Good bye KL

Last night we went back down to the Marriott's basement.

This time to a restaurant called Shook. They did Japanese, Chinese, Italiese, Amrikese. All the 'eses.
This is the largest restaurant down here. There is a tapas bar over in that corner, and back that way are all those funky ethnic restaurants we saw the other night.
We were the first to arrive for dinner, and as we were led to our table, our waiter called out something to the other staff. Whatever they were doing, all the staff looked up and bellowed something in response. As i write this, it reminds me of those scripted responses that some churches use during prayers. I have no idea why. It was obviously some kind of guest greeting in their language. Everybody else that came after us got the same choral greeting.










Sarah was entertained by a party that arrived a little later. They had been to the tapas bar, and were now ready for dinner. The guy that regarded himself the alpha male of the party decided that they wanted the same wine that they had been drinking at the tapas bar. Tosser!
There was a long discussion with the wine waiter about them being different businesses, but our alpha stood his ground. So over comes the guy from the tapas bar, armed with a bottle of the offending wine and a bottle opener. Further discussions. Probably about price. Back to the wine list. Lets try that one. Back goes the wine waiter to the bar, returning with a glass for mr alpha to try. MMM not bad, we'll have that.
I doubt his party was impressed. Sarah says one guy ordered a beer.
Eventually the tapas guy goes back to his corner. And the wine that alpha eventually accepted as of a sufficient standard for his guests? It was the fucking house wine!!

Wanker!

For those on the edge of you seats about my watch...


The brand is Invicta, Swiss according to the salesman. It is manual, all cogs and springs, wind it every three days. It has a glass front and a glass back, so you can watch as it digests every second. The rubber strap and some other detailing is BRIGHT cobalt blue. Oh, and it's HUGE.


Sarahs response? You are only allowed one midlife crisis, and I'm it!
Damn!










After breakfast, checked out of the hotel, put our bags into storage, and then set off. We may be some time...

Check-out was 1100, and the car will pick us up at 16 o'clock. Over the road to Pavilion for a last wander. Sarah thinks of something she wants to buy at the Petronas shopping centre, so I show her the walkway. I try to hook up, but Mr Starbucks is not playing today. Must be too many surfing during their lunch.

We come back to Starhill, to Sarah's favourite Lebanese restaurant for our own lunch. Now she wants chocolate. And no that is not a craving.

Sarah told me I needed to check out the bathrooms down here. This might become a theme on this trip. Have you SEEN Slumdog Millionaire?

Anyway, you enter the toilets and you are in a very narrow corridor, with schist walls. If you pay attention, there are small recesses in the wall where I assume the actual toilets are. Don't pay attention and you will miss them completely. At the end of this 'schist cave' is an open area, with a large wooden contraption feeding to a couple of basins. Around the corner are the urinals, and there's a guy standing next to the machine. When you want to wash your hands, he takes a long wooden handle and pumps it to get water flowing into the bowl. Dry your hands on a rolled up towel, and toss it into a high bowl.
I repeat. The guy who designed this whole area was smoking something serious that day.
Very.
Very.
Cool.








Went to the Starhill Tea Salon for her chocolate fix. I tried some Darjeeling tea. Very ooh er!

I Think this is a Monday

Went to the Marriott's basement last night, and ate at a middle-eastern restaurant. My resident gastronome tells me it was divine. Didn't see any sheep's eyeballs or goat balls, but still very authentic.

We may be back again tomorrow night. Maybe the same place, maybe somewhere new.

Didn't do much today. Went back over to the Pavilion mall over the road. Sarah decided to suck it up and get a massage. Always wanted to but had never gotten around to it.

While she did that, I explored the mall. I have found a watch I like, let's see if I get it authorized by the war office before we leave tomorrow. I also found a walking bridge, that winds through the city at about 3 floors above the road. It took me about 8 minutes to get to the Convention Centre.

From there is a tunnel (about another 8 minutes) to the Petronas shopping mall we went to yesterday. So yesterday 2.5 hours by bus, including getting drenched as we went from the tower to the bus stop (less than 100m), or 15 minutes walk in air conditioned comfort.

Ah well. as I said, we try to do the hop on bus whenever we can. You get a good sense of the place.

Sat in Starbucks and uploaded some of this. Good way to fill in the time.

Caught up with Sarah when I got back, and we stopped for a drink at an Irish pub in an alley tucked under the shadow of Pavilion. I think this is the new Bintang Walk.

When we came here last time, Bintang walk went right past our hotel on the footpath. It is a collection of street bars and cafes. Sort of what the strip in Christchurch was trying to do, but without warm jackets.
This was the first time I had been to Asia, and we were sitting at a cafe out on the footpath, eating ice cream before it melted. At midnight!! Here I was, looking around saying "where the fuck is the heat coming from?" Still a mystery to me.

You know you're not in New Zealand when you are unwilling to leave a shopping mall because its nice and cool inside. It really is like hitting a wall of heat.

Hop On Hop Off

We are fans of hop on hop off buses. We first tried them in Dubai, and then again in Seattle, Vancouver, Toronto. It's a perfect way to get an overview of a city. Previously, we would choose a hotel near what we want to see or do, and then just wander around seeing what else is nearby.
Too often, when somebody hears that we went somewhere, they ask "did you see.....". No.
"Then how about...." No. "Surely you saw...." No.
The bus fixes all of that. You get to see things you didn't know were there, and often get a bit of the history of some points of interest.

Up until a very short time ago, Malaysia was a tropical jungle. Hot, steamy and overgrown. Not much has changed, except that another kind of jungle has arrived, and the two are doing battle.
Drive along the roads cut like a gash through the jungle, and it feels like the jungle is pressing in, trying to heal itself. Any road abandoned for too long will eventually disappear, fodder for the flora and fauna that was here first.

Driving around the city, it feels a little like Hong Kong. There are the shiny parts, that feel like the best that Singapore has to offer. But turn the corner, and you are in dingiest Bangkok. Grubby streets, grubby walls, grubby children.

This may seem superficial, but we have noticed three tiers or standards in the Southeast Asian cities we have visited.

At the top, of course is Singapore. Clean. Reliable. Efficient. Almost sanitized.

At the bottom is Bangkok. Dirty, smelly. Sweltering.

In the middle is Hong Kong, and now Kuala Lumpur. Bits of both.

It breaks your heart to see the way some people are forced to grow up in the long shadows cast by neon society.
There is no social welfare system in these countries, no government safety net. These people live and die on their wits. This is why the tourists we condemn are so demanding and so pushy. This is why they push their children to succeed in school. If you don't take it, somebody else will. There are no prizes for second in these societies. You can relax when you have all the money, so only the children of the wealthy have the luxury of a childhood.

The farmers in this country still do their thing pretty much the way their fathers did, and then have to compete with imported goods. The government had attempted to protect them with tariffs and other mechanisms, but it seems the US of A trotted off to the UN to complain because they wanted to be able to trade.
I don't know why any government would allow imports of something that would destroy one of their own major industries. What price progress?

This is purely a personal observation from bite sized views that a tourist gets. All cities have their stories, good and bad.



















Anyway, we decide to get off the bus at only one place. The twin towers, obviously named by a J. K. Rowling fan, they appear to be made entirely from stainless steel. Or perhaps pewter. After all, the famous Royal Selangor pewter factory is here in Malaysia.

There is another huge shopping centre here, and Sarah has it on good authority that there is a Marks and Sparks store here. Maybe one of our butlers told her.

On the way, we pass many mosques and mosque-like buildings. Islamic architecture really is quite beautiful. Spectacular detail.

We find the store, and she does a bit of shopping. What was even more exciting to her was that she had the courage to enter another Prada store. And not a glove in sight!
She got to touch the bags, open the bags, examine the bags. Sad really.

I've Been Buttled Again
Back to Petronas Towers. We have all been caught short in a mall. That's why they have so many toilets. I decided to use the facilities before we left this big one, so off I go.
Oh, good. There's a stall available at the end. Now I see why. It's one of those squatty ones I will probably see more of in India. No thanks, I'm off. Try another one. And another one. Amazing how many people use the public bogs at any one time. And yet nobody is using the one at the end. Somebody should be able to make some money from this. Don't speak too soon.

On one floor, we had walked past what was called a Premier toilet, so we went back to that. For the paltry sum of 2 ringets, you can use this toilet.
We both went in. The layout was identical to all of the others. I was now an expert on bogs in this mall. The only difference was a lady sitting at a table at the last bend before the doors to the ladies and the gents. She took our 2 ringets each (no bulk discount), gave us a ticket and a prepackaged wet wipe. No I don't know either.
So in I go, and there's a guy mopping the floor. I head towards one stall, but he directs me to another one, but he ducks in first and wipes the seat for me. Butler service, huh?
When I come out, he directs me to the basin, and pushes the button for me to squirt soap onto my hand. I get to wash my hands unassisted. He was either after a big tip, or he thought I was retarded. Wrong on both counts.

By the way, had lunch at Harrods in the mall. Very nice, but it really is for the noters. See this lady. Obviously she can't allow her bag to touch the ground.

It's All Uphill From Here

The day started badly.
Sarah has always bleated on about the AMAZING breakfasts in the Asian hotels. The last time we did KL, the hotel breakfast buffet was expansive. Anything you could think of. Phuket, just the same. Further afield to Dubai, the largest buffet she has ever seen. So she was looking forward to breakfast. Waves away the menu, no we'll do the buffet thanks.
And off she goes.
Back in a minute. There's nothing hot! No eggs, no bacon, no hash browns, nothing from the European side of the buffets we've had in this part of the world before.
It appears that the buffet is pretty much the continental choices, and the rest is a la carte. Bugger. Where's that menu again?

I'm not sure if this little story has made it into this load of old tripe in an earlier post, but like many things, is worth repeating.
Let me just start by saying that today was not Sarah's first brush with breakfast Armageddon. A few years ago, we spent a night at the Park Royal in Christchurch. The package, again a bargain she had hunted down, included breakfast, in the restaurant or in the room.
Sarah decided in her wisdom that we would have breakfast in our room. So out comes the menu card from the back of the door handle. I tick everything I want. Fruit, bacon and eggs, toast.
She ticks what she wants. Cereal, juice and bacon. Now as we all know, bacon is a traditional accompaniment for eggs, so the choices of eggs are there. Fried, boiled, scrambled etc.
Now as some may be aware, Sarah doesn't do eggs. Doesn't like them.
The problem is that the kitchen didn't know that, so she had to make sure they wouldn't inadvertently put eggs with her bacon. Any eggs on the plate, and she won't touch the bacon.
Yes, I know. Just a little retentive.

So, she is very clear in her instructions.
Tick the choice of cereal.
Tick the choice of juice.
Tick the bacon.
CROSS the scrambled eggs.
CROSS the fried eggs.
CROSS the boiled eggs.
CROSS any other kind of eggs.

Job done, off to bed.

At the predetermined time, there was a knock at the door. I open it an in comes a guy with a tray, and puts it on the table. Then he goes out, but comes straight back in with another tray. And then another.

Sarah had her cereal and juice and bacon.
I had my fruit, bacon and eggs and toast.
And 2 boiled eggs, and another scrambled eggs, and 2 fried eggs. And poached.

The guys in the kitchen must have thought we were taking the piss with our free breakfast.

Needless to say, I didn't eat eggs again for some time.

Back to the hotel with the initial on the roof.
Most hotel buffets use the big dishes floating in hot water to keep everything hot without burning or drying out. Some French name I can't remember how to spell, something about marines.
Sarah likes that style, lashings of everything, lashings of choices.

I think that maybe the really posh ones think that the punters serving themselves with a ladle is just not done. Bugger again.

The Other Mall

Attached to J W Marriott's is another mall, that was there last time. But it has been extended, and is now called Starhill Gallery. On the top floor is a Debenhams store. It is another British store, very much like Marks and Sparks. Down in the basement is where all the restaurants are. But boy did the designer go nuts on this. Every single restaurant looks like it has been transplanted from its village, completely intact. It defies description, but it is the coolest thing I've seen done to restaurants. Even Sarah was impressed. Bizarro, dude.

We will be coming here tonight, but there is a good chance we will get lost in the jumbled "back street" down there. I think I'll need a map and a compass.

The Mall

We had forgotten how great KL is to visit.

Since we came last time for our sillymoon, it has only got better. We are staying virtually next door to the hotel we used that time, so recognize some parts of the neighbourhood.

There is a new mall, though, just across the road from J W Marriott's, which is only five years old. It's called the Pavilion.

There are lots of floors of shops, all wrapped around a central atrium. All the decorations are about Chinese New Year, so is all very orange.
On the top level is all the restaurants, and the very bottom floor has the food court. This afternoon, we had a snack from a shop called Breadtalk. We first found this chain in Singapore, and think it may be Japanese. The bread is sweet, and insanely soft. I went back after dinner and got a slice of something they call Chantilly for desert. Sponge, cream and calories in exponentially increasing proportions. Decadence rules.

For dinner we went back to the mall, and settled on Thai. We are going to have Indian up the wazoo from a few days time, and Thai is Sarah's other staple.

I was introduced to both Thai and Indian food at a rather late time in my life. In fact it was Sarah who introduced me to both. Remember I grew up in a society without ethnic food. There was nothing in Rangiora, and I only ever saw a Chinese restaurant in Christchurch. I even went there a couple of times as a teenager. Sheltered upbringing for the white guy.
And then there was Sarah. For Indian it was Little India in Christchurch. For Thai it was Sala Thai, also in Christchurch. Sala Thai has been closed since the second earthquake, and Sarah has been in mourning ever since. Literally 2 days before this trip, we were told that the guy who owned Sala Thai was working at a takeaway at Hei Hei. We go to see him, buy some food and are told he will reopen Sala Thai on Ferry road in a few weeks. Happy girl.

Anyway, these were my first experiences of each food type, so became the benchmarks for me to compare others to. This is when I discovered something interesting about ethnic food. I don't think this has appeared in a previous blog, but it is worth repeating even if it has.

Go to a western restaurant and order steak and chips, and you will know exactly what to expect. I suppose it is the McDonalds effect. Go to any store and get a consistent result.
Pretty much the same with any European food. With ethnic food? Not so much.

Thai green curry tastes completely different in every Thai restaurant. And none are as good as my benchmark from Sala Thai.
Same with Indian. Ask for chicken tika masala at five Indian restaurants, and get five completely different curries. None of them as good as Little India.

They might as well abandon all names for their curries, just as they have abandoned a consistent recipe. It might as well be curry number 42.

Anyway, we had the Thai, and I chose chicken green curry. Benchmarking, I said. Boring, Sarah said.
The chilli guide in the menu gave this one chilli for hot. Two chillis they call volcanic. They should have labeled this a two. I could feel my hairline getting wet, but Sarah insisted my eyes were not bleeding.
Don't get me wrong, I have a certain tolerance to hot food. Sarah started me off on mild, and I have progressed to medium. I have also progressed from Butter Chicken through Korma, to Tikka Masala. Yay me. I could also tell when she was pissed off at me for something, because she became a little heavy-handed with the spices when she made dinner.
I never could understand the reason people order hot. What are they trying to prove? I can understand it if they grew up with it. White mans food must be so bland to them.
I remember when I met Sarah, the only hot sauce available was Tabasco. She would put it on everything. She would put it on corn flakes if she could get away with it.
She eventually found another sauce she liked. It was made in Christchurch, surprisingly. This guy who called himself Dr Hot had set up a business to import and make hot sauces. He had a crappy little shop on the hill, and eventually opened a very nice shop in Manchester St., over the road from Two Fat Indians restaurant, called Aaji.
Anyway, we found a range of his sauces in Pak-n-Save of all places. They were distinctive by the names he gave them. The one Sarah liked was called Anal Annihilator, and it had the tag line "guaranteed to burn you twice". At Pak-n-Save! I know! I'll bet the buyer had to explain THAT decision to the boss.
For those who like their food hotter than the average white man, there are ways. At Thai restaurants, there is the standard mild, medium and hot. Then there is Thai hot. This is how they make it for themselves. Ask for THAT if you dare.
At Indian restaurants, it has often been regarded that Vindaloo is the hottest dish. There is one more. It's called Findaloo!
Back to tonight's dinner. We didnt ask for Thai hot, but that's sure what I got. Holy crap! Lets hope that is just an expletive and not a premonition of things to come.

The Hotel

So we get our bags off the belt and walk out. In this part of the world, if Customs takes an interest in you, you may never be heard from again. If they don't, you won't even know they are there.

Waiting outside is a guy with our names on a board. To be honest, I didn't see it, but he saw us. I don't know if they were told to look for a big white dude or not, but he called out to me, and he had guessed right.

He took us outside and loaded us into our car. A black Mercedes Benz. Sounds flash, but there are dozens of them here. There must be hundreds over the city.

Sarah's bag in the boot, mine in the front seat, and we were in the back seat. Lots of buttons on the door. One of them must lower the sunshade on our windows, but I didn't bother to try to figure it out.
On our way to the hotel, we passed through four toll booths. They add up to more than half the cost of the car ride. Suddenly a good deal.

So we make it to the hotel, and I'm a little surprised. I always tease that Sarah will only stay in a hotel with a large initial on the roof, but she always does a PhD on them. Gets great deals. This one, for three nights, you get upgraded to a posh suite, and get breakfast for two every morning. That alone is huge. When we went to Tahiti earlier on, the hotel on the island included breakfast. Lucky it did, because the going rate for breakfast was about USD70 per person, per day. Now that sure adds up.
This certainly wasn't a back-packers, but we didn't pay the silly money that some do just to impress. Who, I'm not sure.
Gotta love the financial crisis. Hotels we could never afford are competing with those down the food chain for the tourist dollar.

Anyway, we pull up in the merc, and we are inundated with people.
Hello how are you? Let me look after that.
Come with me please...

We did not go to reception. We did not check-in. We were escorted straight into the lift, and up to our room. Two girls and the guy bringing our luggage. Couldn't do enough for us. It turns out that one of the girls is our butler. I know!
We've never been buttled before. Don't quite know how to go about it.
She took our passports and a credit card In case one of us gets a desire for the porn channel in the wee hours. She did all the paperwork there, and gave us our documents and plastic back.

Nice.

By the way, Sarah just told me that both girls are our butlers. I asked her which one is hers and which one is mine. Don't worry, I still have fast reactions.

Kuala Lumpur

Well, we have landed.
For those who haven't been here before, this is a satellite lounge in the shape of a cross. All the big aircraft plug onto gates all along the four arms of the cross. Out of the end of one arm is the train line, that connects us to the main terminal, where the domestic planes park, and where we do customs and pick up our bags.
Kind of like Vegas. I'm sure there are others.







This place is not so much an airport, than a mall with parking spaces for Boeing. Didn't dally, because we had a car waiting. KUL airport is miles away from KUL city, so walking is out of the question. They have a fast train, but that ends up at the sentral station. And yes, I have spelt that correctly.

The hotel has a package to pick you up from sentral, or from the airport. With Sarah's big pink bag, as well as my modest collection, the single trip from the airport is just the simpler option. And it isn't much more than the train+car package.

So, through customs and off to the baggage hall. Kinda big, as you might expect.
Look at the screen, carousel G, that way, now wait.
The screen over the carousel showed 2 flights. One from Frankfurt, with a note saying last bag. It was done. Belt was stopped, no activity.
Then there was our flight, from Auckland. The note said first bag in 5 minutes. Really?
That'll be like the FIDDS screen in Auckland, check-in opens in 60 minutes. Merely a guide.

While we wait, I notice the baggage trolleys. Weird looking things. Something from Mad Max.

Back to the bags. First bag in 3 minutes. 2:59, 2:58... Seriously?

Alright then, lets test this. At about -2 minutes, the belt starts. Aha! Merely a guide.
But no bags. First bag in 1 minute. Still nothing appearing.

If you've been to Sydney, you may have seen two things. First, they wouldn't even pretend to have bags on the belt to any kind of schedule. You got your bags didn't you? Nothing broken or missing? Then you're ahead of the curve, Schappelle.
The other thing you will notice is the design of the arrivals carousels. They are oval, and sit in the middle of the room. You can walk all the way around them. The are quite deep, and angle quite steeply, so that bags are always against the bottom rail, for ease of pickup. Ours are plugged against the wall, loaders putting them on one side, us taking them off the other. If we don't take them off, they go all the way around to the back, so that the loaders have to look for gaps to put new bags on.

In Sydney, there is a row of these carousel islands, all fed from belts coming up from below into the middle of the oval. Bags then drop onto the belt and do the circuit. If we don't pick them up, the next bag lands on top of the old one, building a wall of bags up the belt till they are out of reach. Can get interesting.

So. The belts at KUL are like SYD. the bag drops onto the belt from inside the oval.
The first bag will arrive in 10 seconds, 9, 8... Nothing.

5, 4, here comes a bag. 3, 2,... and...1 as it hits the belt. You've GOT to be kidding me!

And so it begins

We are off on the greatest entomological study in history.
Can a large white man survive in the Indian subcontinent for up to four weeks without succumbing to the appetites of a plethora of critters and buzzy things, or at least contracting the infamous "Delhi Belhi"?

Got off to a good start.
Sarah's bag (the pink one) is only 18kg, and mine (the manly black one) only 16. I think we were both surprised by that. I was half expecting to be one of THOSE people who park in the middle of the check-in area to migrate a couple of kilos from Sarah's big bag to my not-so-big one. Not this time.

Off to the Koru lounge to wait for our flight, and it starts to unravel.

But wait. Lets just take a step back for a moment.
Our flight was late. I know this because my mPass app told me so.
The mPass is an app on my phone from Air New Zealand. It can do everything except book your ticket (I believe that is coming soon).
It can add my flights to my phone calendar, it can tell me the gate and seat number. And apparently it sends me a notification that the flight is going to be late.
Our flight is scheduled for 1855, and has been delayed till 1905. Thanks for that.
But wait, there's more! I got the notification at about 1500!!!!
Now THAT'S impressive.

Unravelling, that's right. The problem with working in this building is that we know a lot of people here. As a result, walk through in civvies and expect to be stopped by are lot of people.
"Off somewhere?" Yeah just a wee holiday.
Nelson, Auckland, Wellington? Sydney?
India.
Not the answer they expect. So the conversation begins.

Anyway, that was our journey from check-in to the departure lounge. One or other of us would be hijacked for a chat. I kept turning around and she wasn't there.
As I zigged and zagged the empty queue for Avsec screening, I turned around and she was gone again. Here she comes. Turn around, take out my LAGS and phone, put them into a tray and, ... She's gone again. Oh, there she is. Ahead of me and ahead of the 2 guys ahead of me as well. She is talking to one of them as she is about to go through the scanner. I went back to my bag, and to wondering if there was anything else I needed to take out for the X-ray machine. I look up again, and she is through the scanner, and giving that guy THE LOOK. There are many names for the look. All husbands have seen it. Sarah teaches a postgrad course in it. Some call it daggers. Hers is famous in this building. I call it the "Don't Fuck With Me look".

Apparently, these guys were farting about, unpacking their bags at the scanner bench. She was ready to go, so did. She walked past them, and to the X-ray. One guy took offence at her actions, and said so. She responded as she went through the scanner, to which he responded with something derogatory. A little racial profiling, shall we say. Did I mention that my wife has Tourette's?

Lets be clear here. I was oblivious to all of this. My first hint of danger was the look I saw from a few paces away. I was out of earshot of the conversation. This is why I didn't go leaping to her defense. Not that she needed it. The dumbass with the attitude was the one in danger.

By the time I got through security, Avsec were interrogating this guy, checking his shoes and tonsils, and debating his sobriety. I imagine an introduction to mr rubber glove was only moments away.
Don't fuck with Sarah on her turf! Home advantage can be a bitch.

And now for something completely different

Did another quick trip to Sydney. Nothing special here. Waiting till next weekend, when we start our India trip. There will be some interesting stuff there, hopefully not involving the whole Delhi Belhi thing.

Anyway, while in Sydney, I noticed something. Something completely unrelated to travel, and probably to humour. By all means, if you are not into geek shit, skip over this one.
For the other 3 of us, here goes... What? Only me then, huh?

It will be no big surprise to those who know me to hear that I like Apple products. iPhone, iPad, iMacbook, iMac. Stuff like that.

I read the geek blogs from time to time, and it's entertaining to see the ferocity that some people have when they take sides. Android vs Apple. Apple vs Android. Ridiculous.

There are so many people out there who are desperate for Apple to make a misstep, and crash and burn.

And So It Begins
I think it all started with the people who were offended that you couldn't write buy and install apps that weren't  approved by apple.

• "How dare Apple not let us fiddle with the OS code! How oppressive!"
• 
  
• "Get an Android phone. You can do anything you want with one of those. You can rewrite the code to do anything you want. Awesome!"

Personally, I have yet to meet someone who either can or wants to fiddle with the operating system of their phone. My old Nokia brick couldn't be reprogrammed, and everybody was fine with that. There was no rebellion in cyberspace about the ridiculous font they had. Nobody cared, so why should they now? No idea. It was a phone, for god's sake!

While everybody cheered that Android was an open system, free to the people, it was completely chaotic. Every manufacturer put out a range of phones, but not all with the same version of the OS. Better phones had the newer OS, while the budget ones had the older, less hungry OS. 

But it gets worse. Each carrier set it's own rules. They would tailor the OS to suit and advertise their products. No 2 phones looked the same. No 2 phones worked the same way.

But it gets worse. The carrier seems to dictate when any OS updates will be passed on. So the top phone on AT&T might get the latest OS only a few weeks after release, but their cheap ones are still 2 versions ago, with no intention to upgrade. Then of course, Virozon will have the same top end phone available, but the interface looks different because of their tweeks, and they may get the new software weeks or months later than AT&T. Or sooner.

Same phone. Three different carriers. Three different versions of the OS. Three different looks to the screen. Three different upgrade timetables.

And then there is Apple. One phone. One OS. One upgrade path. Carriers can't touch it.

The rebel alliance is winning!

The other group of Apple bashers are constantly trawling for stats to prove that Android is selling more phones than Apple. That will be the beginning of the end that we are all waiting for. Waiting with hope in our hearts and a rejoicing cry on our lips. Absurd!

When Apple introduced the iPhone, I don't know what the pundits expected. I certainly didn't expect much. Nokia ruled the world, and Blackberry had the geek alliance. That was all. No Android. No Apple. It took a year for the App Store to appear, and suddenly there was somewhere for apps to be gathered.The thing gained momentum. 

But I still didn't expect much the first 2-3 years. Apple put out one phone a year, while Nokia was introducing a new model everytime they opened their factory for a new day's work. How could they compete?

Anyway, fast forward a while, and Apple is gaining ground. The Android party was just starting, presumably as a reaction to Apple, and the restrictions they put on things getting into the App store. Once the big companies like Samsung got onboard, they were off and running.

And still I didn't expect Apple to have much market share. They were still only dropping a new phone once a year, and the various Android makers were doing like Nokia did. Always a new model. Multiply that by the number of manufacturers, and Apple wouldn't stand a chance. But they did. They actually took the lead in smartphones, against all odds.

But the juggernaught could not be stopped. Eventually those dozens of available models started to make some headway, and today Android accounts for the vast majority of smart phones being purchased. Not surprised. I think the anly reason that Apple got such a foothold, is that the others were caught with their pants down. The iPhone hit the market with nothing comparable out there. Nothing even close.

They did the same again with the iPad. Caught the opposition completely napping. Took months for anything else to hit the streets, and then they were rubbish.

And then there are the Court Cases.

Boy are people dark on this one. 

• "Apple is going to ruin competition"
• "They can't innovate, so they just try to litigate everybody else out of the market"
• "How can you patent a curve?"
• "They didn't invent it"
• "They deserve to be bankrupted by the failure of these offensive actions"

Boy, oh boy!

These people have no sense of business. At All!

The point of a patent is to say "this is my ball, you get your own ball". It doesn't matter how simple or how obvious it is. I'm sure the safety pin looks so obvious. Now!

There are some fascinating articles floating around cyberspace about something called trade dress, relating to the 'look' of a product. One of the most famous examples is the Coca Cola bottle design. Anybody comes close to a similar look, and Coke sues their corporate arses off. But let Apple do it, and they are undermining the fabric of society.

These people clearly do not follow business. Businesses all over the world buy up other businesses, simply to get their hands on the patents held by the acquired company. They are all doing it. Apple,
Google, Microsoft, everyone. So who cares if somebody at Apple invented anything at all. They own the patent, so have the right to protect it.

"They shouldn't be allowed a patent for that!" Fine. Have a crack at the Patent Office. Don't blame the guy that owns the patent.

Sheesh!

So What did I notice in Sydney?

Oh that's right. That's where I started this tirade.

What I noticed was this. Everywhere you look, you see an iPhone. Oh, sure, there is the occasional Samsung. Not much else. Maybe Blackberry will be back soon. The reviews for their reboot seem to be  very encouraging.

So if iPhones are everywhere, how come there are more Samsungs being sold? How come there are more Android phones being sold? Where do they all go?

I think the answer lies in some stats I saw recently.

There are many time more apps downloaded from the Apple App Store than from the Android one. Surprised? I was. But apparently it's true.

What I think that this shows, is that more people are using their iPhones. Sure, there might be more androids sold, but I reckon that Android owners have a wee collection of them. Why? Don't know.

Maybe they keep buying the latest one because they are looking for one that feels right for them.

Apple is Apple. Don't like it, don't buy it. The next one will be pretty much the same, just faster.

Maybe the better questions are;

• How many of each phone are registered?
• How many of each phone are in use?
• How many of each phone are downloading apps?
• What is the highest selling by model?
• By manufacturer?

Everybody seems to like using their iPhones. Or at least they want to be seen using their iPhones.

I don't know which. And I don't care.

Rant over for now.

Back on topic next week.

Delhi Belhi. Yum. Can't wait!!