Mandalay to Malacca
16 October, Royal Nyuangshwe Hotel, Nyuangshwe
Our boatman was waiting for us, as arranged, at our hotel. We had assumed that we would be picked up in a car and taken to the boat landing. No such luck! We had to walk down to the landing, which wouldn’t have been a big issue except for the fact that we have settled into the Asian tropical shuffle to avoid becoming drenched in sweat and our boatman was in a bit of a hurry. The boat landing was crammed with longboats sporting the long driveshaft power plants common throughout South-East Asia. The traffic in the channel that leads from the town out to the lake pulsed with activity. Tourist boats are exactly the same as the normal working boats, except for the addition of wooden chairs with pillow-padded seats and life jackets.
We had been expecting a bit of a glum day, but after an hour or so on the lake the clouds burnt off, exposing a crystal clear blue sky. The boat was fairly comfortable although, as the sun warmed up, we were a bit exposed in the open boat.
The lake and its shore line are quite heavily populated. Stilt villages, complete with floating gardens, are strung out along the eastern shore. The main crop is tomatoes, which are grown on beds of water hyacinth. One of the iconic images of Inle Lake is of the straw-hatted fisherman balancing his conical fishing net with one leg while holding on to his oar with the other. Sure enough, just as we exited the channel onto the lake, there they were, two, costumed, balancing fisherman. The poor guys must be paid by the hotels and travel agents to pose all day for the tourists - a fairly unnecessary activity, given that most of the real fishermen do fairly much the same thing, except that they use cast nets.
Tourism is a major industry here, but many other activities are conducted on and around the lake. We visited a traditional silk and lotus-weaving factory, a silversmith, cheroot factory and a boat-making yard. These probably once were viable cottage industries, but tourism has had its impact. We are fairly sure that the stock in the showrooms attached to each of the locations we visited was not made there. There was just too much of it and - surprise, surprise! - the same stuff was on sale at the hundreds of stalls in the market and those surrounding the pagodas and famous Jumping Cat Monastery we visited.
The lake looks fairly clean, except for a fairly large amount of floating litter accumulated in spots around the shore. One also has to wonder what happens to the human waste of the many thousands who live over the water in the stilt villages.
The scenery around the lake is spectacular, particularly on a nice sunny day. Being the end of the wet season, the surrounding mountains are green, as are the areas along the shore line. While the villages may be somewhat of an environmental threat, they are unarguably attractive and interesting. We are glad we arranged our trip through an agent. We had a good, co-operative boatman, a well-maintained boat and all for a price that was less than the touts on the street were asking.
17 October, Yadanarbon Hotel, Mandalay
Back in Mandalay again and just about at the end of the Myanmar leg of our trip. We had planned to take a shared taxi back here from Inle Lake, but the mini-bus worked out much cheaper at 13000 Kyat each as opposed to 40000 Kyat for the taxi. The roads in Myanmar are patchy, but this route wasn’t too bad and if we avoided looking out the front window, we weren’t panicked by the driving!
Back to KL tomorrow ready for the second leg of this trip down the Malaysian peninsula by train to Singapore.
19 October, Heeren Palm Suites, Malacca, Malaysia
The last couple of days have been spent on the road and in the air. An hour long taxi ride to the Mandalay Airport was followed by a flight to Bangkok; connection to KL; overnight in KL at the Tune Hotel; airport bus into KL Sentral station; three hour train ride to Tampin and finally an hour taxi run into Malacca. Doesn’t seem much when you type it in to a few lines, but we know we have travelled a lot of ground!
Our taxi to Mandalay Airport was courtesy of our new friend, the 31st Street Cabbie who calls himself and his driver, Starsky and Hutch! We can highly recommend S&H. Reliable, helpful and a fair-priced service.
We have passed through Don Mueang Airport in Bangkok a couple of times now and every time it has been packed! Its parallel runways land and take off planes at an amazing rate. It operates more like a high traffic bus terminal rather than an airport. We always seem to depart from the bowels of the earth, where literally thousands of people mill about, anxiously watching screens to see just how long their flight is to be delayed. Then they pile on to fleets of buses, to travel out to planes lined up, like buses, on the edge of the runway. The noise at some gates, especially those served by airlines heading to China, is deafening, It puts us in mind of the sound that assaults the ears when the doors open into a Japanese Pachinko parlour. If this means nothing to you, think of a shed full of free range chickens!
We have recently been using the KLIA Express train into Sentral Station, but just for old times’ sake, we decided to take the Airport bus. This used to be a bit of a crazy ride. Buses pulled in to the kerb, well away from the terminal exit and there was always a rush to jump on to the one that was just leaving as there was no guarantee that another would be along any time soon. You paid on the bus or, on a couple of occasions, we got away with just showing our Air Asia boarding pass. Those days are gone. We rolled up at the bus terminal, now just outside the Arrivals exit, expecting to just jump on. Oh no. “You need to buy a ticket at the booth inside, sir.” Once on the bus, no loud tuneless music from the driver’s personal “Best of India” CD collection, and no ticket collector running about collecting fares. Ah the good old days. But not all was lost. The arrival platforms under the new KL Sentral Station and Shopping Mall still look like a construction site, though now there are tiles and concrete where there once was just mud.
The train from Kuala Lumpur to Gemas is new, Chinese-built and moderately fast. The long-term plan is to take the line all the way to Johor Bahru, just across the causeway from Singapore. We got off at Tampin, one stop before the end of the line, a three-hour journey for 25 RM each (AUD$8). We were planning to catch the bus from Tampin Bus Station in the middle of town, into Malacca, but a few blogs we read about the trip put us off. It can apparently be an extremely long and uncomfortable journey. So we opted for a taxi. Unlike taxi drivers in most parts of Asia, who generally haunt the station platforms and grab your bags as you alight, the taxi cartel of Tampin takes up residence in a small cafe a hundred yards or so from the station exit. We were lucky enough to catch one who was getting something out of his boot. He showed very little interest in our fare, but he did manage to rouse another driver who lumbered over and declared that the fare was 80RM. We knew it should be in the range of 50RM to 60RM, so we told them we would catch the bus. Now they were interested - not in taking us into Malacca, but in hitting us up 10RM for the 1km to bus station. We smiled and walked off. About 200m down the road one of the boys, who had obviously broken ranks, pulled up and offered 70RM. It was hot as hell, so we jumped in. After all, AUD$25 for a 40km, one hour taxi trip isn’t all that bad a deal.
20 October, Heeren Palm Suites, Malacca
We don’t generally comment on our hotel selections because our standards and expectations may well be quite different to many other travellers. However, the Heeren Palm Suites deserves a special recommendation. Located right in the middle of Chinatown’s Jonker Street Walk area, the hotel is in a restored original traditional house, or more correctly, two houses that were joined in an earlier restoration. It is great value and taste of what homes were like in the 19th century, but with all the modern conveniences.
Malacca is a place we learnt about in primary school, probably because it was an important British trading port. What we didn’t know was the long history of conflict between the local population and the many invaders that attempted to control this strategic trading city over the centuries.
Arab and Chinese traders were the first to influence Malacca. The Arabs brought Islam to the city from about the 14th century. They were followed by the Portuguese in 1511, the Dutch in 1641 and the British in 1797. With the exception of a short period of Japanese occupation, 1941-1946, the British governed the whole of Malaya until Malaysian Independence in 1957. It is easy to see how the current ethnic origins of the Malaysian population came about. The original Malay population was heavily influenced by Islam and so it has remained today. The Indian population came with the British and possibly earlier on with the Portuguese, who came to Malaya via their colony of Goa in India. The Chinese traders successfully insinuated themselves throughout South-East Asia and so it was also in Malaya. So why was the least impactful influence that of the European Christian colonialists, the Portuguese, Dutch and British? Saint Francis Xavier even visited the city during the Portuguese period, but Islam prevailed, as it does today. Saint Francis was buried here for a short time on his way to his final resting place on Goa.
We are so well-informed now because we have visited a couple of excellent local Malaccan Museums located in the colonial heart of the city.
21 October, Heeren Palm Suites, Malacca
Today we did a very silly thing. We decided to walk a couple of kms to Kampung Morton, a small remnant Kampung close to the city centre. By the time we arrived we were totally drenched in sweat and not an air-conditioned building in sight.
The Kampung was named after a Commissioner of Lands who played some part in the establishment of the Kampung. In 1922, a small village on the other side of the city had to be relocated as the government needed to resume the land. The relocation was assisted by a government loan negotiated by the village headman who just happened to be the grandfather of the current occupant and owner of the well-preserved house we had come to visit, Villa Samosa. The home had much in common with two houses we had lived in. When we lived in Home Hill, we rented a typical tropical home on stumps, with wrap-around verandahs, VJ walls and ceilings and breeze-ways above the doors. The old Queenslander that we owned at Holland Park West was built within a couple of years of Villa Samosa and it shared the same characteristics. There was even a squatter’s chair!
Our return walk was no less unpleasant, although we did manage to pick up some breezes along the splendid river walk that the good burghers of Malacca have recently constructed. Sadly, nobody seems to use it. Before striking off to complete our to-do list for Malacca, we closely examined the clothing on offer on all three floors of the air-conditioned H&M store over the bridge from Dutch Square. We calculate that 10-15 minutes in very cold air-conditioning can bring our core body temperature down enough to allow for about 5 minutes walking in the torrid Malaysian humidity. Only trouble with this approach is that there are simply not enough buildings with sufficiently powerful air-conditioning to do the job.
Tomorrow we continue our journey down to Singapore, catching the train from Tampin to Gemas, just two stops and changing trains for the final run down to the border city of Johor Bahru.
23 October, Bright Star Hotel, Geylang, Singapore
First off, the Bright Star is a little less than a shining star of quality, even at our fairly tolerant standards, but it is clean and the bed doesn’t move underneath us so it gets a two star rating. On the other hand, it is located in what is probably one of the last remnants of “old Asia” left in Singapore - not old Asia like the back streets of Mandalay, a little more like, “Oh come on dear let’s drive the Mercedes down to Geylang and slum it.”
We had a very long day yesterday, so perhaps we were a little passed it when we finally crossed the causeway from Malaysia towards Singapore. We had taken a taxi back to Tampin to catch the train to Gemas, where the electric line ends and the slower train down to Johor Bahru was waiting for us on the next platform. From there, down the peninsula to Singapore, was about a five hour trip through yet more palm oil plantations. Where does it all go? We knew we were in for a late arrival into Singapore, but had figured that we could get to our hotel by around 9:00pm. Malaysian immigration and customs was a breeze, as was the bus across the causeway to Woodlands, the Singaporean check point. It didn’t seem to matter too much which bus you took for this part of the process as they all stopped at Woodlands checkpoint,
From the Woodlands side of the causeway, things started to go pear-shaped. The signage was non-existent and the service atrocious. We only found out that we had to complete arrival cards by accident. (Some countries have done away with them} Then we joined the queue. Now our image of Singapore has always been one of a place of smooth, though sometimes officious, efficiency. No more! With thousands lined up at the gates, immigration officers stalled the process by holding people with problems within the queue for ten to fifteen minutes, rather than calling in somebody to deal with the issue. We spent over one and a half hours in our line, when we could have been through in half an hour in any other country.
Our previous crown for inefficient immigration went to New York. The Big Apple has been diced and sliced. Singapore is the new winner. It was the worst immigration processes we have been through and we have been to some tough places - East Germany before the wall came down, Mongolia, Russia and several Eastern European countries.
To their credit, the bus companies on both sides of the border were extremely efficient and very reasonably priced.
We finally arrived at our hotel after 10:30pm, beerless and foodless. We dumped our bags and hit the street food shops on our corner.
After a good sleep and a late start, we took ourselves off to, of all places, McDonald’s! Where else do you go after two weeks of rice and noodles?
Our agenda wasn’t too strenuous today. We took the bus from the end of our street out to the area where the original Changi Prison camp was located, to visit the small museum that chronicles the events that are so important to many Australians who had family or friends who were here as POWs between 1941 and 1945. Most, if not all of the visitors we saw, were Australians and it is understandable why so many of us make these pilgrimages to locations like this that are so ingrained in our national psyche, but what we sometimes miss, is the involvement of others in these events and what they suffered. Thousands of Singaporeans were tortured and killed by the Japanese and thousands more suffered hunger and starvation under the occupation. These deprivations were recalled for us later in the day, when we visited the excellent National Museum of Singapore. We had been here before, some years back, but we were again impressed with the quality and breadth of the displays. Continuing our WWII theme, we visited the special Exhibition on the war and its impact on Singapore, which only further enforced our views that we have underestimated the impact of the war on the local population of Singapore and probably on other SE-Asian nations as well.
Our boatman was waiting for us, as arranged, at our hotel. We had assumed that we would be picked up in a car and taken to the boat landing. No such luck! We had to walk down to the landing, which wouldn’t have been a big issue except for the fact that we have settled into the Asian tropical shuffle to avoid becoming drenched in sweat and our boatman was in a bit of a hurry. The boat landing was crammed with longboats sporting the long driveshaft power plants common throughout South-East Asia. The traffic in the channel that leads from the town out to the lake pulsed with activity. Tourist boats are exactly the same as the normal working boats, except for the addition of wooden chairs with pillow-padded seats and life jackets.
We had been expecting a bit of a glum day, but after an hour or so on the lake the clouds burnt off, exposing a crystal clear blue sky. The boat was fairly comfortable although, as the sun warmed up, we were a bit exposed in the open boat.
The lake and its shore line are quite heavily populated. Stilt villages, complete with floating gardens, are strung out along the eastern shore. The main crop is tomatoes, which are grown on beds of water hyacinth. One of the iconic images of Inle Lake is of the straw-hatted fisherman balancing his conical fishing net with one leg while holding on to his oar with the other. Sure enough, just as we exited the channel onto the lake, there they were, two, costumed, balancing fisherman. The poor guys must be paid by the hotels and travel agents to pose all day for the tourists - a fairly unnecessary activity, given that most of the real fishermen do fairly much the same thing, except that they use cast nets.
Tourism is a major industry here, but many other activities are conducted on and around the lake. We visited a traditional silk and lotus-weaving factory, a silversmith, cheroot factory and a boat-making yard. These probably once were viable cottage industries, but tourism has had its impact. We are fairly sure that the stock in the showrooms attached to each of the locations we visited was not made there. There was just too much of it and - surprise, surprise! - the same stuff was on sale at the hundreds of stalls in the market and those surrounding the pagodas and famous Jumping Cat Monastery we visited.
The lake looks fairly clean, except for a fairly large amount of floating litter accumulated in spots around the shore. One also has to wonder what happens to the human waste of the many thousands who live over the water in the stilt villages.
The scenery around the lake is spectacular, particularly on a nice sunny day. Being the end of the wet season, the surrounding mountains are green, as are the areas along the shore line. While the villages may be somewhat of an environmental threat, they are unarguably attractive and interesting. We are glad we arranged our trip through an agent. We had a good, co-operative boatman, a well-maintained boat and all for a price that was less than the touts on the street were asking.
17 October, Yadanarbon Hotel, Mandalay
Back in Mandalay again and just about at the end of the Myanmar leg of our trip. We had planned to take a shared taxi back here from Inle Lake, but the mini-bus worked out much cheaper at 13000 Kyat each as opposed to 40000 Kyat for the taxi. The roads in Myanmar are patchy, but this route wasn’t too bad and if we avoided looking out the front window, we weren’t panicked by the driving!
Back to KL tomorrow ready for the second leg of this trip down the Malaysian peninsula by train to Singapore.
19 October, Heeren Palm Suites, Malacca, Malaysia
The last couple of days have been spent on the road and in the air. An hour long taxi ride to the Mandalay Airport was followed by a flight to Bangkok; connection to KL; overnight in KL at the Tune Hotel; airport bus into KL Sentral station; three hour train ride to Tampin and finally an hour taxi run into Malacca. Doesn’t seem much when you type it in to a few lines, but we know we have travelled a lot of ground!
Our taxi to Mandalay Airport was courtesy of our new friend, the 31st Street Cabbie who calls himself and his driver, Starsky and Hutch! We can highly recommend S&H. Reliable, helpful and a fair-priced service.
We have passed through Don Mueang Airport in Bangkok a couple of times now and every time it has been packed! Its parallel runways land and take off planes at an amazing rate. It operates more like a high traffic bus terminal rather than an airport. We always seem to depart from the bowels of the earth, where literally thousands of people mill about, anxiously watching screens to see just how long their flight is to be delayed. Then they pile on to fleets of buses, to travel out to planes lined up, like buses, on the edge of the runway. The noise at some gates, especially those served by airlines heading to China, is deafening, It puts us in mind of the sound that assaults the ears when the doors open into a Japanese Pachinko parlour. If this means nothing to you, think of a shed full of free range chickens!
We have recently been using the KLIA Express train into Sentral Station, but just for old times’ sake, we decided to take the Airport bus. This used to be a bit of a crazy ride. Buses pulled in to the kerb, well away from the terminal exit and there was always a rush to jump on to the one that was just leaving as there was no guarantee that another would be along any time soon. You paid on the bus or, on a couple of occasions, we got away with just showing our Air Asia boarding pass. Those days are gone. We rolled up at the bus terminal, now just outside the Arrivals exit, expecting to just jump on. Oh no. “You need to buy a ticket at the booth inside, sir.” Once on the bus, no loud tuneless music from the driver’s personal “Best of India” CD collection, and no ticket collector running about collecting fares. Ah the good old days. But not all was lost. The arrival platforms under the new KL Sentral Station and Shopping Mall still look like a construction site, though now there are tiles and concrete where there once was just mud.
The train from Kuala Lumpur to Gemas is new, Chinese-built and moderately fast. The long-term plan is to take the line all the way to Johor Bahru, just across the causeway from Singapore. We got off at Tampin, one stop before the end of the line, a three-hour journey for 25 RM each (AUD$8). We were planning to catch the bus from Tampin Bus Station in the middle of town, into Malacca, but a few blogs we read about the trip put us off. It can apparently be an extremely long and uncomfortable journey. So we opted for a taxi. Unlike taxi drivers in most parts of Asia, who generally haunt the station platforms and grab your bags as you alight, the taxi cartel of Tampin takes up residence in a small cafe a hundred yards or so from the station exit. We were lucky enough to catch one who was getting something out of his boot. He showed very little interest in our fare, but he did manage to rouse another driver who lumbered over and declared that the fare was 80RM. We knew it should be in the range of 50RM to 60RM, so we told them we would catch the bus. Now they were interested - not in taking us into Malacca, but in hitting us up 10RM for the 1km to bus station. We smiled and walked off. About 200m down the road one of the boys, who had obviously broken ranks, pulled up and offered 70RM. It was hot as hell, so we jumped in. After all, AUD$25 for a 40km, one hour taxi trip isn’t all that bad a deal.
20 October, Heeren Palm Suites, Malacca
We don’t generally comment on our hotel selections because our standards and expectations may well be quite different to many other travellers. However, the Heeren Palm Suites deserves a special recommendation. Located right in the middle of Chinatown’s Jonker Street Walk area, the hotel is in a restored original traditional house, or more correctly, two houses that were joined in an earlier restoration. It is great value and taste of what homes were like in the 19th century, but with all the modern conveniences.
Malacca is a place we learnt about in primary school, probably because it was an important British trading port. What we didn’t know was the long history of conflict between the local population and the many invaders that attempted to control this strategic trading city over the centuries.
Arab and Chinese traders were the first to influence Malacca. The Arabs brought Islam to the city from about the 14th century. They were followed by the Portuguese in 1511, the Dutch in 1641 and the British in 1797. With the exception of a short period of Japanese occupation, 1941-1946, the British governed the whole of Malaya until Malaysian Independence in 1957. It is easy to see how the current ethnic origins of the Malaysian population came about. The original Malay population was heavily influenced by Islam and so it has remained today. The Indian population came with the British and possibly earlier on with the Portuguese, who came to Malaya via their colony of Goa in India. The Chinese traders successfully insinuated themselves throughout South-East Asia and so it was also in Malaya. So why was the least impactful influence that of the European Christian colonialists, the Portuguese, Dutch and British? Saint Francis Xavier even visited the city during the Portuguese period, but Islam prevailed, as it does today. Saint Francis was buried here for a short time on his way to his final resting place on Goa.
We are so well-informed now because we have visited a couple of excellent local Malaccan Museums located in the colonial heart of the city.
21 October, Heeren Palm Suites, Malacca
Today we did a very silly thing. We decided to walk a couple of kms to Kampung Morton, a small remnant Kampung close to the city centre. By the time we arrived we were totally drenched in sweat and not an air-conditioned building in sight.
The Kampung was named after a Commissioner of Lands who played some part in the establishment of the Kampung. In 1922, a small village on the other side of the city had to be relocated as the government needed to resume the land. The relocation was assisted by a government loan negotiated by the village headman who just happened to be the grandfather of the current occupant and owner of the well-preserved house we had come to visit, Villa Samosa. The home had much in common with two houses we had lived in. When we lived in Home Hill, we rented a typical tropical home on stumps, with wrap-around verandahs, VJ walls and ceilings and breeze-ways above the doors. The old Queenslander that we owned at Holland Park West was built within a couple of years of Villa Samosa and it shared the same characteristics. There was even a squatter’s chair!
Our return walk was no less unpleasant, although we did manage to pick up some breezes along the splendid river walk that the good burghers of Malacca have recently constructed. Sadly, nobody seems to use it. Before striking off to complete our to-do list for Malacca, we closely examined the clothing on offer on all three floors of the air-conditioned H&M store over the bridge from Dutch Square. We calculate that 10-15 minutes in very cold air-conditioning can bring our core body temperature down enough to allow for about 5 minutes walking in the torrid Malaysian humidity. Only trouble with this approach is that there are simply not enough buildings with sufficiently powerful air-conditioning to do the job.
Tomorrow we continue our journey down to Singapore, catching the train from Tampin to Gemas, just two stops and changing trains for the final run down to the border city of Johor Bahru.
23 October, Bright Star Hotel, Geylang, Singapore
First off, the Bright Star is a little less than a shining star of quality, even at our fairly tolerant standards, but it is clean and the bed doesn’t move underneath us so it gets a two star rating. On the other hand, it is located in what is probably one of the last remnants of “old Asia” left in Singapore - not old Asia like the back streets of Mandalay, a little more like, “Oh come on dear let’s drive the Mercedes down to Geylang and slum it.”
We had a very long day yesterday, so perhaps we were a little passed it when we finally crossed the causeway from Malaysia towards Singapore. We had taken a taxi back to Tampin to catch the train to Gemas, where the electric line ends and the slower train down to Johor Bahru was waiting for us on the next platform. From there, down the peninsula to Singapore, was about a five hour trip through yet more palm oil plantations. Where does it all go? We knew we were in for a late arrival into Singapore, but had figured that we could get to our hotel by around 9:00pm. Malaysian immigration and customs was a breeze, as was the bus across the causeway to Woodlands, the Singaporean check point. It didn’t seem to matter too much which bus you took for this part of the process as they all stopped at Woodlands checkpoint,
From the Woodlands side of the causeway, things started to go pear-shaped. The signage was non-existent and the service atrocious. We only found out that we had to complete arrival cards by accident. (Some countries have done away with them} Then we joined the queue. Now our image of Singapore has always been one of a place of smooth, though sometimes officious, efficiency. No more! With thousands lined up at the gates, immigration officers stalled the process by holding people with problems within the queue for ten to fifteen minutes, rather than calling in somebody to deal with the issue. We spent over one and a half hours in our line, when we could have been through in half an hour in any other country.
Our previous crown for inefficient immigration went to New York. The Big Apple has been diced and sliced. Singapore is the new winner. It was the worst immigration processes we have been through and we have been to some tough places - East Germany before the wall came down, Mongolia, Russia and several Eastern European countries.
To their credit, the bus companies on both sides of the border were extremely efficient and very reasonably priced.
We finally arrived at our hotel after 10:30pm, beerless and foodless. We dumped our bags and hit the street food shops on our corner.
After a good sleep and a late start, we took ourselves off to, of all places, McDonald’s! Where else do you go after two weeks of rice and noodles?
Our agenda wasn’t too strenuous today. We took the bus from the end of our street out to the area where the original Changi Prison camp was located, to visit the small museum that chronicles the events that are so important to many Australians who had family or friends who were here as POWs between 1941 and 1945. Most, if not all of the visitors we saw, were Australians and it is understandable why so many of us make these pilgrimages to locations like this that are so ingrained in our national psyche, but what we sometimes miss, is the involvement of others in these events and what they suffered. Thousands of Singaporeans were tortured and killed by the Japanese and thousands more suffered hunger and starvation under the occupation. These deprivations were recalled for us later in the day, when we visited the excellent National Museum of Singapore. We had been here before, some years back, but we were again impressed with the quality and breadth of the displays. Continuing our WWII theme, we visited the special Exhibition on the war and its impact on Singapore, which only further enforced our views that we have underestimated the impact of the war on the local population of Singapore and probably on other SE-Asian nations as well.
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