Day 18.
I've never been on a massage bus before. There seem to be a few of these in Malaysia that do the longer-distance journeys. In principle it seems to make great sense: there you are sat on your arse for a few hours travelling from a to b with nothing better than your thumbs to twiddle, so it makes sense to get a massage whilst you are whiling away the precious hours? And someone is gaining useful employ giving your cheesy feet a bit of easy pampering.
The Memsahib thought it might refer to the provision of mechanised massage chairs, but the ones in the first-class section below look boringly normal.
I'm not sure how much they cost or how they are arranged, but massages would be a creditable luxury to emulate on many other forms of transport (maybe not bicycles unless they're tandems and it might be a tad difficult when hang-gliding). Some airlines provide this service for 1st class passengers.
I'm not a big fan of buses - or of airplanes for that matter. One of the better aspects of these journeys, however, is the view. So whether you're at 5 or 50,000 ft, there's always something to see. Which is why I cant much understand other passengers, unless they're sleeping of course, instantly closing the curtains/window blinds upon entry and never taking even one peek at the passing world. Surely half the joy of the journey, if any at all, is the snapshot glimpse of another part of the world not seen before? And I have to assume that motion sickness is made worse without some sort of reference to horizons or external features.
Our farewell to KL by bus has also been a little perfunctory, carrying little of the sweet pains of parting that accompanies the platform guard's whistle and slowly departing train. The beginning of a long train journey has a more elegant and romantic quality, whereas a bus is... just a bus, no matter how you dress it up.
Arriving in Singapore, we find roads blocked off and floodlit nighttime streets: the Formula 1 circus is in town this weekend!
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