A 27-Year Old Boy and 7-Year Old Boy Crash In To Each Other on Their Bikes. Who Wins? - Day 25: Biking South from Bangkok


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Asia » Malaysia » Langkawi
August 9th 2008
Published: December 7th 2009
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Us at the AquariumUs at the AquariumUs at the Aquarium

If you can see my worn sandals, those are the shoes I biked in everyday. I found them more comfortable than my sneakers.
Day 25: Langkawi Island

It was J’s birthday and we started the celebration with some warm, just baked buns from the bakery downstairs and some fresh milk from the duty-free shop. As it was Malaysia, some of these buns were cheese and some were peanut butter, jelly and raisin. A truly perfect breakfast in bed.

We set off biking to a black-sand beach we’d heard about on the north shore, but once again, we didn’t know exactly how far it was. Apparently none of the usual visitors to this island had any need for a map with exact distances because we couldn’t acquire one anywhere. Each map we found not only didn’t have exact distances listed, it wasn’t even drawn to scale. We may have been the first tourists to arrive on the islands with bikes, and because of that, the island was not set up for bikers. The road we started out on for the black sand beach had no shoulder, and after passing way too many run-over pangolins than one would expect in a ten minute, uphill ride, we stopped. We had no idea how far it was, it was 100 degrees, and we were hung-over. Disappointed in ourselves, yet concerned we might kill each other if we continued, we turned back and stopped at the first hotel for information. The black sand beach was 50 kilometers away, and there were no busses. Bummer.

We changed our plans, and decided to take a taxi to UnderWater world, an aquarium 25 kilometers away on the southwest part of the island. If this was any other day, we would have biked. But this was supposed to be a birthday, not a torture-day. To our delight, the Indian restaurant we had tried to reach the previous night turned out to be located right next to the aquarium. The restaurant was cool and delightful with lovely colored silks covering the ceiling and pretty paper stars and lights hanging all over. We ate a birthday feast of garlic and cheese nan, chicken rogan josh, vegetable jisala, mix raitha and yellow basmati rainbow rice for the shocking sum of $40, the most expensive purchase we’d made in ages!

Then we answered questions about our bikes outside in the parking lot for the lovely Indian men who worked at the restaurant. They just adored our bicycles and had loads of questions about them. One of them had an electric bicycle which he let J ride. An electric bicycle gets plugged in at night, charged up, and then is ready to ride, like a motorcycle the next day. The battery charge lasts three days. And if the battery is not charged, there are pedals, and you can pedal it like a normal bike. But the battery is really heavy, making pedaling a very unpleasant option. The men were in Malaysia temporarily, on a three-year work contract, working for their cousin’s restaurant. They would make much, much more money here than they could back home in India. The bike cost $1500 US but it had been a present from one of the men’s cousins.

The aquarium was fascinating; there were lots of couples visiting together. The women wore burkas and held hands with the men. I could see the women’s beautiful tattooed henna hands, their cute sandals, the bottoms of their expensive jeans. And I discovered the burka rule: If you’re gonna wear a burka, you’ve got to have an expensive, stylish purse; it offsets the burka and it’s your status symbol. And it doesn't show any skin.

There were people from all over the world at this aquarium, as well as penguin tanks you could walk under, jellyfish, alligator turtles, an enclosure with a turtle and a rabbit sitting happily together and tiny monkeys in trees. There was also handsome parakeets, pictures of whales but no actual whales, tiny sharks, a giant manta ray, a huge turtle and a snack bar selling popcorn midway through the aquarium.

After the aquarium we discovered a modern and classy bar right on the beach just next door, and enjoyed the sunset and the end of the men’s bike race simultaneously. We discovered that it was a lot more fun to watch professional biking now that we too were bikers. We talked to the owner, Leslie, a 53 year old New Zealander and Ironman, who totally dug our trip. He told us to cross Malaysia and bike down the east coast, because it was more remote and the air around here was hazy due to burning all the way down in Sumatra. He completed the Ironman competition last year on this island in 14 hours and 40 minutes and was now training for this years competition. What an inspiration. His Malay wife walked around idly, wearing tiny shorts and an even tinier tank top. That kind of dress was still such a shock to me after being in conservative Laos for so long.

The light coming off the beach was beautiful and we stayed for awhile. But we really couldn’t keep buying the American-priced drinks, and so after a short time we had to depart. We found an internet shop just next door, which was great as we hadn’t contacted anyone back home since we’d been in Malaysia. As we were leaving there, the nicest lady ever, who ran the shop, couldn’t stop exclaiming over our trip. She was so excited about it, and told us we could easily find bar work in Malaysia if we chose to and she wished us great luck in everything. She told us her husband told her always to say how many years young you are, not how many years old. She was incredibly sweet and just made us reflect on how amazing everyone in Malaysia had been thus far. I couldn’t believe I had been scared to come to Malaysia. We decided that if everyone could just travel, maybe there would be no more fear and hatred in the world.

We found a van cab that could take us back across the island and hilarious efforts by the driver and all his driver buddies to cram our bikes in to the vehicle ensued. You would think with a van there’d be plenty of room, but no, there was way too many seats in there taking up all the space. We had to remove some wheels eventually and then we were on our way, amazed by how happy all those guys were to help out. We took the scenic route up on a cliff overlooking the ocean, the jungle to our left, passing no houses or shops. And then, not long after we’d made it to the hotel, the funniest event of our entire trip occurred. (Although I admit, it might not seem funny at first.)

J had gone off down the street on his bicycle to find ice for some in-room cocktails. I had stayed in the room to relax. Apparently, he had bought some ice and was on his way back to the room when he spotted a seven-year old local boy on a bike blocking his route. The boy was doing tricks for his friends and didn’t notice J until J was quite close. J planned to swerve around the boy but then at the last moment the boy moved directly in to his path again, not realizing J was approaching. In the final moments, J slammed on his brakes, trying to avoid hitting the boy. He was fairly successful and only their front wheels bumped, but the sudden stopped momentum threw J in the air, over his handlebars, over the boy and on to the street. He was knocked out. He awoke to a slew of seven-year old boys leaning over him.

The boy he had collided with said, “Hey mister, are you OK?”

The boy’s friends said, “It’s a white man! It’s a white man! You just hit a white man! You just hit a white man!” J was so shocked he couldn’t speak for a few seconds. Then he stood up, told the boys he was fine, ensured the boy was alright (not a scratch) and continued biking to the hotel. In shock.

He opened the door and in walked a messed up J. He had two huge lumps on the top of his skull, a cut on his outer knee, a cut on his finger and a badly cut elbow. Poor guy. We iced his open wounds first. His head was aching so he took some medicine while I cleaned his cuts. Then he lay back and we iced his head. He had hit a seven-year old Malay boy head-on, slammed on his brakes, flew over his handlebars and knocked himself unconscious on the street! He was totally stunned and on top of that, in pain. This was not how his birthday was supposed to work out!

Despite the pain and the shock, we still needed to celebrate and an hour later, fairly confident that J did not have a concussion, J bravely got back on his bike, and we biked carefully towards a sports bar we’d heard about. This darn sports bar didn’t appear, (sensing a pattern here?) and we ended up at McDonalds, eating a surprisingly delicious Big Mac and Grilled Chicken Sandwich. (I swear McDonalds' in foreign countries use high quality ingredients. It sure tastes like it.) We watched, transfixed, as a teenage girl in a burka ate her whole value meal by slipping it piece by piece under the head-veil. Amazing!

Afterwards, we did discover the Top Ten Sports Bistro, which didn’t serve food anyways, but was rapidly filling up with people. Big TV’s showed Olympics gymnastics and soccer, and a live band alternated with a DJ and sexy dancers onstage. Europeans and older Chinese men danced on the dance floor, people with money ordered bottles of Jack and Hennessy and giant iced coolers full of Tuborg beer. All the girls were dressed in outfits that wouldn’t have been out of place in an American club, and I felt dowdy in my best Lao outfit, (fancy knee-length shorts and a button-up collared short-sleeve shirt).

No wonder the Muslim women didn’t blink at my lack of burka; they're used to coexisting peacefully with the Chinese, the Indians and the Europeans who have very different dress code norms. There were some middle-aged European women at the club with shockingly provocative outfits. One woman with spiky short blond hair wore a dress with a hole cut out at the chest and another hole at the belly button. Tolerance was truly well and alive in this country. After a fun night dancing and drinking at the club, we ate Nasi Goreng USA, (having nothing to do with USA that I could discern; this popular dish seems to come in many countries and varieties), at one of the many stalls set up outside the club, alongside burkha-ed women on dates (who had not been in the club) and Indian guys (who had been in the club).




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9th December 2009

hey there, the black sand beach is nothing but a dirty and smelly beach, glad that you all never ride all the way there lol

Tot: 0.204s; Tpl: 0.012s; cc: 12; qc: 62; dbt: 0.0749s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1; ; mem: 1.2mb