One for the cadets...

We woke up this morning to find a military recruitment festival had brought itself to the playing field behind our hostel. We'd had our hearts set on roller skating, as read about in our guide-book, but alas it seemed nothing more than a misprint/joke on behalf of the editor, for no matter how we tried to describe 'roller-blading' in the appropriate shopping centre, no-one had any idea what we were talking about. Unfortunately 'roller-blading' doesn't seem to have a direct translation, and asking "Dimana..." (where is...) followed by a sliding motion over the tiled floors got us at best, directions to a shoe shop, and at worst some severely worried looks.

After exhausting our attempts to find the rollerskating place, we decided to go to the recruitment thingy, which I was muchly pleased about as it looked quite interesting! Most of the stands were the usual recruitment-type tents, fairly similar to the ones our forces throw up at public events, but we had the added bonus today of fruit-carving, a Naval ice sculpture and a model of a chicken made entirely out of butter, I kid you not. There was also cake-decorating, with a helpful man who turned the Malaysian sign around to read "Cake Decorating" in English for us. Just incase we wondered why he was adorning a cup-cake with swirly icing. In actual fact we were wondering why someone from the Army was icing a cake, but there didn't seem to be an English sign to explain that one.

I soon homed in on the Air Force stand, with a display of various uniforms and posters that I couldn't read. I could understand the aircraft poster though, and discovered that the Malaysian Air Force also use the Hercules C-130 and the Hawk as a fighter jet. Up until recently, they also trained with the Bulldog. I later chatted to a pilot who could speak very good English and asked him if there were any air cadets here. After a slightly confusing but manageable conversation, we managed to astablish that there are no 'Air Cadets' as we know it, but you can become a cadet for three years before deciding to join up good and proper. There's also three months National Service that's been brought in within the last few years for people who've just finished high school, at about the age of eighteen. There were an amazing amount of familiar bits and pieces scattered about - the Air Publications looked almost identical to ours, and the pilot's last commanding officer happened to be an R.A.F. squadron leader, which surprised me. One difference I noticed was the survival kit stored within each aircraft. If you go down in a plane here you get a comprehensive 'Jungle Survival' pamphlet, along with various hammocks, machetes and 'scary-animal-avoidance-measures'!

There were displays from the dog unit, with Rottweilers to accompany the usual Alsations, and a parachuting display. I was a little apprehensive in the run-up to the jump, as Mr.Pilot from earlier on had told me that there was only a 30% success rate! I said I hoped he meant a 30% failure rate, but alas he said "No, 70% are bad jumps..." Half-expecting three squished jumpers, I was quite relieved when three of them missed the field and landed in nearby trees. One landed in the right place, so he was almost there with the 30%.

The display-of-the-day for me though, and one which I'll never forget, was the Air Force band. I have never before seen a military band play, sing, 'dance' and keep a straight face whilst two ghosts, a man dressed as a woman and a flag-wielding maniac on a bike danced around them. I have now. I wish I could describe it, but it would be stupid to try, so I'll try to put a video up on the internet at some point - it has to be seen!

This evening, after climbing up a hill to a viewpoint for sunset over the city, we returned to the festival for 'cultural entertainment', which turned out to involve being harassed into dancing on stage. Verity and I agreed in the end, as the man was quite persistant and the others didn't look like they were going to budge. It was quite amusing, though the song seemed to go on forever. There was a young girl and a mental middle-aged Malaysian lady up there with us, as the cabaret-style lady belted out a song I couldn't understand. After a while I ran out of generic silly dance moves and we had to result to the Macarena and eventually air-guitar. Depressingly, Malaysians don't seem to like clapping at these events, so the end of the song met with a stony silence and a motionless audience. It wasn't just us being awful, we were the only people clapping the rest of the acts throughout the evening, but it was somewhat unnerving. If you're ever in a band doing a world-tour, don't expect an applause!

We did walk away with a goody bag though, so all is well!