. What great sorrow and shame followed with the realisation that I had to spend the whole coming year sitting at 'the boys' table'. To be always known as 'the one at the boys' table' was a stigma that took years to overcome. The only redeeming feature of this sorry awakening was the fact that I was also going to sit next to Michael for the coming year.

It was only when I sat close to him that I noticed his eyes. They were warm, brown puddles of mellow subtlety that seeped through my consciousness in an insidious wave of the unreal. And he was only six years old! From that moment, I was his. We would generously tick each others' work, drink cold, wet milk together at recess, deeply gouge crevasses in the dry ground for the barriers of our game 'Countries', and slide the soft, fresh steel of the monkey bars. But most important of all, he asked me to his birthday party.

I tried to block out the fact that everyone else in the class was asked too, and preferred to see myself as his special choice. I was the last to leave. It was our most special moment. We shared the last chocolate sundae in the darkness of his mother's verandah. Our hands met on the tip of the straw as we both held the plastic cylinder that would reveal to us the moist and nutty richness that lay below. Finally, the glass receptacle felt cold and our eyes were dazzled by the headlights of my mother's car coming to collect her daughter.

The next few days would bring a change to Michael. Just a little louder in class, just a little less attentive, just a little more gregarious with the rest. Milk-sharing days were over, replaced with the lonely sup of slightly warm, white liquid on the green steps near the hall.

It was time to say goodbye. When Michael approached me at the end, his hand grasped the hat elastic around my neck, and pulled.

He let go, and so did I.

Published in 'Single Life', November 1991.

Travel article: Hawaiian Shangri La

Few locals knew who owned the house with the pillars high on Diamond Head. Facing an intolerant Pacific, a giant limestone barricade protected the home’s foundations from the constant waves, and its owner from unwelcome intruders. A reclusive tobacco heiress with an eternal love of Hawaii, Doris Duke began construction of her winter retreat on five acres of prime Honolulu real estate in 1935. It took three years to build at a cost of $1.4 million, a phenomenal sum at the time.

Travelling developed Doris’ passion for ancient Islamic art from the 13th century. Over the next 50 years, she commissioned art for her living gallery and imported Indian marble with carvings modelled on her beloved Taj Mahal to create her own marble bathroom.

The bus pulled up outside a modest, windowless façade with two stone camels guarding an ancient wooden door. Blank white walls on either side belied what lay inside; a world of hand-picked treasures from floor to ceiling, around a magical central courtyard. To enhance unparalleled views of the Pacific Ocean at her fingertips, Doris installed electronic glass walls, which would lower and rise at the push of a button, a highly innovative solution to keeping her eight dogs inside.

On her death in 1993, Doris Duke bequeathed her Shangri La to the Art Gallery of Hawaii with instructions to create the Doris Duke Foundation for Islamic Art. Her home is now open to the public and is living monument to her relentless pursuit of priceless art.

For more information, see http://www.shangrilahawaii.org/

Copyright 2007 Robin Bower

Travel article: Kuala Lumpur - A city in transition

The first thing that hits the weary journeywoman escaping the Asian Manhattan of Hong Kong is that KL* doesn’t appear to be finished. Has there been an air strike that has demolished those burgeoning constructions for transportation in a once-booming economy? Or has the Indian subcontinent decided to use Petaling Jaya for its latest nuclear testing site? The newspapers carry no slogans of destruction or headlines of comet collision. The new arrival must assume that the tiger has gone into hibernation and left its lair to the metal grip of once-active giraffe machines which have stopped work until further notice.

(*KL is the affectionate abbreviation of this beautiful Moorish city of Kuala Lumpur. The journey from HK to KL via Sing on MH made arriving in PJ for some DFS very exciting indeed. The LRT and KTM also made it possible to do more DFS at M&S and BB Plaza for very little RM.)

One of the first joys is KL traffic. Thousands of Protons line the highways in a determined effort to arrive at myriad destinations - none of which is ever reached. Where do Protons go to die? They never leave the road. It can take several lifetimes of map reading and sign following before you ever get home. In the meantime, divorce is inevitable. 'Your Motoring Friend' attempts to delay divorce but in reality, it is the street directory from hell. I’m unkind. It’s very colourful and contains some lovely maps but it bears little resemblance to what’s on the ground. Supposedly published once a year, it refuses to bear a date. But, 'the maps contained in this directory are available in digital format'. A laptop must be a helpful and valuable addition to a stressful day in the car dodging traffic, balancing 'Your Motoring Friend' and computer on lap while changing CDs and answering the hand phone. A serious disclaimer announces 'No person should rely upon this directory for the purposes of finding their way around KL'. Not quite, but almost. I know. I had a close shave with divorce.

Everyone in KL has a car. To drive or not to drive - there is no question. Not to have a car is very damaging to the status indeed. And status, as we all know, needs to be constantly maintained and updated. The sort of car one drives is of the utmost importance. High on the list are imported cars. Way down the list are homemade cars. Due to the abundance of Protons, these little gems are not to be truly desired. The fact that they are reliable, quite attractive, cheap and easy to park are advantages spurned by the genuine vehicular connoisseur. No, the car of choice is a tank. These are not easy to acquire so the next best thing is a Pajero - the biggest, broadest, heaviest and highest in the east. These bullies outrun and outsize everything else on the road. Families of six on a Suzuki Moped swerve to the side in obeisance; broom sellers on bicycles stop in amazement; and Proton drivers think they’ve just passed a large mirror and drive in accordance, bombastically blasting everything in their path.

Driving in KL takes patience, dexterity, manoeuvrability, concentration, quick wittedness and preferably a drivers’ licence. Licences are available from the Department of Drivers’ Licences for Non-Drivers. While you’re there, you can also purchase a Doctorate in the Post-Mandrial Analysis of South American Indians or a Bachelor of Arts.

On the way to the hotel, we pass squalid, broken-down huts along a gutted road. The children can scarcely be seen against the dim, dark backdrop of huts with no light or water. Outside in the street, a tiny child carries a huge, red container of water for the household in need, struggling under the weight of its fluid bulk. The afternoon storm that arrives on schedule every day at 4 pm washes away the dirt from the doorways and floods the small huts that are not raised from the ground. Water is everywhere but not where it is needed. How can a country be suffering from a water shortage when the heavens open up every day at 4 pm?

A huge poster appears and announces 'KL’s first beach resort in the city'. The hotel is the size of a small city. The building is a palace of marble, with gilded columns, sky-high ceilings and murals that could cover a decent stretch of the Great Wall of China. The African theme is an obvious choice for the middle of tropical Asia. Great African elephants guard the entrance while a herd of antelope is attacked and eaten by marauding lions in a sculpture that would not look out of place in Caligula’s drawing room. I wander to the side windows to catch a glimpse of the pool area. What was once a sheer, excavated tin mine now houses the eighth wonder of the world - a man-made beach upon which washes man-made waves. How chic! Over a huge expanse of water, a mechanical wave maker is in action enabling John the surf master, fresh from Australia, to make a modest living out of surfing lessons on a cement shore. Manly Beach is long forgotten when there is a choice of wave sizes, water slide, surfing lessons, boating, floating and any number of water frolicking activities.

Having settled comfortably in the hotel, it is time to investigate the many activities available in this fine city. A means of transport is necessary to penetrate pusat bandaraya. This means city centre and I later come to realise that every town and village in Malaysia has one. It’s a bit like Laluan Sahala. Streets named Laluan Sahala are everywhere which seems a little confusing until I discover it means 'one-way street'. The monorail is obviously still under construction, and there are cobwebs on the bus stop seats so I opt for the closest taxi. How kind of these taxis who wait just to ferry me to my destination of choice. The first taxi ushers me past once he discovers my destination. He mumbles something to the second taxi driver who then spits out '15'. Talking to other people about taxi fares and distances covered, I have assessed that this is rip-off territory and barter furiously in the vain hope of getting into town for an honest price. 'Ah madam must pay 12. No fare on way back.' We agree on twelve and I enter the twilight zone of inner city driving.

But enough about driving. Let’s get to the real treat of KL - shopping. In a city that hangs out signs saying 'Buy one mattress, get a bed for 1 RM', the shopping has got to be good. And it doesn’t disappoint. There’s everything from the cheapest copy watch to top of the range designer ball gowns in sequins and pearls. There are whole shopping malls (and plenty of them) selling all variations on a theme. The shops are arranged for the ease of the shopper. All dress shops for women are on one level, clothes shops for men on another; all the fridge magnet shops are together; the hair clip and ribbon shops; all the kedais selling CDs, shoes, joss sticks, VCDs, and videos follow in a neat sequence. They’re all there together like stonemasons, coffin makers and grave stone merchants used to be in ancient Europe (and still in Hong Kong). The convenience is exhausting. Each shop belts out the strains of a different tune to entice its buyers. The only possible response, however, is to exit as quickly as possible.

Having seen enough merchandise for one day, I head for Bangsar where I know I can sit in an open-air coffee shop, sup from a choice of 15 different varieties of coffee and watch the passing parade of KL sophisticates. I am easily ensconced in an establishment and indulge myself as the afternoon drifts slowly past - as do Porsches, Ferraris, and myriad other luxury cars I cannot name. For me, the sole purpose of a car is to get to a destination as quickly and safely as possible. Colour, type, style, cost, trendiness, and gutsiness are all irrelevant. Not so for the drivers of every type of luxury car in Bangsar. These drivers are, without exception, very young males and females who obviously haven’t felt the brunt of a water shortage or an economic downturn.

And neither they should. The KL of tomorrow will be ready for the youth of today. By then, the monorail will be built, the roads and bridges constructed and the network links in place. Until then, the rest of us will continue to shop and sup and drive and look forward to a prosperous KL.

Copyright 2007 Robin Bower (written 1998)