tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33027673420910608542024-03-05T13:00:28.797-08:00Underboning the WorldSo I said that we should ride around the world on 100cc underbones and she said that it was a dumb idea and I said exactly.Colinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12670514199884691628noreply@blogger.comBlogger147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-86579888392165642872012-08-08T13:35:00.001-07:002012-08-08T13:35:22.425-07:00The final countdown<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-TjLxXWN/0/M/P1000656-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-TjLxXWN/0/M/P1000656-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Symbas and Bigfella's big KTM with the G-town po-po </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our last week in
Georgetown... what a sad statement. Actually it was about a week and
a half. Before we left Tana Ratah, Colin received a message from a
fellow ADV-er, Bigfella (Ian), that he had just arrived in Georgetown
and was wondering if we were there. We arranged to meet up with Ian
for dinner at Kapitan (mmmm, tandoori chicken) and then introduced
him to our oh so classy favorite local watering hole, the “Corner
Bar.” We traded stories and laughed until late in the night. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-qJK8THt/0/M/P1000665-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-qJK8THt/0/M/P1000665-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Heartbreak Dave, aka Poose</td></tr>
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It
was such a good time that we did it again the next evening. After
filling up on dim sum at De Tai Tong, we ambled back to the Corner
Bar, stopping to see our favorite Chulia Street residents, Heartbreak
Dave (aka Poose) and Krishna, the travel agent and bike renter who
keeps an eye on her, on the way (as we did virtually every night).
Back at the Corner Bar, the three of us were sitting at a table in
the street, when an elderly Chinese man came and stood next to us
with a beer in hand. We struck up a conversation with him, and here
met Lim. He told us he was 18 years old (but said he was born in
1930), was born on the island, and was here during the Japanese
occupation of the island during WWII. Colin, Ian, and I were about
to leave when Lim brought another round to the table. He then sat
down and continued to tell us tales of the Georgetown of old, along
with stories of his travels in other parts of southeast Asia. Lim,
as he reported, has been to Bangkok over 50 times. The Lim family
has a temple in the city, and they meet in Bangkok annually to pay
respect to their ancestors. For some reason, he also felt it
necessary to fill me in on the “ins and outs” of Thai women, ie,
what “activities” are safe, and what are not. While Colin and
Ian laughed and talked about something else, I, was huddled, lips
(his) to ear (mine) with Lim, so neither of them was privy to the
indelicate nature of our tete-a-tete until later, when I <i>had</i>
to share. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span>
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-8jRMbGF/0/M/P1000659-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-8jRMbGF/0/M/P1000659-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">who knew NASA offered Nepal-Thailand directs?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The rest of the week we
spent getting the bikes ready to ship, changing oil, replacing the
crusty old and abused batteries, and cleaning them up to finally
letter the leg shields with our route, after all these months. We
originally wanted to get flag stickers from each country we visited,
but we weren't able to find them in many places. Instead, I got a
permanent marker and wrote it out using the two-letter country codes
and dotted lines. Fancying myself an “artiste,” I drew airplanes
between the countries where we flew. Now it would appear to the
average viewer that my Symba hitched a couple of quick rides on the
Space Shuttle. The bikes did need to be crated before they were
delivered to Eva Air, so we rode across the big bridge to Butterworth
one last time to drop them at the crating company. We did the usual
disassembly one last time (<i>sob</i>) while the craters
double-checked our measurements. Once we'd finished, the crater
kindly gave us a ride to the ferry back to Georgetown. It was a sad
day.</span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-ZB2Krzz/0/M/P1000673-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-ZB2Krzz/0/M/P1000673-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chew, at his childhood home on the jetty</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-4Fx9zWq/0/M/P1000682-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-4Fx9zWq/0/M/P1000682-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese Recreation Club verandah</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On another day, Chew (who
replaced Lim at the Star Lodge (the one who taught me never to let a
drunk Chinese man touch my feet)), and his wife picked us up one
morning to take us to the Chew Clan Jetty. The clan jetties are an
interesting piece of Georgetown history. When Chinese immigrants
came to the island, they would live and work from the jetties. Most
of the men fished or as stevedores on the ships in the port, and each
family had a jetty. Over time, each family more or less specialized
in a specific business, some handling cargo from Indonesia, some from
China, others in fishing, etc. Chew was actually born on the jetty
and lived there until he was seven. He and his wife, Cristina, took
us on a tour of the jetty, where they showed us his childhood home
and introduced us to members of his family, and then drove us all
over Georgetown to see the parts the tourists don't get to see. They
then took us to the Chinese Recreation Club, which is a beautiful old
country club in the middle of the city. Chew has been a member since
1972 (his wife refers to it as his second home since he is there
every day). There isn't a golf course, but they do have tennis,
badminton, basketball courts, football fields, a gym, and an outdoor,
olympic size pool. It is a gorgeous place where you automatically
feel very “colonial” sitting on the verandah sipping iced tea
overlooking the pool. Oh, and they have what is reputedly the best
Chinese restaurant on the island. Chew and Cristina treated us to
lunch in the dining room, and it was truly fantastic food, service,
and company. Colin and I had a great time (although we both felt
underdressed for the occasion). We have met so many terrific people
on our trip. I hope that we can provide the same kind of hospitality
in return someday.</span></span></div>
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<br />
</div>
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</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-81733370934498059942012-08-08T11:35:00.001-07:002012-08-08T11:46:52.911-07:00Fraser Hill<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-ZwjDgJc/0/M/P1000572-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-ZwjDgJc/0/M/P1000572-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the start up to Fraser Hill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Feeling extremely
discouraged the next morning by the weather and the issues with
Colin's bike, we headed out into the gray, uncertain what our next
destination would be. Our original itinerary included a stop at
Gunung Stong National Park, but since it had poured overnight and
still looked threatening, we forewent that option and instead,
decided to ride to the little known, Bukit Fraser (Fraser Hill),
which is a colonial hill station reputed to have a gorgeous road
leading to the top. Beyond that general description, we had little
information, including nothing on food or lodging. After a
leisurely breakfast (with a second cup of tea enjoyed while waiting
for the fog to lift), we loaded up and headed out. The roads were
smooth, curvy, and much less populated that the previous day. To
make it even better, the weather improved, with only scattered light
showers to deal with. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-KznFQkD/0/M/P1000577-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-KznFQkD/0/M/P1000577-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The house where we stayed with Philip and his family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We made it to the single-lane road that led up
to Fraser Hill as the sun appeared. The road was all the rumors
promised- corner after corner, rounding the mountain, climbing
through the trees, and at the top was a beautiful, British colonial
hill station, with buildings of gray stone and gardens galore. We
pulled into the village center and stopped to look at the map of the
area with the hope of finding a place to stay for the night. As we
stood there, a man walked up and asked where we were from. Assuming
it was an intro for yet another photo op with the crazy foreigners on
motorbikes, we cautiously said we were from America. We were wrong.
His name was Philip, he was a State Representative from the state of
Selangor (on the west coast), and he had just arrived with his family
for their holiday. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-s7GGZCF/0/M/P1000574-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-s7GGZCF/0/M/P1000574-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tree ferns</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>The state of Selangor maintains a bungalow on
Bukit Fraser for public servants to use. Philip asked us where we
were staying and immediately invited us to stay with him and his
family. Not wanting to intrude in their family vacation, we
considered declining, but he was so friendly and welcoming that we
agreed. We followed him further up the hill to the bungalow, and
what a nice place it was. The caretaker said it was originally built
in 1938, and it was grand. The ceilings must have been at least 14
feet high, and the rooms were all huge. We were given our own room,
where we unpacked, took a quick shower, and came out to meet the
family. In addition to Philip, there was his wife, his four
children, a niece, and his mother. We spent the rest of the
afternoon walking around looking at the beautiful gardens and
hillsides and talking with Philip. Later in the evening, we hopped
on the Symbas and followed the family back into town for dinner. We
went to a nice Chinese place, where Philip ordered for the whole
table. We had lots of yummy food and good conversation. The mist
had rolled back in earnest and visibility fell to 200 feet or less.
After dinner was over, Re and I went for a short ride around town
before finding our way back to the bungalow in the dark and fog. We
spent the rest of the evening talking with Philip about life in
Malaysia. </i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span>
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-xzJqzr8/0/M/P1000622-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-xzJqzr8/0/M/P1000622-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">two of the many amazing moths </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next morning, Philip and
his family invited us to join them for breakfast, so we enjoyed more
conversation over coffee and kaya puffs (kaya is a coconut custard,
the puff part is pastry. Yum is all I can say). After breakfast, as
we prepared to leave and Philip's family waited for the fog to clear
enough to go hiking, it started to rain. So we all hung out on the
large porch and admired the hundreds of varieties of moths which had
gathered overnight (since the porchlight was left on) on the columns,
walls, light fixtures, and our bikes. They were amazing. Everywhere
you looked, there were more, varying from the size of my pinky
fingernail to the size of my palm, and colors from vivid red to green
to all shades of brown. </span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-sxD4BfX/0/M/P1000638-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-sxD4BfX/0/M/P1000638-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once the rain tapered off to a mere spit, we
geared up and thanked them all heartily before saying goodbye.
Accepting an offer to stay with strangers doesn't come naturally to
either of us. It felt incredibly awkward, and knowing that people
have limited time and resources for holidays, we didn't want to
intrude on their family vacation. But staying with Philip and his
family was really an incredible experience; they were so welcoming,
friendly, and as excited to talk with us as we were with them. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-FM8fVdM/0/M/P1000644-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-FM8fVdM/0/M/P1000644-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">amazing spiderweb and wild orchids</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">From Fraser Hill, we rode
back to the Cameron Highlands for a second attempt at hiking. The
weather cleared once we got to the bottom of the hill, and the ride
was beeeyootiful- more graceful curves, nice pavement, and sunshine
peeking through the trees. We spent the night at the same guesthouse
in Tana Ratah and enjoyed an evening stroll and dinner at a busy
hawker stall. Shortly after we went to bed, we heard roaring
thunderstorms, which continued through the night and left huge
puddles of standing mud and water the next morning. Sooooo, no
hiking. Instead, we decided to....go home to Georgetown. </span></span>
</div>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-30533902884305794932012-08-08T10:39:00.000-07:002012-08-08T10:39:02.461-07:00Shipping Arrangements...check. Touring Malayisia...check. Bike Problems...check.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-s6Vc3x9/0/M/P1000565-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-s6Vc3x9/0/M/P1000565-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view of Penang from the ferry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Much of our time in
Georgetown was spent trying to sort out the return of our bikes to
the USA. Colin had read reports on HUBB (a round-the-world travelers
forum) that it was simple and cheap to ship bikes using Malaysia
Airlines' MASKargo. Unlike many carriers, they don't require that
the bikes are crated. Instead, they strap them to a pallet, tightly
wrap them in plastic, and send them on their way. They fly from
Kuala Lumpur to Los Angeles, and we figured the ride up the west
coast back to Portland would be a good finale to our journey. It
sounded great. Too good to be true, you might say. After many days
of getting nowhere, playing phone tag with MASKargo sales and service
agents, we rode out to the cargo terminal at the Penang airport to
meet with an actual person to arrange our cargo shipment. They were
extremely nice, but politely told us... no, they could not fly our
bikes to Los Angeles, because of a US government ban on “personal
effects” on passenger aircraft. After the toner cartridge bomb
plot two years ago on UPS and Fedex out of Yemen, it has been
determined that it is unsafe to carry any kind of personal effects on
board passenger planes, so in order to get our bikes back to the US,
we would have to put them on a cargo only aircraft. I did some
research and found the carriers with cargo planes, made a bunch more
phone calls, sent more emails, and after being told no by numerous
people, finally found someone who could help us. Ms. Goh from
Worldlink Cargo was our savior! She arranged for shipping on Eva Air
(a Taiwanese airline), which flies a gigantic freighter out of PENANG
(we didn't even have to go to Kuala Lumpur (KL)!) to Taiwan and then
on to Los Angeles. The bikes did need to be crated, and she
coordinated that as well. Her rates were lower than if we left from
KL, so we booked it, bought our plane tickets on Malaysia Airlines, and tried to enjoy the
rest of our limited time in Malaysia.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-xrGgQrd/0/M/P1000566-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-xrGgQrd/0/M/P1000566-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lake Temengor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We did actually leave
Georgetown for a ride through the middle of the country to see the
mountains and enjoy the twisty roads. We set out one morning after
breakfast, said goodbye to Robert and Chew, and told them we'd be
back in about a week. The weather was the usual mixture of sun,
puffy clouds, and humid heat as we rode the ferry across to the
mainland. Traffic was heavy in Butterworth and continued to be as we
headed northeast into the state of Perak and around the very large
and scenic Lake Temengor. Since we arrived at lunchtime and there
was food to be eaten, we stopped for some noodles and tea at the
lakeside park. The sky in the east had begun to grow dark, so we
decided it would be best to get back on the road. <i> </i></span></span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-Nk6jT8k/0/M/P1000569-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-Nk6jT8k/0/M/P1000569-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">some of the oldest forest in the world</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>A short while
later, we crossed into the state of Kelentan, where the road became
twisty and more enjoyable. In some of the tighter corners, it felt
like the back end of my bike was moving around a bit, but I really
didn't pay any attention and put the feeling down to not having
ridden in a while. Dumb dumb dumb! After a while turned south
toward Jeli. As we pulled away from a stoplight in Jeli, I shifted
from first into second and had no drive at all. The engine was
turning but my rear wheel was not. Since I was halfway through the
intersection, I shifted into first, twisted the throttle, and got the
same lack of response. I tried second again but got nothing. My
first thought was that I had either done something wrong installing
the clutch or was having a transmission problem. </i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-xqhHMXC/0/M/P1000571-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-xqhHMXC/0/M/P1000571-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">not what you want to see when you remove the rear wheel</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>About this point,
Re pulled up and said she had seen chunks of my cush drive coming out
the back of my bike. Well now, that can't be right. I duck-walked
the bike through the intersection and a little farther up the road.
I looked back to see that, sure enough, there were chunks of cush
drive rubber in the intersection. I looked at the rear end under my
bike and could see that the rear wheel had pulled off the splines
that are attached to the rear sprocket and drive the rear wheel.
What didn't occur to me at this point was that I shouldn't be able to
see inside my rear wheel with the axle securely fastened and a
non-bent swingarm. While I ran back and gathered the rubber pieces,
Re rode a bit ahead to scout for a suitable work area. She found a
nearby parking lot, so I pushed my bike there and got to work. Once
I sat down and looked at the rear end again, the reality sank in that
something was really wrong. As is pretty standard, the axle goes in
one side of the swingarm, through a spacer, through the wheel,
through the other side of the swingarm, and then into a nut, which
holds it all together. Somehow, I now had an extra half inch or so
of space where there shouldn't be any. This can only mean one thing.
Sure enough, I looked at the other side of the bike and there was NO
AXLE NUT! Maybe that was why it felt like the rear end was moving
around a bit in the twisties. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Re volunteered to go back and look for
the axle nut while I was in a mild state of shock and left before I
could stop her. I think that the nut had been gone for a long time.
Quite apparently, I am going to have to fire our mechanic, since that
asshole didn't tighten the axle nut after that moron changed the
chain... A minute later I went to call Re back and noticed that
around the corner was a motorcycle shop. It just couldn't be any
handier! With Re's help, I removed the rear wheel and started to
inspect the damage. While I did this and got out our spare cush
drive rubbers (thank you Alliance Powersports) Re walked around the
corner to the motorcycle shop with the axle and returned with a
replacement nut. By the time she returned, I had removed what was
left of the old cush drive rubbers, but I couldn't get the new ones
installed. I carried the wheel back around the corner where the nice
folks at the shop showed me how to install them. When I returned to
the bike, we started to reassemble the rear end and that's when I
noticed two other things: 1) the nut and washer from the right side
chain adjuster were gone, and 2) the rear swingarm was indeed bent.
The right side of the swingarm appears to have bent near the pivot
and is now about a half inch too wide at the axle. Our swingarms
appear to be made of molded, flat sheets of steel that have been
welded together at the edge. I inspected the swingarm and didn't see
any obvious cracking or wrinkles in the metal, so I levered it back
into place while Re tightened the nut. One more trip back to the
motorcycle shop got us a replacement nut and washer for the chain
adjuster, and then everything was back together. I took the bike for
a quick ride around a couple of blocks to make sure it was okay and
then we decided to get back on the road since the sky was getting
very dark. I wish I knew the name of the bike shop in Jeli since we
couldn't have done it without them. The only money they would take
was one ringgit (0.33 USD) for the axle nut. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>We were now heading
south toward Dabong and then it began to rain. There was supposed to
be some kind of government resthouse in Dabong, but we couldn't find
it in the rain. There also didn't appear to be a petrol station, and
we needed some. Between the rain and the bike problems, I didn't
feel like messing around anymore today, so I made the executive
decision to head further south to the town of Gua Musang. It was
supposed to be a bigger town so hopefully, accommodation will be
easier to find. Back on the road, it didn't appear that we would
have enough fuel to make it, so we stopped in another small town
along the way and bought some bottles of gasoline at the local mini
mart. The extra liter each gave us enough fuel to make it, so we
motored the last 25 miles into town. And what a 25 miles it was.
Shortly after refueling, the rain went from steady to torrential. As
we came over a rise, it was like somebody turned out the lights.
Even though it was only around 6:00 pm, it suddenly became night.
Between the rain and the wind, we decided to make a dash for the
awning of an abandoned gas station. We pulled underneath to hide
from the rain and waited about 30 minutes for it to slack off. Not
wanting to be riding in the rain in the dark, we decided to continue
on once the wind died down. </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Pulling into Gua Musang around 7:00 pm,
we saw some crummy looking hotels on the main street. We kept
looking and Re spotted a sign for the Titiwangsa Hotel. You know I
had to go check it out. It was a bit of an odd arrangement, above a
healthfood store in a newer strip mall that was mostly unoccupied,
but the room was nice, the price was okay, and hey, it's called the
Titiwangsa (it's hard to believe I am not 12 years old sometimes).
The rain had let up by now, so we unloaded our stuff in the room and
hung everything up to dry, turned on the fan and A/C, and went out
for dinner. Just to make the day complete, I discovered a sore tooth
while eating dinner. Great</span>. </i></span></span>
</div>
</div>
Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-8263352907377099312012-06-24T11:03:00.001-07:002012-06-24T11:03:58.333-07:00And We Worked on the Bikes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-gqpnP3S/0/M/P1000464-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-gqpnP3S/0/M/P1000464-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin and Jacob, replacing the clutch</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Way back when, a couple of
posts ago, I mentioned that Colin's clutch was preparing to expire,
and that he had contacted someone in Taiwan to get a new one. That
was on a Monday, and he received a package (yay! It's like
Christmas!) on the following Friday. Over the weekend, we removed
the old clutch and put in the new one with the help of a local man
named, Jacob. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;">After draining the oil and removing the leg
shield, I removed the oil screen cover and oil screen and then the
eight bolts that secure the engine side cover. When I pulled off the
cover, a fair bit of oil drained out, and a couple of parts fell into
the tub. Once I had the side cover off, I removed the clutch lever
and cam plate. After that, I removed the clutch outer cover and
discovered that there was a gasket between the outer cover and the
clutch assembly itself. Since I didn't have a replacement gasket, Re
carefully used a thin knife blade to separate it from both pieces.
Fortunately, we were able to keep it intact, because we will need to
reuse it. With the outer cover removed, I could see our big problem
of the day. The clutch unit itself is secured to the output shaft by
a special “anti-loosen locknut.” The anti-loosen locknut
requires a special tool which we don't have. Basically, the tool is
a socket with four prongs that project from it that engage the
notches in the locknut. The locknut sits down in a well in the
center of the clutch unit, so getting to it with any other tool is
difficult. I unsuccessfully tried to loosen it using a hammer and
screwdriver but couldn't get a good enough angle. I knew from
viewing a Youtube video on replacing the clutch on a Honda Passport,
that the Hondas use a similar nut. So while I worked on removing the
gasket from the engine case and case cover, Re walked over to one of
the repair shops we'd seen while out walking to see if they had the
needed tool. I figured if we couldn't borrow the tool, maybe we
could push the bike the five blocks or so to the shop and have them
remove the nut. </i></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-Kj6P6pS/0/M/P1000465-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-Kj6P6pS/0/M/P1000465-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;">While she was gone, Robert from reception asked what
the problem was. I explained that we needed a special tool to remove
the clutch. Fortuitously, Robert's friend, Jacob, happened to be
visiting this morning. He came over to look at the problem and said
that he had the tool at his house. About this time, Re returned with
news that the shop was closed. Jacob said that since it was Sunday,
every shop would be closed. I guess I am used to the schedule of
motorcycle shops in the US, which are usually open on Sunday and
closed on Monday. Jacob said if we could wait for about an hour, he
would ride home and get the tools. While he was gone, we finished
cleaning up the gasket surfaces and wiped up the oil from inside the
cases. Jacob returned with the special wrench and an assortment of
other tools and gasket sealants. With his help, we were able to
remove the locknut and get the new clutch unit installed. Since we
still needed to get a replacement clutch adjustment bolt, this was as
much reassembly as we could do now. We reinstalled the side cover
temporarily and cleaned up our workspace. We rolled the bike back
across the street and then got cleaned up. Since it was now about
2:00 pm, we decided it was time for lunch. We took our adjuster bolt
with us and walked over to our favorite chicken and rice place. After
lunch, we headed up another street that had several motorcycle repair
shops on it, but they were all closed. Since it didn't look like
we'd get a replacement bolt today, we hit the grocery store for a
watermelon.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;"> </i> </span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We were able to get a new
adjuster bolt the next day. Apparently, it is the same as one for a
Honda, so the bike shop we wandered into in the morning was able to
get one by early afternoon. Later that afternoon, <i style="color: #990000;">we installed
the new adjuster bolt in the side cover, and it was a perfect fit. I
then used some gasket shellac that Jacob thoughtfully brought by, on
both surfaces, and then carefully installed the gasket. After I
installed the last couple parts, on the inside of the side cover, Re
carefully helped me slide it over the kick start shaft and dowel
pins. With the cover in place, it was just a matter of installing
all the bolts, the oil screen and cover, and the kick start lever.
After that, we reinstalled the exhaust and leg shields. We refilled
the engine with oil, adjusted the clutch, and then, nervously,
thumbed the starter button. It started up fine – the clutch seemed
to engage and disengage normally, and best of all, there were no oil
leaks. I wanted to take it for a quick test ride, so while Re picked
up the tools, I ran inside to grab my helmet. I jumped on the bike
and began rolling it backwards and noticed that it wasn't rolling
very easily. I looked back to see that I had a flat rear tire. So
we got the tools back out and grabbed one of the spare tubes and got
to work. Twenty minutes later, we had it all put back together and
then I went for my test ride. Since it was getting late, I only went
around a few blocks, but the bike was shifting normally, and even
hitting it hard in second gear didn't produce any slippage.</i></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-23WVLjD/0/M/P1000430-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-23WVLjD/0/M/P1000430-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ooh, shiny!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #073763;">In addition to the above, we also did an oil change on both bikes, finally changed Colin's front tire after over 20,000 miles (who knew it would just keep on going?!?), replaced his chain, and gave them a good scrubbing with the "super sunday sponge" to remove the </span>scuffs and stains the bikes amassed. Because the culture in this part of the world is much more small bike-oriented, parts are widely available and <i>cheap</i>. The prices we were given at the bike shop nearby were typically a quarter to a third of what we would pay in the US. Since we plan to keep riding the Symbas once we get to wherever we're going, we went ahead and bought two spare Dunlop tires (<i>real</i> rubber harvested in Malaysia, not the synthetic crap of our original tires), an extra chain, sparkplugs, tubes, and two batteries (we abused ours riding in the high temps everywhere, they boiled nearly dry more than once, and we refilled them with whatever tap water was available. we promise to take better care of these). </span>
</div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-33145160402887935112012-06-23T16:30:00.001-07:002012-06-23T16:30:16.889-07:00How We Occupied Our Time in Georgetown Besides Eating<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Even though we spent a fair bit of time in Georgetown on our backpacking in southeast Asia trip, there were a few sights and activities we missed. Someone once told us never to do everything in a place you visit, because then you have no reason to return. This time around, we saw and did some of the things we skipped last time. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-mxbgk8r/0/M/P1000473-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-mxbgk8r/0/M/P1000473-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kuan Yin, Goddess of Mercy</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Kek Lok Si Temple was one of them. It is supposed to be the largest
Chinese temple in Malaysia, with a huge bronze statue of Kuan Yin,
the Goddess of Mercy. The statue is set in an intricately carved
stone pavilion and is beautiful. We wandered around the temple
grounds, admiring the temple buildings themselves, with their vivid
paint jobs, but it all seemed more commercial than either of us
expected. At every turn was another gift shop selling typical
Buddhist amulets next to Chinese zodiac charms and “Anger Birds”
flipflops (no copyright infringement here). On the way to the
temple, we rode past it and up the winding road to the dam at Air
Hitam (a beautiful reservoir). We got off the bikes and started
across the parking lot to have a look at the water and were met by a
local woman who told us about the area and that it is possible to
ride around the reservoir and all the way across the island. Which we did another day. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-B8TSkF6/0/M/P1000545-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-B8TSkF6/0/M/P1000545-M.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Malaysian blue coral snake</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The ride around the reservoir and to the other side of Penang started with a left turn at a locked gate across the main road. We started up the hill, following a sign in Chinese with a red arrow pointing toward something that way (unable to read Chinese, we had no idea if it indicated an event, a temple, a firing range, a home for wayward kittens, or perhaps, a frog sanctuary), indicating that it went somewhere. We followed the road, up and up, and farther up a steep, narrow road covered in wet leaves, until we reached a fork. With no more signs in Chinese or any other language, we shrugged at each other and chose the path to the right. It led through jungle-y vegetation and what looked like a plantation of waxy, pink proteas (think <i>Little Shop of Horrors</i>) and then to...a dead end guarded by a pack of Bumpus hounds. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-LQ3KCHr/0/M/P1000548-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-LQ3KCHr/0/M/P1000548-M.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green tree viper </td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">So we returned from whence we came, stopping to inspect a dead snake - it was another red-headed krait (or more specifically, a Malaysian blue coral snake, which is a subspecies) which appeared untouched but unmoving. Continuing on, we stopped again, at the entrance to the road around the reservoir, to see what other people were staring intently at. Apparently, it was a snaky kind of day, because the object of their attention (and now ours) was a small green tree viper (another venomous variety). </span></div>
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<a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-N3DJ7RT/0/M/P1000488-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-N3DJ7RT/0/M/P1000488-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Another day, we decided to go for a walk up Penang Hill. Many people do it for fun, exercise, or the challenge of it. Penang Hill is the island's "hill station," being the highest point and several degrees cooler than the surrounding area. In the British heyday, it was where people went to escape the heat, being carried in sedan chairs the 2300 feet to the top. Nowadays, there is a funicular train to carry visitors up and down the hill (less colonial, but easier on the locals' backs). We took the bus to the Botanical Gardens, where we located the trail at the Moon Gate leading up the hill. The first part of the trail was all stairs. The second part, which was much easier to manage, was a trail that wound through the jungle and eventually exited onto a road that continued the rest of the way to the top. </span></div>
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<a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-gH7SNrq/0/M/P1000490-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-gH7SNrq/0/M/P1000490-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Unsure where the jungle trail went (it just seemed to end at the road, although we'd heard it was supposed to go all the way to the top), we took the paved road. Almost immediately, we realized we should have looked harder for the trail. The road snaked back and forth up the hill, with each straight section no longer than about 100 feet. That doesn't sound bad at all, right? Well, if not for the 30% to 40% incline (literally. that's really what the road signs said. it wasn't just our imagination) it would have been just lovely. Instead, we'd trudge from one curve to the next, stop and sit on the guardrail, gasping for breath, and I'd say, okay... I can... make it... to the next... curve. Fun. When we finally got to the top, we were drenched to the skin. We staggered into the cafe at the top, ordered some food, and collapsed on a bench. Once we'd eaten and our legs stopped wobbling, we took the funicular train back to the bottom. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We spent a fair bit of time at the beach at Batu Ferringhi, camped out under the trees, reading a book. The sand is rather coarse, the water is somewhat cloudy, but it's clean, quiet, and makes a good place to spend a couple of hours. We also went bowling. On the waterfront in Georgetown is a bowling alley. It's air-conditioned, cheap, and fun. Neither of us is going to win any tournaments. We saw movies. In any given week, there are at least three American movies in the theaters. Most of them are blockbuster adventure type shows, but they are, again, cheap. We almost never go to see movies in the States because of the expenditure, but when a ticket costs no more than 3 USD, why not? We saw: <i>The Avengers </i>(twice), <i>Battleship, The Cabin in the Woods, Dark Shadows, Men in Black III, Safe, Snow White and the Huntsman, </i>and <i>Prometheus.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i> </i></span></div>
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</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-42580283503844297042012-06-22T16:30:00.000-07:002012-06-22T16:30:02.687-07:00Eating in Georgetown<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-tddpzdT/0/M/P1000717-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-tddpzdT/0/M/P1000717-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
Georgetown is, without a doubt, my favorite city in the world. We spent nearly seven weeks there, off and on, between trips to Thailand, the F1 race, and the Malaysian highlands. I will try to summarize how we spent our time to fill in the last month's gap. </div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">As you all know by
now, love to eat. We ate. A lot. We developed a list of our favorite dining spots and rotated through
them, adding new establishments and dishes all the time. Since the
main three ethnic groups in Malaysia are Chinese (70% of the population of
Penang), Malay, and Indian, we know our way around the Chinese,
Malay, and Indian menus in the city. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-mHwkmXc/0/M/P1000242-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-mHwkmXc/0/M/P1000242-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wonton mee</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;">We have our favorite hawker
stalls for a variety of mee (noodle) dishes. It is interesting how many types of noodles there are, and that each kind is perfectly suited to a specific dish. My favorite would have to be the wide, soft rice noodles, particularly when they are fried in a wok to give them a slightly charred-around-the-edges flavor and texture with beansprouts and just about anything else. Colin is a fan of the eggy, wheat noodles, particularly when a whole block of them is fried until crunchy and served with a pile of stir-fried vegetables and meat heaped on top. Our very favorite noodle dish is probably wonton mee. It's a simple dish of thin, soft wheat noodles served in soy and mushroom based sauce, with char sieu (bbq pork), steamed greens, crisp-fried pork fat, pickled chilies, and soft wontons. The only kind of noodle dish neither of us enjoyed was chee chong fun, which is a sheet of rice noodle that is steamed, rolled tight, and cut into sections, and served with globs of hoisin, chili sauce, and some sesame seeds. It's not that they taste bad, they're just kind of unexciting compared to everything else. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-P5BrGQd/0/M/P1000712-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-P5BrGQd/0/M/P1000712-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The best coffee man in Georgetown</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We found out that
the Chinese kopi (coffee) shops are infinitely better than anywhere
else for a good, strong jolt of caffeine. Each morning I walked to the
corner to get coffee to takeaway, and as soon as the man who takes
orders saw me, he yelled my order back to the coffee guy, without
even asking what I wanted. As you stroll the streets of Chinatown, you smell the roasting coffee bean aroma wafting in the air throughout the day. The beans are delivered to the coffee shops daily, so it is always fresh, and many of the individual shops have their own 'special' roast. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-SPHX2qV/0/M/P1000719-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-SPHX2qV/0/M/P1000719-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nasi kandar at Line Clear</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One style of meal particular to Malaysia is nasi kandar, which is rice with other stuff, from beef rendang, to curried squids, to okra. To order, you walk up to the counter, on which is an array of meats, egg dishes, and vegetables. The server puts a pile of rice in the middle of your plate and you tell him what else you want. For the very best flavor, once your plate is loaded, the man will dip into each of the different pots of meat and fish curries and spoon some of the gravy over the top of everything. There are nasi kandar restaurants on virtually every street in Penang, but the very best is called Line Clear. It occupies an alley between two buildings and has been there, open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for something like 70 years. I hope it never shuts down!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-JdcHjzd/0/M/P1000708-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-JdcHjzd/0/M/P1000708-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sultan, hard at work on rotis</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Virtually every morning, I would walk to Yasmeen for roti canai. Roti just means bread. It is a flat bread, made from flour, water, salt, and ghee. The people who make them are masters, flattening balls of dough with the meat of their palms and then flipping the dough in the air until it is paper thin. The dough is then folded several times and placed on a hot griddle with more ghee and cooked until golden and crispy. You can get them with bananas, eggs, onion, even sardines folded into the middle before they're cooked, but the best is a fresh plain one, served with a bowl of dhal (spicy lentil stew). My buddies, Mohammad and Sultan at Yasmeen made the best ones we found. Colin and I miss them terribly...</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-w7tGbtp/0/M/P1000694-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-w7tGbtp/0/M/P1000694-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea cart on Lebuh Cintra</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">No matter where you go, at any time of the day or night, you will always find something delicious to eat or drink. Hawker stands set up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, everywhere. If you happen to be walking down the street in the evening and feel the need for a cup of herbal tea and a pancake, it can be had. If you want an ear of roasted corn, a preserved egg, and some grilled squid skewers, that's yours, too. You name it, you can probably find it. It is virtually impossible to go hungry in Georgetown.</span></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-64478742341993872312012-06-10T02:29:00.001-07:002012-06-10T02:29:15.930-07:00The Party's Almost Over...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As usual, I have been
extremely negligent in my blogging duties. We arrived in Georgetown
on April 29, so...I am over a month behind. Since we have remained
here since then (with the exception of a several day ride through the
center of Malaysia) I will try to summarize our time. Georgetown is,
for the two of us, very, very comfortable. We've come to think of it
as our second home (considering that we don't actually have a first
one, I suppose it is home sweet home). It is a good combination of old and new architecture, and has a walkable old town, with good
public transportation to get farther afield. Healthcare, as well as
other essential services, is modern and and much less expensive than
in the US. The city has a better multicultural mix and feel than
virtually anywhere we've been, and it benefits from its long history
as a trading port in the variety of foods, sights, and festivals.
The residents are relaxed and friendly, and you don't feel like a
tourist here. <b>We don't want to leave</b>. But in less than 24 hours (at 9:00 am local time on June 11th), we will be flying back to Los Angeles. It should hopefully only take us a day or so to get the bikes released from Customs, and then we will ride back to Oregon. We'll be taking the "scenic route" (or, not the interstate) through eastern California and stopping to see friends along the way back to Portland. Once we get there, we'll load our remaining belongings, including the mighty Symbas, into a moving truck and drive it all to North Carolina. I will be posting about our adventures in Georgetown, because we have had some excellent times and met some very interesting people along the way (we will be held hostage on a variety of airplanes for approximately 18 hours, so plenty of time to write). Look for updates soon (along with our smiling faces!).</span></span>
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</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-42139303426443285512012-06-08T02:02:00.000-07:002012-06-08T02:02:54.521-07:00Our Savior, Gorilla Tape<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-fkgphxZ/0/M/P1000423-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-fkgphxZ/0/M/P1000423-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gorilla Tape solution</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">It's a two-day (really one
and a half) trip to get from Koh Phangan to Georgetown. Our plan was
to get to Hat Yai the first day and then have an easy half day to
G-town. Once we rode off the ferry and onto dry land, the weather
was </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>hot, </i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">but
the roads were flat and smooth, making for an easy run with Colin's
clutch. I continued checking periodically for signs of an oil leak
as we rode, and all seemed fine. But when we stopped at a gas
station to refuel, Colin noticed an oil dribble down the outside of
the engine case. We pulled behind the station and removed the nut
from the clutch adjustment bolt, took off the makeshift Gorilla Tape
seal, and discovered the heat of the engine caused the now molten
adhesive to liquify and ooze out between the tape layers. <i style="color: #990000;">Since we were still 15 miles from
Trang and 75 miles from Hat Yai, I decided to try a new piece of tape
and hoped that it would work. The replacement tape seemed to be
holding, and Re pulled alongside every five miles to check for leaks. </i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">With about 25 miles to go to Hat Yai, Re gave me the thumbs down
signal. Double crap. We pulled off on the side of the road and got
out the tools and tape once more. Once again, the adhesive was
squishing out from between the layers of tape, clearly the heat of
the engine is causing the adhesive to liquify, and this means the nut
is no longer held by the “springiness” of the tape layers. As we
worked on the bike on the side of the road, a group of old Honda Cubs
with interesting paint jobs and loud pipes blew by. A few minutes
later, they all returned to see what we were doing. Old Honda Cubs
must be hip in Thailand now, since these riders would be “hipsters”
in the US. They all wore skinny jeans, had funky haircuts, pudding
bowl or three-quarter helmets, and goggles. None of the seemed to
speak English, but they did all stand around until my bike was
running once more.</span> </i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">Since we
had no other real alternative, we made a new tape seal and crossed
our fingers that it would hold. Colin let the engine run for a
couple of minutes to see if it would start leaking again, and when it
seemed to be working, we</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i> <span style="color: #990000;">packed
up the tools, waved goodbye to the “Cub Club,” and hit the road
again. In an effort to minimize the vibration and heat, we rode the
last 25 miles at a reduced speed. Re continued to check for oil
leaks, but thankfully, we made it into Hat Yai, to the Park Hotel,
with no further dribbles. </span></i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>After unloading our stuff into the room,
we walked out to the night market to find our favorite khao mok kai
(KMK) vendor. As we approached the familiar corner, there was no KMK
to be seen. What?! While Re went to look for another vendor, I
bought fruit shakes and a nearby stand. The woman making the fruit
shakes was Muslim and wore a headscarf and veil, so only her eyes
showed. The farther south you go in Thailand, the more Muslim it
becomes, and English seems to be less widely spoken. So I was
pleasantly surprised when the fruit shake vendor turned out to speak
English fairly well. She was able to explain to me that our usual
KMK vendor was taking a ten-day vacation to go to Phattalung for his
sister's wedding. Since she seemed so friendly and knowledgeable, I
asked her if there was another KMK stall around. She was able to
point us to another stall that was just a few blocks away. We
quickly found it, ordered our dinner, and sat down to another
delicious meal. On our way back to the room, we stopped again at the
7Eleven for a couple of Changs. Back in the room, I had a moment of
ennui when it occurred to me that this would be my last Chang of the
trip and maybe for many years. </i></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">The next morning, we made
the now familiar trip to the Thailand/Malaysia border. The new tape
seal held, with not a drop of oil seen, all the way back to Penang.
We kept our speed down (not that it's very high to begin with) in an
attempt to minimize the strain on Colin's clutch (it was slipping
pretty badly) and to keep the tape seal from melting. The border
crossing was easy, stress-free, and quick. It did take a few minutes
longer this time than on our previous crossing, but that was only due
to a border officer's excited interest in our current adventure and
our hope to settle in Malaysia in the future. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">We made it back to
Georgetown, pulled up in front of the Star Lodge again, and paid for
two weeks. Mr Lim, the older Chinese man working the reception
counter, said it was his last day and gave us quite a nice discount
on the room (20 percent off!) as his parting gift to the owner. I
believe Mr Lim had started 'celebrating' his last workday much before
our arrival. As Colin and I sat in the lobby, he proclaimed the
merits of traditional Chinese medicine and reflexology. After giving
me a recipe for a concoction to improve our eyesight (which consisted
of one potato, one tomato, one carrot, and half an apple, all peeled,
pureed together, and to be eaten each morning with no other foods),
he shared another Oriental secret to longevity: exercise. Mr Lim
reached out and squeezed my forearm and said, “you are solid. You
need to stay solid.” He then took off his shoes and stretched out
one leg in front of him, resting his heel on a table, and bent over
until his chin rested on his thigh. Realize, this man is 60 years
old. Never in my life have I been able to do this. He then sat down
on the floor and demonstrated some other stretching exercises before
jumping up, lifting his shirt, and pounding on his abdomen to prove
his superior strength. Next came his lesson in reflexology to me:
never let a tipsy, old, Chinese man rub your foot (that wasn't his
intended message, but that's what I got out of it after squealing in
pain as he dug his thumb into my instep to 'massage' out the toxins
left there by the rubbish we ingest. I had a bruise a week later). All the while, Colin tried to keep a straight face and maintain focus
on the computer screen in a search for a new clutch source in the
area. Unable to find one in the area (they import SYMs to Malaysia,
but not the Symbas, and nothing with the same engine) he emailed a
contact in Taiwan, named Cam, to inquire about getting one shipped to
us here. </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>Having done what I
could do for now, Re and I decided to go to dinner. We've both been
dreaming of dim sum for a while now, so once again, we found
ourselves walking down Lebuh Cintra to De Tai Tong restaurant. As
usual, the food was excellent, the service was friendly, and we ate
too much. After walking around town a bit, we made our way back to
the Star Lodge. Re came down with a vicious headache, so I left her
in the room with the lights off and posted some ride reports from the
lounge. When I flipped open the laptop, I was surprised to see that
Cam had already sent an email that he would check on parts
availability for me in the morning, and if the parts were in stock,
he would send them out by noon on Monday. Wow!</i></span></span></div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-6833601936075936522012-06-03T02:46:00.001-07:002012-06-03T02:46:22.113-07:00Thaisland Part III: Koh Phangan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-sHWb9xc/0/M/P1000403-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-sHWb9xc/0/M/P1000403-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More view from the ferry to Koh Phangan- it's purrrty!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">There was a massive storm overnight that killed the
power, and it didn't return until about 7:00 am. Consequently, there
was no A/C or even a fan. This made for a very hot and sweaty night
(not the good kind).</span> </i>Although it was a miserably moist night
without much sleep because of my insane itching (I even woke Colin with my scratching several times), I felt, overall, better in the
morning. I was able to walk down the road to the 7Eleven to get
coffee and yogurt without keeling over. If only I could ditch the
rash! It was painful to wear my sandals, which have a textured base,
but it hurt even more to go barefoot. <i> </i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-zcM29wp/0/M/P1000410-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-zcM29wp/0/M/P1000410-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of many gorgeous sunsets on Koh Phangan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>The morning was beautifully
clear after last night's toad strangler, so I set myself on the
porch, while Re walked out to the 7Eleven (yes, they even have them
in paradise). We spent the rest of the morning reading on the porch
and generally being lazy. Around lunchtime, we made the quarter mile
walk into town and had a lunch of curries at a small Thai place.
Back at the bungalow, we did some more reading before putting on
sunscreen to head out on the beach. The water here is fantastic-
clear and warm, and the beach is powdery, white sand. After the sun
set, we returned to the bungalow to shower and then head out to
dinner. One of the reasons our bungalow is such a good price is that
it is the end of the season. One downside to this is that all the
restaurants on the beach are basically empty. We chose the best
sounding place and sat down at a table on the beach. We spent the
next ten minutes trying to get the attention of a waiter or waitress,
but to no avail. While we sat there, we both decided that the
poutine at Crave sounded pretty good. So we gave up and walked to
Crave via the main road. Unsurprisingly, the poutine was delicious.
Re had hers with ground beef, and I chose pulled pork. While we
waited for our food to arrive, we made use of their free wifi to
research dengue fever.</i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;">After reading an online list of the
symptoms, we are both pretty certain that I have dengue fever. It
starts with a high-ish fever accompanied by severe aching, then you
feel better, then the fever returns, then nausea and vomiting may set
in, then a pink, itchy rash may appear, starting with tender palms
and soles. <i>Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick...</i>yup, that about
sums it up. Classic dengue fever. We had no idea, because the
symptoms didn't occur simultaneously. Anyway, there's nothing to do
for it but rest, take analgesics for the aches, and drink lots of
fluids. I added antihistamines for the itching, but there's no
miracle fix that a doctor can provide. Just for education purposes,
dengue fever is transmitted by mosquitoes (yet another reason to
despise them). There are four serotypes of the disease, and having
one of them gives you immunity to that serotype only. If you get
dengue fever again, you are likely to have a much worse time of it.
The ultimate variety is the hemorrhagic version which will put you in
the hospital and can be fatal. Yaaayyyyy... Dengue is coming to a
tropical paradise near you- there have been outbreaks in the Caribbean, Central America, Mexico, and in<b> </b><i>Key West, Florida</i><b> </b>(in 2009), so
<i><b>USE BUG SPRAY</b>!!!!!!! </i>In the grand scheme of mosquito-borne
diseases, there are certainly worse ones (malaria and Japanese
encephalitis to name two) to get, but I would strongly advocate
avoiding it. </span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-px3mcnK/0/M/P1000416-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-px3mcnK/0/M/P1000416-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our bungalow </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;">We spent six nights on Koh Phangan, relaxing in the
hammock on our porch or on the sand, reading, swimming, walking on
the beach, and scratching (just me). In and amongst our busy daily
schedule, I managed to squeeze in a beachside massage one afternoon
as well. The woman knelt on me, pulled my limbs all a-kilter, and
rubbed with her elbows until I felt like a puddle of jelly. We also
got to enjoy a couple more huge, overnight thunderstorms (minus the
power outages, thankfully). One night, the winds blew so hard, that water
actually came in around the windows! It was quite a light show on
the water that night. </span>
</div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-pwCz7nv/0/M/P1000414-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-pwCz7nv/0/M/P1000414-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the green light isn't an UFO, it's a squid boat on the water</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Our original plan had been to spend a couple of nights
on one beach and then move to another one for another few nights.
But since our bungalow was so comfortable and cheap, and the food was
so good, we decided to stay put on Had Yao for the entire time (also
because we didn't know if Colin's clutch would make it over the next
hill, let alone back to the ferry dock when we did need to go). We
finally found our island paradise! Since we were there during the
off-season, there were very few people on the beach, and every place
was quiet. My appetite returned over the next several days, and I am
sure the restaurant proprietors were quite pleased to have us as
guests. We found a great beachfront place where we ate dinner three
nights, trying a variety of curries and pastas with fresh squid and
prawns, green papaya salads, tempura vegetables (try pumpkin, enoki
mushrooms, and green beans sometime, in addition to your onions and
broccoli), and we returned to Crave one more time (Okay, now try a burger
topped with melted brie, crispy bacon, and homemade mayonnaise. Then have a pulled pork sandwich with bleu cheese, homemade pickled
jalapenos, and bbq sauce as a patty melt. Muy delicioso!).</span></div>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-4bFknfS/0/M/IMG0370-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-4bFknfS/0/M/IMG0370-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Listening to some tunes on the ferry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;">This too, had to come to an end (so we wouldn't grow roots), so after six days, we rose early (5:00 am) and rode to catch the 7:00 ferry back to the mainland. :^( Colin's bike made the journey to the port without event, and we arrived at the ferry dock with plenty of time. The morning was sunny and breezy, and because of the winds (I guess), the return boat ride took about an hour longer than the outbound trip. </span>
</div>
<div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<i><span style="font-size: small;">On the ride we met a Swiss couple who were riding their
bicycles from Switzerland to New Zealand. We spent some time
chatting with them before plugging in our earbuds, plopping ourselves
on the deck, and watching the islands slowly slide by. It was a
beautiful morning, with clear skies and a nice breeze. Around 10:15
am, the ferry docked at Don Sak and we were, once again, riding
toward Malaysia. </span></i>
</div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-65226192091672983662012-06-03T01:14:00.002-07:002012-06-03T01:14:29.836-07:00Alive and Itching: Ride to Koh Phangan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-cRnG6rS/0/M/P1000402-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-cRnG6rS/0/M/P1000402-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Raja ferry to Koh Phangan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">To end the suspense, I did
wake the next morning. Without feeling nauseous! The itch on my
hands and feet, however, spread everywhere else overnight, and I had
a rosy, flat rash from my neck (but not my face) to my feet. My
palms were as red as those of an adolescent boy in the midst of
“self-discovery.” It was truly awesome. I managed to eat the
remaining package of crackers and drink the second "</span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>faux</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">terade"
Colin brought me last night for breakfast, showered, and felt pretty
okay (except for my need to scratch). Colin loaded the bikes once
again under a clear, blue sky, and we hit the road at 8:40 am to
catch the 10:00 ferry to Koh Phangan. <i>Aaaagghh</i> we were <i>late</i>! </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-Ch2ppTg/0/M/P1000404-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-Ch2ppTg/0/M/P1000404-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">view from the ferry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">Typically, if we
get a late start, it really doesn't matter in the grand scheme of
things. But this morning, we had a 35 mile ride to get to the ferry,
and with our cruising speed reduced by Colin's failing clutch, we
were hard-pressed to make it in time. Traffic was relatively
light, and the weather cooperated, so we made decent enough time, but
about 20 miles into the trip, the crackers and syrupy sweet
electrolyte drink I ate for breakfast wanted to make a second
appearance. I signaled for Colin to slow down to ask how much
farther (because I really wasn't concentrating on my odometer at that
moment). Since we were over halfway there and really didn't want to
miss the ferry, I said I was alright to keep going t0 the ferry
(C0lin did remind me that if I felt the need to hurl, to open my face
shield beforehand (good advice)). So we did, arriving at the ticket
booth for the car ferry with about ten minutes to spare. I used the
time wisely and ran to the restroom to barf. Feeling much improved
afterward, I stopped in the convenience store and bought some water
and potato chips (they're good queasy food to me for some reason) and
then rushed back to get on the bike, since Colin said they'd sounded
the horn to </span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>GO!</i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">
while I was inside. </span><i> </i><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>As
soon as we rode down the ramp onto the boat, they raised the ramp and
got underway. Fortunately for Re, the ferry was huge, so the ride
was smooth. Re was able to eat some food on board and generally felt
better before we arrived at Koh Phangan. </i></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>The ferry docked at around
noon, and we rode off into a scorching hot day. We didn't know where
we were going to stay but had written down the names of some
promising beaches to scout. The beaches we were interested in were
on the northwestern coast, so we headed in that direction, through
the center of the island. Once we reached the north shore, we turned
left onto a smaller road that was extremely hilly. As we made our
way south down the west coast, my hill climbing ability continued to
diminish. Just before we got to Had Yao (Long Beach) I found myself
in first gear, only at about a quarter throttle, and actually
duck-walking my bike over the top of a hill. Afraid to go any
further, we decided to stay in Had Yao. Re started scouting
bungalows, and soon returned with great news- she found us a beachfront bungalow, with A/C,
a fridge, and a hot shower for only 600 baht. </i></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #990000; font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>The beach here is
beautiful, Re is feeling better, so maybe things are looking up. We
spent the afternoon relaxing and walking on the beach before turning
our attention to dinner. In one of the little tourist guides in our
bungalow, there was a review of a restaurant here in Had Yao called,
Crave. The reviewer said they serve excellent burgers, and since the
owner/chef is French Canadian, they also make some great poutine.
Both of us have been craving a really good burger for a long time, so
we decided to try it for dinner. Today actually is our 23</i></span><sup style="color: #990000;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i>rd</i></span></sup><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">
wedding anniversary, which gave us all the more reason to skip a
cheap Thai meal and splurge on something different. Crave lived up
to the review, with great food and friendly owners. I had a thick,
juicy, most excellent burger with real blue cheese, sauteed
mushrooms, and onions, while Re had the “Monster Meatloaf,” which
was a one-inch thick slab of meatloaf on a bun, with bbq sauce and
homemade dill pickle rings. Their fries were excellent as well, and
we really enjoyed our meal.</span> </i></span><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;">I
was definitely on the mend, but I couldn't finish my dinner. Colin
didn't mind though, he reaped the benefits and cleaned my plate. </span></span>
</div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-25816688870194072272012-05-20T02:57:00.001-07:002012-05-20T03:13:10.038-07:00I'm Not Dead, So We're going to Surat Thani.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">I had to get out of there.
I don't like being sick and am definitely not good at it. I had pretty much
decided that no matter what, if I wasn't dead, we were going to move
on to Surat Thani the next morning. But my body decided that it
hated me and added yet another new symptom overnight- nausea
accompanied by vomiting. Undeterred by this new development, I went
out and got cereal and yogurt, <i>had</i> <i>dry heaves</i> (yay.) when I returned, ate, felt better. Colin was unconvinced by my
pronouncement that I was fine, but I told him there was no way I
could spend another day in bed, we had to <i>go</i>.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So we finished
packing, loaded the bikes, and took off for Surat Thani. As par for
the course, a gentle rain began to fall as we left. It rained, on
and off, for most of the day. I actually did feel pretty decent for
most of the morning, but toward lunchtime, my nausea returned. Colin
spotted a roadside bbq chicken stand, and we pulled over. Hoping
that putting something in my stomach would settle it, I nibbled on a
chicken leg and ate a few balls of sticky rice before handing the
remainder over to Colin to finish. Once we were back on the road and I'd
had a few minutes to digest the food offering, I did actually feel
better. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We continued on our ride, and the rain continued to fall
intermittently. In one of the sunny breaks between the raindrops, we
stopped to refuel the bikes. After filling the tanks, I sat down
next to my bike (feeling a sudden and urgent need to nap), while Colin adjusted
his clutch in an attempt to reduce the slipping (unfortunately, the
recent oil change didn't fix it). <i><span style="color: #990000;">I still had the 14mm wrench in
my daypack from my brake adjustment in Koh Lanta, so I didn't even
have to get off the bike to adjust it. Extremely bad move. Sitting
in the seat, I leaned my head over, put the wrench on the nut that
locks the clutch adjuster, and gave it a turn. It seemed stubborn,
so I pushed a little harder. And then I felt the unmistakeable feel
of bolt threads collapsing. Somehow, from my vantage point in the
seat, I was not loosening the bolt, I was tightening it. I got off
the bike, attempted to loosen the lock nut this time, and to my
dismay, the nut simply rotated in place. To make matters worse,
there was now oil dribbling out from around the clutch adjustment
bolt. The clutch adjustment bolt sticks out through the engine side
cover and passes through an oil seal on the way. Between the lock
nut and the engine side cover, is a washer. Apparently, if this
washer is not held tightly to the side cover, the oil seal doesn't
really seal. Now that the lock nut was stripped and loose, oil was
dribbling out. Oh no. We broke out the tools, and after much
fiddling, were able to get the lock nut off the clutch adjustment
bolt. I had hoped to have only stripped the nut, but unfortunately,
the threads in both the nut and the bolt were crushed. There were a
few good threads left on the bolt near the oil seal (they had been
protected by the washer), and so we looked around on the bike for
another nut that could maybe work on the bolt. We couldn't find
another suitable nut, so I gingerly threaded the stripped nut back
onto the bolt and hoped that it would catch on the remaining threads.
It did, and so I tightened it as much as I dared. It seemed to be
holding the adjuster, and so I reached up and thumbed the started
button, only to watch oil come pouring past the nut. Huh (that's not
actually what I said, over, and over, and over). We were in the
middle of the countryside, with no real place to get parts or help,
so we needed to fix this now. I explained what was going on to Re,
and she said, why don't we just use some Gorilla Tape? I think she
meant to use the sticky side against the engine case</span> </i>(that was what I meant)<i>, <span style="color: #990000;">which might
hold the oil in momentarily, but not for long. But it was still a
good idea, which I changed a little bit. We took a small piece of
Gorilla Tape, folded it over, sticky side to sticky side, and then
cut a tiny hole in the center. We slipped it over the clutch
adjuster bolt, carefully pressed it against the oil seal and engine
side cover, and then threaded the nut on top. Basically, the double
layer of Gorilla Tape was taking the place of the washer. We
adjusted the clutch and then carefully tightened the nut as much as
we dared, crossed our fingers, and I reached up and thumbed the
starter. Yay! No oil ran out this time</span></i><span style="color: #990000;">. </span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">For the remaining 60
mile ride to Surat Thani, every five miles, I rode up next to Colin's
bike to inspect it for leaks. It was a pleasant surprise to us both
that the tape held for the entire journey! But the break in the rain
did not. As we neared the city of Surat Thani, somebody pulled the
rain lever again. It poured. When it turned into a veritable
deluge, we decided to seek shelter and pulled off the road under an
overpass for half an hour, during which time, the rain didn't even
stutter. Since it was getting late, and riding in the rain <i>and</i>
the dark while searching for a hotel in a city for which you don't
have a map is even less fun, we forged on. We did manage to find the
hotel we were looking for after another 45 minutes of riding (no it's
not the only place in town, and we did stop at others along the way,
but as soon as I would reach the reception desk, they all said,
“full,” so we kept looking). </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When we arrived and the woman at
the counter said they had rooms, even though the rate was 100 baht more than the online rate, I was delighted. Cold and soaking
wet (the reception lady actually had to get a towel to soak up the
puddle under my arm as I completed the registration form) feeling
like crap again, but delighted. While Colin unloaded the bikes, I
carried our helmets and daypacks to the room and got out of my riding
suit. I was chilled and thought a nice, hot shower would help, but
first, I had to stop to worship the porcelain god and make an
offering of dry heaves. Once showered, warmed, and dried, I climbed
under the covers and went to sleep. Since I really didn't feel like
eating anything, and it was now dinnertime, Colin walked out to the
market and found some pork and noodle soup for himself, and returned
with soda water and crackers for me (he is such a sweetheart!).
Then, since I thought I might like a Gatorade, he went <i>back</i>
out and brought me two of the Thai version of Gatorade (much sweeter
and more syrupy) as well. The crackers and soda were sitting well,
so I drank one of the <i>faux</i>torades. It sat well, and I felt
much better. Except that now, my palms and soles of my feet were
tender and itchy (could this really get any worse?). Doing my best
to ignore them, I brushed my teeth, got back under the covers, and
went to sleep for the night.</span></span></div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-66762138557435257132012-05-18T06:24:00.001-07:002012-05-18T06:24:30.023-07:00Thaisland Part II, Phuket (You Give Me Fever)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-nN2MtPQ/0/M/P1000390-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-nN2MtPQ/0/M/P1000390-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">floating fishing village on the way to Phuket</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next stop on our island
tour was Phuket, which is the largest of the Thai islands and
accessible by bridge from the mainland. <i style="color: #990000;">A peek out the window
this morning revealed that the sky was still overcast and a bit
threatening, so we decided to push on to Phuket Town today. When we pulled out, we were happy to see that
the sky had begun to clear. Today's ride was very much like
yesterday's, scenery wise, with jungle covered hills and the
occasional exposed limestone face. The bad news is that my clutch is
slipping more frequently. Come on, oil change. </i></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-nCR7wXV/0/M/P1000391-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-nCR7wXV/0/M/P1000391-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A very happy Colin w/ his fired grums and crispy pork</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">As we passed
Phang-Nga, the sky grew rapidly darker, the humidity increased, and
inevitably, it began to rain. The rain quickly gathered strength to
become a pretty steady downpour. The rain continued on and off, all
the way to the bridge to the island of Phuket. Once we crossed the
bridge, the sky became a mixture of dark clouds and patches of blue.</span>
</i>We made our way down the island, following the signs and the GPS
to Phuket Town and found the Nanachart Mansion (which is not in the
GPS or on our map) after only a minor wrong turn. We stayed here the
last time, and the price is still the same, the woman behind the desk
is the same, and they still don't want you to bring durian into the
Nanachart according to the signs on the walls (durian is a much-beloved
fruit in southeast Asia which smells more like rotting onions and
farts to me. We've tried it, didn't care for it, but have pledged to try it
again to be fair. Just not in the Nanachart). The hotel is nothing fancy, but
they have secure parking, they've added wifi, and it has the big
advantage of being just two blocks from the hole in the wall
restaurant serving the best “fired grums and crispy pork”
(sauteed morning glory greens and delicious fried pork is how it
translates) in this world. That we really came all the way to Phuket
just to eat the grums and pork is a telling (sad, but telling)
statement to their taste. We pulled the bikes into the parking area
and carried our bags upstairs to settle in for a couple of days.
That done, we headed out to grab a quick bowl of noodle soup for
lunch (followed by a Blizzard- yay- Thailand is also DQ country), and
then returned to the room to make use of the wifi for a while, having
been without internet for a week. When dinnertime rolled around, and
basically, we were counting the minutes until it did, guess what we
had? <i>Fired grums and crispy pork</i>, tofu with minced pork, and
rice. Ooooh, it was as good as we remembered.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-fLV833J/0/M/P1000397-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-fLV833J/0/M/P1000397-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Phuket coast from a scenic overlook</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">There really isn't a whole
lot to do in Phuket Town itself – it's the original city on the
island and does have many charming old shophouses similar to the ones
we love in Georgetown, but it has good availability of services and
is a convenient base from which to explore more of the island. When
we were in Thailand two years ago, we spent just a couple of days in
Phuket to visit our friend, Bernie, whom we met in Georgetown,
Penang. The most popular of its beaches (and the ickiest) is Patong,
a showcase of everything that could possibly be wrong in an island
paradise. Endless rows of fast food chains, bars, lounges, discos,
clubs, t-shirt stands, massage parlors, hotels, condos, you name it,
you have at least 183 choices in each category. Seemingly millions
of tourists, all lined up on their beach chaises, with mere inches
between them. And the majority of them are leathery, old Europeans,
wearing what we've learned are called, “budgie smugglers,” (aka
Speedos), or thongs and bare breasts so tanned (in texture as well as
color), that Colin describes them as looking like two Coach bags laid
out on the women's torsos. This is definitely <i>not</i> what we
were looking for. We did want to try to cross paths with Bernie, and
he hangs out near Patong, so we figured we'd end up there briefly
this time. The island of Phuket is <i>huge</i>, however, and from
what we read, has many much more beautiful and less populated
beaches. On our first full day there, we decided to ride around the
island and find some of them. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-jBQ7Vnd/0/M/P1000394-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-jBQ7Vnd/0/M/P1000394-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Small island off Phuket</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When we left the Nanachart,
the sky was a mixed bag of bright blue and rainclouds, depending on
the direction we looked. Since we are getting awfully close to the
start of the rainy season, it's not surprising, and being optimists,
we decided to head out, toward the blue. We followed the road along
the southeast of the island, stopping to look at the large port area,
before riding around the southern tip and up the west coast. We rode
past many pretty beaches, through some fairly scenic green, very
hilly areas (Colin and his clutch did not enjoy the steep inclines.
He still hopes that an oil change will help), and pulling off at
several places to mark them in the GPS so we could find them again.
As we continued north, the sky just got darker. We had reached ugly
Patong Beach and looked in the area we knew Bernie to prefer, but
didn't find him. <i><span style="color: #990000;">Bernie is a creature of habit, and his habit has
been to be at a certain spot in the water after lunch. We didn't get
a reply to our email, so we decided to try to catch him by chance.</span>
</i>When we got back to the bikes, the first drops began to fall, so
instead of following our original plan to ride even farther north, we
decided to cross the island back to Phuket Town. About five minutes
after we started riding, the rain gods switched from their sprinklers
to their buckets. It rained, and rained until we arrived at the
Nanachart. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After changing out of our drenched clothes, I took our
grubby laundry to a real, mechanical laundromat (a row of six washing
machines under a large awning on the backside of a building). It was
worth 20 baht (66 cents) to let a machine scrub it for a change. As a side note, it is possible to have laundry done for you anywhere in
the world, and many places, it's pretty cheap (usually between 1 and
2 USD per kg). In a lot of the laundries, someone washes everything by hand, in a bucket, in a river, lake, swale, wherever there is fresh-ish water. If it's going to get hand washed, I'll do it myself in the sink, or in a bucket if there's one around, and hang
it on the clothesline we brought with us. I left our things sloshing
in the machine for 45 minutes and returned to the room, not feeling
very well. I napped until it was time to pick up the laundry and felt
a little better after sleeping, but still was achy.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That night, I
hardly slept. Every part of me hurt, from my bones to my skin, my
joints felt as though the cartilage had been ground off to leave the
bone rubbing on bone, and no matter how I tried to roll, I couldn't
find a comfortable position.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When I got up in the
morning, I threw on my clothes and walked down the street to the
7Eleven for cereal and yogurt and a big bottle of water, still
feeling really achy, but otherwise okay. But as I stood at the
counter, waiting to pay, I suddenly felt clammy, and unable to keep
my eyes open. Standing there, waiting for change, I just needed to
rest my head for a moment. The next thing I knew, one of the
cashiers was rubbing my shoulder, and I had my arms around the water
bottle with my head propped on top of it. I had passed out on the
counter at the 7Eleven. Nice. Recognizing this as a symptom of
being “not well,” I walked back to the room, dropped the bag, and
more or less, collapsed back into bed while relating what just
happened to Colin. Since I felt faint, clammy, warm, and achy, he
suspected I had a fever and offered to get the thermometer from our
first aid kit. I declined, and went to sleep, spending the rest of
the day in bed with Colin playing nursemaid and running out to find
paracetamol and drinks for me. Later in the afternoon, since I still
felt like hell, he got the thermometer, and sure enough, I had a
fever of about 102. He did an online search of my symptoms and the
most likely diagnosis was some sort of flu or generalized viral
infection. Further down the list of possibilities were cat scratch
fever and dengue fever. No matter what it was, I hurt and didn't
feel up to leaving the room, so Colin continued in his role of errand
boy and brought me a chicken sandwich for dinner. That night, I
slept poorly again because of the pain, but my fever did seem to drop
overnight. I felt much improved the following morning, and after
eating the roti with chicken curry that Colin brought back for
breakfast, I felt good enough to get out of the room. I suggested
riding to one of the other, nicer beaches, since sitting in the sand
with a book in hand sounded far more appealing than spending another
day in bed. After convincing him that yes, I really did feel better,
and promising to let him know immediately if my status changed, we
geared up and hit the road. We decided to go to Banana Beach, which
appeared positively idyllic in the online pics. Unfortunately, the
photos were not representative of what we found when we got there.
The beach was strewn with trash, including a multitude of fluorescent
tubes covered in barnacles that had washed up, and the surface of the
water was also littered with debris. We didn't stick around.
Disappointed, we decided to try for one of the beaches we saw on our
“beach scoping” ride, but about halfway there, I began to feel
poorly again. So we turned around instead to go back to the hotel.
The sky had turned a dark gray, at this point, and seemed much lower
than on our outbound trip. We <i>almost</i> made it back before the
rain started falling in earnest and rode the last mile in the pouring
rain. After changing into dry clothes, we walked round the corner to
get a bowl of noodle soup for lunch (since it had stopped raining
already). I then slept the rest of the afternoon away. My fever was
back, but only about two degrees higher than normal. I woke up in
time for dinner, and we returned for some more fired grums and crispy
pork and a bowl of tom yam soup with prawns. Then I went back to
sleep. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">What the hell was this?!? I
couldn't sleep again overnight because of the deep aches, which
popping paracetamol in the middle of the night barely touched. My
temperature was still around 100, and now my elbows itched. I became
acquainted with the heartbreak of psoriasis, only at the elbows, in
the year before we left on this trip. It hasn't flared up in several
months (I think a good dose of sunshine really does help), but I now
had the familiar, urgent and insane need to scratch my itchy elbows,
but nowhere else, and with no other symptoms. In any case, my level
of itching and aching wasn't enough to keep me in bed (I make a
really bad patient) and we had things to do.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We needed to do some bike
maintenance, so after breakfast, we changed the oil in both engines,
put in new sparkplugs, and adjusted Colin's clutch, hopefully,
solving its issues before our next ride. We had wanted to leave
today for Surat Thani, but between my wavering healthiness and the
rain that starting pouring from the sky shortly after we finished
working on the bikes, staying put for one more day made better sense.
After cleaning up, we walked around the corner to a<span style="color: #990000;"> </span><i><span style="color: #990000;">different
local restaurant that always seems to be full when we pass by. And
we found out why. Phuket was also a stop along the old trade route
plied by ships between China and points westward, and so there was,
and still is, a Chinese presence on the island. In addition to the
architecture and culture, they also brought (more importantly to us)
food. What this restaurant served was a version of the Hainanese
chicken and rice and pork and rice that we enjoy so much in Malaysia.
We ordered the combination plate that included chicken, roast pork,
and crispy pork on rice, with their local versions of the dipping
sauces. While different from what we've had before, they were a
delicious variation on some of our favorite foods. While whatever Re
has hasn't seemed to dampen her appetite much, it has dampened her
spirits. She is certainly frustrated with feeling this badly, and
reluctantly returned to the room since she wasn't feeling well enough
to do anything else today. She is still popping paracetamol and has
begun to get progressively itchier. We spent the afternoon working
on some more writing and reading and planning our escape to the
islands in the Gulf. We were both getting a little stir-crazy by
dinnertime, so we walked out for dinner around 7:00 pm. I offered to
pick up dinner and bring it back to the room, but Re is really tired
of the same four walls. Neither of us had a strong opinion about
where to go for dinner, so we ended up at McDonald's. There are
plenty of other food options in Phuket Town, but I think a taste of
home (no matter how greasy) was attractive to us both, and the fact
that the Dairy Queen was next door didn't hurt either. After another
Blizzard, we went back to the room for the night. </span> </i></span></span>
</div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-82204685581950503022012-05-13T01:20:00.001-07:002012-05-13T01:20:34.825-07:00Krabi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-MjPbQnP/0/M/P1000377-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-MjPbQnP/0/M/P1000377-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The river in Krabi Town</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After five days in Koh
Lanta, we decided it was time to move on. The morning we left, Colin
loaded the bikes while I walked into town to pick up breakfast. On
my return stroll, as I looked down at the ground to avoid stepping
off the pavement/into a hole/on something gross, a snake slithered
across my path and into the grass on the side of the road. I paused
to say hello (yes, I know it's odd to give pleasantries to animals,
but I do) and admire its beautiful coloration – it had a red head
and bluish body and was maybe 24 inches long, before continuing on my
way. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> We ate our breakfast (yogurt and cereal from the 7Eleven again)
and then walked over to the Hutyee Bungalows to say goodbye to Mr
Hutyee and give Turbo Dave one last cuddle before we geared up and
rode away. We took the two ferries back to the mainland and rode
north toward Krabi Town. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-r8MP59B/0/M/P1000378-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-r8MP59B/0/M/P1000378-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sculpture on the riverfront in Krabi</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The scenery in this part of the country is
absolutely gorgeous, with limestone karsts covered in lush greenery
rising out of the ground in every direction. It was a short trip to
Krabi, and we arrived sometime around noon. Since our guidebook
doesn't say much about the town, besides the fact that it's a jumping
off point for some of the islands off the coast, we decided to ride
through and have a look around. If it seemed nice, we'd stay, if
not, we'd continue on to Phuket. After riding on the main street, we
decided to stay. We found a room for the night and went for a walk
along the riverfront, stopping to eat lunch from the local market on
the way. After enjoying our sticky rice, and fried chicken on the
riverfront promenade, we decided to do the mangrove walk we'd seen
signs for on the way into town. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-wRkFVCj/0/M/P1000386-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-wRkFVCj/0/M/P1000386-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a tiny very blue crab in the mangroves</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">A glance at the sky showed that it
was getting awfully dark in the direction we were headed. And I
neglected to put our rain jackets in my daypack before we left the
room. Never liking to backtrack, and feeling optimistic about the
weather, we forged onward to the mangroves. The raised walkway wound
through the mangrove trees, past muddy flats with tiny crabs in
multiple and unbelievable colors (see pictures). We'd spent maybe 20
to 30 minutes on the walk when we heard rumbles of thunder, saw
lightning flashed, and noticed that the sky through the trees had
gotten even darker. At that, we decided we'd seen enough and turned
around to hopefully miss the big rain that now seemed imminent. As
we exited the trees and walked hurriedly to the road, the rain began
to fall. About ten minutes into our trot back to the room, the sky
opened and dumped buckets. We kept walking, staying under the
business awnings when we could, until we could go no further without
making a mad dash through the streets. After waiting for about a
half an hour for the rain to taper off, we gave up and made a run for
it, arriving at our hotel completely soaked. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtRP_rj1GY54gvOXyxU90tLzViPaUuPtRVu4fdOCB5zzxIzPptrw-k4bRCyU-_KBpxRjUKAmJZOohSQaJ6NfN0vWPOg73TW7GNAQ-D7KNkB6Ac0VICtAun5JbdBxSoEw8wYCOTcNOPmk/s1600/red-headed-krait1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtRP_rj1GY54gvOXyxU90tLzViPaUuPtRVu4fdOCB5zzxIzPptrw-k4bRCyU-_KBpxRjUKAmJZOohSQaJ6NfN0vWPOg73TW7GNAQ-D7KNkB6Ac0VICtAun5JbdBxSoEw8wYCOTcNOPmk/s320/red-headed-krait1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">a red-headed krait</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Since it was still
raining, we spent some time on the internet, catching up on the news
of the last week. And looking up the pretty snake I saw on Koh Lanta
that morning. I think it may very well have been a red-headed krait.
Their range includes southern Thailand, they're beautiful, shy, and
extremely poisonous. Hmmm. Glad I didn't try to pick it up! When
dinnertime rolled around, the rain had basically stopped, so we
walked down to the now even bigger market. The array of choices was
close to overwhelming, but we selected several noodle dishes, some
grilled squid on skewers, a salad, and some fried sausages in
wrappers. Yum. </span></span>
</div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-72194638149725370482012-05-13T00:21:00.002-07:002012-05-13T00:21:25.921-07:00Thaisland I: Koh Lanta<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-nmkk2xq/0/M/P1000366-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-nmkk2xq/0/M/P1000366-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We spent five days on the
island of Koh Lanta (it's on the west coast of southern Thailand,
accessed by two short ferry hops from the mainland to the Koh Lanta
Noi, then another ferry to Koh Lanta Yai). Since we were going to be
there over Songkran, which is the Thai New Year, and we had no idea
how busy it might be, we actually did something we rarely do: we made
a reservation. We had a bungalow, at the Nautilus “Resort,”
about 200 feet from the beach, with a porch, big windows, a fan, and
an outdoor bathroom (taking a shower in the open air, in a rainstorm,
is a strange experience, let me tell you), and no internet access.
It was comfortable and clean, and very quiet. A couple of nights, we
were the only staying guests (obviously, we worried needlessly about
reservations). We spent most of our days catching up on some
reading, some thinking, and looking for seashells on the beach. Oh,
but not all was idyllic.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our first evening, we
decided to ride our bikes to find some dinner. On the dirt road out
of our bungalows, Colin hit a bump, and afterward, his bike started
making a noise like there was something rubbing inside the chain
case. We pulled off the side of the paved road, under a street lamp,
to find the source of the noise. Damn it, it was the stupid bolts
that hold the stupid sprocket to the stupid hub...AGAIN. Two of them
were loose. Since it was getting dark, and neither of us felt like
dealing with it there on the side of the road, we limped back to the
bungalow, stopping at a small roadside restaurant for some noodles
for dinner on the way, and vowed to work on the bike tomorrow.</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">So that's what we did the
next morning. <span style="color: #990000;"> </span><i><span style="color: #990000;">We unrolled the tarp and got to work repairing my
rear hub. We went through the now too familiar process of removing
the rear wheel and rear hub. A quick inspection showed that two of
the bolts had backed off by several threads, one was starting to
loosen, leaving only one still snugly fastened. We once again, put
it back together with Loctite and as much torque as I could put on
it. I received an email from an experience mechanic who suggested
that our problem now was probably due to the threading being
overstretched, and that replacing the bolts and nuts is next step.
Both Re and I seem to be infected with a bit of forgetfulness, since
I got the rear wheel completely installed without reinstalling the
chain (doh!) and Re reattached the brake rod without the spring
(double doh!). We should be able to do this in our sleep by now.</span> </i>We
eventually did get it all put back together, with all the parts seemingly in
place. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">With that job finished, we hit the
water for a quick dip and then settled ourselves in one of the
berugas (a raised bamboo platform with a thatched roof) to read. Later that afternoon, as Colin and I hunted shells, two local
men ran onto the beach, waving their arms at us and the one other
person on the beach, and told us we needed to get off the beach.
Curious, we asked why? Because. (okay, not just because). They had
just received news of a strong earthquake off the coast of Indonesia,
and the news was accompanied by a tsunami warning, which certainly
made it sound like a good time to get off the beach. As we stepped
from the beach onto the lawn, we watched as the managers and their
daughter loaded their suitcases (and their pet rabbit) and then
themselves into a car and drove away. So much for getting more info
about the situation. Wondering what we needed to do and where to go,
we returned to the bungalow and packed our essentials (documents,
money, keys) and had them ready at the door to go if we needed to
leave in a hurry. Everything else, we hung up as high as we could
inside the bungalow, and then we went back to have a seat in one of
the berugas that overlooked the water at the edge of the lawn. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-7nz2vh2/0/M/P1000372-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-7nz2vh2/0/M/P1000372-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turbo Dave</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As we
sat there, Mr Hutyee, who owns the Hutyee Boat Bungalows (in the
forest behind the beach where we were staying), strolled over and sat
down with us in the beruga and said that he was on this very beach
when the Boxing Day tsunami hit in 2004. He told us how the water
receded quickly by between a half and one kilometer, leaving all
sorts of fish out of water (he said many people were out on the sand
picking up the fish). Between 20 and 30 minutes after the water
receded, he saw a tall, black wall of water moving toward the shore,
and it rushed in and flooded the land. The wave of water hit the
beach and covered the ground where the bungalows sat with about two
feet of water. He told us that if we saw the water recede rapidly,
it would probably be a good time to hightail it out of there and get
to higher ground. Good to know! Fortunately, there is plenty of
easily reached, higher ground on Koh Lanta. So we sat in the beruga
with our new buddy, Turbo Dave (a resident, wide-open, maybe 8-week
old kitten) and waited for something to happen. And we waited some
more. And...some more. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When the sun finally started to set and the
tide hadn't really gone much farther in either direction, we figured
it was safe to eat. We rode up to the main street to look for some
dinner, only to find that the majority of businesses were shuttered.
We did find one restaurant open and <i>jumping </i>(lack of
competition will do that) and enjoyed the first of many delicious
meals at a place called Jumrat. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As we sat on our porch
drinking coffee the following morning, we watched as the Nautilus's
managers, who had returned sometime during the night, shuffled, very
slowly, toward us. When they reached the lawn directly in front of
us, the husband said that they had looked for us the day before, to
let us know about the tsunami warning. When Colin told them that we
were on the beach just in front of the bungalows, and that I had
seen them loading up to leave, they both looked shocked and rather
appalled. They sheepishly apologized for not finding us the
previous afternoon and stood there, as if waiting for the judge to announce their
sentences. Neither of us was upset about the situation - we
had the information we needed to make a decision, and we were as
prepared as we could be. <i style="color: #990000;">Uncomfortable with the situation, we
told them about what we saw and experienced while we waited and
related Mr Hutyee's story to them also. They looked even more
surprised that we hadn't evacuated when we heard about the tsunami
warning and said as much. We explained that we aren't very bright.
We told them of times we've gone to the beach in North Carolina
during hurricanes and snuck into the water while the beaches were
closed. They looked even more confused, and after spending some more
time silently looking at the ground and each other, they left. Very
strange. Our biggest concern of the morning was that Turbo Dave, the
little kitten, was nowhere to be seen. Hopefully he's okay, but we
missed seeing him at breakfast.</i></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-gjCRrpd/0/M/P1000368-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-gjCRrpd/0/M/P1000368-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That afternoon, we decided
to ride all the way around the island to check out the scenery and
see some of the other beaches. Koh Lanta is quite beautiful and very
hilly, with one road that runs nearly all the way around the
perimeter and several other roads crossing the middle. The roads
really climb and wind around the hills on the island.</span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-cLRZdr9/0/M/P1000371-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-cLRZdr9/0/M/P1000371-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cashews</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> After we'd
ridden about halfway round (between 15 and 20 miles), Colin pulled
off the road and said his rear brake seemed to be dragging. He
checked it, made an adjustment, and we rode on. A few miles and
several uphill climbs later, he pulled off again and said the brake
was still misbehaving. This time, he parked it under a cashew tree
(I took a couple of pictures. It's interesting how they grow.
There's an edible fruit resembling a red or yellow pepper, and the
cashew nut grows from the base of the fruit), we got out the tools,
spread the tarp, and took the rear brake apart. Then we put it back
together. Nothing amiss, we were totally confused as to why it was
dragging, and what we did differently that now allowed it to turn
freely. Anyway, it worked, he could accelerate up the hills again,
so we continued around the island and back to our bungalow. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The following day was
Songkran, the Thai New Year. Traditionally, people clean their homes
one day. The next day, they pay respect to their elders and monks by
pouring water on their right shoulders and putting some kind of white
powder on their faces. They also wash the Buddha images with scented
water. I imagine at some point in history, it was a reverential
holiday. But not today. Now, it involves Super Soakers and large
buckets of cold water being thrown at any and everyone. We decided
in the middle of the day to ride out in hopes of finding some
festivities. <span style="color: #990000;"> </span><i style="color: #990000;">As soon as we pulled out onto the main road, we came
upon scooters whose passengers acted as tail gunners with
outlandishly huge squirt guns. These were fun to dodge and weave,
and we only got a little wet. The real menace on the roads are the
pickup trucks. These trucks ride around with several people in the
bed crowded around a 55 gallon drum full of water and usually ice.
The people in the bed use large bowls to scoop out the water on
whoever they happen to pass. We managed to avoid most of these icy
dousings, but Re did get splashed directly one time. One motorbike
ahead of us that had two large farang on it decided to overtake one
of these trucks on an uphill stretch of road, and it was not pretty.
The rider and passenger each shared four to five large bowls full of
what appeared to be very cold water as they slowly passed the truck.
We, on the other hand, waited for a downhill section and were able to
nip by, while the water throwers were still celebrating the previous
dousing. Then we got wet in earnest, as the rain clouds decided to
take part in the festivities. We pulled over to the side of the road
and put on our rain jackets for the wet ride back to the bungalow.
It seemed funny that the rain would put a damper on the water
celebration, but most of the revelers seemed to disappear when the
rain began. </i></span></span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-znddtkM/0/M/P1000376-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-znddtkM/0/M/P1000376-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin and Turbo Dave</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;">Back at the bungalow, we were a little chilly, so we
decided to walk up to the 7Eleven for some hot coffee. The shortcut
by foot to the main road cuts through Mr Hutyee's (our friend from
the tsunami watching party) bungalows. As we were passing by one of
his bungalows, we spotted Turbo on the porch! Except that it wasn't
Turbo, unless somebody had cut off his tail in the past day. Re then
spied another small kitten that looked sort of like Turbo but wasn't
him either, and then, snoozing on the porch, was the real deal. It
was Turbo. While we were petting all three of them, Mr Hutyee
appeared and asked where we were going. We told him we were heading
up for coffee, and he insisted that we join him, his son, and his
grandson for coffee. A short while later, some of the guests staying
at the Hutyee Boat bungalows showed up, wet and cold from Songkran,
and joined us all for coffee. It turns out that Turbo and his
siblings were the kittens of one of Mr Hutyee's cats, but that
recently, the daughter of our Swedish hosts had absconded with Turbo.
A couple days ago, the residents of the bungalow where the other
kittens lived, spotted Turbo on their way to the beach and brought
him back home. As it should be, since he looked too young to leave
his mother. We spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening
talking with the other Hutyee guest</i><span style="color: #990000;">s.</span><i> </i>In some ways, I
wish we'd stayed at Hutyee. Mr Hutyee was infinitely more personable
and welcoming than the Swedish couple running the Nautilus, and there
was always a crowd of interesting and energetic people staying there.
The only negative was the swarms of mosquitoes among the trees (and
I'm sure, in the bungalows as well). </span></span>
</div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-11744779226726800112012-05-06T23:54:00.003-07:002012-05-06T23:54:54.451-07:00If I Had A Boat<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-gkTrcBm/0/M/P1000365-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-gkTrcBm/0/M/P1000365-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What the...?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">As I gazed out at the waters
between the mainland and the island of Koh Lanta Noi and sniffed the
sea breeze, Colin said, “Get the camera get the camera get the
camera, now now now hurry hurry <i>hurry</i>!” Of what do we so
desperately need photographic evidence, I wondered. I scrambled to dig the
camera out of my bag, turning as I handed it to him to see what
exactly was the source of such urgency, and saw another ferryboat
going in the opposite direction. In amongst the cars and motorbikes
on the ferry, was a truck. With an elephant in the bed. I, of
course, immediately started singing the song, "If I Had a Boat" (<i>If I had a boat, I'd go out
on the ocean. If I had a pony (</i>substituting elephant<i>) I'd ride him on my boat. We could all together, go out on the ocean, me upon my pony (</i>elephant<i>) on my boat</i>) by my man, Lyle Lovett. The world is full of wonders.
</span></span>
</div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-59318950033307572922012-05-02T20:08:00.002-07:002012-05-02T20:23:51.022-07:00Georgetown, Again. Then on to Trang.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">One cannot stay in
Georgetown for one night. Since we didn't actually have to be
anywhere, we stayed in G-town for two more days. For our typical
breakfast in Georgetown, I walked around the corner to Yasmeen for
roti and coffee. My new boyfriend, Mohammad, the roti man, was so
very happy to see me return, that he gave me a big hug and kissed me
on both cheeks. He asked where I had been and said that he cried
each morning when I didn't appear. I told him we'd be here for
another couple of days anyway, which seemed to make him happy, and I would see him again in the
morning. Colin laughed when I told him about Mohammad over our roti and
coffee. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After breakfast, we headed out to a motorcycle shop to find new spark
plugs and a spare front tube. We stopped in at the Star Lodge on our way
back to see if they had a room available, and sure enough, they did, so we
carried our gear back down the block to our home away from home. <span style="color: #990000;">
</span><i><span style="color: #990000;">After changing rooms, Re decided she wanted to try a sponge she
bought in Nilai that appeared to be a type of “magic eraser”
sponge. While the metal cleans up pretty well on our bikes, the
white plastic leg shields and side covers are stained, and no amount
of scrubbing with a rag seems to make any difference. After wiping
the plastic off with a wet rag, Re went over the white bits with the
new sponge.</span> </i>I am a true believer. If someone needs a
testimonial for the “Super Sunday Sponge,” I will happily provide
one. With just a little water and even less elbow grease, the sponge
is a wonder on stained plastic and paint. It removed virtually every
scuff and scrape on the leg shields, from around the ignition, the
side covers, it even took off most of the sunburnt adhesive from the
shipping label that was stuck to my headlight surround. My bike is
much purtier now!</span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The rest of the day and most
of the next, we spent doing errands and some planning for our time in
Thailand, figuring out which of the islands have vehicle ferries.
Oh, and eating. On our way to dinner the next evening, Colin noticed
a familiar pair of Royal Enfields parked on Lebuh Chulia. We crossed
the street, and sitting in the bar area of their guesthouse were Will
and Toby! <i style="color: #990000;">When we found them, they were chatting with a German
couple who have just completed their one year motorcycle and scooter
journey from Germany to Malaysia. We didn't get their names since
they had to leave shortly after we arrived, but he rode a 650 Honda
of some sort, and she rode a 300cc step-through scooter of some sort.
Tomorrow morning, they take their bikes to the port to send them by
ship back to Europe. It was too bad that we didn't get to talk to
them more, because it sounds like they had quite an adventure as
well. </i>Will and Toby had just arrived in Georgetown that
afternoon after spending two days at Batu Ferringhi with friends from
Australia. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">They both remarked on how great the food was, saying
they'd enjoyed lunch... and a second lunch. The one thing they
hadn't found yet was a place for dim sum. Strangely enough, we knew
just the place, and since we were on our way there, they joined us,
along with two young European women they'd just met, who were also
looking for someplace good for dinner. Celine was from France, had
been traveling for several months already, and was very quiet.
XXXXXX, was a very friendly and engaging Belgian woman. I have no
earthly idea what her name was. Each of us asked numerous times, and
what she said sounded like, Hyuurngh. Colin described it as sounding
like something moaned during sex. I'm sure it had at least one
umlaut somewhere in it. The six of us traipsed down to the dim sum
place, which was jumping busy. We gathered enough stools for
everyone, ordered a pot of tea, and since the restaurant was too full
for the dim sum carts to come to us, Colin and Toby went to the carts
and picked out a bunch of goodies to try. Everything was delicious,
as usual, and we all ate until we were full. With about five pots of
tea and flaky, custardy, egg tarts for everyone for dessert, dinner
for all six of us came to 50 ringgit even (16 USD). </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Since the night
was still young, and the conversations were still flowing, Colin and
I led the way to the “corner bar.” We did forewarn them about
the rodent and scroungy dog sideshows and the all-around interesting
ambiance of the place before we got there. <i style="color: #990000;">We had told Will and
Toby about the corner bar before they invited the girls along to
dinner, but we weren't really sure that they would want to go. We
decided to leave it up to them, so I described it as best I could,
including the rats occasionally scurrying along the sidewalks. I
think they were lured by the promise of cheap beer and didn't really
believe us about the rats, so they opted to come along. We found a
table and some chairs and spent the rest of the night talking about
travel and many other subjects. One of us finally noticed that it
was 1:00 am, and since we are supposed to be riding 200 miles and
crossing into Thailand tomorrow, Re and I decided to call it a night.
It was a great evening. Hopefully tomorrow morning isn't too ugly. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;"> </i></span></span>
<br />
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Actually, the next morning
wasn't at all ugly. We got up, I walked to Yasmeen to get breakfast
and say farewell to Mohammad (he took it well. I told him we would
be back in several weeks, and he shook my hand goodbye. I'm glad he
didn't cry). We got cleaned up, loaded the bikes, and were on the
ferry to the mainland by 10:00am. The ride to the border was fast
and uneventful, and the actual border crossing was quick and easy as
well (I think we finally have the process nailed down pretty
solidly). Once across the border, we stopped at McDonald's for lunch
in air-conditioned comfort, before continuing for the city of Trang.
The ride was easy, the roads were smooth, and the weather was warm. </span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We arrived in Trang in the early evening and found our way into the
city center and to the Koh Teng Hotel, aka the 5 Star Backpacker
Hotel. The pickings amongst cheap lodgings are slim in Trang, and we
stayed at the 5 Star Backpacker for one night when we passed through
Trang on our last trip to Thailand. It was shabby, dingy, and cheap
then, and we figured we could live with it for one night. When we
stayed last time, we got a room with one bed. Not a double, just
one, single bed. And one towel. I asked if we could have a second
towel, and the man said, “No. One bed, one towel.” End of story.
Ohhhkaaay... . Fully prepared to share a towel again, I inquired
about the rates and checked out a couple of the rooms. What a
surprise- it's not shabby or dingy anymore. They've painted the
halls, the rooms, and have new linens. It is bright and cheerful
now. We splurged on a room with two beds (so we'd each get our own
pillow <i>and</i> towel), and after we set our crap down in the room,
we rounded the corner to the night market for dinner. Replete with
the diverse wonders of many night markets, we walked back and forth
between the stands trying to narrow our choices. After deciding on
some fried chicken pieces, grilled pork skewers, sticky rice, some
variety salads, and tea, we sat on a planter next to the street and
settled in to chow down. Since we weren't stuffed quite to the
gills, we maneuvered back through the stands to find something sweet,
choosing a very thick, fresh pancake filled with coconut jam and
fresh, shredded coconut. Heavenly.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;"> </i></span></span>
</div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-84316924664303221842012-05-02T06:29:00.001-07:002012-05-02T06:29:57.793-07:00Rain, Tea, and Great Company<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-vjWwPjX/0/M/P1000343-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-vjWwPjX/0/M/P1000343-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the few pics of us together. Gunung Brinchang</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The following morning was
bright and sunny, and after we'd packed the bikes, we headed around
the corner to the morning market for a breakfast of vegetarian curry
mee (wheat noodles, bean sprouts, tofu, and sometimes chicken-not in
the veg version, in a thick, spicy coconut based curry soup) and some
very strong, thick coffee. We then walked back to the Peking Hotel
and said goodbye til next time. Back on the road, we now made our
way to the Cameron Highlands. The first leg of the trip was via the
E1 highway, boring, but smooth and fast. A couple of hours into the
ride, near Ipoh, we turned off the highway and onto a twisty road
through the Titiwangsa Mountain range. The scenery was lovely: lush
and green, with limestone mountains and wild orchids growing along
the roadside (I have to keep reminding myself that all exotic
houseplants are weeds somewhere in the world). The riding was a lot
more fun that the flat slab, highway run. As we neared the town of
Tana Ratah, we passed acres and acres of strawberry fields, huge
greenhouses, tea plantations, and lots and lots of produce stands
(approximately 80% of Malaysia's produce is grown in the region). It
is a beautiful area. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-rrFCRr4/0/M/P1000332-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-rrFCRr4/0/M/P1000332-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Danny, Elizabeth, Colin, and Ronnie!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We rode into town and found
a place to stay. Once we unloaded the bikes, Colin sent a message to
a fellow ADVrider, named Ronnie, who lives in Ipoh and said he would
meet us in Tana Ratah once we arrived. I was sitting at a table in
the garden of our guesthouse, when someone said my name. I looked up
and met Ronnie! Colin came out, and the three of us talked a bit
before we showed him our bikes. Ronnie asked if we wanted to get
some lunch, and of course, we did, so we set off toward the main
street, meeting up with Ronnie's parents, Danny and Elizabeth, (who
were visiting from Havelock, North Carolina- tell me it's not a small
world) on the way. The five of us went to a small place that Ronnie
recommended and had a great meal and fine conversations. Ronnie is
currently working on an e-book travel guide for motorcycling in
Malaysia, and he was curious about why more Americans don't come here
to ride. Aside from the need for Carnet and the relative difficulty
and expense of obtaining it, we don't know. It is a modern,
developed country with great roads, excellent food, good sightseeing
opportunities, cheap gasoline, and very friendly people. After
lunch, we said our goodbyes for now and made plans to meet again
sometime soon in Ipoh. We had a really nice time. </span></span>
</div>
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<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-NMWckfV/0/M/P1000352-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-NMWckfV/0/M/P1000352-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Will and Toby and their Enfields</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Later in the afternoon,
Colin and I walked around town a bit, getting the lay of the land and
some ideas for dinner locations (it's always about the food, you
know). As we were getting ready to cross the street, we noticed a
pair of Royal Enfields (a classic motorcycle, first British-made, now
manufactured in India) on the opposite side, just about to pull away
from the curb. We trotted across the street, me yelling and flailing
my arms in the air for them to stop. Here is where we met Will and
Toby, a couple of guys just at the very beginning of their trip from
Melbourne, Australia, to London by bike. They had just arrived in
town and were looking for someplace to stay. <span style="color: #990000;"> </span><i style="color: #990000;">We shared what we
knew about accommodations and agreed to meet up for dinner. </i></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>After walking around for
a while, we returned to the Twin Pines and found the Enfields parked
out front. Will is riding a newer, Indian-made 500cc Enfield, while
Toby is riding a 1960s 350cc. They bought the bikes in Australia and
did a bunch of work to them in preparation for their trip. Their
route is planned to be almost entirely overland (Burma being the
exception) and is timed to make it over the highest passes through
India and Pakistan, before heading into the 'Stans and beyond. It is
certainly an ambitious trip, made more ambitious by their choice of
mounts, so keep an eye on The Bullet Diaries to see if they make it.
After chatting around the bikes, we all went out to dinner at a local
Indian joint, where we introduced them to the joys of banana leaf
meals. We sat around and talked over some beers for most of the
evening before calling it a night. </i></span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-72ZZQph/0/M/P1000335-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-72ZZQph/0/M/P1000335-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In the morning, on our way
out to find some breakfast, we found Toby and Will drinking coffee.
We stopped to chat for a while before continuing on on way.<span style="color: #990000;"> </span><i style="color: #990000;">As we
ambled up the street, we spied our favorite breakfast of roti canai
and curry. We stopped for this and coffee before heading back to the
room. When we returned, we found Will and Toby hard at work on their
bikes. Toby's bike needed a new oil seal around the transmission
input shaft, and Will had discovered that the backing plate on his
rear brake was warped, and consequently, allowed the brake shoes to
twist. Fortunately, they have a comprehensive toolkit and a
selection of spares.</i><span style="color: #990000;"> </span>In a stroke of luck for them, a local man,
with a friend who is an Enfield enthusiast, saw them ride into town
yesterday. I guess he called his friend, who drove from the next
town over just to see their bikes and meet them. Will and Toby said
the man had quite a collection of parts and hopefully, the ones the
needed. We left them to their work and went for a ride to Gunung
Brinchang (the highest peak in the area) and the Mossy Forest.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-pDzCfmk/0/M/P1000339-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-pDzCfmk/0/M/P1000339-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View at the top of Gunung Brinchang</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The
road to Gunung Brinchang was narrow, extremely steep, twisty, and
potholed. As we (very) slowly wound up the mountain, we admired the
stunning scenery of the area's tea plantations. <i style="color: #990000;">The last three
miles were so steep that we found ourselves in first gear for about
two of the three miles, and in a couple of spots, we almost needed an
even lower gear. At first, the top of the mountain seemed a little
disappointing, since all you could see were trees and cell phone
towers. Once off the bikes, we saw what looked like a fire lookout
tower. When we reached the base of the tower, we could see that it
was open to climb. We scaled the four flights of narrow, steep,
metal steps to the top.</i> (No US-type protect you from your
dumbass self safety precautions here. If you want to take your life
in your hands, have at it. We're not gonna stop you.) <i> <span style="color: #990000;">The view
from here was spectacular, out one side we could see the mountains
covered in clouds, whereas on the other side were miles of tea
plantations. We were soon joined on the tower by a German couple who
were touring Malaysia in a rented car. They saw our bikes, and they
(or really, he) wanted to know about our trip. We chatted with them
for nearly an hour before climbing back down the tower, posing for a
few pictures, and heading back down the hill.</span></i> </span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-zngsSCd/0/M/P1000344-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-zngsSCd/0/M/P1000344-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tea "bonsai"</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We never did find the mossy
forest, but on our way back down the mountain, we turned off at the
signs for the Boh Tea Plantation to have a look around. We parked
the bikes and walked the path through the tea plants to the visitors'
center. It was interesting to see the plants up close- it's a shrub,
and after what must be years of pruning, has a trunk like a bonsai
tree. The plants were only about two feet tall, but many of the
trunks were as big around as my calves (which more closely resemble
good, solid, tree trunks than bird legs). <span style="color: #990000;"> </span><i><span style="color: #990000;">In the visitors' center
we watched a short film about tea production, toured the displays of
machinery, and walked through the tea processing plant. The
plantation has a beautiful tea room that is cantilevered out over the
fields, so we stopped for a cuppa and some shortbread. While we were
enjoying our snack, it began to rain gently. We decided to head back
to the bikes and tried to beat the rain back to Tana Ratah. No such
luck. Shortly after we pulled out of the parking lot, it began
raining in earnest. At the entrance to the plantation, we found a
covered parking spot and pulled our bikes in to wait for the rain to
stop. The sky grew increasingly dark and the thunder rolled through
the hills. After 30 minutes or so, the rain lightened enough that we
decided to make another attempt at getting home. We still had
another three miles of twisty, narrow road through the plantation
before we made it back to the main road, but unfortunately, it began
to rain even harder just before the junction. As we pulled onto the
main road, the sky really let loose, so we nipped across the
intersection and pulled under the awning of a closed business near a
bus stand. </span> </i>We waited on the bikes for a good 20 minutes for the
rain to slacken, but to no avail. I thought about using my time and
the abundant supply of free water wisely and getting out a rag to
wash the bikes, but it would have required opening the topcase and
getting the contents soaked. Since the water level around us and the
bikes continued to rise, we moved to a bench in the bus stand to
wait. Eventually, the rain tapered off, and we decided to make the
run back to Tana Ratah. We made it back to our room, dripping wet,
and showered to warm up. Needless to say, we didn't do any hiking
that afternoon. </span></span>
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</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-GzKLz6D/0/M/P1000350-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-GzKLz6D/0/M/P1000350-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rain. Oh, and more rain.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It rained hard overnight and
was still raining when the alarm went off in the morning. Since it
didn't sound like it was going to be a good morning for an early
hike, Colin shut off the alarm and we went back to sleep. When we
did finally roll out of bed, the rain had stopped, so we got dressed
and went out to get some roti for breakfast. Will and Toby were
packing up to leave for Penang, so we wished them good luck and a dry
ride, and said we'd maybe see them again somewhere. Over breakfast,
Colin and I discussed our own options. Since the forecast was for
rain over the next several days in the Cameron Highlands, and hiking
in the wet is only so much fun, we decided that instead of hanging
out here, we would go back to Thailand for some (hopefully) quality
beach time on an island somewhere. </span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our normal first stop in
Thailand has been the city of Hat Yai. It's a relatively easy trip
from the border and has decent accommodations for an overnight stay,
but just a week earlier, a large car bomb went off in the underground
parking garage of a hotel only two blocks from where we always stay,
killing several and injuring hundreds of people. Because we couldn't
easily make it from the Cameron Highlands to anywhere north of Hat
Yai, we decided to stop in Georgetown overnight to hopefully be able
to make it as far as Trang (which is north of Hat Yai and out of the
area of unrest) in a day. The ride back through the mountains was
gorgeous- the sun had appeared, the sky was blue, the road was dry
and without much traffic. We made it back up the highway and across
the bridge to Penang by the middle of the day and pulled onto the
sidewalk at the Star Lodge. But they were full. What?!? No room?
Robert called their sister hotel, the 75 Backpacker, for us, to see
if they had a room. They did, so we carried our gear down the block
to the 75 for the night. It's not as nice as the Star, but it was
clean and had very cold A/C. </span></span>
</div>
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<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Somewhere along the way
between the Cameron Highlands and Georgetown, the funnel that hangs
from my helmet lock broke. We use the funnel on a nearly daily basis
to refuel the bikes, so we need to replace it ASAP. We walked to
Mydin, which is Malaysia's version of Big Lots, and sure enough,
found a new funnel for about 17 cents. We also picked up some
detergent while we were there before stopping at a hawker stall for
banana-Milo (like Nestle Quik) milkshakes. Good and good for you!
Since dim sum is becoming our new favorite dinner, later that
evening, we returned to our usual place for another fantastic meal.
Since the dim sum place is halfway to the mall, we continued to
McDonald's for an ice cream cone before calling it a night.</i></span></span></div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-4373531365856215752012-04-30T21:31:00.002-07:002012-04-30T21:31:32.071-07:00Taiping<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-xRG37pq/0/M/P1000317-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-xRG37pq/0/M/P1000317-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many massive, beautiful trees to climb in Taiping</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before
we got sucked any further into Georgetown (</span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>again</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">),
we left for the Cameron Highlands. On the way, we spent one night in
Taiping, which is a smaller city about 60 miles south of Penang, with
a beautiful park and zoo. The Lake Gardens Park was developed on an
old tin mine in the late 19</span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><sup><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">th</span></span></sup></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">
century and has a series of ponds, massive, moss covered trees, and
all sorts of gorgeous plants and birds. Walking paths wind through
the park, with gazebos and park benches placed along the way, making
it a really pretty place to stroll. The Taiping Zoo is adjacent to
the park and is our reason for stopping in Taiping. At 8:00pm, they
reopen the zoo for the Night Safari, with a select few lights on
which simulate the light from a full moon so you can see the
nocturnal animals when they're up and about and to see what the rest
of the animals do at night. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;">
<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-L4c6f8N/0/M/P1000319-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-L4c6f8N/0/M/P1000319-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Lake Gardens in Taiping</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We arrived in the early
afternoon, found our way to the old Peking Hotel, checked in, and
then walked out to get some lunch. We ate at Bismillah, a small
restaurant which has been in operation in the same spot for nearly a
hundred years making some of the best chicken biryani imaginable.
After lunch, we walked to the Lake Gardens for a stroll among the
greenery. Taiping is reputedly the wettest place in Malaysia (it's
not a question if it will rain, rather when during the day it will
rain, and there's some sort of “rain gambling” scheme among the
locals) and all the plant life in town is lush and large. As we
walked, the sky grew darker and darker. Unfortunately, we realized
that we neglected to bring our rain jackets, so when the rain began
falling, we decided to take to one of the many gazebos to wait it
out. It started as a light shower, but soon, the rain came down
hard. We watched as the lakes seemed to expand in size, and many of
the birds hunkered down in the grass, with the exception of a vivid
blue kingfisher on the hunt that kept swooping from a nearby tree to
the wet ground and back. We sat and waited for about an hour for the
rain to taper off to a sprinkle, talking more about the possibilities
for life post-trip. When the rain finally stopped, we walked the
mile back to the Peking and dried off. </span></span>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-5J8ccwJ/0/M/P1000328-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-5J8ccwJ/0/M/P1000328-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beautiful kingfisher</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before
we went out again, we made sure to put our rain jackets in the bag. <span style="color: #990000;">
</span></span></span></span><span style="color: #990000; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Later
on, we went out for a banana leaf dinner at Chetty Nad, where we had
an excellent meal on our last visit. This time, it was good, but not
anywhere near the spectacular one we had before. And they
overcharged us. Disappointing. By the time we were finished with
dinner, it was nearly 8:00pm, so we started our amble to the zoo. We
got there, paid our entry fee, and followed the paths through the
zoo. It was actually a lot of fun, since we had an opportunity to
see many of the animals that are usually snoozing during the day out
and about. The tigers were all out roaring, the lionesses were
playing hide and seek, the owls were wide awake, and the general
effect was kind of spooky. The bad news was, the rain returned when
we were abut three-quarters of the way through. The good news was,
we brought our rain jackets with us this time. The rain wasn't so
heavy that it stopped us from finishing the tour, but we were a bit
damp by the time we made it back to the hotel at 11:00 pm.</i></span></span></span></div>
</div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-51874382080415771612012-04-20T01:26:00.000-07:002012-04-20T01:26:31.758-07:00G-town, Part II<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-NhzbR8b/0/M/P1000262-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-NhzbR8b/0/M/P1000262-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unrelated pic, but temple lantern at night</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once the racing was done, our next question was, where to from here? Our initial plan was to head for Malacca, but upon some further thought, we found ourselves asking why. We've been there before, we saw virtually every museum, garden, temple, and ruin in the city, and although we enjoyed our time in Malacca, neither of us felt a strong pull to visit a second time. After briefly considering several other options, we focused on the Cameron Highlands, which is a region in the mountains toward the center of the country. The climate's supposed to be more temperate, the scenery different, so since we skipped the Cameron Highlands last time, we decided to make for the hills and some cooler weather. </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The ride leaving Nilai was easy, the highways open and smooth (as usual), and we made it around Kuala Lumpur with no problems. Unfortunately, north of KL, the sky began to look rather ominous, with very low, dark clouds replacing the fluffy white ones we'd seen until then. Soon, large, heavy raindrops began to fall here and there. We pulled over to zip our jacket vents and install our custom Hefty daypack covers and continued on. Then, within the next few miles, somebody pulled the lever on the one-armed sky bandit and hit the water jackpot. It rained buckets. The wind whipped the trees around, and the rain was torrential. I will say, Malaysia is very thoughtful of their motorcycling citizens, because under many of the overpasses are breaks in the guardrails with a path leading to a paved, protected area to shelter riders caught out in a storm. In areas without an overpass, there are even free-standing shelters for riders. Quite considerate of them; you might even say, civilized. We took advantage of the first one we came to and waited for the storm to pass. While we waited, we discussed the wisdom of going to the Cameron Highlands at this point. The road is twisty and reputedly dangerous in good weather because of the high volume of farm trucks. The entire area appeared to be socked in, and hiking mountain trails is much less fun when they're muddy and slick. So as we stood there, we decided to nix the hills for the moment and instead, return to our home away from home, Georgetown. The rain slacked off after about 30 minutes, so we got back on the road, passed the exit for the highlands, and headed to G-town. </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The rain did stop, the temperature remained cooler, and we had a very pleasant ride back home. By the time we reached the bridge to the island of Penang, our gear had completely dried! We got back to the Star Lodge, parked on the sidewalk, and asked Robert, who was standing on the front porch when we arrived, almost as if he was expecting us, about a room. They had one, so we checked in for five nights (we just wanted to take a break) and carried our gear to our room, and then walked out to find that our dim sum spot was (</span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>gasp!</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">) closed. Not a problem, we went for wonton mee instead. </span></span></span> </div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-r9HkF8f/0/M/P1000316-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-r9HkF8f/0/M/P1000316-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New favorite dessert, Ais Kacang (Special ABC)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our five nights in Georgetown turned into seven glorious, food-filled, do virtually nuthin' ones. We started every morning with roti and coffee from Yasmeen. My new friend, Mohammad, makes them. Each time I arrive, he greets me with a wide smile, asks what I am doing that day, and often, shares an apom (they're sort of like crepes, made with ground rice, a little sweet, thin and crispy at the edges, thick and spongy in the middle) with me while he makes our roti. Every morning when I say goodbye, he shakes my hand and often gives me a hug. We ate our way from one end of Little India to the far side of Chinatown, with a stop at McDonald's for a burger somewhere in the middle. We returned to all of our favorite eateries for dim sum (they were only closed for a day), banana leaf lunches, tandoori chicken and naan, curry mee, Hainanese chicken rice, and more wonton mee, among other nummies. We walked the esplanade along the waterfront and stopped for ais kacang, or special ABC, which is one of the strangest desserts we've found. It's shaved ice with palm sugar syrup on it, bright red and green gelatin strips, sweet corn, kidney beans, all with sweetened, condensed milk drizzled on top, <i>then</i>, to make it special, a scoop of ice cream. It is a very, very, odd combo, but it actually tastes good, and the multitude of textures is nice as well.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-3dSp3pQ/0/M/P1000300-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-3dSp3pQ/0/M/P1000300-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Duck definitely worth waiting for!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We did find a new (for us) place for lunch though. Jit Seng Duck Rice is apparently famous nation-wide for its ubiquitous duck rice. When we arrived at noon, they were still setting up for the impending lunch crush. We stood and admired the rack of whole ducks, hanging in the window from their necks, with skin, crispy and brown, and drops of fat dripping slowly from their tails (like Chinese water torture- just gimme some duck!). We sat down at a table and waited. When the man set the platter on our table, it was heaped with a combination of the most perfectly roasted duck and roast pork I have ever seen. It came with a plate of rice, sliced cucumbers, plum sauce, and homemade chili sauce. It was </span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>heaven</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">. In our excitement, we neglected to ask what the price was before we ordered, and when the bill arrived, it was a bit higher than our typical lunch outing, but for what must have been 12 ounces of delicious meat, accoutrements, and drinks, it came to a whopping 8 USD. </span></span></span> </div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-k3fq4dS/0/M/P1000312-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-k3fq4dS/0/M/P1000312-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from the esplanade in the evening</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">In between meals, we did manage to squeeze in a couple of movies. </span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>The Hunger Games</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> was entertaining. Neither of us had heard of the movie or the books upon which it is based, but it was pretty good. </span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>The Wrath of the Titans</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">, however, was utter dreck. Somehow, we managed to sit through the entire movie, but when it was over, I wanted to ask, not for my money, but for my two hours back. The acting was stilted, the dialogue could have been penned by a ten-year-old, and every word was yelled. The special effects were alright, but the movie actually had less plot than a porn flick. Colin and I both really just wanted our time returned in full. </span></span></span> </div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-XM7cNWB/0/M/P1000309-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-XM7cNWB/0/M/P1000309-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The very old cemetery in Georgetown</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Every day was not fun and dandy, though. Colin spent one day in the room with the lights off, fighting a terrible headache and intermittent ocular migraines. He woke with a headache and got back into bed after breakfast. Mid-day, he felt better, so we went out to get some lunch, but his headache returned with a vengeance shortly thereafter and was accompanied by scintillating stripes through his vision. While he rested, I walked to the very old cemetery (the remains of Francis Light, the British founder of Penang, are there) to try some sketching. I used to enjoy drawing when I was much younger but have been missing the desire to do it for many years. I picked up a cheap sketchbook and colored pencils in town and sat down among the headstones and drew some of them. Even though the finished product wasn't great, it was nice to try it again for a couple of hours. By the time I returned to the room, Colin was feeling better, so we spent some time talking about the rest of our trip and beyond. </span></span></span> </div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-H9XVg6g/0/M/P1000313-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-H9XVg6g/0/M/P1000313-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The City Hall building at twilight</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">From our discussions of late, we have decided that we are not going to continue to Indonesia and Australia. The roads in Sumatra will be too challenging (which is saying a lot after riding in India), and the ferry service between islands is infrequent and requires careful timing. If we go all the way down the island chain as far as East Timor, we are pretty much committed to going to Australia unless we want to backtrack at least a couple thousand miles to ship out, depending on where we would turn around.</span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We decided to scratch Australia simply because of the expense. After crossing paths with many Aussies on our trip and hearing just how radically expensive goods and services are there, we just don't want to afford it right now (and as one of our new buddies from Melbourne said, wait til the Australian dollar drops in value again, it's bound to happen). We will instead, go back to Thailand to get some quality time on the beaches there, and then we will return to Malaysia for a while and ship out of Kuala Lumpur. </span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT" style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Colin's sister is planning a family reunion for July 7</span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><sup><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">th</span></span></sup></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">, so we may attempt to be around for that, but who knows? We hate to commit to anything. If you haven't figured it out yet, our moods and opinions change like the weather.</span></span></span></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-3834725784454206722012-04-15T04:39:00.001-07:002012-04-16T08:10:47.907-07:00F1 in Malaysia<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-8jFKVzM/0/M/P1000263-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-8jFKVzM/0/M/P1000263-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The E1 in Ipoh</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Since Nilai was almost 300 miles from Georgetown, we got a relatively early start. After another roti and coffee breakfast, we hit the road. Instead of taking the ferry back to the mainland, we opted for the five-mile bridge. It was a still, hazy morning, and as we crossed the Straits of Malacca, the water looked like glass. Once we were back on the mainland, we hit the highway for the ride all the way to Nilai. The scenery as we began the ride was mainly industrial, but after we left Butterworth, it changed to oil palms and pineapples. About 120 miles south, near the city of Ipoh, the landscape changed to limestone mountains and very lush greenery. Then it changed again, back to oil palms, all the way to Kuala Lumpur. One of the real environmental shames of Malaysia is that the vast majority of its jungle and rainforest has been replaced with oil palm plantations, which of course has wiped out habitat for all the native wildlife. We did unfortunately see what must have been a dead leopard cat (small, beautifully spotted wildcats, not much bigger than the average housecat) on the side of the road when we exited the highway in search of fuel. I know animals everywhere get hit all the time, but it's still hard to see exotic roadkill. We made it into Kuala Lumpur, taking advantage of the motorcycle only paths and tunnels under the roadways through the downtown, and out the other side. </span></span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;">We arrived in Nilai at about 6:30 pm and, miraculously, found the Nilai Budget Hotel, where we had booked in for four nights, sight unseen. Oh dear. The hotel was in a strip of auto repair businesses and was located above a muffler shop. Yay. While I watched the bikes, Re went in to see what was going on. She returned a few minutes later with kind of a frozen smile on her face. I asked how it was, and she said, “Well, it's not as bad as Shea's Motor Lodge.” </i>(Shea's is quite possibly the worst place we've ever stayed, and there've been some doozies in our travels)<i> <span style="color: #990000;"> We decided that we would try it for one night and see how it would be. The people were very friendly, but the room was not very good. Unfortunately, I deleted all the photos from the camera, but it was bad. The highlights include: no sink in the bathroom, the room was the width of the bed, the walls were plywood painted pink, but the deal breaker was no wifi</span>. </i> I know they tried their best to silk purse-ify their sow's ear of a “hotel.” Although the bathroom had no sink, they did include toilet paper and soap (neither of which is often given without first requesting it), and the sheets and towels were brand new, good quality cotton. The bed was well-made, the pillows were nice, and the manager said if we needed anything, anytime, to please just ask, but,<i> <span style="color: #990000;">I was planning to go to the track tomorrow for Friday practice, while Re was going to work on blog posts in the room. We were not going to be without wifi for four days, not when we were paying more through Agoda than the rate card on the wall.</span> </i>I went into the hallway/reception area to speak with the manager about our predicament. We really aren't choosy, the place was clean enough, and they really did seem anxious to help, but I did need internet access. I explained that the Agoda website shows free wifi, and that was one reason we booked there instead of a different hotel. The manager was apologetic and made a phone call. I waited, unsure what was going on, and when he got off the phone, he said he had called one of their other hotels in Nilai (they have three). The New Wave Hotel, which had wifi, would have a room for us there at the same rate. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Since this hotel was not in my GPS, we navigated from the simplified map on the back of their business card, and after a few wrong turns, we found the New Wave Hotel. This was actually a much nicer hotel. The room was clean and new, the A/C was cold, there was a sink in the bathroom, and the wifi was reasonably fast. Yay. By now, it was nearly 8:00 pm, and we hadn't had lunch or dinner yet, so we hopped back on our bikes and rode up to the McDonald's I had spotted when we were trying to find the hotel. We got a burger fix followed by ice cream sundaes for dessert and then rode back to the room. </span> </i></span></span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-LKLtChx/0/M/P1000271-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-LKLtChx/0/M/P1000271-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Before Colin got going on Friday morning to the track, we walked down the row of shopfronts to Al Nazim for breakfast, where we had...roti canai, curry, and coffee (mmm, our favorite way to start the day). The Friday of the race weekend is the practice day and it's possible to go virtually anywhere in the track, so Colin spent the day watching from the grandstands (which are too expensive for our budget- we got hillstand tickets for race day). I stayed in the room and wrote. Colin returned at about 5:00, having had a great time at the track. He hadn't eaten anything all day and came back talking wistfully about the smell of cheese wafting off the pizzas being sold. So we walked to Pizza Hut and got a pepperoni pan pizza with gobs of oozing cheese on it, which quite satisfactorily quenched our desire de fromage for the next while. </span></span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-gHQj2HD/0/M/P1000276-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-gHQj2HD/0/M/P1000276-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">On Saturday morning, we both rode to the track to watch another round of practice, a couple of Malaysian Super Series races, a GP2 race, and finally, the Formula 1 qualifying for the race.They don't allow people to bring in food or drinks, even water, to the track, and yesterday, Colin chugged a 1.5 liter bottle before entering the track rather than pitch it. He said it gave him a funny feeling in his tummy, and I imagine that he sloshed when he walked for much of the day. Today, we decided to smuggle about 3 liters of water in one of our Dromedary soft water bags into the track. <span style="color: #990000;"> </span><i><span style="color: #990000;">This morning we jammed it in the bottom of her daypack, leaving the black fabric side visible. We then put a number of small things on top of it and pronounced it good. Re also stashed a bag of peanuts under the water baby with her trademark, “Fuck The Police” sneer.</span> </i>It worked, nobody confiscated our water (or peanuts) at the entrance, and we went to the hillstand, where we spread out our tarp and got comfortable on the ground to watch the festivities. During the lulls in track action, we discussed our options for our future. It is really difficult to know what the right choice is, since what sounds good one week sounds not so good the next week. <i style="color: #990000;">Our two basic options are to either return to the US in some semblance of our previous lives until we are financially able to get off the merry go round permanently, or muddle our way through, living and working overseas, trading financial security for the possibility of adventure. It's a tough call. At its root, it's a known vs. unknown question, but it's unfortunately complicated by familial concerns (such as, our parents ain't getting any younger).</i> Once the action ended for the day, we rode back to Nilai and walked to the Chicken and Duck restaurant (yup, that's what it was called) for dinner. We had wonton mee, each of us trying one avian variety. It was good, but the pork version is still better. After dinner, since we both felt kind of antsy and weren't looking forward to sitting in our room, we walked to the Tesco to find some fruit. <i> <span style="color: #990000;">Re went into the Tesco to look for fruit and batteries for the GPS, and I waited outside and watched the crowd go by. Parenting styles around the world are certainly different, and I will say that virtually everywhere we've been, children are cherished. But they're also punished in ways that would raise eyebrows in the US. While I was waiting for Re, I saw two women pushing a shopping cart out of the store, and in and amongst the bags in the cart, were two small boys, maybe about three years old. As the cart went past one of those little rides you see outside grocery stores or Kmarts in the US, the one young boy pointed at it, and I honestly didn't hear him make a sound. What he got in exchange for pointing was a crisp smack across the mouth. Mom then looked up and made eye contact with me and must have seen my dropped jaw, because she immediately grabbed the kid out of the cart, put him on the ride, and put some money in the slot. He looked a little confused, but eventually, enjoyed the ride. I guess that was my good deed for the day?! After that little spectacle, we walked back to the room to find that the internet no work. </span></i></span></span> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Sunday was the big Race Day. The internet still didn't work in the morning, and the woman at reception said that a line had apparently been cut, so their phones weren't working either. Oh well, no posting. Since we enjoyed our Al-Nazim roti the previous two days, we returned again this morning. A different young woman waited on us this morning, and she was very animated and spoke English extremely well. She offered us a different type of coffee, one which had some type of mushrooms in it (“very nice, and good for your health,” she said). Being game, we agreed to try it. It tasted a bit odd, vaguely musky, but good. While we ate, she came over to ask if we liked the coffee. It is apparently quite unusual to see farang in Nilai, so she was curious why we were there. We told her we came for the race and that we are riding round the world on our motorbikes. </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #990000; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>We explained a little bit about our trip, at which time she inquired if we had any kids. When we responded that we did not, she assured us that maybe we would some day. Not having children in Asia is usually seen as a tragedy. Re mentioned that we'd been married nearly 23 years, and that it hadn't happened yet. The woman leaned in close to Re, with bright eyes, and asked quietly, “was yours a love marriage?” Re assured her, it was, and the woman broke into the biggest smile we've seen in a while. In this context, I assume that love marriage means a marriage that is not arranged by the parents. In certain cultures, these marriages are kind of scandalous. After the young woman</i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #990000;"> left, Re got up to pay as I waited near the front of the restaurant. A minute later, Re beckoned me to join her at the register, where the young woman took our photo with the package of coffee.</span> </i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">As I stood at the register to pay, the young woman asked again whether we enjoyed the special mushroom coffee. I assured her, quite honestly, that we both thought it was very good. She beamed as she thanked me, and then she asked if it would be alright if she took our picture with the bag of coffee. I have no idea why, but I wouldn't be surprised if we appear on a billboard in Nilai or even in India somewhere advertising the increased vitality, vim, and vigor effects of Tiger Mushroom Ginseng Coffee. I'm just sorry we will miss out on the royalties... . <span style="color: #990000;"> </span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #990000; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>I still don't know what it was all about, but some days are just like this. I didn't feel any major health benefits from my coffee this morning as we walked back to the room, maybe they'll come later.</i></span></span></span><span style="color: #990000; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-G7TZV9K/0/M/P1000293-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-G7TZV9K/0/M/P1000293-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">confidence inspiring...</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">After breakfast, we walked back to the bikes and got out the tools, a spare tube, and one of the new front tires we bought way back in Namibia. My front tire has been losing quite a bit of pressure every day, so we decided it was finally time to change the tire. The spare tube was unfortunately one that we purchased in India, of the Nandi variety, which let Colin down after only 2,300 miles when the valve stem ripped out (we put the original one back in, which for comparison's sake, now has over 20,000 miles on it). But it was what we had, so in it went. </span></span></span></span><i style="color: #990000;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">While I was examining the tire for a directional arrow or balance mark, I did notice that it said it was , “Specially made for hot </span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>wearther</b></span></span></span></span></i><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;">.” Confidence inspiring.</i><i> </i></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">Next, we refilled our batteries again, since Colin's was very nearly dry, and mine was also low. </span></span></span></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">Maintenance complete, we packed up the tools and went to clean up ourselves. Since it was now around noon, Re cut up the watermelon we bought yesterday for a snack, and we watched a little TV.</span> </i></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-HC76VKB/0/M/P1000274-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-HC76VKB/0/M/P1000274-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"></span><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-style: normal;">We headed for the track at about 2:00 pm, since the race was to start at 4:00. </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #990000; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>The traffic around the track was much heavier today, and we had to make one complete circuit of the exterior roads to finally find the one parking lot where motorcycles were permitted. From there, we jumped on the shuttle and rode it around to hillstand C2, where we unrolled our rain jackets and sat down. Once again, we smuggled our water baby past security and a roll of Mentos (queue Judas Priest's “Breakin' the Law”). </i></span></span></span></div><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-FvdDTNb/0/M/P1000283-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-FvdDTNb/0/M/P1000283-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #990000; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Almost on schedule, the rain started seven minutes before the race. The cars completed a handful of laps before the safety car came out, and then the race was red flagged. The stoppage was less than an hour, and then the racing got underway again. It was a fantastic race, and Re and I had shouted ourselves hoarse by the end. The bummer of the rain delay was that it meant it was dark by the time we got back to our bikes. We battled our way through traffic and eventually back to Nilai. By now, it was well after 8:00 pm, and we were hungry. Unfortunately, since it was Sunday night, many things were closed. But not Al Nazim. We stopped in for some excellent chicken biryani before heading back to the room for the night.</i></span></span></span></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-90243066138978719862012-04-15T03:55:00.000-07:002012-04-15T03:55:16.173-07:00Sweet Home, Georgetown<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-DTtdWx7/0/M/P1000237-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-DTtdWx7/0/M/P1000237-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chinese Temple detail</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="color: #990000; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>We slept in late this morning, and Re let me stay in bed while she walked out to Yasmeen (another excellent Indian restaurant nearby) and returned with roti telur (egg roti), some curry, and coffee. Roti from Yasmeen is our usual breakfast in George Town, and it was as good as I remember. After breakfast, we cracked open the books, maps, and laptop to work on plans for the next several days. We made the stupid ride to Malaysia specifically to see the Formula 1 race this coming weekend outside of Kuala Lumpur. The race itself is actually at the track near the Kuala Lumpur airport, which is 30 plus miles from the city, so we wanted to find a hotel closer to the track than that. After looking over all our resources, we had a few ideas, but decided to go to lunch instead. </i></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-qz55KCv/0/M/P1000234-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-qz55KCv/0/M/P1000234-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Banana leaf lunch</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="color: #990000; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Another one of our favorite Indian restaurants (especially for lunch) in George Town, is Sri Ananda Bahwan, which is a short walk from the guesthouse. At lunch they serve delicious and inexpensive banana leaf thalis, and that's what we had today. They put a section of banana leaf on the table, a big scoop of rice in the middle, then three scoops of different vegetarian dishes, add a couple of crispy papadams, a dal, and a sambhar, mix it all together with your right hand, and throw in the general direction of your mouth. They do provide silverware for the timid, but if you're gonna eat banana leaf, you really have to do it with your hand. With our banana leaf we had limau ice to drink, which is a sweet and salty drink made with calamansi limes. For dessert, we each had a piece of our favorite Bombay sweet, soan papdi. The total bill came to a hair over 5 USD, and it was delicious. Since the afternoon had gotten very warm, and there were a few sprinkles of rain, we decided to head back to the room to work on some ride reports. </i></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;">Later in the afternoon, we walked out to the movie theater at Prangin Mall to see “John Carter.” Another great thing about Malaysia, is that since English is widely spoken, they get many first run English language movies, and the theaters here are everything they are in the US- cold A/C, stadium seating, THX surround sound, but at a third of the price. I know this movie has been pretty much, universally panned, but we both enjoyed it</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> (it was good summer blockbuster adventure fluff)</span><i>. <span style="color: #990000;"> After the movie, we hit the grocery store for a pineapple and some cat food. There are many street kitties in George Town, and we like to stop and give them a snack occasionally.</span> </i></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-mHwkmXc/0/M/P1000242-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-mHwkmXc/0/M/P1000242-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wonton mee in an alley off Chulia</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="color: #990000; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>By the time we made it back to Lebuh Chulia, all the evening hawker stalls were open for business, so we stopped for some wonton mee at our favorite. The setup of the hawker stalls here is kind of funny, in that they line the roadside, but down a small alley, a drink vendor sets up tables and chairs each night. You order your food from the hawker stall, and then your drinks from the drink vendor, and sit at his tables, where your food is delivered. For drinks, we each had a glass of tangerine juice with sour plum, and soon our wonton mee was delivered. Wonton mee is a noodle dish that is served with sliced pork, pork-filled soft wontons, and fried wontons, deep-fried fatback, water spinach, and pickled peppers in a dark soy sauce. We each ordered the large bowl,and it was delicious. Walking back toward the room, we picked up some apom (crispy coconut crepes) and a big bottle of Diet Coke. Back at the room, Re decided that since our pants were now so clean, that she needed to give our jackets the same treatment. </i></span></span> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next day, we repeated our roti and coffee breakfast, followed by more research on where to stay for the race weekend. After searching for information on the nearby city of Nilai, we booked a room at the Nilai Budget Hotel for four nights. We both have reservations about making reservations, especially for a place we've never been and a hotel with sub-par reviews. But we needed a room, and since cheap ones, with wifi, near the track are hard to come by, we booked on Agoda. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-Dc3twrv/0/M/P1000247-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-Dc3twrv/0/M/P1000247-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, we eat all the time. Pork and rice at Sky Hotel</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Once that task was done, we went to the Sky Hotel for lunch. The Sky does one thing- pork (well, they also cook ducks, but they may as well only make pork, since it's better than cake). It's always packed to the gills, so Colin grabbed a table and got us lime juice with sour plum, while I waited to order a plate of bbq and roast pork with rice, greens, and soup. It was no surprise how delicious everything tasted. The pork was tender, perfectly cooked, with a crisp edge, the soup was pork broth with tender meat and sliced lotus bulbs in it, mmmmm. Better than candy. We spent the afternoon wandering around town, doing some errands, and some writing. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-LZgT4Wp/0/M/P1000249-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-LZgT4Wp/0/M/P1000249-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tandoori chicken and naan at Kapitan</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">When dinnertime rolled around, we walked to Kapitan, on the edge of Little India, for tandoori chicken and naan. As soon as we stepped in, one of the waiters actually recognized us! We haven't been here in two years, and he remembered us. <i><span style="color: #990000;">Clearly, we have eaten there many times, as our usual waiter from two years ago recognized us as soon as we sat down. He doesn't speak a tremendous amount of English, but he was either trying to say that I had lost weight, or that I was huge. I'm not sure which, but it was nice to be back in a place where people know your face.</span> </i>As usual, our meal was excellent; the chicken moist and spicy, the naan chewy, the dhal perfect. We followed it with coffee and a roti tisu for dessert. <i style="color: #990000;">The tisu roti is a very thin piece of dough that is cooked on a hot griddle, and before it sets, it is pulled or rolled into a tent-like shape and then drizzled with sweetened, condensed milk. It's a dramatic looking dessert, and apparently, a pain in the ass to make, since every time we ordered it, our waiter would get a little smile, and a few minutes later, you can hear him chiding and laughing at the roti cook.</i><span style="color: #990000;"> </span></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-JCxZbG6/0/M/P1000255-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-JCxZbG6/0/M/P1000255-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hindu temple in Little India, Georgetown</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">After dinner, we walked through Little India, admiring the colorful scenery in the beautiful light of the sunset, stopping to even take a few photos on the way.</span></span></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-90852322790031506862012-04-15T03:40:00.000-07:002012-04-15T03:40:32.198-07:00More Long-Ass Days in the Saddle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-RdxG5Tq/0/M/P1000216-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-RdxG5Tq/0/M/P1000216-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">20,000 miles and still going!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It took us another two days of riding to get to Malaysia. From Chumphon, we rode all day to get to Hat Yai, which we reached, again, after dark. On the way, we did stop to take the official 20,000 mile picture. We got a room at the Park Hotel, walked to the night market for some more khao mok khai, walked back to the hotel, did some laundry, and went to bed. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next morning, neither of us really wanted to hoist ourselves out of bed to do it again, but we did. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Three full days of riding wreaked some major havoc on our butts and the backs of our thighs, both in the joints (the poor knees and hips) and the skin (I had an extra nasty rash), but we couldn't stop- places to go, races to spectate, and all that. We hobbled around the room as we repacked our stuff, and thanked the gods of cheap accommodation that the Park Hotel had an elevator to carry our bags to the ground floor for a change. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-mrB9JXj/0/M/P1000222-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-mrB9JXj/0/M/P1000222-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pong and me in Hat Yai</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We were on the road by about 9:15am, working through the morning city traffic, when we stopped at a light along with a pack of other motorbikes. The rider to my left smiled and asked where we were from. I told him, and he smiled again and pointed at the ADV sticker on the front of his bike. It was the same oval sticker I have on the front of my leg shield! Before the traffic light changed, he gestured for us to pull over for a photo op, so I hollered to Colin to stop once we got through the intersection. When we stopped, we met Pong, who is a motorcycle enthusiast, a fellow ADVrider (hence our matching stickers), and is HatYaiFaster.com (he peeled a sticker from his bike and put it on my top case). We chatted for a few minutes, took some photos, and Pong took some video of us before we said goodbye and rode for the border. </span></span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-hTMhxnM/0/M/P1000223-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-hTMhxnM/0/M/P1000223-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Welcome to Malaysia!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We made it to the Thailand/Malaysia border before 11:00am and completed the exit process from Thailand. We rode past the Welcome to Malaysia signs and pulled into the drive-thru Immigration lane, where we handed our passports through the window to be stamped and returned to us. I expected to have to at least take off my helmet, but the officer didn't even make me raise my face shield. We rode through the border, looking for the Customs office in order to get our Carnets stamped and never saw it. <span style="color: #990000;"> </span><i style="color: #990000;">About a half-mile down the road, there was a checkpoint where I asked the guards about Customs. They gestured back to the border complex we'd just come through, and indicated it was in building A. We made a u-turn and headed back to the complex, where it soon became apparent that the Customs building was on the far side of Immigration. Hmmm. We parked our bikes and spent the next ten minutes explaining to various border officials that we weren't crossing back into Thailand, had already been stamped into Malaysia, didn't need to go through Immigration, we just needed to find Customs. This was all complicated by the fact that we only speak about five words of Bahasa Malaysia, and none of them really applied in this situation. We finally found the building (which wasn't building A) and an agent who spoke excellent English and could point us to the office that would process our Carnets. We stepped into the blissfully air-conditioned office, and in less than ten minutes, were walking back to our bikes. The error was ours, in that we rode through the lane for ASEAN motorcycle riders. Even with this confusion, we still cleared the Malaysia side of the border in about 30 minutes. The whole process only took about 45 minutes and cost exactly 0 dollars. I love Malaysia. One of the reasons I love Malaysia is their highway system. We were now on a limited access, modern, four-lane, divided highway, complete with wide, paved shoulders, excellent signage, and even rest areas (with fuel). Many of the highways are toll roads, but once again, since we were on motorbikes, they are free for us. </i></span></span> </div><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-fXgt6Bc/0/M/P1000228-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Malaysia/i-fXgt6Bc/0/M/P1000228-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talking to the locals on the ferry about our bikes</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>We covered the 80 miles to Butterworth in about two hours, since it was easy to maintain a 40 mph average. The scenery here was still relatively flat, but everywhere was the dark green of oil palms and mixed jungle. I know that oil palm plantations are and environmental disaster, but they sure are pretty. We were heading for Butterworth because that's where you get the ferry to the island of Penang. We followed the crazy, circular ramp over the water and around to the ferry, where we paid our two ringgits and joined the queue of other bikers waiting to get on the boat. The ferries here are huge, two level affairs, with passengers on the upper deck and cars, trucks, and motorbikes on the lower. After all the four-wheeled vehicles boarded, we joined with the 75 to 100 other motorbike riders and rode onto the ferry. The ferry ride only took about ten minutes, but it was a fun time, since each of our bikes drew a small crowd, and everyone wanted to know about our trip. The other cool part of the ride was that Re found herself parked next to another SYM underbone. Malaysia gets a variety of SYM models, but not the Symba. This makes Malaysia the only country we've visited that has SYM badged bikes. India had a few SYM models, but they were sold under the domestic Mahindra brand. Actually, there were some older SYM motorcycles in Cambodia that were used as moto remorques, but they were all old and shitty. Riding down the highway from the border to Butterworth, we saw several billboards advertising a variety of SYM underbones, scooters, and motorcycles. After we disembarked from the ferry, we found ourselves on the streets we walked so many times on our previous trips to George Town. This was nice, because we knew exactly where we were going. </i></span></span> </div><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
</div><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>We made our way up Chulia to Love Lane, then left on Muntri, to the Star Lodge. It was a bit like coming home, since we spent over six weeks here in the past. Robert, at reception, remembered us, and we were soon unloading our gear into our room. Since it was now nearly 4:00 pm, we decided to walk over to Komplex Komtar for a treat for our sore butts. In the mall they have what we refer to as the “executive chairs.” These are the massage chairs you see in various malls around the US and were all we could think about for the last couple hours of the ride. We walked the half mile through familiar streets and into the mall. We soon found a bank of executive chairs, sat down, and fed them a one ringgit (.33 cents) note for a three-minute massage. When our three minutes was up, we did it again. </i></span></span> </div><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
</div><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Feeling suitably pummeled and refreshed, we walked around a bit, checked out what was playing at the movie theater, and then made our way back onto the streets and up Lebuh Cintra for dinner at our favorite dim sum restaurant. One of the very best things about George Town is the food. The island of Penang is on the Straits of Malacca and has been an important trading port for hundreds of years. It was a major port and stop off on the journeys between Asia and Europe and the Middle East. Consequently, there is a large Chinese population here, and also, a large Indian population that mostly arrived during the British colonial period. While this creates a fascinating multi-ethnic society, the real winner is dinner. The variety of food here is unmatched by any other place we've been. Everywhere you look, there are small restaurants and hawker stalls selling delicious food for cheap. Really cheap. We grabbed a table at the dim sum place. A pot of tea arrived, and then the same three ladies as two years ago wheeled up their stainless steel carts full of goodies. We chose two of the rice, chicken, sausage, and egg wrapped in tea leaves, one of the taro cakes, a curried potato “egg roll?” a couple of different prawn-filled dishes, and a vegetable filled omelet roll. We stuffed ourselves silly on the delicious food, and the total bill came to 7.66 USD. I love Malaysia. For comparison purposes, each one of these seven dishes would be between 3 and 5 USD in Portland. </i></span></span> </div><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i style="color: #990000;">After dinner, we went back to the room, where Re scrubbed our Darien pants on the floor of the bathroom, while I caught up on the internets. Our Dariens are absolutely filthy after our time in Laos and Cambodia, and the difference that a good washing made was dramatic.</i> They smell horrible, feel greasy on the outside, and the armpits of my jacket are actually discolored. I realize I am no petunia, but you know it's bad when you can sweat through a shirt <i>and</i> a loose-fitting, tight-weave jacket. I am one nasty gal. </span></span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><span style="color: #990000;">One reason I don't love Malaysia is the incredibly high tax on alcohol. Malaysia is a Muslim country, and so high sin taxes are the rule. For example, a 650 ml Chang beer in Thailand is 1.33 USD or so, whereas, in Malaysia, the same beer is at least 4 USD. But after our long rides over the last several days, we both wanted a beer, so we walked out to our favorite corner bar for a cold one. We jokingly refer to it as the Corner Bar, because it's on a street corner. There are more traditional bars aimed at the large number of tourists who visit here, but they are more expensive</span> </i> (and nowhere near as interesting)<i> <span style="color: #990000;">than the little local bars. The corner bar's clientele is almost exclusively Indian and Chinese, and rarely sees any farang. It's down a bit of a back alley, and there are a few beer coolers and a small bar behind a rollup door. You choose your beers from the cooler, pay at the bar, and then go sit in the plastic chairs next to the folding tables out in the road.</span> </i>Plus it has some great shows going on in the gutters and alleyway. Between the herds of robust rats looking for morsels to gnaw on in the garbage, the scrappy dogs looking for something to scratch against, and the bar owner on the lookout for the police, it's quite an entertaining venue.</span></span></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-64696700823982831692012-04-02T02:44:00.000-07:002012-04-02T02:44:27.262-07:00Elephants and a Very Long Ride<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-XjKnchP/0/M/P1000187-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-XjKnchP/0/M/P1000187-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new love</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ayutthaya is a beautiful place, filled with the atmospheric ruins of the old capital of Siam. The old part of the city is surrounded by a natural moat, formed by the Chao Phraya, Lopburi, and Pa Sak rivers. As it's about 50 miles north of Bangkok, it was a good place to overnight without having to fight our way through the metro traffic. Oh, and they have elephants. The very best, most excellent thing about Ayutthaya, in my opinion, is the Elephant Kraal. Elephants we used in battle, and the kraal was historically,where they were captured and trained. Since going to war on the back of an elephant is not <i>de rigeur</i> anymore (although I am quite sure it would actually be a terrifying sight and would make me reconsider any plans of world or even local domination) they now use the kraal to care for and train rescued or retired elephants. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-jTDtNt7/0/M/P1000194-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-jTDtNt7/0/M/P1000194-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Knowing we'd have a very long ride ahead of us today, tomorrow, and the next day also, we got up and were on the bikes before 8:00 am. And our first stop was at the Elephant Kraal. We rode up the path and past a large group of bull elephants having breakfast, past more elephants enjoying their morning ablutions, and parked next to the fence. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-62xHSQQ/0/M/P1000209-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-62xHSQQ/0/M/P1000209-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin getting "bumped"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">It was early, and we were the only visitors. It's free to enter the kraal, you only pay a camera fee if you want to take pictures (of course, we did), so while Colin went to pay, I watched the group of young elephants with what I assume were their mothers. All but one adult and one very young one were milling about within a corral of thick, steel bars. Not wanting to startle or anger the adult (I may not know a lot, but I know enough to not run right up to a baby elephant and its mother and give 'em a great, big hug), I stood way back from them, watching the baby dance around. The next thing I knew, the baby trotted right over to me (I apparently looked like a suitable playmate). My first thought was oh crap, the big one's going to come and stomp me flat now, but when that didn't happen, I thought, oh my god, I get to play with a baby elephant!</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-QRBPwSm/0/M/P1000197-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-QRBPwSm/0/M/P1000197-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">all elephants love cucumbers!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Wherever I walked, the baby followed and bumped me. I scratched his back, rubbed his head and ears, and played with his trunk. If I stopped moving, he would back right into my legs. Colin, ever the smartass, thought he had an itchy butt and I looked like a likely scratching post. We bought a basket of cucumbers to feed to the elephants, and I did my best to divvy them fairly, but some of them had a much longer reach than others. When that basket was empty, I had to buy another one. We gave our baby friend, “Pachy Dave,” a cucumber. He took it with his trunk, put it in his mouth, and promptly dropped it, being more interested in playing and pushing me away from all the other elephants (it didn't go to waste- mama ate it instead). At one point, I offered a cuke to another young elephant of maybe a year old (?), who ate it and afterward, wrapped its trunk around my arm and put my hand in its mouth. Elephant tongues are soft, wet, and big. I laughed about it, but the very young mahout (elephant trainer) kept a close eye on the situation. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-TWQwBRb/0/M/P1000207-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-TWQwBRb/0/M/P1000207-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the <i>very</i> old residents</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We made the rounds of the other groups of elephants, admired the huge bulls with their very impressive tusks, and paid our respects to what looked like a very ancient elephant, and it was time to go. I could have happily bought all the cucumbers in the province and stayed until everyone went to sleep, but we had to move on. I gave "Pachy Dave" one more butt scratch, washed my arms, and we got back on the bikes and headed out. </span></span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-ZJs69dK/0/M/P1000202-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-ZJs69dK/0/M/P1000202-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shower time</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Traffic was pretty light leaving the city that early on a Saturday, and we enjoyed the scenery as we passed the city's ruins and crossed the rivers. The first part of the ride was quite pleasant- sunny, warm, nice pastoral, green landscapes, and after about an hour and a half, we got to the outskirts of Bangkok. Our GPS routed us onto a highway. We rode up the entrance ramp, and at the top, found ourselves at a tollgate where a man looked at us and shook his head no. We were on another of the “no motorcycles allowed” roads. Dammit. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-wDw9Xwm/0/M/P1000215-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-wDw9Xwm/0/M/P1000215-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ayutthaya ruins in distance, Chao Phraya river</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Instead of circumnavigating the city of Bangkok, we had to ride through the very heart of it. After a couple of hours of lane-splitting, stop and start, bumper to bumper driving, we found ourselves at the bridge we'd climbed around the barbed wire to get to a couple of months ago when we were trying to find the MBK mall and a new camera. We truly were in the very center of the city. What we'd hoped would be a 50-mile journey in about an hour, became an 80-mile undertaking that lasted four hours. We eventually did make it out of Bangkok and to the entrance to another highway, where we were greeted with...<i>another no motorcycles sign</i>. Instead of entering the highway, we followed it on the access road with all the other motorbikes, tuk-tuks, big trucks, pedestrians, and bicycles. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <i>Sometime after 1:00 pm, I spied a McDonald's a few miles before Samut Song Khram, and we pulled in for lunch. I checked our mileage and determined that it had taken us over four hours to cover the last 90 miles. I didn't figure that we could safely make it to Chumphon, so we went inside and had a Big Mac extra value meal, super-sized. As we sat and enjoyed the A/C, I looked at the map and figured we could make it to Prachuap Khiri Khan before 6:00 pm, and maybe that should be our new goal. Re said, “Fuck no. They have khao mok khai in Chumphon.” She did make an excellent point. They do have excellent khao mok khai (KMK) in Chumphon. KMK is a Thai-Muslim version of chicken biryani and is one of our favorite meals in southern Thailand. The rest of the afternoon was the worst kind of riding for our little bikes. We were finally able to get on the 35, and then took it to the 4, where we turned south. This was all highway riding, and our bikes are underpowered for making time on this kind of road. The scenery was basically scrubby, deciduous trees, some palms, and fields. Not ugly, but not pretty either. In the middle of the afternoon, Re's bike made the bearing noise again, and once again, we were riding north of 45 mph. We swapped bikes for about 50 miles, but I kept our speeds around 43 mph, and we had no further problems. I need to investigate this, just not today. </i></span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>When the sun went down around 7:00 pm, we still had about 80 miles to go. I like many things about our Symbas, but our headlights are not one of them. I've been spoiled by the headlights on several of my previous bikes. The weak Symba headlights are made even worse by the fact that our jerrycans cut off the bottoms of the beams. Regardless, we made it to Chumphon by just after 9:00pm, and through sheer dumb luck, found the Suriwong Hotel, where we have stayed a couple of times. The KMK restaurant is just up the block, so while Re went inside to register, I walked up to see if they were still open. To my dismay, they were cleaning up. Seeing me standing in the doorway, a woman came over and asked what I needed. I asked what time they close and gestured to the clock. She said 9:00 pm. I must have looked sad, because she asked what I wanted. I replied, khao mok khai, and she gestured to the back of the restaurant where they were bagging up food and said they had it, and I could get it for takeaway. I happily ordered two to go and returned to the hotel with dinner in hand. Re had us booked into a room, so while I parked the bikes and unloaded the gear, Re walked to get some Changs, since as Re says, nothing goes better with a Muslim meal than a nice, cold beer. When she returned, I had everything in the room and we collapsed on the bed to eat. Our butts are killing us. It hurts to sit on the bed. The other news of the day is that we broke the 20,000 mile mark of the trip, but didn't want to stop to take a picture in the dark. </i></span></span> </div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-46057685820113022752012-03-29T06:25:00.000-07:002012-03-29T06:25:41.639-07:00Going Back to Thailand<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"> <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-BQQjNxK/0/M/P1000183-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Thailand/i-BQQjNxK/0/M/P1000183-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">people crossing the border with handcarts</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We are heading back to Thailand, either to stay for a while, or to bullet through to Malaysia, depending on the whims of the Immigration officer we encounter on the Thai side of the border. Since Colin is a fan of Formula 1, and the second race of the season is 25 March in Sepang (outside of Kuala Lumpur), and tickets for the race are cheaper than probably anywhere else on the circuit, it would be nice if we could go. On the other hand, we <i>did</i> just spend 40 bucks each on 60-day Thai visas whilst we were in Phnom Penh, so using them only for the three days it would take for us to ride from the Cambodian border down to Malaysia hardly seems cost effective. So, if I can explain our plight once we get to Thai Immigration, and if they opt <i>not</i> to stamp our visas and instead just give us the standard 15-day freebie visitor's stamp, we will head to Malaysia to see the race and go back to Thailand later.</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fully expecting another production at the Cambodian border, we left Battambang at 8:30am and rode for the border crossing at Poipet, which is notorious for being corrupt and problematic. The ride was hot, as expected,and brief (under three hours). Getting out of Cambodia, however, was easy and free, which we did not expect. No one had a hand out asking, demanding, even implying that we needed to pay a dime to get out. It was a nice change. While Colin looked for the Customs office to stamp our bike Carnets, I shopped in a small store, trying to spend all the riel we had left (under 5 USD worth). I felt like a winning contestant on the Wheel of Fortune when they still had the showcase of prizes (Oooh, I would like a soda for 3,000 riel, no, make it two cans. And then I'd like the peanuts for 3,500. How much do I have left, Pat? Okay, then I'll take a gum for 1,500, and with the final 500, I'll take that in the form of a gift certificate!). Once the retail pressure was off and our documents were all stamped, we headed for the Thai side.</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We rode through no man's land, the strip of land between Thailand and Cambodia, belonging to neither, where casinos draw the Thai citizens to gamble their hard-earned baht away (since gambling is illegal in Thailand), and then we came to the “Welcome to Thailand” sign. We parked the bikes and got in the line for Immigration, along with about 3,257 other people. Seriously. There were two lines just to enter the building, and the guard would only allow ten people from each line to go in at a time. We stood outside for two hours before we finally made it to the front of the line. Yay! It's our turn...to stand in line inside...for another hour. At least I had plenty of time to practice my special request before I got there. Eventually, we did make it to the red line on the floor in front of one of the officer's desks. I said “sawadee kha,” or hello, to the woman at the desk, presented my passport, turned to the page with my virginal Thai visa, and explained that we would basically be transiting Thailand right now, but we will return and would like to use our visas for our return. She looked at my passport, repeated what I had just requested, paused a moment, and said....YES! She said yes! When she finished with me, I thanked her very much. Colin stepped up to the desk, and she did the same for him. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Our next stop was at Thai Customs to handle the bike paperwork. We were a bit concerned that we might encounter a problem when re-entering Thailand since we had neglected to get a form before we left. It turned out to be a non-issue though, and the Customs officers could not have been more helpful. Everything was filled out, copied, signed on the proper lines, and we had our copies in hand and were through the gate in roughly 30 minutes. It was now after 2:30pm. We are going to the RACES!</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But first, we have to get all the way through Thailand, and halfway down the length of Malaysia. Our goal for this day was to make it as far as Ayuthaya, another 160 miles away. The roads in Thailand are, overall, beautiful, so we rode as fast as we could. <i><span style="color: #990000;">We did run into a rogue thunderstorm and rode through the rain for about 1.5 miles. On the other side of the rain, the sky was much more overcast and made for a cooler, more pleasant ride. The sun was finally setting around 6:30 pm, and we still had 31 miles and a fuel stop to go.</span> </i>Several miles outside of Ayuthaya, we made our fuel stop and continued on to the city. By the time we arrived and found a place to crash for the night, it was already dark. We dropped our bags on the floor, washed our faces, and then went out in search of some grub. Had it not been such a marathon trip, we would have walked to the most excellent night market that sets up each evening in Ayuthaya. As it was, neither of us had the energy to walk more than a couple of blocks, so we found a small bar and cafe, sat at one of the tables outside, and ordered what turned out to be some really delicious curries and a big Chang. We slept hard.</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"> </div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3302767342091060854.post-15754770415908864962012-03-29T03:43:00.001-07:002012-03-29T03:43:35.193-07:00Battambang and the Bamboo Train<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-rkgB3PK/0/M/P1000124-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-rkgB3PK/0/M/P1000124-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">submerged buffaloes</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">The next stop on our big adventure was Battambang. It's Cambodia's second largest city, although you'd never know it by visiting it. The city is on the south side of Tonle Sap, about 40 miles as the crow flies from Siem Reap. You can take a boat across the lake, but we decided to ride, so the distance is more like 100 miles. We got on the road fairly early, beating our way through the morning “rush hour” traffic of Siem Reap. The scenery included lots of rice paddy, lots of very dry fields, lots of flat land, and some water buffaloes and cattle. I did stop to take some photos of the water buffaloes that were submerged up to their snouts in what appeared at first glance from the road, to be just another green field. With the ease they moved through it, it must have been watery rather than thick mud, because one of them more or less bounded across the field toward another buffalo buddy. The ride was otherwise, fairly uneventful, with the exception of the strange whizzing noise (it makes me think of one of those clown whistles or something out of a Spike Jones and His City Slickers orchestral song) my bike made a couple of times. I have no earthly idea what it is. Colin thinks it may be a front wheel bearing. All I know is that it startles me when it happens, it happens when I am going about 45 mph, and that it stops when I slow to a stop and then start riding again. </span></span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-S3sMwr6/0/M/P1000128-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-S3sMwr6/0/M/P1000128-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colin with his krolan</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">About halfway to Battambang, we stopped at one of a long string of roadside stands to buy a snack for lunch. At each of the stands, women sell bamboo tubes of various sizes which are filled with a combination of sticky rice, black beans, and coconut. This mixture is packed into hollow lengths of bamboo and a wad of leaves is stuffed in the open end as a seal. The bamboo is then cooked, or more like, smoked, over a fire for approximately 90 minutes. They then peel off the really burnt outer layer of bamboo, leaving the rice concoction in just the thin, inner layer of the bamboo. It's called krolan, and it is supposedly a favorite snack in northern Cambodia. The rice is very glutinous on its own, and when you add coconut milk to the cooking process, it really sticks together. To eat it, you peel the bamboo away from the rice and pop bits of it in your mouth. It's slightly sweet, slightly salty (I assume from the beans?), and chewy. We like it too!</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
</div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span> </div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">We arrived in Battambang in the early afternoon and followed the GPS directions to the Royal Hotel. I went in to check out our room options and found myself pulled to select an utterly palatial room with a queen bed, comfy chairs, wood furniture, a fridge, A/C and a turbo ceiling fan, and a private balcony. The man at reception offered it first at 20 USD per night (very pricey for Cambodia) then at 18 USD when I hesitated, compared to 15 USD for the smaller and much less posh regular A/C room. We settled on 17.50 per night, and Colin settled in while I walked around the corner to check out the local market. I returned with fruit and some delicious iced coffee to snack on. Later in the afternoon, we went out for a walk along the river.</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-9RVfHmN/0/M/P1000129-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-9RVfHmN/0/M/P1000129-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">loading the Symbas for a train ride!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Battambang doesn't get a whole lot of attention in the world traveler market, which is a shame. It's kind of a lovely city, the people seem rather easy going and friendly, and there are some good Angkor-era ruins nearby. The reason we, and I believe most people, venture here, is to ride on the nori, or bamboo train. If you hadn't noticed, we look for opportunities to put our bikes and ourselves on or in unique transportation situations, and the bamboo train sounded perfect. All it is, is a platform made out of bamboo slats which is set on a pair of bogeys, one of which is belt-driven by an industrial engine. This setup runs on the old single track and is used by locals to transport goods and people to and fro. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-LL9Z9Sw/0/M/P1000136-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-LL9Z9Sw/0/M/P1000136-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We're ready to roll</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Since they are not tied to a “schedule,” the noris are bound to run into each other on the tracks. Problem, right? You would think so, but no. As single cars, and being so lightweight and simple, when they meet on the tracks, the one carrying the lighter load simply unloads and disassembles the nori, moving in off to the side of the tracks to allow the other to pass. Once the one has rolled past the disassembled nori, the driver stops and helps put the other one back together before continuing on its way. Cool, huh? You bet! The bamboo train these days is largely used to transport tourists up and down maybe a ten-mile section of tracks, but the locals do use it as well. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-M9TTHBv/0/M/P1000146-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-M9TTHBv/0/M/P1000146-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">playing chicken on the tracks with oncoming train</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Colin and I rode our motorbikes out to the station and purchased one-way tickets for ourselves and our bikes from the tourist policeman. Then, two men lifted each of the bikes onto a nori, and we hopped on in the front, and off we went. It was an absolute kick in the pants!!!! the morning was sunny and hot, and the breeze felt great. </span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-Xx59Nf6/0/M/P1000149-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-Xx59Nf6/0/M/P1000149-M.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">disassembling the train</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> The train only moves at maybe 10 mph, but it feels like you're rolling at 45 mph. No section of track is straight, and many of them don't actually even meet, so you <i>bump</i> and <i>clank </i>and <i>clatter</i> past cows, over really rickety, partially rotted away bridges, through the trees and shrubs. Shortly after we started moving, Colin and I were already plotting how to make one of our very own. We both smiled and felt like little kids the whole time! We are now in love with a new mode of transportation. We did meet two other oncoming trains on our journey, and both times, we won, being the heavier load. We watched as the passengers got off, and the drivers of our train and the oncoming one took off the motor, then set the platform to the side, then took the bogeys off the tracks. Our “engineer” got back on and we moved past and stopped again, while he helped reassemble the other train. It was <i>awesome</i>!</span></span></div><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-frMV99G/0/M/P1000167-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-frMV99G/0/M/P1000167-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the view from the top of Phnom Sampeau</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sadly, our train ride came to an end, and two men rolled our bikes off the train. We rode down the dirt roads through fields and farms, to find <i style="color: #990000;">Phnom Sampeau, which is a mountain with a temple complex about ten miles south of Battambang. We followed the GPS directions and soon found ourselves at the base of the hill. When we were flagged down by the parking attendants, my GPS said we were still more than a mile from the top of the hill. The parking attendants insisted that we were not allowed to ride up the hill and that we had to park our bikes. I gestured at all the other motorbikes and cars that drove by, but apparently, farang can't ride up the hill, because of course, there are handy motorbike taxis for you to take. Grr. Instead, we locked our gear and helmets to the bikes and walked up the hill under the noon sun. As my dad would say, only mad dogs and Englishmen... . We slowly trudged up the hill and eventually made it to the top. We stopped to see a wat partway up the hill that had some cool caves attached before reaching the Was Phnom Sampeau at the top of the hill. Here we were treated to panoramic views of the surrounding countryside and some pretty temples to boot.</i></span></span></div><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-W25xrH3/0/M/P1000172-M.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://colinandre.smugmug.com/Other/Cambodia/i-W25xrH3/0/M/P1000172-M.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the hidden valley</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div style="color: #990000; font-style: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>We also climbed down the steps to the hidden valley at the top of the mountain. I don't know how many steps it was down into the valley, but it seemed like twice as many on the way back up. Between the heat, humidity, and all the walking, we were both well and truly knackered. We decided to take a break and eat a watermelon before we walked back down to the bikes. For our return journey, we took the steps down the mountain, of which there were supposed to be more than 1,000. Once we made it back to the bikes, we were hot and tired. We rode back into town to cool off at the hotel and work on Thailand plans.</i></span></span></div></div>Rebekahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08955360094886544738noreply@blogger.com0