Lizards and Rubberbands Reloaded

Rachel’s near-death experience last night has prompted me to write more about the hazards of the common house gecko—a creature that, as it turns out, is capable of psychological warfare.

11:30 PM: The Call of Terror

I was in bed, eyes closed, body drenched in exhaustion, drifting into that sweet, pre-dream state where everything feels weightless.

Thenmy phone rang.

It was Rachel.

Before I could even say hello, a spine-chilling scream erupted from the tiny speaker. She had skipped the pleasantries and gone straight to full-blown horror-movie mode.

Between incoherent, one-syllable shrieks, I managed to piece together the situation:

A gecko had landed on her windshield.

Now, for most people, this wouldn’t be a crisis. But Rachel is terrified of geckos. She would rather endure dental surgery without anesthesia than be within a 10-foot radius of one—even if separated by shatterproof tempered glass.

To make things worse, she was alone, driving on the highway from Shah Alam to KL.

High-Speed Panic

Adrenaline kicked in. My brain snapped into emergency mode.

Listen to me, you need to stop the car. Right now. Pull over before you crash!

I CAN’T!!!!” she screamed. “IT’S STARING RIGHT INTO MY EYES!!! ARGHHHHH!!!

I tried reasoning with her. She needed to calm down and regain control before attempting anything.

But the only response I got was more blood-curdling screams.

It was clearpanic had taken over.

Calm, logical reasoning was no longer an option.

So I switched tactics.

In my most authoritative, no-nonsense voice, I boomed:

YOU’VE GOT TO PULL OVER NOW! FUCKIN’ PULL OVER BEFORE YOU KILL SOMEONE!”

Not my proudest moment, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I needed to snap her out of it before she plowed into another car because of a tiny reptilian intruder.

Imagine explaining that to the police.

“Officer, the accident report reads: ‘Gecko made eye contact. Driver lost will to live.’”

 

Radio Silence

Through sobs, she finally whispered, “Call you back later.

Then—the line went dead.

I immediately dialed back.

No answer.

Instead, I got that soul-crushing recorded message:

“The number you have dialed is currently unavailable. Please leave a message after the beep.”

Beep.

For 45 minutes, I stared at my phone, heart pounding, wondering if I had done the right thing.

Had she decided to drive off a cliff in a final, kamikaze attempt to eliminate the gecko? Had she suddenly found the Hollywood-style bravery to “take down” the windshield invader, even if it meant paying the ultimate price?

Sweat began to bead on my forehead.

I dialed again.

 

The Message from the Gecko

The phone rang.

Then—she answered.

Hello, are you okay?!” I asked, bracing for the worst.

I heard soft sobbing, but relief flooded through me when she said:

Ok already lah.

She was stationary. Out of the car. Alive.

What happened to the lizard?” I asked.

“It took off,” she replied, then paused—long enough for me to realize she had just shuddered at the thought.

Then she added, in a tone that sent a chill down my spine:

It gave me a message.

I frowned. “A message?

Yes. It told me to lay off exposing them. It told me to tell you to stop writing about them.

I stared at my phone in disbelief.

Wait– what?

It wanted me to know it wasn’t kidding. And before it left… it pissed on my windshield.

I was speechless.

Then it deployed its parachute and floated off somewhere along Jalan Tun Razak.

The geckos.

They know.

Lizards and Rubberbands

A friend of mine, Rachel (name changed to protect ME), recently shared an interesting theory: Common House Geckos (Hemidactylus frenatus) are mysteriously attracted to rubber bands.

According to a series of experiments she conducted—and allegedly replicated by a Libyan scientific team– she has proven this claim.

Now, as much as I’d love to verify this firsthand, I currently have plenty of geckos in my home but not a single rubber band. So, in the interest of science, I present Rachel’s step-by-step guide so you can try it at home:

How to Test the Gecko-Rubber Band Theory

  1. Place a rubber band in a corner or any spot where geckos like to hang out.
  2. Memorize the location.
  3. Take a photograph (if you have a camera), and label it “Before.”
  4. No camera? No problem. Take a mental photograph (stare and blink real hard). Label it “Before” in your head.
  5. Go about your day for at least 12 hours.
  6. Return to the spot where you left the rubber band.
  7. Take another photograph (if you have a camera), and compare it to your “Before” shot.
  8. No camera? Again, stare and blink real hard, then compare it to your mental image.

The Expected Results

If Rachel’s theory holds, the rubber band will have mysteriously moved.

The Weirdest Part? This isn’t even the strangest claim.

Rachel also swears she has personally witnessed geckos using rubber bands as:

  • Hula hoops
  • Skipping ropes
  • Waist belts (for what must have been a very chonky gecko)

She even complains about the mess these geckos leave behind after their wild nights of rubber band revelry.

Bonus Gecko Fact:

Apparently, geckos also have a strong attraction to Spirulina.

So, if your rubber band experiment doesn’t yield the expected results, try again—this time, baiting them with Spirulina.

Because, you know, science.

Mid-Priced Speakers

With a specific mission to upgrade my existing system, my buddies and I set out on a quest to find the best speakers that money (or more specifically, around RM 8,000) can buy.

We tested several speakers that day but in the end, only two stood out — with one honorable mention: the KEF reference series, which, while very good, was way, way, way beyond my paltry budget (about 4 times beyond to be exact).

B&W Nautilus 805:

First, a note about the B&W showroom in MidValley. This shop is ONE of the BEST, if not THE BEST hi-fi shop in terms of size, variety (if you’re looking for B&Ws and Arcams), interior decoration and, oh yes, tastefully furnished and sonically superb listening rooms.

Now for the speaker:- the Nautilus 805 speaker is sweet!

We tested it with a generic fusion track, and the results were excellent. The highs were crisp, and the mid-range was crystal clear. Being a bookshelf speaker, the bass was slightly muted, but the low end was deep enough for most purposes. It was fast, with excellent transients.

However, there was one small issue—it was a little too sweet for my taste. Normally, I can handle bright speakers, but something about the Nautilus 805 felt incomplete. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it… until we tried the Harbeth.

Harbeth HL Compact 7ES-2:

Before I get into the Harbeth, let’s talk about the shop that sells them—Tropical Audio in Setapak.

This place is the polar opposite of the B&W showroom. Tucked between motorcycle repair shops, it looks completely unassuming from the outside. Upon entering, I was greeted by a shockingly modest listening “area”—which wasn’t really a room at all.

There, against the left wall, was an old rattan sofa, the kind that was popular in the early 1980s. On the right side, a lineup of speakers stood in a row, with an old, dusty Quad CD player and 606 amplifier in the middle. To top it off, I spotted a JBL subwoofer in the setup. Not exactly confidence-inspiring.

Then I saw them.

Three pairs of the ugliest speakers I had ever laid eyes on.

No fancy curves, no glossy finishes—just plain rectangular boxes.

Things got even worse when the shop owner’s wife inserted a Jacky Cheung CD into the player. At that moment, I nearly walked out.

Still, I decided to close my eyes and listen.

And then—pure magic.

The 7ES-2 came alive with tight, controlled bass that went surprisingly low for a half-floor-stander (though we had to convince the lady to turn off the JBL subwoofer, which was adding an artificial rumble to the setup). The highs were clean and natural.

But the real game-changer? The stereo imaging.

I could literally see Jacky Cheung standing in the middle of the room.

Wanting to test it further, I protested against Aaron Neville (which the lady tried to play next) and got her to switch to Telarc’s Happy Trails instead. Once again, the 7ES-2 delivered. I felt as if the orchestra was right there with me– I could almost pinch the red-haired oboist sitting to my right.

The Final Decision

Comparing both speakers, I finally understood what the Nautilus 805 lacked—it didn’t have the superb stereo imaging, clarity, and sheer musical passion of the 7ES-2.

And so, I had no choice but to abandon my personal favorite (though the B&W still looks undeniably sexy) and settle for a pair of boring-looking, yet sonically superior, Harbeth speakers.

Because in the end, it’s not about looks—it’s about the music.

In search of the perfect sound

Inspired by a visit to a friend’s place in Singapore—where I had the chance to experience vinyl on his hi-fi system—I decided to dive back into the world of perfect audio reproduction.

To be honest, I am a relapsed audiophile.

As a kid, I was always tinkering with audio systems, though I never had the resources to get anything truly high-end. My house started with an 8-track system, later replaced by an unbranded all-in-one cassette-tuner-amplifier and a pair of home-built speakers. On that modest setup, I grew up listening to The Beatles, ABBA, Bee Gees, Anne Murray, Art Garfunkel, Fleetwood Mac, Earth, Wind & Fire, Leo Sayer, Boney M, Beethoven, Mozart and Sam Hui. Given those musical influences, it’s no small wonder I turned out emotionally balanced and relatively normal. (Or did I?)

The Audiophile Awakening

The audiophile bug bit me when I stumbled upon an old Hi-Fi Annual from the now-defunct Asia Magazine at a Berita Bookstore warehouse sale. The magazine was filled with insightful articles on high-fidelity sound and reviews of top-tier audio systems of that year. One particular article claimed that every true audiophile’s dream is to recreate, as faithfully as possible, the experience of live music.

That got me thinking– I had never actually heard a live orchestral performance (aside from school recitals, which I don’t think really count). Determined to understand what “live” truly sounded like, I attended a classical music performance by a traveling youth orchestra. Even in the sonically challenged Dewan Tun Hussein Onn at PWTC, I was completely blown away.

It reminded me of that scene in Amadeus where Salieri first hears Mozart’s clarinet concerto—a moment of pure sonic seduction. The music transcended mere notes, becoming intangible ethers of absolute beauty, stirring emotions and soothing the soul. But at the same time, I felt a deep frustration—no matter how much I tinkered, my setup at home could never replicate that live sound.

The Struggle for High-Fidelity Sound

Lacking the financial means to upgrade my system, I survived on compact cassettes—though I had to stick a toothpick on the pinch roller of my tape deck to slow it down (because it played everything slightly too fast). FM radio became another go-to source for music.

Later, thanks to Bob, a fellow audiophile, I managed to get a mini-compo (a term that still gives me shivers), which—crucially—had a CD player. My very first CD? Enigma’s debut album. I played it over and over and over again, mesmerized by the hiss-free, crystal-clear sound.

Adding a CD player to my basic hi-fi system was a small step—perhaps just one out of a thousand—toward achieving live music realism. But it was a step that opened up an entirely new world of sound.

The Audiophile Cycle

But I digress. To cut a long story short, my passion for high-fidelity sound became cyclical.

At its peak, I had a Marantz CD-5000 CD player, a NAD C320 integrated amplifier, and Tannoy Mercury MX1 speakers. At its lowest point, I convinced myself that iPods sounded fantastically natural, and I swapped my Tannoy speakers for a pair of Audio Pro Focus SA-5 floor-standing AV speakers—mostly because they had booming low bass, much like (dread of all dreads) an Ah Beng’s car audio setup.

Next Stop: SACDs, DVD-Audio, and Vinyl

Ah…the smell of the ocean, lush rainforest, relaxing spas, good food- what more can one expect?

Ah… the scent of the ocean, the lush embrace of the rainforest, indulgent spas, and delicious food—what more could one ask for?

Tomorrow, our company sets off for our annual trip, and once again, we’re heading to the beach. Come to think of it, allof our company trips have been beach getaways—a perk of living in Malaysia, where vacations are typically either up in the cool highlands or down by the sandy shores.

This time, however, we’re headed to the luxurious Pangkor Laut Resort. Ah, the very place where Pavarotti was moved to tears, calling it a vision of paradise or heaven. (How he knew what paradise or heaven looked like is anyone’s guess, but I’d like to think that overweight opera singers have a direct line to the Almighty, given how they dramatically gaze up at the sky while singing.) But seriously—it really is that breathtaking.

This won’t be my first time there; I visited a few years ago, and I can still remember the first-class accommodations and top-notch facilities. What’s new this time? The completion of the Spa Village. After reading about it, I can’t wait to experience it firsthand!