Her beau having flown back to the States to attend to family matters, Lindsay couldn\u2019t very well let pass her twenty-fifth birthday sitting home alone, could she? So, she put out the bat-signal \u2013 which, here in Penang, looks a little something like this\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2026and called the tribes to the epicenter of the Penang Durian miasma, the Bao Sheng Durian Farm.<\/p>\n I had wanted to try Bao Sheng\u2019s famous on-farm tasting two years ago, but for one reason or another, failed to make it over there. So you could imagine, I was pretty giddy with anticipation. Got the bus out to Teluk Bahang; which is a pretty nice ride, right there along the coast and all. But, factually, it was for me most memorable because of all the humorous signs I seen. They were zooming by at such a rapid clip that it was all I could do to jot a few of them down. To wit\u2026<\/p>\n From the end of the line in Teluk Bahang, it\u2019s about five or six miles to the farm. My concerns with walking it were these: That there would be an assload of traffic, that the road\u2019s shoulders would be about as wide as a credit card (turned sideways), and that the sun would be baking hot. Thought I might be better off getting a hitch, but decided to set out walking and see how it went.<\/p>\n Turned out, there wasn\u2019t much traffic at all, the shoulders were manageable enough, if at times a little goofy (ended up walking, for example, a goodly distance at the bottom of the bone-dry aqueduct), and the route was \u2013 at least at this time of the evening — mostly in shade.<\/p>\n Oh, and it was quite scenic; proceeding first past a nice reservoir (containing the island\u2019s drinking water supply, I guess?)\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026and then into the Durian Jungle. Most of the island is in fact a concrete<\/em> jungle; but the Western edge is reserved for the finest Durian trees this galaxy has to offer.<\/p>\n In Penang (or possibly it\u2019s all of Malaysia \u2013 can\u2019t rightly remember which) they have a saying: The Durian have eyes. It means, if a Durian falls off the tree and de-brains you as you\u2019re walking underneath\u2026you probably had it coming.<\/p>\n This saying was foremost in my mind as I prepared to pass under a tree hanging over the road.<\/p>\n But then I noticed\u2026<\/p>\n A net<\/em>? The fuck happened to Karma<\/em>\u2122<\/strong>? Sheesh.<\/p>\n The path was veritably littered<\/em> with roadside stands and turnoffs to farms.<\/p>\n Oh, and also:<\/p>\n I think<\/em> it means that the pedestrian should prepare him- or her-self for the most excruciatingly hellacious half-hour walking he or she had ever had the dis-pleasure to experience. Dunno what the fudge happened, but all the suddenly, the motorcycles were out in full force. The loudest, noisiest, meanest, most obnoxiousest motorcycles this side of fuggin\u2019 Sturgis, Dakota.<\/p>\n I shouldn\u2019t have to say this again\u2026but, apparently, I do<\/em> have to: MOTORCYCLES ARE FUCKING SATANIC. I mean, if they would just outfit the goddam things with mufflers, they\u2019d be more less fine. But so long as they won\u2019t<\/em>, MOTORCYCLES ARE THE FUCKING DEVIL.<\/p>\n I kid you not, walking through this torture-chamber-on-two-wheels was the closest I\u2019ve ever in all my born days come to falling cross-legged to the ground, ripping out all of my hair, and bawling for my mommy. So horrible.<\/p>\n Just as I was kicking myself for not having thrown a pair of earplugs into my day-pack, it occurred to me: The fuzz, when they\u2019d performed<\/a> the \u201cPolice Check\u201d over me back Bangkok, had discovered a pair of foam plugs which\u2019d burrowed their way to the bottom of my little belt-pouch used to house my MP3-player. Zing! I scrambled madly to get at them, popped them in, and\u2026yes, they were effective.<\/p>\n But also no fun. For, when wearing earplugs, one can also<\/em> not hear the song of the birds, nor that of the cicadas, nor the rustling of the breeze through the trees, nor the babble of the brook. In some ways, one can not even hear oneself think (as strange as that may sound).<\/p>\n Thankfully, it was shortly thereafter that the freaking onslaught (for the most part) ended as suddenly as it had begun. But still I say here to one, some, and all: MOTORCYCLES CAN JUST ABOUT FUCKOFF.<\/p>\n I think back now to the time, two years ago in Bangkok, when I did lower myself to hiring a moto-taxi, and I hang my head in shame. The experience was very much akin, now that I ponder the matter, to that time I voted for Michael Dukakis: I had promised high and low that I would not<\/em> do it, I had known that I was wrong at the moment<\/em> of doing, and I have felt dirty and unwashed ever since.<\/p>\n And I do now therefore on this very date issue the following Solemn Fucking Oath\u2122<\/strong>:<\/p>\n [Begin Solemn Fucking Oath]<\/strong><\/p>\n Any and all persons reading this-here blog are hereby deputised with the authority to — should they hear tell that I have ever either driven<\/em> or ridden<\/em> on top of a two-, three-, or four- (or, hell, five-, <\/em>if there is such a thing) wheeled motorcycle \u2013 run my dimpled ass through with a motherfucking javelin. No questions asked, no forgiveness sought.<\/p>\n I\u2019d rather eat greasy catshit out of a gasoline can than to be caught riding on top of a god damn motorcycle.<\/p>\n [End Solemn Fucking Oath]<\/strong><\/p>\n \u2022<\/p>\n The party was set for Saturday morning, with the various representatives trickling in throughout the day on Friday. I arrived near sundown, and the Good People were already beginning their pre-func, partaking of a little somethin\u2019-somethin\u2019 (if you catch my meaning). For the most part though, we were in a holding pattern, waiting for the evening harvest to arrive.<\/p>\n Which it soon enough did; along with Lindsay, her co-host Grant, and, of course, the farm\u2019s owner: a man who \u2013 much like Magic Johnson or Vanilla Ice \u2013 has so transcended his chosen field of endeavour that his craft<\/em> has become a part of his name. You may call him \u201cDurian Seng\u201d (for he is none other).<\/p>\n He proceeded to give a very high-level lesson in the Durianic arts, teaching us how to properly hold the Durian\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026how to properly smell the Durian\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026how to properly carve up the Durian\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026and (most importantly) how to utilise the various and sundry smartphone apps in order to properly illuminate<\/em> the Durian when eating after dark.<\/p>\n If I\u2019m understanding it correctly (which, I very possibly am not: it\u2019s a quite deep well, and my noggin\u2019 is a quite puny decanter), there are five stages of Durian taste progression: Sweet, Flower, Bitter, Wine, and Numb. As soon as the Durian falls from the tree, the stages begin peeling away like layers of the onion \u2013 \u2018til, after a relatively short period of time, only the Sweet flavour is left standing.<\/p>\n Mr. Seng took me to task when I queried whether we would, on the morrow, be able to eat of a certain variety for which I was carrying particularly fond memories from two years ago (the \u201cOh Chee\u201d). He explained that any and all<\/em> varieties exhibit all five stages; and that the reason to come drop ungodly quantities of coin at Bao Sheng was not<\/em> to chase down prestigious or favoured varieties, but rather to eat Durian which has fallen from the tree less than a half-hour\u2019s time from the moment of consumption \u2013 and thus displays all five of the possible taste sensations.<\/p>\n The \u201cNumb\u201d stage is to be taken literally, by the way: The eating actually numbs one\u2019s lips and tongue. Unfortunately, we weren\u2019t privileged to experience this ultimate stage, as none of the harvested fruits had retained this quality. There was one that many agreed imparted a partial numbness \u2013 but I personally felt nothing at all.<\/p>\n After a midnight dip in the spring-fed pool, we retired to the cute little two-storey house (er, rather, villa<\/em>) Lindsay had helpfully rented out for the occasion. When the Morning Harvest came in, we\u2019d already be on the grounds with our trusty Durian Scythes in hand.<\/p>\n Now then, anybody ever spews at you some kind of fucking crap about the supposed wretchedness of the Durian\u2019s aroma, I invite you to rejoin by showing to the miserable oaf(s) this very same photograph:<\/p>\n The gleeful kids-in-a-candy-store anticipation washing over Grant\u2019s and Jake\u2019s faces here as they dig in to the morning\u2019s first Durian so clearly and completely puts the lie to the rumours and innuendo that all such libelous rot can and must henceforth entirely cease.<\/p>\n For Durian is<\/em> the King Of Fruit, and all who share its bounty\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026know it for true: There can be no higher, more superlative, feeding experience.<\/p>\n See that? That<\/em>, right there, is Durian Lust:<\/p>\n It turned out, as it happens, to be a fantasm. What Mads and Ryan believed for the briefest of moments to have been the fabled Titanium Homunculus variety being delivered from on high turned out was just another stoopid revelation from the fucking Holy Ghost (or whatever).<\/p>\n No matter how many Durian Mr. Seng\u2019s son, here, kept pounding onto the floor (to get primed up for best eating)\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026and delivering up to our table\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026we done devoured those sons of bitches with such indomitable grace and fury\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026that they had to back the truck up\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026and cargo in a whole other Harvest.<\/p>\n Ladies and Gennlemen, the mighty Hor Lor:<\/p>\n Here\u2019s a good rule of thumb: If you find that the six-leggeds are swarming in with such vigour as to threaten to make off with your prized fruit before you\u2019ve even had a chance to get a good whiff of it yet\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026you know there\u2019s a Taste Jackpot awaiting your very immediate future.<\/p>\n After we\u2019d stuffed ourselves silly, we made the obligatory trek over to the old waterfall\/swimming hole. Just look at these characters, willya? Could be one of only two explanations, here. Either<\/em> they\u2019ve just laid waste to a thousand metric tonnes of Bao Sheng Durian, or<\/em> they\u2019re busy filming the next Godfather<\/em> picture. We\u2019ll probably never know which.<\/p>\n \u00a0Bao Sheng\u2019s is just about equidistant between Teluk Bahang and Balik Pulau. I went ahead and walked the rest of the distance between the two, completing my two-day tour of \u201cDurian Alley\u201d.<\/p>\n Along the way, I nearly got blown over by a mad rush of cars come racing around the bend like as if it were the end of the known World. \u201cWhat do they think this is,\u201d I muttered to myself, \u201cthe goddam Penang Grand Prix, or some shit? \u2026Fuckin\u2019 idiots.\u201d<\/p>\n But then, I rounded the corner myself, and, it looked exactly<\/em> like a Grand Prix course. Huhn \u2013 I guess the joke\u2019s on me.<\/p>\n Grabbed a ear of corn\u2026<\/p>\n \u2026and a Watermelon along the way. The former I et at once, while the latter I schlepped all the way to the Bus Terminal in Balik Pulau, for my next day\u2019s Luncheon.<\/p>\n Balik Pulau, where the Durian are so numerous, they\u2019re piled in knee-deep mounds every<\/em> old where.<\/p>\n Got the bus to George Town, and along the way, had a very intense experience listening to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs\u2019 \u201cWedding Song<\/a>\u201d while speeding along near the airport at around dusk. Partly it was that the conditions, including being in a foreign country, made it seem very cinematic. But mostly it was just\u2026Karen O. I tell ya, she has got to be the most potent weapon in Rock and\/or Roll to-day, innit?<\/p>\n Or maybe it was just the Durian, fogging up my brain again…<\/p>\n \u00a0\u2022<\/p>\n Right, lemme get serious here for just a hot second, okay?<\/p>\n Why is birthday-girl Lindsay the world\u2019s greatest<\/a> Durian Photographer?<\/p>\n It\u2019s because she puts her entire heart and soul into her photos. It\u2019s because it\u2019s not a representation of the Durian<\/em> you\u2019re seeing there in those flickering ones-and-zeroes so much as it is a representation of her very essence<\/em>.<\/p>\n Lindsay lives and breathes Durian, and has done more to advance the cause of Durian advocacy than any person I\u2019ve ever heard about. She works her fucking ass off \u2013 sacrificing much, asking little or nothing in return. And she delivers the goods. Her book is really great<\/em>, and if you\u2019re reading these words, I for one think that you ought to go and purchase<\/a> a copy from her.<\/p>\n Oh, and wish her a Happy Birthday while you’re at it.<\/p>\n \n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" For readers of this blog, Lindsay and Rob should need no introduction. The curators of the Year Of The Durian Website Of Total Thrash-Ass Awesomeness\u2122, they are without a shred of doubt Durianism\u2019s First Couple, beloved by all comers lucky … Continue reading ![\"BatSignal-300x200\"](\"http:\/\/durianapocalypse.net\/travel\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/06\/BatSignal-300x200_thumb.jpg\" "\\"BatSignal-300x200\\"")
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