Advertisement
Published: December 13th 2006
Arriving at the grubby
Singapore railway station we boarded the stainless steel train bound for the Capital of Malaysia, Kuala Lumpar. Rolling out and over the border crossing at Woodlands where we smoothly hopped off and on with our new stamps and spent most of the journey watching DVD's (Dukes of Hazard then an interesting Science show about mysteries of the Earth) and laughing at two stupid girls who to our amazement, retrieved a camera from a bag, held it up in front of them and took a photo of themselves. The gormless look on their faces told the story but what they had impossibly failed to notice that the camera was pointing the wrong way capturing a lovely shot of the ceiling!
Walking through the train to get to the food cabin was like running a bizarre gauntlet on the Krypton Factor, jumping over deathly gaps between carriages and veering around a woman who with the door wide open on the moving train, was dry heaving onto the tracks. Passing through forests of Banana and coconut palms and railway crossings where throngs of motorcyclists waited patiently, we pulled into
KL Sentral and having negotiated our way upstairs bought tickets
for our onward night train to Bangkok. Hiking out to the city's monorail station with our bags and travelled the 5 stops to Bukit Bintang we stepped down to walk a few busy streets to
"Eight guest house" (8ight on the rather nifty logo). Having been recommended the accommodation in Singapore we were delighted to find it exceeded all expectations and was without question, the nicest place we have stayed in during the 5 previous months. Rich red walls and beautiful dark wood gave the rooms a 5 star appearance for the price of a hole in the ground. Stepping into our dorm room for the first night we met Katie from Auckland and Dan from Southampton who were leaving the next morning. Chatting away we swapped maps, stories and got on so well that we stood and yabbered on for about an hour and a half before realising we had barely entered the room.
Such was the immediate friendship we all went out for dinner where we all demolished a huge slice of Chocolate cakes, the whole meal costing about a pound. Back at 8ight we continued to talk on all manner of subjects as the rain began
The Petronas Towers
Albeit in a veil of smoke and smogto pour from the sky and hiss like an untuned TV as cars and umbrellaed people splashed though the standing water. Although travelling as a couple at times means that we make fewer meaningful encounters with other travellers Claire and I have found that we do seem to have met people just a time when we needed to. Sometimes we go a week without making real inroads with other people and then all of a sudden we'll happen to cross paths with people whom we can really relate to.
After saying our goodbyes in the morning and gratefully accepting Dan's unused collection of Doxycyclin (Malaria pills), we checked into a different and even more spectacular room at the eight guesthouse and made our way to the
KL Tower. Sadly owing to the public holiday the fabulous Petronas Towers were closed for the entire weekend so in order to gain a better view of the Malaysian Capital we rode the lifts up to the viewing platform where we gained fairly average views owing to the thick smoke. Still, looking down upon rooftop swimming pools and the stunning Petronas towers was worthy of the entrance fee.
Walking back past office
blocks and surprisingly modern shopping districts to our hostel we decided to ease our minds over Christmas accomodation in India by making an advanced telephone booking. Alas, as we will no doubt find out further, doing anything in India is like getting a spacehopper in your shirt pocket.. For 4 hours (yes 4 hours) we dashed between internet and phone trying countless non existent numbers and speaking to several I think, people... On three occasions having conversations of a similar quality to;
Hello, do you have a beach hut available between 22 Dec and 4 Jan?... Yes... How much per night?... yes... how much per night for your beach huts?... vedy busy... But you do have a vacany? yes... Excellent, can I make a reservation?... many people... ok, so are you saying you're fully booked?... hello... are you fully booked?...thank you
... and on and on and on. Eventually we found out on the net that Palolem, the beach we had wanted to stay at had been through a year of turmoil with most of the beach huts being bulldozed by the government as they were illigal structures. According to some reports the beach was in a state of dissaray with poor sewerage and that only a couple of companies tentatively remained. After deciding to change location to a nearby beach of superior seclusion we finally made a booking for Christmas and breathed a deafening sigh of relief.
With it being our final day in KL before continuing our monster journey, we wanted to see the Petronas Towers
On the train to Butterworth
Standing in the open doors with Camera was a little nervy. at night when they are most spectacular but a huge thunderstorm put pay to those dreams and we were forced to grab a chicken (we suspect Cat) dish at a local hawker stall and pop the first of many Malaria pills. In the morning we again spent several hours trying to wade our way through Visa information for Laos and Cambodia and planned our border crossings before returning in the pouring rain with our packs to KL Sentral Station for an overnight train to the peculiarlarly named Butterworth. On the train we loaded our top and bottom bunks with our packs and settled down with a big bag of food and a pack of cards as we chinked our way out of KL. Watching the beautifully lit Petronas Towers slide away through the rain smattered windows we cursed the lack of time available to us as we both felt KL was a city we would love to explore more. Before settling down to sleep we were at least cheered up by a couple of kids who kept on poking their heads around the curtained bunks and diving for cover again in a fit of giggles.
The next thing we
knew we were slowing to a stop at the industrial port of
Butterworth at 5.30am and under the cover of darkness. After a short nap to counter the lack of it on the train we decided that with 8 hours to kill until our train to Bangkok we would take the short ferry crossing over to Penang and Malaysias second largest city and reputedly its most fascinating,
Georgetown. Stepping off the ferry we walked around the dock and joined the main thoroughfare which cut through the cities aeging and crumbling colonial heart. Down every side street we turned a buzz of mopeds constantly flowed and street vendors sedately cycled their mobile rickshaw stalls between trading points. Evidence of Georgetown being Malaysia's first British settlement lay dotted around the city but it was the temples of various religions which stood out amongst the squat weathered terraces. All in the space of 50 metres, the intricate Sri Mariamman temple, the Chinese Persatuan Teo Chew temple and the Muslim tower of Marjid Kapitan Kling dominated the narrow streets. Ducking into the shady rainforest cafe we were joined for breakfast by the incredibly friendly owner Mr Tan who aside from being welcoming was extremely
wise and fascinating to talk to. Having travelled the world himself including two trips to England where his son worked as a chef in a top restaurant, he now runs two cafe/restaurant guesthouses in Georgetown. Mr Tan also turned out to be a damn fine portrait photographer and even managed to impart some of his poetic wisdom to help my own photographic aspirations.
Moving on we located a small alleyway which led to the incredible
"Khoo Kongsi" Chinese meeting house which was covered with intricate gold carvings. Although predominantly in a Fujian style we walked up a beautifully sculptered Anglo Indian stone stair and crossed the high threshold (designed to make you involuntarily bow to the deightys) and into the main room. Inside lay pearl inlaid furniture, bulbous painted lanterns and pillars and plates of gold.
After a thoroughly enjoyable morning in peaceful and friendly Georgetown we hopped on the ferry back to Butterworth and boarded the 14.20 International Express to Bangkok. Leaving the port behind we travelled for 4 hours past vast flooded rice paddies and woods of Banana trees until we jumped off at Padang Basar to officially cross the border into Thailand. Watching the sun
go down over distant limestone towers we settled in for the remaining 18 hours in our spacious sleeping berths. On the opposite bunk we met Rowan from Sydney who is currently living in Thailand having spent several intermitent months over the past few years. Enough in fact to be able to converse fluently with other Thai's on the train. A decent nights sleep and we awoke to find we were considerably closer to
Bangkok that we had expected. Although our tickets put arrival at midday we actually stammered into the station at 10am to a surprising lack of hassle on the streets. Carting our heavy bags around the corner from the station to jump in a metered taxi we hollered to be taken to the famous
Kao San Road. For all the hype and expectation we found Kao San to be a quite enjoyable street albeit geared totally for backpackers. We encountered virtually no hassle at all as we strolled around the market stalls selling hooky clothes for ridiculous prices and booked up our bus to Siem Reap Cambodia for what we thought was a bargain at 300 Baht. After lunch we (Claire) decided that she needed to do
some serious shopping so we shunned the market stalls and grabbed a cab to the MBK Centre were I followed Claire through 6 floors of shops in a state of unsurmountable happiness. The trip was nearly made worthwhile however by a crazy Tuk tuk ride (Our first) back to Kao San most of which was spent on the wrong side of the road noisily careering toward oncoming traffic.
My compensation on return was a half hour Thai massage for 100B which nearly severed my spine after which we sat down for food and drinks in a packed bar under neon lights. Gazing around the bar it was full of effeminate barmen who constantly checked their hair in mirrors and packs of Western lads some with Thai girls on their arms already and some who simply leered from afar. As conversation turned to the sightings of wasted tourists we both noticed a young lad who seemed just barely able to open his eyes, had clearly cut his own hair and wore his trousers half way down his bum cheeks. For some time we amused ourselves watching him foolishly challenge someone to a game of pool only to miss every ball
3 times on the trot and then proceed to drop both cigarettes and beer without seeming to notice. With another big journey in the morning we stocked up on food and went to bed with thoughts of leaving Kao San Road and its washed up wasters for another time.
A failed alarm and a hectic rush to pack and leave we were up and outside for our 8am bus to find nobody there. After half an hour a stocky Thai sidled up and took us on a walking tour through the backstreets and side alleys of Kao San picking up other passengers for our
bus to Cambodia. Among the fellow troopers were Pete and Dave Kremer (brothers from the USA) and their partners Eventually we arrived at a plush double decker bus which after chucking our bags in the downstairs area was a world of comfort for the 4 hour ride to the Cambodian border. After being gripped by the movie King Kong (Damn we love that gorilla) we stepped down at Aranthapet to arrange our visas and give business to a cafe run by an elderely English man who urged us to relaz and trust "his boys" to
transfer us safely over the border. As it was we felt a little dubious and the Visa scam of taking an extra $10 didn't help, but with no option but to go with the flow and board the bus again for a further 20 minutes to the border. On arrival at the "Friendship Market" we had to walk in 35° with our packs about a kilometre and wait at border control dripping sweat onto our passports.
On the other side of the Thai- Cambodian border, hundreds of masked men sat around on scooters whilst we were duped into changing dollars to Real at a scandalous exchange rate. At this stage still oblivious, we cheerily bording a mini bus with our 18 fellow travellers and foolishly thought that having travelled from Singapore in a handful of days to get to here, the worst of our journey was over... how wrong we were, the next leg of the journey from the border to Siem Reap would be
about as comfortable as a bout of piles. After 20 minutes in the mini bus from the border on which we were warned about the journey being flooded and the need to travel by
pick up truck, we chuckled as we pulled up next to a tiny 2 wheel drive combi van. There being 20 of us, we squeezed 5 into the front cab and the remaining 15 of us including Johnna who was pregnant with twins had to jump in the back with all of our luggage and a surfboard and with impressively good spirits prepared ourselves for 5 hours of
bumpy roads and floods.
Over huge potholes and past rickshaws, hay trucks and drooping power lines which safely hung into pools of water we careered through the Cambodian countryside leaving a cloud of dust in our wake. Despite it being handsdown the most uncomfortable ride ever, the mood amongst the 15 of us in the back of the pickup was superb and made all the better for the company of the two American brothers who's energy, wit and beer made the experience a real blast. Stopping after 3 hours to curse our aching legs stock up on beer and for the driver to pick up yet more people (two friends in the back and one furious wife in the front) we continued past tiny communities of woven huts and kids on
The teeny pick up truck
Minus a few out of shot... a bit of a squeeze bicycles as the sun went down behind us. In the circomstances we all showed an amazing spirit and idled away the time introducing eachother and greeting eachother by shouting in Cambodian (Soo uh sadai Dave etc.)
We hit the floods about 4 and half hours in soon after it was apparent that our berk of a driver didn't have the first clue as to how to approach them. In a two wheeled vehicle with 23 people hanging off he repeatedly entered the muddy water only to stop half way until about 1km in when it inevitably went wrong and a tractor had to pull us out. More floods and more lame driving saw us pull up at a sodden roadside rest where a small girl nailed me with the "Whats that on your T-shirt?" gag before clipping me on the nose and on returning to the truck I found my hiking boot was full to the ankle with flood water. About 20 minutes on we beamed our dim lights upon a deep muddy gully which we approached with familiar caution and halted at its base flinging mud behind the spinning wheels. Despite tractors being on the other side they
seemed unwilling to help so we had to all climb out and into the slippery mud to push. Getting nowhere, Dave and Pete slammed eachother into the mud and began a huge
mudfight! Still with no movement, the brothers looking like wet statues were ordered to go swim in a grey flooded field to clean off whilst our truck at last received some help from the tractors.
After 7 hours (not 5) and several more floods sitting in the back of a tiny pick up, we finally rolled into Siem Reap at about 22.30 after the most uncomfortable but bizarrely enjoyable journey of our lives. And so it was that we had arrived in Cambodia, eager to visit the temples of Angkor and clenching our sores behinds.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.233s; Tpl: 0.018s; cc: 20; qc: 122; dbt: 0.0923s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.6mb
