Chiang Mai, Thailand

Wednesday, April 30, 08
Waiting for the rain to stop, it doesn't, I hurry to my lodging where I pick up my backpacks, find a tuk tuk and arrive at the train station - 6:59 PM.
7:42 - Train pulls from the station. I am berthed with a family of 5 from Holland - 3 boys ages 17, 15 and 11). The berths are seats turned into sleeping compartments. I have a top berth, somewhat narrower than the bottom. Security is tight. Each coach has a monitor and helper. Lurch, jerk, bump, bump, toot, lurch, lurch, on we go. At first, I'm not sure I'll sleep. But, the rhythm is magical and soon it's 5:45 AM - wake up call. Beds are returned to seating compartments and breakfast is served. I sit with 2 Canadian young men from Halifax and Newfoundland, here for a 1 month Thailand extravaganza. This is their 3rd day and they are still jet lagged. Arriving in Chiang Mai railway station, I take a tuk tuk to a guest house which the Lonely Planet book series has indicated is a good one. Rain has greeted me upon arrival at the train station and continues to follow me as I drop my bags under a covered eating area. Waiting for the desk to open, I notice 11 others flopped about. Now, 5 more have arrived. Time to leave! A German couple and I intersect and walk together for 10 blocks. They continue on to SK House while I back track finding Montra House - D3 for 200 B/night. A shower, cup of coffee and then, across the street is the Dutch family I rode with overnight. I cross, we chat and I leave for some food. Visiting two pharmacies I get the drugs I'm taking, Cardura and Synthroid and am informed that Doxycycline, malaria prophylaxis, is all Thailand offers. I was looking for Malerone. Everyone has heard about the cheap drugs overseas? Here's where such talk begins. In addition, no scripts are needed. I buy a good supply. The problems I've been having with my Synthroid replacement since Ukarumpa, the drug had to be kept cold, is no more. No need for ice packs and looking for frigs. Still needing to take the Doxycycline for malaria prevention, I will switch taking it to the evening on a full stomach.
When caught in a downpour, mercy is shown to all - motorbikes stop as riders hurry for cover and pedestrians, me included, duck under overhangs or wait it out in shops. It's short-lived. Most are over in 15 minutes or less, until the next one.
Walking the city moat and walls, I buy some tangerines and head home, happening again on the Dutch family who has booked their tour for tomorrow and the next.
No tours for me. Rather, I will take a taxi, or tuk tuk to what I want to see.

Ayutthaya, Thailand

Tuesday, April 29, 08
Last evening, for dinner, I took a seat in a curbside cafe. A large screen TV is blaring British soccer. On the screen are 5 geckos chasing each other around. Plop, onto my table, from somewhere above, their small cousin falls across my menu and scampers off.
Awaking, this morning, I have made up my mind. Instead of staying here for another night, I will take the night train to Chiang Mai. A tuk tuk ride and I'm at the train station. I ask for directions and buy an overnight ticket. Departure is 7:21 PM. Arrival is 7:15 AM - Car 4, Seat 33.
Most often, I have no breakfast. But today, I am sitting at Tony's Place and am enjoying a continental breakfast. It's a large guest house and outdoor restaurant which caters to Westerners - inflated prices. Breakfast is coffee, banana, pineapple, melon, and 2 slices of toast with jam for 80 B ($2.50). I know, I know, it isn't much money. But, for Thailand, it's inflated.
Packed, bags left in the lobby where I'm staying, Baan Lotus, I walk to the one section of ruins I have saved for today- Wat Phra Si Sanphet. Walking to the complex, built in the 1300s, I marvel at the craftsmanship which allows it to stand, as much as it does, after being sacked and burned by the Burmese in 1767. The Ayutthaya Island was home to 400 temples, plus royal residences. The island city is surrounded by three rivers and connecting canals. Wat Si Sanphet was used for important royal ceremonies and once housed a towering 16 meter high standing Buddha covered with 550 lb. of gold, which was melted down and taken by the Burmese conquerors.
Sitting on a raised floor of brick, shaded by a bodhi tree, roots disappearing into the floor, I'm trying to cool off. The three bell-shaped chedi (stupas), in my view, epitomise the quintessential Ayutthaya architectural style. I've been here a good while people watching and listening to the birds. A breeze picks up as clouds hover overhead - heavenly.
I choose a tuk tuk to return me during the afternoon heat. I argue the driver to 40 B from 100. He drops me off half way. I should have paid him half, but don't. When ordering a drink, I get what they have rather than for what I ask. This is all part of the system.
Calling John, the Brit I travelled with in Malaysia, we agree to meet over the weekend in Bangkok and plan our Cambodia time.
Potpourri:
-I hear a sharp and continual whistle blowing and look to see a parking attendant halting traffic for his patron who is backing into traffic. Give a man a whistle...
-My malaria prophylaxis, Doxycycline, is causing a burning stomach, even with eating. Drugs are so cheap, I may switch to a different choice in Chiang Mai.
-Also in Chiang Mai, laundry service will be a must.
-Since landing in Thailand I have a new name - Larry The Illiterate. In Malaysia, PNG, Indonesia, Australia, the alphabet was Roman. Always, I was able to read the sign: Street, city... Not so here! I am uncomfortably illiterate.
-Unlike in the States, there are no rules about walking among the ruins. I am allowed anywhere and everywhere. Also, noticeably, no graffiti.
-Thailand is remarkable in that it has never been colonized. And yet, the infrastructure is solid and maintained. No colonizing nation left it to them. They have built it themselves.
Ayutthaya pics: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/AyutthayaThailand

Kanchanaburi to Ayutthaya, Thailand

Monday, April 28, 08
I am sitting on a bus which is going nowhere - not yet. Arriving at the bus station, terminal would be too grand a word for this place, however it is functional, I ask for the bus to Ayutthaya - Platform 4. There it is. I hurry, signal and get a seat as it is moving out of the station. Four blocks later we pull over to the curb, next to a 7/11, these stores are everywhere in Thailand, and the driver gets out. Payment is on the bus. No ticket required or given. A transfer will happen in Suphanburi. That is, if I'm on the right bus. Otherwise, I'll figure it out then! Oh, the driver crawls into the bus, from his special door, and with a 20 minute wait behind us, we leave. An oscillating fan on the ceiling keeps us cooler. It appears I'm on the right bus. The bus monitor took my money.
Suphan Buri, as here it's spelled, 10:20, change buses. After a toilet break, off to bus 703, platform 11, and wait 5 minutes for the driver. I should be in Ayutthaya and have found lodging by 1:00. SE Asian bus drivers are as good as a Disneyland E ride (for those of you who remember such things).
Ayuthaya was the Siamese capital from 1350-1767. Here stand the ruins of the center of an empire. I spend the afternoon walking two extensive ruins: Wat Ratburana and the heart of the old sacred city, Wat Phra Mahathat. Wat Mahathat was a Royal monastery and has been the seat of the Sangaraja, the head of the Buddhist monks of the Kamavasi sect since the building of the temples, 1374 AD. There, wrapped in the roots of a bodhi tree, is the head of a sandstone Buddha. The intertwining of a sacred image with nature is extremely auspicious in Thai Buddhism.
Comment: For all the talk I've heard of Thai women, I haven't been solicited Only along Chulia Street in Georgetown, Malaysia was I encouraged. I'm feeling a bit slighted.
It's presently raining. The cooler night is welcomed.

Kanchanaburi, Thailand

Sunday, April 27, 08
Taking an early stroll to the Kwae Bridge, before the torrent of tourists arrives, I walk the bridge, stopping on the turnout as the train lumbers past. Returning to the East side, I buy breakfast, some papaya and an iced coffee. This is the warmest day I've had in Thailand.
I return to the guest house for a cool down and catch a taxi to Wat Tham Khao Poon, a limestone cave temple several km from town. I pay him 200 Baht ($6), probably overpaid, to take, wait 1 hour, and return me.
This is a quiet cave temple filled with shrines of the Buddha, Hindu deities, and Thai kings. The cave complex was used by the Japanese, during WWII, to store weapons and equipment, and some smaller chambers are said to have been used to imprison and torture POWs. Bats fly around as I duck and twist through the narrow walkways which connect chambers. I really hope the electricity stays on. Back outside, I sit and write and am driven off by mosquitoes. Retreating to the sunshine, I walk among the complexes housing young Buddhist monks. On to view the river from a vista, we return back to Kanchanaburi through Chung Kai, where I pay my respects at another war cemetery. POW camps dotted the entire railway as 2 "crews" worked from both Burma and Siam. The railway, 415 km, through rugged terrain, was intended to secure a reliable supply route for the Japanese conquest of India. With the Japanese naval defeat at Coral Sea their transports and supply ships were open to continual attack through the Melaka Straits. This made the railway even more important to their design. Pushed beyond their limit, the POWs completed the 1 m-gauge railway in only 16 months. But, the cost was 16,000 Westerner POWs, mostly from Britain and Holland, and 90,000-100,000 conscripted labourers from the Japanese conquests in SE Asia who died in the area. The bridge over the River Kwae was bombed repeated by allied aircraft - mostly ineffectively.
Sitting at a small, curb-side restaurant, I decide I need more food than I've been eating and order a shrimp noodle dish - very tasty. Also, it's time I learn how to use chopsticks, especially since that's what came as utensils. Drink is pineapple juice.
I thought Indonesian and Malaysian food prices were cheap. These prices are even cheaper.
Kanchanaburi pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/KanchanaburiThailand

Mark and Ian Thomas

Soon after arriving in Kanchanaburi, and locating my lodging, while sitting at an outside counter, drinking my two glasses of iced coffee (check timeline of event with previous post), I notice a happening two tables away. Identified later as Mark and Ian, brothers from UK living in Thailand, Ian is holding Mark's shoulders as Mark's head slumps lower and lower onto the table. Is he chocking, since they are eating? No! Paying quickly, I walk over to offer assistance. Ian is unable to make logical decisions, while the restaurant staff isn't grasping the gravity of what is happening, and takes a lengthy time bringing a wet towel. Bringing Mark's head up, I see that his eyes are fixed. I remember a rapid conversation with myself to keep my head and think. Telling Ian we need medical assistance, hospital, I slap Mark's face, he begins blinking. I must here admit I have no medical training. Ian and Mark live along the coast and have been here for a few days R+R. They have a car. Three of us place Mark in the back seat. Ian drives. A young restaurant worker climbs in beside him to direct us to the hospital, as I sit in the back seat with Mark's head in my lap running the wet towel over his face, head and neck. Hurry, I tell Ian. How far, I ask the young Thai man. Hurry, as Mark twice goes into convulsions. Talking softly to Mark, hoping to keep him conscious, we race on. Why is it that time passes so slowly when you desperately want it to speed along. Hospital, turn left. Here we are! Staff arrives with a wheelchair as Mark regains some of his faculties. With directions of where to find the medication Mark is taking, HP medication, Ian retrieves the pills and the nurse on staff is grateful. Mark is talking to the nurse. Ian offers to take the Thai and me back to the coffee shop. As we part, he shakes my hand and says thank you. That is part of being human, I respond. We part. Homeward bound, to wash my face, I notice the laughter from a cafe and am struck with the fact that life goes on. Something dramatic just happened and virtually no one is aware of it. So it is, we step into the darkness with strangers and create a bond which is life changing. Two days ago, an angel helped me locate lodging in Bangkok. Today, an angel stepped alongside Mark and Ian Thomas.

Bangkok to Kanchanaburi

Saturday, April 26, 08
7:43 - at platform 13, South Terminal, bus 81, waiting for 7:50,when we will leave for Kanchanaburi. Bus again! Lord, I remember the last time I was on a bus...
Out the window, a little boy has turned his back to his mom, pulled up his shirt and his Mum is giving him a good scratch. He pulls his shirt up higher. He returns satisfied to his seat.
I am wearing a new pair of shorts which I purchased last evening. I have been down to one pair of pants since my motorbike accident 3 weeks ago. This pair is cotton, below the knee, which is very popular around here. In Thailand, I really need to learn how to bargain. I do ok with taxis, but clothing is different. Also, I purchased a new umbrella and a used Lonely Planet guide book for Thailand from a street vendor.
My clothes are smelling clean, or cleaner than they were, anyway.
A woman take the seat next to me, I'm in the very front, right side behind the driver, and offers me a candy. It turns out to have the flavor of a very strong cough drop.
Off and on the bus seems to be at given points. Yet, flagging down the bus, or getting off where you want, is acceptable. This seems to be true for all of SE Asia.
10:50 - We have entered Kanchanaburi bus station where I have left the station on a saamlaw, a pedal tri-cycle driven up up front with a bench seat behind. Destination is Sam's House (Guesthouse). What a gorgeous spot - bungalows on Mae Nam Khwae Yai, or River Kwai, as Westerners will remember it from history and the movies. Bungalow 7 is costing me $20/night. I'm treating myself. What do I get for $20? - AC, top sheet and blanket, TP, private bathroom with a tub. A tub, haven't seen one of those in a guesthouse since I started, 2 towels, no soap. Great fun! I pay for 2 nights and may stay a third.
Here's something I've seen all through SE Asia - buy a coffee or tea to go and it's handed to you in a plastic bag with a straw.
Kanchanaburi feels more like what I'm used to - what I'm comfortable with. Being a history buff, this suits my fancy. My imagination runs wild in such a historic spot. With only three bananas for breakfast, I sit at a street cafe and down 2 glasses of iced coffee. If I weren't awake before, I certainly am now.
I walk to the War Cemetery, which occupies a space adjacent to where the Japanese POW camp was located. Why does a war cemetery evoke such strong feelings? A name carved in marble - immortalized. I know nothing of this man except what is written - name, rank, death, age. Yet, he now is a part of my memory, my living.
From there, I spend time walking through the Museum dedicated to the Death Railway which connected Burma and Siam. There is only so much suffering that one can take. I leave early.

Bangkok

Friday, April 25, 08
I've seen far more Westerners than Thais. And not backpackers. Not the caliber of tourist I'm accustomed to. I don't know how to describe the difference. Except, there seem to be a lot of visitors who are not here to learn but to take. My lodging has more the feeling of a frat house. But, I am judging all of Bangkok by Khao San Rd area. I must admit, this is the first place which I instinctively didn't like upon arrival. There have been other places which are confusing for a while, but this is my first such experience. Yet, it isn't the Thai people. It's the Westerners.
Today, I have first concentrated on getting my India visa. This is going to change my plans. India requires 7 working days to obtain a visa. That will take me to May 5. I had planned on being in Ankor Wat before the 5th. Yet, "We don't get what we want, but what we need." Originally, planning on an early disappearance from Thailand, I will spend time here which I had planned on spending in Laos and Cambodia. Rethinking my stay, I have decided to leave tomorrow for Kanchanaburi, to the West. If I have some time, I may even take a night train, sleeper, to Chiang Mai. Laos will need to wait for another time.
This morning, walking around, I duck under a bus canopy against the rain, and am approached by a young man. He works for the Ministry of Tourism and offers to get me a Tuk Tuk (motorized tri-wheel, bench seat behind a driver). The driver agrees to take me around till 1:00, 4 hours, for 40 baht ($1.40). Here is part of the system; the drivers get coupons if they take tourists to designated spots. I'm taken to two jewelry stores, two clothing shops, two travel agents, to the Standing Buddha and Sitting Buddha, and last to the Grand Palace. I've lied so many times to get out of those shops, I certainly will need forgiveness from some Deity. The afternoon is spent at the Grand Palace and the Reclining Buddha. I've never seen so much gold. These two last spots have made the day and its the Thai people who have redeemed Bangkok for me. Back on Khao San Rd, I have some lunch from a woman cooking in a small stall and two orange juices.
This evening, I will need to purchase a new umbrella. During this morning's rain, I opened mine, purchased in Sentani, Papua, and found it was broken in many places. This will be my third umbrella.
A conversation on wall plugs: Thailand has the same hookups as the States. In Malaysia, with their large three pronged power points, I found a system of holding down the top point with something wooden, rather, anything not metal, which releases the bottom two points to receive my two point circular plug I used in Indonesia and other places. If that is confusing, try to figure it out in the first place without getting electrocuted.
Health: This morning was my 3rd day on malaria prophylaxis - getting ready for Cambodia and India.
Comment: I haven't found Thailand to be as hot as Malaysia. Not yet!
Oh, got my clothes machine washed. That's the first good washing in 3 weeks.
Langkawi and Bangkok pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/Bangkok

Langkawi to Bangkok

Thursday, April 24, 08
The BBQ is grilled fish, Satay, chicken, salads and fruit for dessert. Before dinner, as I did this afternoon, I don't swim but am a beach comber. The sun dips behind some clouds and the island just off the coasts, and the lights of restaurants and fires on the beach, in the bright moon, bring me back to my dinner spot. Sitting on the beach, we eat and are serenaded by the cooks. Across from me is Wolfgang here from Germany on vacation. Others sing along and clap.
Here, as in Penang, no sheet or blanket are supplied. I'm happy for my sarong to cover.
Sitting in the open meeting/eating area, 7:26 AM, it finally rains after the threaten of thunder and lightning for the past hour. the percussion section is in full swing. My taxi, for the airport, is schedule for 7:45 - flight is 9:35 to KL and on to Bangkok at 1:30. Windshield wipers on full, they are in need of a change, the taxi man and I make small talk to the Langkawi airport. There, I find I am in the AirAsia system for my flight to KL, but not for my flight to Bangkok. I resolve that when the AirAsia office opens. Check-in, back pack weighs 11kg, belly bag 5.
Back in KL airport, I treat myself to a cappucchino and some lunch.
KL to Bangkok I'm sitting next to a Kiwi, Floyd, who is on a short business trip to KL, Bangkok and Phnom Penh.
Buying a ticket on the airport bus into the center of Bangkok, I step off at the crowded Khao San Road. Not knowing where I am, I watch and see a man I can trust. He is early 20s, and turns out to be an American from Oregon. He leads me to where he is staying, Sawasdee Smile Inn, where I have a room for 240 baht ($1=around 37 baht). My angel disappears before I can thank him. The room is on an interior wall so it is cooler. I have a private room, soap, fan, common bathroom/shower, and toilet paper. Yes, you heard me, TP. Heading out to check into a visa for India, I am informed that it will cost me right at $100 and take 7 working days. That will change my plans, however I will do more day trips out of Bangkok. Or take two days and return. I still hope to get into Laos before my Cambodia jaunt. We'll see! A Thai sim card will help keep in touch with US and John, with whom I traveled Malaysia. Hopefully, we can reconnect and share Cambodia together. It's dark, already a thunderstorm went through the city, and I'm beginning to get a feel of the place. Every country has its system. How will Thailand be? I will attempt to post some pictures tomorrow.

Pantai Cenang, Langkawi, Malaysia

Wednesday, April 23, 08
Last evening, I found that a group of Western men is staying, and has taken up residence in the 75 Traveller's Lodge, where I am staying. A Canadian, two Brits and an Aussie. They pay 10 ringgit/night and crowd into a 10 bed room. Dan, the Canadian, and I go to Little India where we have a pancake and vegetarian sauces. 2 cups of Chai. Back at the lobby everyone talks of travels and watches one hour of the history channel. Toward 9:00, I mention that I have Indonesian rupiah which I would like to trade into Thai Baht. They direct me several blocks away to a money changer who gives me a very good rate. Now, when I land in Bangkok, I will have some local money.
At 6:15 AM, I rise and am out the door at 6:30. Downstairs I find the lobby again occupied by an internet user and management cleaning up. Walking the distance to the pier, I am the first one here. Boarding an enclosed ferry at 7:30. Across from me is a couple from Holland on a 17 day pre-paid tour of Kuala Lumpur, Penang, and Langkawi. This time, I'm sitting on the lower level - weather is sunny, no high seas. A movie is being shown, Rambo.
8:30 departure - 11:15 arrival in Langkawi, which is an island off the Malaysian coast, just south of Thailand. Kuah has the largest population on this small island. 99 islands are in this group of which only 2-3 are inhabited. Kuah is the port of entry so I need to find a taxi, there is no public transportation, to Pantai Cenang, a 30 minute ride - 20 ringgit. Beach towns dot the area with Cenang being the most sought after by tourists. It's also nearest to the airport, that will be important tomorrow morning. I tell the driver I want the Gecko Guesthouse. Here I am, 30 ringgit a night which buys me a private room, fan, and common bathroom/shower. I'm three rows of houses and one street from the beach.
Malay terms: Pulau = Island, Pantai = Beach.
Checking in at the Guesthouse reception counter, a monkey, Nina, bears watching. She wants my hat, book... She's not picky. She'll take anything. After harassing me, Nina moves on to pick at the black cat.
At the beach, shadows hover then, race over the beach and Sea - Andaman Sea. It looks like rain is approaching. It's not crowded. A para sailing boat is raising a fool into the air while another pulls a banana boat of 5 riders. Cabanas and volleyball nets line the back side of the beach. A juice bar serves me a tasty mango drink. I am conspicuously overdressed - especially considering the speedo clad European men. Three Wave Runners park nearby waiting for customers. A room, on the beach, goes for $20/night. Cheap enough! The green Sea crashes gently. This island is protected by Sumatra directly to the West, so it did not experience the full impact of the tsunami which devastated so much of the area north, and Sumatra itself. The outer islands were hit harder, but no one was killed or much property damaged.
I sign up for a BBQ this evening at 8:00, and order another fruit drink.
Health: I am feeling very fortunate about my skinned knee and shin. The knee healed within 10 days. For the first time today, my shin is no longer infected and appears to be healing, and no more stomach ailments.
Tomorrow is another plane ride - Bangkok.

Back to Penang

Tuesday, April 22, 08
Death to cockroaches! I again team up with Larry and Darcy for dinner and talk. This evening, a proper shower before retiring.
7:30 AM, I'm at the station to catch a VIP bus to Butterworth. There is no VIP bus. It has been lumped into a regular one leaving at 8:30 - so it goes. 9:00, we leave the station in the close relative to the bus which brought me here. But, this time it's mostly downhill - we're in our element. At 10:00, what I knew would eventually catch up with bus riding, does. There is a monologue, from my bladder, telling me of a growing concern. With an hour to go till Ipoh, I try everything, crossing my legs, humming, attempts at every form of distraction. I think I can! I think I can! Should I ask the driver to pull over? I watch the km markers ticking past on the right side of the road - 28, 22. Is that red plastic bucket, next to the driver, a possible emergency plan? OH, we're in the teens. No bladder should be required to work this amount of overtime. 13! And then, into the station. Thank you Jesus! I've been here before and know the way to the nearest toilet. .20 ringgit are asked for and gladly paid. I thought I could! I thought I could! Hungry for some chocolate, I can only find a Hazelnut Cadbury, but snatch it up. Peanuts, too. NO water!
11:45, Our Kurina Bistari Express leaves Ipoh. I'll de-bus in Butterworth and ferry across, like last time.
Sitting next to me from Ipoh to Butterworth is a young Malay man. We share my peanuts. No conversation is necessary.
A 5 minute rest stop and the driver begins pulling out. Oh, one passenger is forgotten in the women's toilet - thank goodness her husband was paying attention. The driver howls, the delinquent woman hurries over, and we continue on.
Back on Penang, I buy my ferry ticket for tomorrow's ride to Langkawi. After that infamous ride from Brunei to KK, I had sworn off ferries. But, this is the Melaka Straits, that was the South China Sea, with the water much calmer. Hopefully, it stays that way. I have an 18 ringgit room to myself, fan, sink, shared bathroom and shower, one hour free internet, and lots of conversation, if it's wanted. Relaxing is the requirement of the day.

Yesterday, I talked of the Jade Vine - Blue Butterfly flower and didn't even post it on the pictures. Here it is:

Cameron Highlands, Malaysia

Monday, April 21, 08
Yesterday toward evening, strolling down main street looking for a place to have a cup of tea, who do I run into, Larry and Darcy, the couple from Georgetown who have come in that afternoon. The evening is spent over dinner, tea and scones.
My tiny room has a musty smell. Getting ready for bed, a cockroach crawled out from under the folded blanket and met an early end. Two more cockroaches scurry about. I'll spray the room tomorrow, or re-locate.
Up at 7:00, I can't figure out how to get hot water out of the shower. It has a knob to turn on the water and a metal switch which goes both directions - no temperature variance. I sponge off and will ask later (It turns out, only the metal switch is to bed turned for hot water, no mixing). Sitting at a table at the entrance to the lodge, a black and white bird is attempting to crack open a large seed by smashing it against the concrete. He works under an archway of Honeysuckle and Lady's Slippers. Twin Pine Guest House is owned by an Indian. A Bengla Desi man weeds the short walkway and a young Indian man takes reservations and watches the place, sleeping on the floor of the reception area. He receives 600 ringgit/mo., a place to sleep and food. His employer volunteered that information. This may or may not be true.
I'm on a tour which starts at around 9:00. A butterfly farm is our first stop. With the butterflies, there are snakes, beetles and flowers. Not as many butterflies as I would like to have seen. But, it is cool and they aren't flying, so it's hard to pick them out.
Next, a honey bee farm. We taste the honey which is being produced. Off to the Boh Tea Farm which is 600 acres of tea plants 70 years old. The laborers who are manually picking the tea work for .20 ringgit/kg. Working an entire day, they can earn 24 ringgit ($8 USD). They aren't actually picking by hand, that would be too expensive. A hedge clipper type contraption is used. They make several cuts and scoop it into a sack on their back. There is also a motorized operation which two men work together. Running the machine over the tea beds, they are able to cut more leaves, but it's lesser quality. Our guide says that all these workers are Indonesians or Nepalese.
There are 2000 land rovers in this region, the highest concentration anywhere in the world. We pass many as we head to a market. I buy some Crystal Jambu, strawberries and tangerines. Then, I was bad! I bought, and ate, 8 SMALL, deep fat fried sweet potato balls rolled in sesame seeds. Yuuuum!
A Rose Centre is where I see my first Jade Vine - Blue Butterfly. There are so many roses and other plants, I can't begin to remember names. The beauty of the spot is enough. Parsley is planted through out. Why? I return 45 minutes later to find the driver clipping his toe nails. On to the Sam Poh Temple, Buddhist, and the tour ends with a stop at the Big Red Strawberry Farm. Again, I am bad! A strawberry milkshake. What a day!
Tour pics: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/CameronHighlandsMalaysia

Tanah Rata, Cameron Highlands, Malaysia

Sunday, April 20, 08
A steamboat, that's what the Cameron Highlands restaurants are known for. That's what they try to sell, anyway. It consists of a pot, two sections, one chicken broth and the other a tomato base, on a camp stove at the center of the table. Meat, tofu, bean curd, fish, sprouts, lettuce, mushrooms and other things are scooped in and cooked for two minutes. Yes, I said lettuce! We serve ourselves. John and I both agree we would have rather had sweet and sour chicken. But, this will do.
Security - John has his pants secured with a safety pin against pickpockets. That is a smart deterrent. Finding some large safety pins, John and I split them between us. My money is in my cargo pants behind a zipper and Velcro. Through the zipper, I have pinned the safety pin. It would be difficult to get through that without notice. Smaller amounts are kept handy in my shirt pockets.
John leaves at 1:00, and I walk to the Century Plaza Hotel and Resort, taking pictures and talking to the management. Back at my hotel, I attempt to use the internet, but it's too slow.
At the bus station I talk with a Chinese man, who earlier sold me a ticket back to Georgetown, and also buy a tour for tomorrow. Boarding the local rattle trap bus, this is the low end, metal seat version, I ride for .80 ringgit the 3 km to Ye Old Smokehouse Restaurant and Hotel. Again, talking with the management about the history of the hotel, built in 1937, I have free access, except the rooms. This place is built in traditional Tudor style and is considered one of the first permanent buildings erected in the new Cameron Highlands Hill Station. During WWII it was used as an officer's mess by the Japanese Imperial Army. Dalat International School students were boarded upstairs during the several years that the school took up residence here, after evacuating from Vietnam. Presently, Dalat is outside Georgetown, Penang. To the students who boarded here, Mks from many countries, I raise a pint of Tiger beer in the bar area, and sit by the fireplace looking out at the rain beginning to lessen - a grand old building with tremendous atmosphere. Having remembered my umbrella, I decide to walk back rather than wait for the Regal Transport Co. bus. It rains the full distance, but my heart is full of the beauty around me. This has been a relaxing day; cool, nothing pressing, back on my own.

Georgetown to Tanah Rata

Saturday April, 19, 08
On the ferry for a 7:55 am push off, we leave Georgetown for Butterworh, across the Melaka Straits. The cloudy sky reminds me of the rain last night as John and I met the two couples we had spent the day with, for dinner - Indian restaurant.
8:10 deposits us on the dock, bus station immediately in front, and two seats are secured on a bus heading to Tanah Rata in the Cameron Highlands. A cup of coffee for breakfast, 26 ringgit for the bus fare and we wait for the 10:30 scheduled departure.
Here's how the bus terminal works. There is the national transport bus, Transnational, that's what we rode from Kota Bharu across the peninsula, here to Butterworth. Then, there are Express buses which are a few ringgit more. They offer convenience. Learning the system of each country is a trick. Instead of riding to Ipoh and waiting for another bus to Tanah Rata, we pay the extra 6 ringgit ($2) for a direct ride. We hope to arrive mid-afternoon. The later you wait, the more difficult it becomes to find accommodations. Even before entering the terminal, touts intercept us. They are committed to a private concern and work to get you to buy their ticket. When we board the bus, we are handed a new ticket. The original reads 26 ringgit. The new one reads 23.5. Where did the difference go? Oh, there's always a something.
The 40 passenger bus is filled with 1/3 Westerners and 2/3 locals. Grinding up the long hills on the main highway to KL, we are passed by lorries, possibly the worst bus in the station. What's next, get out and push? Disgust turns to insult as a Moped passes to our left. We are in first gear. An inner cheer sounds as we work past an Esso tanker and enter a tunnel.
After 1 1/2 hours we stop for a rest. John and I share bananas, melon, and mandarins. We are in the very back bouncing and weaving. A barbarous act may be needed to rid us all of a few pesky flies.
Another 25 minute stop in Ipoh and we enter the Highlands. Sitting next to me is a young lad from Paris who is traveling with 3 friends. 5 months are behind him with 3 to go. We are each in our own tailor made walkabout. This is part of the mystery!
Grinding up steep hills we all become part of the same team. It can be done! We mentally push the bus with desire and cooperation. Over the top, this one, ahead is another.
Rain begins, slowly at first. A car is in the ditch as a tow truck works its magic. The driver, a young woman, sits across the road her head hung in her hands.
Now instead of passing on a blind curve, as our driver did on our last bus ride, we are being passed. Rain! Another car in the ditch. Fog.
In the Cameron Highlands, we pass thousands of hot houses featuring strawberries, all kinds of vegetables, flowers and nursery plants. Tea plantations dot the hillsides.
Rain, again, which drips in through a ceiling vent. Workers, who have boarded in Ipoh de-bus and walk home. One sign says "Strawberries - Self Plucking". That makes me grin!
We arrive at the bus terminal in rain, 4:00, and are ushered into a van which takes us to Cameronian Lodge. Here we have a room for 65 ringgit, own bathroom. Tomorrow, when John leaves, I will move to a new location two blocks away which I have already discovered has a single room for 15 ringgit. The air is cool. The town feels like a resort. Beautiful!

Georgetown, Penang, Malaysia

Friday, April 18, 08
Yesterday, taking a walk around Chinatown, where we are staying, we come upon the historic Eastern and Oriental Hotel, built in 1884. Some of the famous faces who passed through its doors were Rudyard Kipling, Noel Coward and Somerset Maugham. A large food bazaar catches our eye but its too early for dinner. On to Lebuh Chulia, center of Chinatown, we stop for dinner as a tropical storm pounds on the tin roof, accompanied by the usual orchestra of thunder and lightning. Home, during a short lull, we stop for coffee and to bed.
Up at 7:00, shower and coffee follow. This shirt is starting to need a good scrubbing. Maybe tonight.
Kel Lok Si Temple, a series of temples at the base of Penang Hill, is our first stop. Started in 1890, it's the largest Buddhist temple in Malaysia. Walking a few blocks south from our hotel, we watch a group of women flagging a bus - 204. We ask, and are reassured that this will take us to where we want to go. A short distance further on, a couple from Washington D.C. and a couple from the UK, he from Sri Lanka and she from Panang, are seated behind us. Since we are all going to the same spot, we decide to spend the day together. The narrow, enclosed walkway up the steps to the temples, are lined on both sides by vendors calling out their prices and wares. A turtle feeding bridge offers food for money. Declined!
Next, on to the funicular which will transport us to the top of Penang Hill, also called Bukit Bendera. Where is it? The six of us walk, ask directions, walk, are told we are walking wrong, retreat, are told we had it right in the first place, are led by a lady through a residential short cut, and it starts pouring rain. With 3 umbrellas between the 6 of us, we all get soaked. Soaked! Standing under a bus stop cover, we wait for the rain to lessen. No luck. Across the street we see a cover which will lead us with 100 ft of the funicular lobby. Run! Soaked, again! But, now, we are in the lobby and the rest of the way is drip dry. The DC couple are Larry, yes another Larry, and Darcy. The UK couple are Gerard and Judy. We ride halfway, change to another car, each car is sectioned into 4 compartments, and continue to the top, around 2200 ft. What a view, which isn't picture possible due to the rain, clouds, and mist. I'll try anyway. For lunch, vegetable soup and iced tea. I'm feeling comfortable and dry, relatively. Looking for an aviary, which never materializes, we are again racing for cover as another storm comes through - these begin with huge drops which descend into drenching downpours.
2;45 - on the funicular, down the steep slope, the sections are filled with school children, giggling, playing games on cell phones. Judy is Chinese, knows 5 languages, and is carrying on a conversation with another Oriental woman. Darcy strikes up a conversation with the school children who are eager to attempt their English.
With a short wait for bus 204, we make an attempt at figuring out tomorrow's bus, or train, schedules. Sitting over coffee, John and I decide to walk to the ferry landing. That produces nothing, and eats up a lot of energy in the stifling heat. We will cross on the ferry, back to Butterworth, and figure out the bus schedule then. Where are we going? Not yet sure! Possibly Ipoh. Although, we both would rather stop in a small town and not in such a large city.
Panang pics: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/GeorgetownPanangMalaysia

Kota Bharu to Georgetown (Penang Island)

Thursday, April 17, 08
9:00, bus 006, heading to Penang (also spelled Pinang) on the west coast of Malaysia. Large mango trees line the road as we pass through Pasir Mas, 30 minutes gone by. An elderly lady, obviously known to the driver and others, boards as we stop a few km later. Not far from the boarding, shaking hands with many, she takes a swipe at the driver who has made a comment, laughs and exits.
In Tenah Merah - 1 1/2 hours on the way - we stop for diesel. I would have thought the bus would have been filled prior to leaving. Not so!
Out of the flatlands, we again enter the forested hills. Next destination, Jeli. Here is a beautiful hill town. It being 11:30, I am hoping we will stop for something to eat, fruit would be good. Won't happen. The highest hills are 5400 ft, these are the Highlands. White and lavender flowers dot the green of the forest, along with red hibiscus, ferns, and vines. Billowy white clouds leave shadow cartoons in the distance. As we climb the curves, vistas open to deep valleys and we cross a gorge where a river rushes on far below. Sheets of rain hide what's behind. Logging trucks pass with trees of 4 ft. diameter. We motor on, our two lane road cresting the summit and descending to the West. Fingers of a massive lake are crossed and recrossed. No marina in sight. Where do I dock my ski boat? If the driver keeps up this craziness, driving like a madman, some passengers will get sick.
Lunch is a 30 minute stop at a road side restaurant. Captive group, we eat what there is - rice, some other things and a piece of chicken - 3.5 ringgit ($1). The "other things" are vegables of unknown origin. Although, I do recognize cabbage in a sauce. I sit with a Dutch man and "his friend" as he introduces her. She is most likely Filipino. He lives in Holland for one month, then 5 months abroad, anywhere. This 5 months he takes to Kuala Lumpur. There seem to be a fair number of Westerners who have friends here. John unwittingly walks into one of the women's stalls looking for the toilet. Men's stalls are to the left in the yard. Behind a short wall, is the women's stalls. It's hard to tell the difference. Look for the sign, Lelaki=Men, Perenpuan=Women.
2:00, onward! A French couple, seasoned tavellers, are going to Penang. Georgetown is the major city on Penang Island. They will de-bus in Butterworth and take a ferry. We are to join them.
Past Gerik, it's back into rolling hills of palm oil, rubber, and banana plantations. We pass a newly built housing development, still empty, in nowhere. An industrial area with factories on both sides of the road, in nowhere. Plantations. Kulim passes by with no stop. We enter a 4 lane toll highway and pick up speed. The plantations have moved aside as the population grows - industrial parks, housing developments, and cities. High rises appear periodically. Still, mosts of the housing is third world. 3rd world is such a broad range from squalor to quite well managed. There is controlled and uncontrolled squalor.
Butterworth - We de-bus and walk 200 ft to a set of steps to a booth which only makes change. Exact change is required at the turnwheel - 1.2 ringgits for the ferry. On to a seating area and wait for the ferry which runs every 10 minutes to Georgetown. 15 minutes later we are put ashore on Penang and now to find lodging. Star Hotel is a newly renovated, paint smell still strong, for 46 ringgit (23 apiece). It has AC and bathroom in the room. We've hit the mother lode, again.

Pantai Irama

Wednesday, April 16, 08
Leaving Kota Bharu by bus 39, John and I head to the South China Sea 20 km as the egret flies. Our destination is Pantai Irama. 2 1/2 ringgit and I'm swimming in the Sea at a million dollar beach. No one is here - literally. 150 ft out and the water is still waist deep. Fine, light brown sand, shells, rocks along the top end of the beach to stop erosion and its all mine to enjoy. We swim in front of a WWII pill box sunk into the sand. This is where the Japanese came ashore continuing down to Singapore. The British, with all big guns aimed off shore, counting on the Japanese attacking from the sea, were caught with their military intelligence pants down and surrendered. These are the men who built the railway in Burma, and died by the thousands.
Walking along the beach, we find a spot with trees and kiosks serving food. Deep fat fried fish and orange drink for lunch. We continue slowly stopping periodically. A group of girls wearing head scarves want their picture taken - looks like a school uniform. Five boys play in the sea. What a life. If I take a step, and don't move, dozens of hermit crabs pop out of the sand and scurry away.
As we walk along the small walkway which lines the trees and beach, we come upon a group of Malays feasting. A man, later found to be named Ramlee, intercepts us and asks where we're from. This is a standard question and I don't think much of it. After a brief exchange, he invites us to join them for some food. Having eaten 10 minutes previously, we accept. Some rice, a beef dish, fish, chips and a drink. He leads us to a mat where we remove our footwear and sit. His wife joins us as we eat with our fingers. Dessert is a Malay delicacy - rice soaked in sugar and fermented for 3 days. Tasty! After some more talk, he invites us to a cultural event, dance and whatnot, not sure, tonight at 8:30 - 22 km south of Kota Bharu. We accept as Ramlee writes directions on a paper to be given to a taxi driver. Dinner will be served following the event. Some better clothes are suggested. Well, this is all I have. It will have to do.
Only a 10 minute wait, the 39 bus picks us up and we're back in Kota Bharu 50 minutes later. Time to wash my pants and hope they dry and wash the sand off my feet. A shave will also happen.
I have had a bad feeling about this evening's excursion and have decided not to go.
Pantai Irama pics: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/PantaiIrama

Gua Musang to Kota Bharu

Tuesday, April 15, 08
Last night, dinner was a bowl of rice, spiced chicken and sauce and vegetable assortment. Two iced teas washed it down. Since we were seated in a Muslim restaurant there was no pork or beer. Looking around, we found a can of beer each in a small market and took it to our room - lukewarm beer. Great!
Morning is early. After a shower, no shower head, no sink, I re-work my shin which has become infected. The large scrape on my knee is virtually healed. Cleaning my shin with hydrogen peroxide, I apply salve and wrapping. This I will do again this evening taking double special notice and care. An inch long gecko keeps wanting to travel with me making numerous attempts at climbing into my day pack. He may have made it. What stories he'll have for his grandchildren.
9:54 (How does this square with the absence of clocks? The one in the station is broken at 6:49) is the scheduled departure of the train heading to Tumpat. It doesn't happen. Sorry, 1 hour late - right on time. We leave the linestone outcroppings and continue north - Bertam Baru, Dabong, Kuala Krai, Tanah Merah, Pasir Mas, Wakaf Bharu, and Tumpat. Puttering along, we stand in the open doorways one hand on the handrail and the other hand holding and clicking the camera. We laugh at the kilometer markers. They must be so the train master knows where to pick up the two Westerners who have fallen off. Not so funny when the train lurches to one side, then the other. Past wide muddy rivers, jungle, plantations, through several tunnels and one lane roads, we sway.
Having been in hills since we left Gemas, yesterday morning, outside of Tanah Merah we enter flat lands. Here are more settlements which dot our way, a bit up scale from what we've been seeing. Birds, looking close to white egrets, are everywhere.
Well, that's disgusting! The toilet looks through onto the tracks. Touch as little as possible.
In the coach, we are the only two passengers. An elderly rail worker kneels on the seats, facing West, Mecca, and says his prayers.
Off the train at 2:30, we sit in the station and have a cup of coffee. A taxi driver sees us as a potential golden cow. Not so! We wait for the bus which will take us to Kota Bharu. Why didn't we get off as we passed nearby? Because, we wanted to ride the train to the end of the line. Tamput is certainly that - 8 km from the Thai border. But, now we must double back 30 km. We are told a bus will come past at 3:00. Cost to Kota Bharu is 2 ringgit (70 cents).
Before leaving Gua Musang, I made some phone calls. But, once on the way, the signal quickly evaporated. Again, I have a signal but now it's too late Stateside to make a call. Tomorrow!
Wait, wait, wait.
John and I have agreed to wait till 3:30 for the bus - 1 hour in the station. After that, we'll take a taxi. 3:30 arrives and no bus. No taxi, either. 3:32, the bus rounds the corner and we're on for a fun 1 hour ride of 30 km. Dropped at the central bus depot, walking through some road work, we enter a square where we find a room, with fan, for 30 ringgit. First, batteries for my camera and then a cold drink. We've been traveling for the past two days. Tomorrow, we'll rest up and see the town.
Jungle Train pics: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/GuaMusang

Gemas to Gua Musang

Monday, April 14, 08
Up at 6:00, on the railway platform at 6:30, the computer is down so we wait to buy our tickets. Lightning flashes to the south - we are headed north. Last night, as we exited the internet cafe, huge drops wet us quickly as we hurried to find some food. The lightning flashes struck so close, as we ate in a Chinese restaurant, that I ducked.
7:00, and we're on our way. Gemas, Bahau, Kemayan, Mentakab, Jerantut, Kuala Tembelin, Kuala Lipis, Gua Musang, with a few more no-name stops in between - 18 ringgit. The jungle train, or mail train, has no Air Con. But, it does have occilating fans - 6/coach. Outside a mist blocks the view as we rail north. Many palm oil, rubber, and banana plantations swift past. This train has several empty cars waiting for produce and 5 passenger cars.
A German young man is on the train with us wanting to de-train in Jerantut. We've been bad! We have crossed into the cargo car, large sliding doors opened to the wind. The next one is the engine. Falling out of the swinging car would be easy to do. That's the place to take pictures rather than through the smudged windows. In Mentakab we have a 15 minute wait. On the station platform I look for something to eat. It is 9:30, nothing except drinks, chips, cookies, and snacks to purchase. No thanks! I am wanting fruit.
Here is help with city names: Kuala - convergence of rivers, Gua - caves, Kota - port.
The countryside is hilly with plantations, villages, jungle, and gardens. It has never occurred to me that there would be cockroaches on a train. There are, and why not? It may be SE Asia's national bird.
Stepping onto the platform in Jerantut, waiting for a train carrying rock to pass, the heat has dramatically escalated. Fans aren't much help as I return to the coach. There is only one track so passing is on sidings and waiting.
The jungle reveals a wide river and shortly after we stop with a red light on the track. Tooting his horn, the engineer waits. Could the switch master have gone AWOL? Large ants appear from nowhere, one biting me on the neck, John on the finger. Along the tracks there appear to be a lot of "fixer uppers". Want one? Work a deal for what you find inside! We pass a house flying a Malaysian flat upside down. Is it that they don't know, or don't care? Either way it speaks volumes about these people. They are friendly, non-intrusive, and laid back.
12:15 - Kuala Lipis, a larger town than Gemas or anything else we've seen on the track. We are here for a 2 hour wait. Two blocks from the railway station is main street which we cross and stepping down a food arcade feast on rice, vegetables, marinated pork and iced tea. We walk to where I buy some minutes on my mobile phone and attempt to call B of A. After the run around and computer talk, I'm disgusted and hang up.
Where is a pail of ice water to pour over my head? Kuala Lipis is a quiet spot on the river, good food, as everywhere in Asia.
On to Gua Musang. But first, where is that train? 1 1/2 hours late and counting. Here it is, only 1 3/4 hours late. No longer on the jungle train, this is the Express, seems to stop just as often. What's the difference? Can't tell except there is Air Con. Sitting across the aisle are 2 30 something Brits. They have pulled the curtain and are watching a movie. Halfway around the world and this is it for them. Odd!
Finally, Gua Musang, 5:30, with its limestone hills striking smartly into the sky - trees and shrubs filling the crags and jagged top. De-training, John and I walk down this backwater town looking for a room. 40 ringgit for tonight and 40 for the next. We don't know if there is anything to see. But, we're here for tomorrow. We ARE the only Westerners in town.

Melaka to Gemas

Sunday, April 13, 08
Up earlier than the establishment, I open the large outer doors and place the newspaper on the teak chair. Walking out, I watch the worshippers entering a Buddhist temple, placing flowers, and lighting incense and candles, bowing and kneeling first to the Deity as they enter. Virtually all shops are closed. I take note of a peanut vendor pushing his cart along the street. I never pass up peanuts. Several doors from my hotel is a spot open for breakfast. The complete front is open with tables and chairs set inside and out. Kopi there later. Thunder pounds in the distance. It's hot and humid.
Melaka has a Chinese graveyard which contains headstones from the Ming dynasty. This is Chinatown and the flavor is that. A mixture of races and people groups live together. Legend has it that while resting under a Melaka tree, a prince fleeing from his enemies witnessed an albino Mousedeer kick a dog into the river. Inspired by the courage of the Mousedeer, the prince Parameswara, a Hindu prince from Sumatra in the late 14th century, decided to stand his ground and face his enemies. He then named his kingdom Melaka, after the tree.
Walking the streets reveals no police. Yet, I feel safe. Is it the harmony of the city that I am sensing?
Deciding on a taxi to Tampin where we will catch the train, $6.50 each, 45 minute ride, rather than the confusion of the bus, we arrive at the railway station in Tampin at 10:30 - 30 minutes too late for the first train. The next one is 4:15. John and I walk into town and see what is of Tampin, have a cold drink banana and orange and return. My bank has again locked my account. I'll need to call again. Not today! A bite to eat - rice, slices of marinated chicken, a soup and drink for 6 ringgit ($2). The Kuala Lumpur to Singapore express arrives on time, YES ON TIME, and we sit in Coach D, seats 13C and 13D. The air conditioner is broken so the two loading doors are left open. No Osha here! Gemas is where we are headed - 50 minutes to the East. The rain pours off the train as a woman slams the doors shut. No! The closeness presses in. With the rain stopped, 15 minutes later, the doors are again opened. The roadside is palm and rubber plantations. John and I stand between the two doors where we attempt to find some breathable air. Sweat is pouring off me. An Indian woman comes to fan herself, talk and stand in the slight breeze. John nearly gets his face slapped by an encroaching tree branch as he leans out the door.
Gemas, a nondescript, rail town. Here is where several rail-lines converge. From this point we will take a slow train north to Gua Musang. The scheduled run is 7:00 to 5:00, with a 3 hour wait in Kuala Limpis for an express train to pass. During the three hours, we will find some lunch, hopefully. Our Gemas room has Air Con, ceiling fan, three beds, squat toilet and cold shower down a long outside walkway. All these goodies for 18 ringgit each (divide by 3 for USD).
Melaka pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/Melaka

Observations

Backpack Packing - I am carrying two packs - a larger, stable and strongly built, in which I have 12 kg (convert pounds to kilos by multiplying times 2.2). A smaller day pack worn in the front contains 5 kg. That is my load, 17 kg.
Melanie, 19 yr old German girl, who I rode with from Singapore to Melaka, has a large pack, almost identical to mine, with 19 kg. Her day pack weighs 9 kg and a purse packs 4 kg. Her total carrying load is 32 kg. She was complaining.
John Peatman has one pack, slightly smaller than my large pack, in which he is carrying 7 kg. That's it! Yet, his trip is much shorter than mine. I packed differently - more medicines, a jacket, towel ...
New Experience - In Singapore and Melaka there has been a different type of toilet. The outer dimensions are the same as ours back in the States. But, they flush by pumping the handle creating a suction which draws the water out of the tank and into the bowl.
Unnoticed - Unlike PNG where the locals peered and gawked at the White skin, Malaysia doesn't give me a second glance. Also, here I am not a White skin but a Westerner. That's a much different feeling. Story - When Bill Simpson and I stopped for fuel and a bite in the Ramu Valley, we entered a small place where several tables were available for customers. Around 30 PNGians, all ages, crowded around to see what we were doing. Suddenly, the madam in charge yelled at the gawkers, "What, are you primitives? Do you have to stare at these people." The crowd thinned, mostly young children were chased off.

Melaka, Malaysia (also written Malacca)

Saturday, April 12, 08
Up late, John and I start a walking tour around Melaka. We are staying at Chong Hoe Hotel. Doesn't sound like much, and it isn't. There are areas where lots of small food shops sell their specialty - 20 may occupy the space of a small store. Here we first stop for a coffee. Chinatown, where we are staying, is a tightly packed space of narrow streets where night-time brings out the small stalls on the street's edge. No cars are allowed, couldn't occupy the same space, and the vendors sell everything from old coins to small plastic windmills. Mostly junk! Melaka has an old history. The Portuguese were here in the 1400s, building St. Paul's Church on a small hill near the harbor in 1521. It is now only a shell, but interesting to walk through with old tomb stones propped against the outer walls. Also, with only the remnants remaining, is St. John's fort. They were followed by the Dutch and then the British. Christ Church, built by the Dutch with pink bricks brought from Zeeland in Holland and faced with local red laterite was constructed in 1753. Melaka's historical importance is trade. We stop for an early lunch and have a pancake topped with curry chicken. Oh, but it was good, don't let the curry scare you off. Walking around the wharf, looking out onto the Straits of Melaka, known for its pirates, we buy tickets into a replica of a Dutch trading ship. Back in the room, we wash out clothes and ask the receptionist if we can hang them on her line. Done, we return to the bar where, if you buy a drink, internet access if free. Melaka isn't much, now. But, in its day, it was one of the main stops for trade in the East - spices, sandalwood, resin, rubber, and lots more.
Tomorrow is a travel day. We don't have far to go. But, finding a bus which will take us to Gemas could possibly occupy the day. From Gemas we hope to board a slow train landing us, eventually, in Kota Bharu on the East side of Malaysia, near the Thai border.

Singapore to Melaka

Friday, April 11, 08
Not knowing how to get out of town, without a map, I find an American businessman, who lives in Singapore, eating breakfast at the McDonald's 2 blocks from the hostel. He gives me directions to a spot where buses run into Malaysia. Collecting my bags, after a fine conversation with a young Brit attending the Uni in Newcastle, AU, my German roomies still asleep, I find my way along a slippery sidewalk. At the designated spot, there are no buses running to Malaysia. They all left at 8:30. It's 10:00. But, if I take a short taxi ride to another spot, there I may find what I want. I take the $2 taxi ride and find myself deposited in the midst of 10 buses. One says, Melaka. Oh, I've struck the mother lode. A German woman is buying her ticket in front of me. She is wanting to travel to Kuala Lumpur and says she is doing a "Couchstay". This a site where you hook up with people who allow you to stay on their couch for up to a week. Her name is Melanie, 19, and traveling till the 17th. Since it's the same bus, Melaka or Kuala Lumpur, I ask her to save me a spot, as I head, once more, to the toilet since there are no facilities on the bus. We talk the 4 1/2 hours, enjoying a rest in between, and say good-bye at the Melaka Central Station. Finding bus 17, I tell the driver to let me know when we arrive at Town Square. He does, and I exit. Asking a taxi driver, I find my way to the Sama Sama Hostel where there is no room. But, continuing up the street, several blocks, I find another hostel, can't remember the name right now, in China town. Walking down a long hall, a woman is playing with her baby. Do you have room? Only a 4 bed room at 60 ringgit - $20. We begin to walk to the street, where she is to point out the next possible hostel. Standing at the receptionist's desk is a Brit, my age, who asks if she has a room. Yes, I say, if you want to share a room. Sure! John Peatman, from Cambridge, UK, is happy to share. We accept! He says he is headed to the middle of the country where he hopes to take a mail train up to the very Eastern point, on the ocean. In between, we will most likely stop at Taman Negara, the oldest forest in the world. This is how IT happens. A plan is established. And then, if you are willing, an opportunity presents itself. With nothing but an airfare out of Langkwai on April 24, I am free to negotiate the interval.

Port Moresby to Singapore

Thursday, April 10, 08
At 10:45, I take a taxi to the Holiday Inn, one of the few places in town that offers internet access. The gates and fence are impressive. there is a Business Center where I am now writing. Being a white skin does have its privilege, and I'll take it. With 4 1/2 hours till my flight leaves, I have taken up residence pool side. I'll spend 2 hours here, have some lunch, and then taxi to the airport where I'll wait out the remainder. My IPod is coming in handy on such lengthy waits. With adapters for three and two prongs, I can recharge my items which need to be; razor, IPod, Palm Pilot. When asked which room I'm in , I simply reply that I'm already checked out. Works every time! And the longer they see me, the more I belong.
2:30 - Port Moresby International Airport - Having hung around the Holiday Inn for 2 hours, the van drivers asks if I am going to the airport. Yep! Get in. So, I do!
Over the Java Sea, sitting in an aisle, exit seat, my neighbor, Nick, who is a Brit who works logistics in Buka, Bougainville, for the police department, spills a small glass of red wine on my left arm and lap. That will need washing out in Singapore. We land, visa, collect backpack, and pass customs. Any laptop is thoroughly investigated for porn. Penalties are high for porn, drugs, and chewing gum is not permitted. Boy, do they have their priorities straight!
Already 9:30, I'm feeling nervous about the hour and finding lodging. So, I spend taxi money and arrive at a prospective site. Taxi leaves. I walk the 3 flights up and find the place is full. The helpful, sleeping, till I awoke him, receptionist, sends me up the street. Hope may be on Rochor Rd, a few blocks of walking. I have 12 kg on my back and 4 kg on my front day pack. I've down sized and am carrying the minimum. Now after 10:00, I walk, and walk, and notice a sign, Bugis Backpackers Hostel. Not what I am looking for, but I'm not picky. Three flights up, why always 3 and 4 flights, an Oriental woman lets me in the bolted door and says, 38 Singapore Dollars, around $28USD. Happy for a spot, I am bunking with 2 German young men who have been to Thailand. Looking for information, I have a conversation in the sitting room with a German and Japanese woman. They are no help in getting out of town. I return to the room and talk till late with the fine young German gentlemen.

Lae to Port Moresby

Wednesday, April 9, 08
At the Lae airport, Bill sees me through the gate at 12:45 and will wait for Martha's father and wife to arrive some time late afternoon - back on my own. Outside the airport waiting room window the kites still fly. The plane is 20 minutes late - on time for PNG
Now, in Port Moresby, this city is not visitor friendly - no walking around at night, so there is no eating out after dark, unless you want to brave the rascals. As I walk around the general area of the hotel (Comfort Inn), I step alongside a police Toyota Hi-Lux and ask if they know where I can find an Internet Cafe. No! One reeks of alcohol and the other is chewing betelnut and tells me to unstrap my digital camera from my belt. I place it in my pocket. the population feels tense. I keep a close check on people around me and those intersecting. There aren't many options for lodging and certainly, after dark, unless by taxi or personal car, I am locked into this location. My room, expensive by 3rd world standards, has only a common bathroom. But, I do have cable. No soap. No towel. Bill and I laughed a lot and enjoyed the time together. I don't have any pictures of Port Moresby because I don't want to draw attention.

Return to Lae

Tuesday, April 8, 08
With warnings of trouble in Kainantu, Bill and I, with a couple in the back seat who are returning home to Rabaul, start out of the SIL compound gate at 5:30 am.
The trouble around the compound has been between two clans which both claim the same land. This dispute has been ongoing for generations. Yesterday, with arrows flying, this can be witnessed from the compound fence, the two clans fought. Two men are shot - one in the ribs and the other in the leg. No one will treat fight wounds, so the wounded were transported elsewhere, probably Goroka 1 1/2 hours distance. The other trouble spot is in Kainantu, 15 kms from the compound, where a group of men has been terrorizing the community. Here is the version I heard. The police caught the men who were carrying some rifles and arrested them. Later, with no one watching, the police dropped them off at their houses. That set the community in an uproar and they stoned the police cars and sent them out of town.
We pass the first point, an area of land over which the clans have been fighting - no one there. Next are two bridges - clear. Then, into Kainantu itself - only several men sweeping the yard and a man carrying some fire - four out of four. Two hours later we at the airport, deposit the outgoing couple and head into Lae for some breakfast and check in at the SIL guesthouse.
Bill has been doing some shopping, looking for a bike tire, paint, drugs, fence posts, flashlight, and such items. I have gone along till now. As I wait for him to complete some errands, I will spend time at an Internet Cafe, get my hairs cut, and see about some non-stick gauze. What I presently have doesn't work very well.
Not knowing when I will be able to next post, I should write about my schedule. Wed, April 9, I have an afternoon flight to Port Moresby. Thursday, April 10, my flight to Singapore leaves around 3:00 pm and arrives late. I would like to get a room in Singapore and head out on the 11th into Malaysia. If I can get to Melaka, that would be good. Otherwise, I will stop someplace and report in from that point. It will be good to get into the familiar surroundings of Malaysia. The next two weeks will be in there.
There is a story which could have taken place in any third world country that Bill and I laugh at. The UN made an effort to bring better hygiene, more batheing, into an area. When the men sat at the fire, the following evening, one of their group, let's call him Joe, walked up and sat down. Oh, replied another man, I'm sorry, I didn't smell you coming.

Ukarumpa, again

Monday, April 7, 08
Keeping my knee and shin salved and wrapped has been a main concern of mine. Infection is so prevalent. These tropics are unforgiving. My med supply has been restocked - thyroid and bp meds, gauze and adhesive, one added month of malaria prophylaxis, and a malaria cure. There, I'm now supplied till Bangkok, where I will again hope to find additions. Meds and the need of care is one of the reasons I am doing the walkabout now rather than later when such issues may intensify.
The natives have become increasingly restless. There has been fighting, again in the area around the compound, with the small police force in Kainantu being sequestered in its buildings. There is an attempt to run them out of town. Lawlessness is near the surface. Shops have been closed. Tomorrow, I am to leave for Lae and points beyond. Bill and I have decided to start early, 5:30 am. Martha, Paige (7), and Emma (2) Simpson were to join us on this excursion to Lae. But, they will remain. As I leave, Martha's father and his wife are arriving for a visit. Good timing for me!
Bill and I have laughed over the arrow incident. Here I am, a Congo MK who has lived through some dangerous times in that unsettled country, and yet, I have to come to PNG to get shot with an arrow. Jeez!
More from Lae

Madang to Ukarumpa

Sunday, April 6, 08
With Bill feeling better, we collect our things and head into Madang for some fuel and leave at 9:30. At the Mobil station, we are informed that our riding should be in good weather. However, last night it rained through the section of hills between Madang and the Ramu Valley (I have been calling it the Markham Valley. Markham Valley is toward Lae). That is the area we have been worried about. Rain has made the puddles wider and the mud deeper. All goes well till we descend a steep hill and when turning at the bottom see 10 PMVs bogged on the hill, all stuck where they have tried to climb or descend. Shifting down, best option is simply to stay in the ruts since an attempt to find high ground brings a slippery splat into the ruts anyway, we both spin, sputter, and slosh through. A half km past, Bill asks if I want to return for a photo. Let's just remember it as it is! No rascals, they usually wait at the large and expansive mud holes for a must slow down, we make good time and arrive at the mid-point, in the flat of the Ramu Valley, for fuel and a flour fish and coke - again, yum. Bill calls home and asks about any troubles. He returns to say, "The natives are restless!" There has been trouble with the local two clans which have been fighting - arrows flying last night till the drenching rain sent them home. One clan has blocked the second bridge, there are three, between Kainantu (15km from Ukarumpa) and Ukarumpa. There's not much to do till we arrive and see it for ourselves. We arrive Kainantu and top out the tanks. Now to see about the bridge. First bridge is passed, no worries. Then, the second bridge is approached. No one steps out, and we cross rapidly. I give a whoop on the other side. We're home free! Two kms out of Ukarumpa, I see 6 boys, aged 8-10, on the left side of the road stretching bows equipped with arrows. As Bill passes, they make motions of shooting the arrows, but don't. I approach. The oldest boy suddenly steps forward, from 15 ft, and lets fly an arrow which strikes me in my left calf. Lucky shot! I look down, then back up at the hard, left, downhill curve. Too late, I turn the wheel left and the back tire slides off the road, my knee hitting the edge of the pavement. Bill sees me go down and returns. Surprised by a PMV coming up from behind, he falls in the lane. The PMV asks if we need help? No! With a piercing look, Bill rights his bike, mine also is righted by now, and hurries up to find the boys. Only their backsides can be seen as they disappear down the hill. We continue on to where Sam's village turns off, 1 km further on, and there tell our story of the humbug (PNG for "good for nothing") boys. My knee is scraped and my pants are ripped in two places. Martha is washing everything and will attempt some repairs. After a shower, knee and shin repair, we laugh about the story I will tell when I get home. There must have been 100 painted clansmen. I dodge, I weave, one arrow takes me down. Bill rides to the rescue on "a horse with no name". Well, it could have been worse. Those boys, and the village will know who they are, will most likely be caned. I may ask to administer a few of the swats myself.
Medang pictures: http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/musungi/MadangPNG