A Weekend in Paris

On Wednesday morning as I was sitting on the pavement outside a restaurant using their unprotected internet (posting the last blog entry, as it happens), I was approached by a girl who smilingly asked if the internet signal was good.  I looked up, surprised by the accent and inquired where she was from.  Derry, no less.  Sat chatting with her for a while, and on parting she said that she was going across the road to rent a scooter for the day to check out the island.  She asked if I wanted to come too, but I thanked her, but declined, wished her luck with it, and strove to finish up on the internet.

Five minutes later after watching two girls trying to learn how to use one of the machines, jerkily taking off into the traffic, she came back saying that she didn’t have her license on her as it had been stolen while she was in New Zealand.  I asked how much the bikes were to rent, out of interest, and was surprised to hear they were only 30 Ringgits (less that 8€) for twenty-four hours.  “In that case”, I said, thinking that I hadn’t yet seen the island properly and that this might offer a better opportunity than hitching around as I had been considering, “would you like to go splits on one?”

We went and put my gear in her dorm room, and then on to sign up for a bike.  Before we went, I warn her that this would be my first time taking out a bike, but she said it was fine, as the only experience she had was a ten minute tutorial from one of the guys in her hostel that morning.  So no worries.

At the back of my mind as I filled out the forms, was handed the keys and shown how to start the thing I was thinking about Mum’s hatred of bikes and scooters, and the warnings of how if I ever got on one that I’d be kicked out of the house.  I shrugged, and reckoned if I told her she’d get over it by the time I got home, seeing as I wasn’t planning on making a habit of it, and anyway, I was old enough to be able to make my own decisions.

So off we went, and I took to it quite well, going quite slowly at first as I got used to the controls, but then easing it up to a reasonable speed, although I was still being passed out by cars and other scooters.  Stopped off at another marina to suss out if anyone was looking for crew, and got chatting to a couple who were very helpful, took my email address and said they’d pass it on to a few friends of theirs that might be looking for someone, but they seemed to think I shouldn’t have any trouble with finding something, so long as I was flexible.

We went to a waterfall with seven beautiful pools of cool fresh water that was much more refreshing to bath in than the sea, which is almost hot at times.  We rode on further north, and as evening drew close we arrived at the mangrove swamps.  We had been hoping to see “The Cave of Bats” presuming it to be an attraction you could just walk into, but discovered that it could only be seen as part of an hour’s boat tour of the swamps, which also included a stop at something like a floating aquarium, and eagle feeding.  With a bit of haggling we managed to get at half price.

The mangroves were spectacular and well worth it, and when we finished up there we headed back to near where we were staying to join some CouchSurfers for a barbeque at their house.  The food was great, but as soon as I ate it I started fading, the long day and very little sleep having caught up with me.  The guys, who had no room in their house, told me that I’d be more than welcome to pitch my tent in the grounds outside their place, or alternatively stay in the condemned house next door, still equipped with electricity and running water.  I took the house.

The following morning I hit the road fairly early in order to get something for the local guys who’d invited me for dinner when I first arrived.   The only thing I could think of doing for them was printing out three copies of the photo I took with them and writing a note.  Two of them were there when I arrived, but the guy who’d given me the ring wasn’t, and I couldn’t hang around for him as I was set to meet the girl from Derry at 11:00 to see if she wanted the bike for a few hours before we had to give it back at two.  She was content to hang around for the afternoon so I decided to head to a beach away and make the most of the petrol we’d put into it.

Headed north again, and came to a series of bends that I’d nervously negotiated the previous day, and approached the first one with more confidence.  Half way through however, I lost confidence and control of the bike which skidded, fell on my leg and threw me several metres away.  I sat up and went to pick myself up, but as I was stretching my right leg I came to the realisation that I’d broken it.  The foot seemed to be doing its own thing.  Within thirty seconds several people had stopped to see if I was alright, and two guys picked me up, helped me into the back of their car, drove me to the hospital and told me they’d bring the bike back for me.  They were showing me some sort of ID so I’d know they weren’t just stealing the bike, but honestly at that stage I wasn’t overly concerned about it.  On the way, as I was holding my leg up a bit so that the foot only touched the floor enough to keep it from swinging from side to side, but not enough for there to be any weight on it from the rest of my leg, things started to go white, and for a few moments I thought I was going to pass out, but I kept it together.

The guys helped me into a wheelchair, handed me over to the doctors and then took off, before I could get any sort of contact details to thank them.  But I had said it a few times in the car.  The wheelchair was almost as uncomfortable as the back seat, and eventually they put me on a trolley and started checking me out.  The doctor asked what hurt, and I told him my leg was broken.  He smiled and said, “might be broken”.  I shook my head and said that no, it was definitely broken I could tell by the way it was flopping around, but he only gave me a patronising smile and said that we’d see.

They told me they were going to have to take off my shoes and sock, which hurt – they were going to cut my sock, but I protested that they were my good socks (my icebreakers), which got a bit of a laugh - and they managed to roll them off in the end.  They agreed that my leg was broken and sent me for an x-ray.

The x-ray confirmed that I had a spiral fracture, and had done both my fibula and tibula.  Thought I heard one of the doctors outside “oooh-ing” as she looked at the x-ray, which made me feel like I’d at least done a good job of it.

The bit that hurt the most was when they were putting on the plaster and manipulating my leg.  I groaned a bit, but remained conscious for the whole thing, and then I was brought to my bed.  Where I’ve been since.

I’ve since been told that I’ll need an operation, and they’re going to be sticking in a few titanium plates into me.  This was originally going to be done here on the island, and they were going to get the piece they needed ordered in, as due to the nature of the break it is different to the ones that they normally use.  However now the insurance people have got involved and they’re going to fly me out to KL tomorrow morning.

I’ve had no shortage of visitors over the past few days.  The girl from Derry has come in several times, bringing me in books and snacks, and all my gear that was still in her room, as well as getting onto my insurance crowd for me.  An absolute legend, and while I told her not to bother coming in and to enjoy her holiday here, I was always glad to see her.  She’s leaving this evening for Thailand, so I probably won’t be seeing her again for a while, but I really have appreciated everything she’s done.

I was also visited by the CS gang that I met at the barbeque the previous night, who told me that I had no need to worry about a place to stay if I needed it for the next few weeks after I got out of hospital, and who’ve helped me in faxing documents on to the insurance people as well, as they don’t have the facilities here for some reason?

As for the staff in the hospital, they’re all very nice, and even though I’m in a third class ward, there’s only four of us in it, and the guys are all sound as well.   Apart from the fact that they gave me a leaky jug for peeing into which they don’t seem inclined to change – I was left holding it out over the floor as it dripped for ages trying to call a nurse the first time (after taking about twenty minutes to be able to wee into it in the first place, but I’m getting better) – I’ve since discovered that it only leaks when you pick it up and hold it vertically, but it’s fine when it’s laid flat.  Which means it stays on the floor quite happily until a nurse comes along and empties it, so there’s a trail of my wee all the way to the toilet across the ward.  I’ve tried telling them, but it doesn’t seem to sink in.  But apart from that the place is quite clean.

Anyway, not sure what my plans are going to be from here on.  Apparently I’m going to be on crutches for the next six months, but I’m not sure if that’s a conservative figure or not.  It certainly means that diving and partying in Thailand in May are out, and that patrolling the beach in Kefalonia is also a no go for June and July.  Coming back to Ireland seems like the most likely scenario, but as for the exact when and how, it’s hard to say.  I finally broke the news to my father today over a very bad skype connection, but I’m yet to talk to Mum.  That’s going to be fun.

Just to wrap up, taking things into perspective I got off  very lightly, apart from the minor issue of the leg (which, although it is probably too soon to say for sure, has probably ended my football career), the rest of my body got out with only minor scratches.  My face is fine, or as fine as it was before at any rate.  I’ve had the opportunity to experience touching generosity, from people who are almost strangers (and from complete strangers, like the guys that were visiting the fella across the ward who came over and gave me a few apples).  Over all it’s not been to bad.

Must dash now but I’ll be back.

The Pervert

The Pervert

Yesterday was rather unproductive, as with the exception of my blog posting I got very little done.   I had been hoping to see a little bit of the island while I had the chance, but by the time I got going after I got off the internet it was coming up to four, and I wanted to walk back to where I’d been hitching the previous day just to take a look for that blasted ring.  No joy, surprise, surprise.

By the time I’d done there, it was almost time to start heading back to the camp to get ready for the gang who were supposedly coming over to watch the sunset (at around seven).  It was definitely worth seeing, the whole sky glowed red and orange, and, as the sun continued to dip further behind the neighbouring island, the colours seemed to slowly flow from the east to pool together in the west with a fierce intensity.  It was nice.

The girls didn’t show up, but the Irish lad did come along so we had a few cans before strolling off to find some food and a bar, where we got talking to some girls from New Zealand, got into an argument about what the long row of lights dotted along the horizon were - I reckoned they might be fishing boats, as I thought I’d seen some out there earlier on, while one of the girls was adamant that they were marker buoys.  We ended up betting on it, and on asking one of the bar staff and trying to decipher his somewhat broken explanation it was decided that I lost, so I paid up and bought her her next G&T.  However, while at first he said that they were markers, he also used the word boat, so I wasn’t entirely happy with the result (losing aside).

The girls left, we decided to try and find a nightclub that apparently EVERBODY goes to, and I left to return to my tent at about 04:00, quite tired, it must be said.

At first I thought the area was deserted, but then I made out a figure sitting about ten metres away from my tent.  I said hello, he pointed at my tent and enquired if I was staying there, saying that he was a security guy, presumably for the motel further up the beach.  I asked if it was alright for me to camp there, and he replied that it was no problem.  There was a pause as we both looked out to sea, and he gestured at the lights on the horizon and said simply, ‘fishing boats’.  

Anyway, I left him where he was as I was ready to sleep, so I got ready for bed and lay in my tent.  I have taken to sleeping with the fly screen closed, but otherwise the tent is open to allow the maximum amount of air circulation, so I could still see him sitting there.  A few minutes later however he moved closer, little over a metre from the door of my tent and sat down.  I found this a bit odd.  I was keeping an eye on him from where I lay, and saw him lie on his side with his back to my door.  It took a while for me to understand what I was seeing in the darkness, but then I realised that his pants were pulled down below his ass and he was fondling his buttocks…which was a little bit much.  I asked him what he was doing and he mumbled something and stood up, which I expected to be the end of it.  But then he just went on from where he stood, still facing away from me.  “OK”, I said, “go away now!” and he muttered something else and slowly pulled his pants back up, then walked down to the shore and off along the beach.

I was happy with myself for clearing him, but I wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t double back again either, so I left my tent to see where he’d gone to.  No sign of him.  But I sat in wait outside my tent just to make sure.  Sure enough, he came along again, walking along the tide line.  I’m not sure if he spotted me sitting outside and thought I’d changed my mind and wanted a chat and watch him grope himself, but he started making his way back up the beach towards me.  Shouting, “Go on, go away, I don’t want you here!” seemed to be enough as he did an about turn and headed back towards the motel.  I stayed out a while longer, and did a bit of a patrol of my area, which felt very macho indeed.  Eventually I went back to bed and slept the rest of the night undisturbed until the sun started cooking me in my little kiln at 8 this morning.

Now there’s a guy who needs to get himself a webcam, if ever there was one.

For no particular reason I’ve decided to change location for this evening.

The joys of camping and unexpected hospitality

Still on Langkawi, and it's looking like I may be here for at least two more days, because life is proving to be quite inexpensive, I'm still holding out for a response to the message I put on the notice board in the yacht club from anyone who wants to whisk me away for a sail, there's a barbecue at a CouchSurfer's house tomorrow, and I've sent a load of washing into the laundry to get seen to (extravagant I know, but I'd worn every shred of clothing I own and sweated buckets in everything several times over, so drastic measures were needed - I shall try to return to sink washing from now on).

My camp on Sunday night was a bit sketchy, found my way out to the nearest beach to the jetty and main town, only to find there's a reason it's not a famous tourist destination.  A decrepit beach resort was undergoing much needed renovations, there was no shortage of debris on the beach, the sea was cloudy and the sand dirty.  I wasn't bothered trying to find a better spot, though, it was going to have to do me for the night.  So I lugged my baggage up a rocky slope behind some trees in the hopes of finding a more secluded spot to pitch my humble tent.  Found a patch of dried grass with an area down the middle about my size that didn't have any nasty stones close to the surface, and decided to put myself down there.

Once I was set up I decided to go for a quick swim before heading into town.  Bobbed around for a bit in the water and when I came out I saw the police car, and a solitary cop sitting at one of the resort benches watching me.  He was soon joined by another officer from the car.  I decided that there were only two possibilities, the most likely being that someone had ratted me out on my free camping (a bit harsh, I felt, as if anyone had said anything I'd have been more than willing to shift and find another spot), and that they were waiting for me to dry myself off before pulling me up.  The second possibility was that they were on a break and enjoying their cigarettes while glaring at the stupid, guilty looking foreigner.  I threw on my t-shirt gathered my things and began to make my way back to the gap in the trees where I began the scramble up the rocks (noticing as I did so that this entrance was directly in front of the resort reception - oops), expecting at any moment for the police to call me back, but they didn't.  I made my way back up to the tent and hung up my wet things, waiting for the fuzz to follow me up.  Nothing.  It wasn't until they drove off that I realised that it must have actually been their cigarette break.

Later I got a lift into town, but wasn't sure exactly which town, as we went a round about way to get there, moseyed around for a bit looking for a landmark that would correlate to either of the two rubbish free maps I'd picked up from the information centre at the jetty, and finally came across the Bella Vista Hotel, which unfortunately was a dead end and meant that I had to plod all the way back around this artificial lake that I'd been hoping to circumnavigate to make my way back to the main road.

At this stage I was just patting myself on the back, thinking how clever I was to take anything that I really, really needed with me (passport, laptop, wallet being the main concerns) so that any raid on my tent would be ultimately fruitless for a thief that would chance sacking it.  "All of my important things are nice and safe", I thought smugly, "unless..." I looked around the derelict street I now found myself on, "...unless I get mugged."  It was just as this thought crossed my little mind that the rough, homeless-looking lads sitting on the curb drinking beer saw me looking lost and started shouting directions back to the main road at me.  I thanked them and kept walking.  One of them shouted after me asking what country I came from, but the accent was so strong that it took me a few seconds to register that he was talking to me, but then I turned around and called back that I was from Ireland.  I don't think they'd been expecting an answer, and so they called me over and started asking me questions, inviting me to sit with them a while.   The chattier one jumped on a scooter to make a beer run, which I tried to decline, but his response was, "Mr Damien, what is the biggest ship in the world?"  I didn't know.  "Friendship!" he smiled.  Who was I to argue with such logic, although I was fairly sure he'd got the line wrong.  So I was left with the other two guys, one a fisherman, the other an electrician, making small talk until he came back.

After my new friend arrived with the drinks, and passed the cans around, he ran upstairs to make me something to eat, which I said wasn't necessary, but he insisted on doing.  We chatted a bit longer, another beer run was made (I paid this time), and more food was brought out for me.  The beer runner brought me over to the lake while he checked his eight crab cages (all empty) and told me that if I needed a place to stay I could stay with him for nothing if I liked, as I'd told a bit of a pork pie, saying that I was staying in a hotel at the other side of town.  By this time it was approaching sunset, and I really wanted to get out of there before it got dark, so I excused myself, and they let me go, but not until I agreed to come back the following day for dinner with them.

The next day, after moving my camp to a much nicer area, with the help of two guys from Pakistan who gave me a lift out to the beach-side motel where they were staying and let me leave my big bag in their car so I didn't have to cart it around all over the place while I was looking for a suitable site.  Met up with a girl from CS and her visiting friend for a while, had a swim with the Pakistanis, collected my bag and set up my gear and made my way back to town to keep my promise and let the guys cook me dinner.  I wasn't entirely sure about bringing all my stuff with me again, but I had nowhere else to leave it, and seeing as I hadn't been accosted in any way the evening before I felt I was probably going to be OK.  They were almost in the same place I'd left them, except now they were sitting in the stairwell of one the run down building where the beer runner lived.  More beers were bought, and I was brought up to the sparsely furnished apartment, which my host showed me with pride had a bathroom and his own TV and DVD collection.  I was given a chair, the only one, and he threw on a DVD - American Ninja - a film which he liked a lot (he was also a big Chuck Norris fan).  I wasn't allowed lift a finger while the guys gave me rice and some fish - caught in the lake (I tried not to think about how polluted the lake water must be) and fried in a wok, over a wood fire on the concrete floor of the corridor outside the front door of his apartment.  

The hospitality was refreshing, the food simple but really very good.  As sunset once again drew near I started to say my goodbyes, and my host rooted about in a drawer, fishing out a ring which he presented to me, saying that he wanted me to have it to remember him by.  I told him I couldn't accept such a gift, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He also gave me a cap that he didn't want, and made me promise to give him something to remember me by before I leave the island.  I hit the road then as I wanted to get a lift back to my camp site before dark (but I failed).  As I was hitching I moved the bulky ring from the ring finger on my right hand, as it was uncomfortable (I don't usually do rings), placing on my little finger, which looked a bit silly.  I decided then that I'd have to get a chain and wear it on that.  It wasn't until I was sitting in the foul smelling back seat my next ride approaching my destination that I realised that the ring was gone.  It must have fallen off soon after I changed fingers, but it wasn't in the car.  I feel pretty terrible about it.

Met up with the girls again for a few drinks, and bumped into a guy from Dublin who's teaching in Thailand (the first Irish guy I've met out here).  I showed them the photo I took of my friends in town, and realised then that they all look like they're in the buff.  They were all wearing pants though, honest.

Anyway, when I finally made my way back to my tent I found the guys from Pakistan waiting for me at my tent to make sure I was alright, and that I didn't want to crash in their room for the night.  Apparently they'd tried to drive along the beach to where I was camping but got their car stuck in the sand for about forty-five minutes before they got it out with the help of some locals.  We've all been there...

That's all for now, my battery has just finished charging - I had to actually go into MacDonald's and buy something today, instead of sitting outside it like I usually do, in search of a plug socket.  Bloody hell it gets noisy in here, I wanted to clatter several screeching kids and their parents.  But I controlled the urge.

North from KL to the party Island

Right, last time you heard from me I was in Kuala Lumpur, trying to cut down on baggage, and promising to keep updating the blog.  Since then I’ve been hitching my way up north, and started several uninspiring posts which I never finished.  

Made it from KL up to Kuala Kangsar and Taiping in one afternoon, a distance of approx 290k.  I was very lucky with my lifts, after getting a city bus out of the busy centre to a place where I could set out on a relatively calm road.  My second lift of the day was from this really friendly Indian guy, who was just on his way home from the airport, and going all the way to Ipoh, which is most of the way to Kuala Kangsar where I was to meet my next CS host.  A self employed truck driver by trade, he was full of interesting stories from the road.  At one stage he gestured towards a highway police car, and explained that all the truck drivers are fearful of them, as they like pull them over to inspect licenses and what they’re carrying and dole out fines.  Then he pointed out an old grey hatchback with four aerials stuck on the back, telling me that every month these guys collect a little bit of money from the truckers, and in return they follow the cops around, broadcasting their position to give the guys a heads up if they are in the area. 

Not only did he drive me all the way to Ipoh, but as his father needed to get from Ipoh back to his home in Kuala Kangsar, he kindly offered to bring me all the way to my destination while dropping of his dad.  But only after he’d bought a gift for his nephew, which turned out to be a MASSIVE remote controlled artic truck, which barely fitted across the back seat, and which I found myself wedged under once his father got into the car.

As well as being incredibly helpful, he was very concerned for my safety, admitting that the reason that he picked me up in the first place was that he was afraid I’d be robbed or cheated or otherwise mistreated, although I assured him that I’ve had no trouble yet.  What’s more, he wanted to meet my CS host to make sure that he could be trusted before he left me with him, as I’d briefly explained that we’d met over the internet without going into the intricacies of CouchSurfing with him.

He needn’t have worried, my host was a complete legend, who went to great lengths to show me the sites of Kuala Kangsar, where he has a café, and Taiping, where he lives (and has another café).  I was treated like a Sultan for the two days I spent there, and enjoyed my time hanging out with him immensely.

When the time came to leave Taiping, he dropped me off at the toll gate for the motorway, a position that I hadn’t yet tried in Malaysia, thinking that too many cars would be going through too fast to have the time to stop for me, and I was afraid of causing a crash.  But he’d recently hosted a French hitch-hiker who’d claimed that the gates were the best place to start from.  Nevertheless, after dropping me off he waited down the road in case I did run into any trouble.  And as it turned out it was super easy, in the three minutes that it took me to catch a ride, I had to turn down several southbound cars before finally getting in with truck driver heading to Penang (my next stop).

He dropped me off at the ferry to the island, as he was staying on the mainland and over I went, looking for a place to pitch my new tent for the first time.  In my travels I came across an old abandoned building on the shore, which I was eyeing up as a possible place to stay for the night, as a storm was coming in from the sea, but just after I’d satisfied myself that this place didn’t have any regular human visitors that may disturb me in the night, I squelched into something nasty and quite fresh which suggested otherwise.  Thankfully I’d worn my shoes.  I decided to get out of there.

Penang was alright, eventually found my way to a place to camp (after a free ride from a friendly taxi driver who was going my way anyway), not in the national park camping grounds, as planned, because I was too late to get in, but on a little bit of sand by a jetty, near the gates to the park.  Not the best night’s sleep I ever had, especially as there were fishermen coming and going all night, but you get what you pay for I suppose.

I’ve since moved even further north again, getting a lift with a  CSer who was going my way yesterday and staying with him and his friends for the night in Kedah.  I even went to watch a football game with him!  Only realised after I got there that the local team's colours are green and yellow (as it's the colour of the many rice fields in the area) so I could have worn my Kerry jersey.  Sickened.

Just got dropped off at the ferry to Langkawi Island (famous for its beaches and clear water, as well as being a duty free island, so despite being a tourist party spot it’s hopefully cheap like a budgie) by my new friend this morning.  I’ve heard that it’s possible to hitch rides on sailing boats from here…although that remains to be seen.  Planning on camping on the beach for a few days and trying my luck with it, and if I don’t get anywhere, I’m going to move off to the east coast and bum around on the beaches there until my time in Malaysia is up on the 6^th of May.

Watch this space!

Shedding some weight and some light on what’s been happening since Japan

Having left Japan early after the quake on March 11, it didn’t make much sense to continue writing under the heading “Experiencing Japan on a working holiday”.  And while many may question the necessity of writing my drivel under any heading, on I go with a new blog.

Thinking of a new name was an issue, all the best ones were already taken.  I'm not entirely happy with the one I ended up with, and will no doubt think of something better now that I've started posting on it.  But what can you do?  Suggestions are appreciated.

I’ve taken the past two afternoons to get my affairs in order.  Namely updating the blog (or starting a new one) stripping my bag of more unnecessary weight, as the heat is atrocious, and walking around with a heavier bag than you have to is just silly.  So, I have discarded a grotty old fleece that I’ve had since a school ski trip back in 2003, which I took because it’s light and warm.  It’s still wearing alright, but I think it’s time to say goodbye.  Also getting the heave-ho are two old tee-shirts which leaves me with five – still too many, but I quite like all of them, especially my icebreaker tee-shirt which is full of holes on the right shoulder from taking on and off my bag.  Wore it practically every day I hitched in Japan and it’s got a story behind it - not that anyone asks, they just think I’m a hobo.  A nasty old pair of orange shorts I got in Greece (although I cut out the pockets and I’m going to sew them into my bag for keeping things neat), two pairs of uncomfortable cheap underpants that I bought in Penney’s and a few pairs of socks that have nothing particularly wrong with them, except for the fact that they’re far too thick for this climate are also out.  My cargo pants are too thick and heavy so they're going to have to go out as well.  It’s tough saying goodbye to stuff, but life is all about sacrifice.  I’m going to leave the clothes in the hostel, and hopefully they’ll donate some of them to the homeless, if they’ll even take them.

After ditching all this weight I then went and bought a tent, which will put those extra kilos straight back on, but on the other hand it will mean that I don’t have to worry about being homeless if I get stuck on the road somewhere.

As for my whereabouts, last you heard from me I was just after leaving Japan and had flown into Hong Kong, where I spent a week with a few of the other guys that left with me.  We all went our separate ways on the 26th of March, and I flew to Singapore to see the sis.  She’d booked a week off work to visit me in Japan from the first of April, which was obviously no longer going ahead, so we looked into other ways of productively spending her holiday time.  We were interested in doing our open water diving course, considered going to Bali and then decided on Sibu Island off the east coast of Malaysia, where we spent the week chilling out and reading beside our little beach hut (I highly recommend A Wild Sheep Chase by Haruki Murakami, if you can get your hands on it); getting shown the ropes of diving with Grant, our friendly instructor; getting to know the staff around the resort; having the odd drink and playing SCRABBLE.  Overall very relaxing indeed, and on top of all that we finally are qualified open water divers.  At the end of the week, we went back in the direction of Singapore, although I hopped out at the Malaysian side of the boarder in Johor Bahru.

The JB CS Gathering

I was only planning on staying in JB for two days, but instead stayed four getting caught up in the social high life that comes with meeting the Couchsurfing society there, but then began my hitching career in Malaysia.

I got off to a rocky start as at first it seemed that nobody understood what I was doing on the side of the road with my thumb out.  One guy on a scooter stopped and asked what I was doing the conversation went as follows:

Guy: What are you doing?

Me: I’m going to Melaka.

Guy: You want the bus?

Me: No, I want to go by car.

Guy: You have a car?

Me: No, I’m waiting for a –

Guy: - ah, your waiting for your friend?

Me:   ...y-es...?

Several other people stopped, offering to take me to the bus station and another guy asked where I was going, and asked how much I would pay him to bring me there, I told him I was all right.

Finally a gent in a jeep stopped for me and offered to take me to a better place to hitch to Melaka, as the place I was in wasn’t really on the main route (oops).  This guy was a chicken farmer, who when he was sixteen had started his farm with twenty chickens.  Now, twenty or so years later he has over TWO MILLION of the things.  I, for one, am impressed.

Once he dropped me there I carted my gear along the road until I was standing at a less dodgy part of the road hoping that someone in the three lanes of traffic would spot me and stop for me without causing a major crash.  Eventually someone did stop and once again offered to drive me all the way to Melaka if I paid him, I refused again, and in the end had to tell him that I was waiting for my friend again.  He drove me to a better place to wait for my friend, right beside the bus stop in case he didn’t come, which was very nice of him.  He also gave me his number in case I was back in JB and needed a drive.

When he’d disappeared I left the bus stop and stood once again beside the busy road, but this time under an overpass.  Nice and shadey, but it also made me less visible, and additionally I was actually practically standing on the road now, instead of on the pavement.  A few taxis thought I was flagging them down.  So did a bus, which started pulling in to stop for me but, when he saw I didn’t mean to get on, kept driving in the margin where I was standing and I had to sidestep quite quickly out of the way to avoid being driven over.  Eventually a young fella pulled in and told me that he had nothing to do, and he didn’t mind driving me all the way to Melaka, so long as I covered the petrol and the tolls on the highway.  He seemed reasonable enough, so I decided to go along with him.

As it turned out, the price of the tolls and the petrol cost more than a bus would have, but at the same time my new friend, a twenty-one year old airport security guard, was chatty and interesting, and he dropped me off exactly where I needed to go, so I really got a good deal.

It was raining, but not pouring two days later, as I was making my way out of Melaka, but I had more success in getting rides, for one because I had decided to steer clear of the larger roads and highways after careful consideration and consultation with some Couchsurfing friends I made during my time there, and secondly because my CS host drove me a fair ways out of the town until we finally found a decent stretch of road.  In the end I made it to Kuala Lumpur in good time, and just three lifts (although I did have the obligatory offers of a lift to the bus stop thrown in)

And that’s where I am now, still in a cheap, but very clean hostel, bang in the centre of the capital city.  It looks like I’ll be sticking around Malaysia for a while, as I’ve discovered that to cross the border to Thailand by car gets you a fifteen day visa, whereas flying in gets you the full month.  Seeing as I had already booked flights from Tokyo to Bangkok through Kuala Lumpur before things got messy in Japan, I may as well use the second leg of those flights.  It suits me fine anyway, I’m liking the place so far.

More than enough writing done for the moment, I’m going to try to become more regular with my updates  (promises, promises), if not because I know all of you are simply dying  to know what's happening in my life, but also because I take ages trying to decide what to cut from the post and what to leave in.