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Day 24 – 27th December 2007

The second last day of my trip – essentially a do or die day, because Mr. Tuk repeatedly assured me that the passport will arrive Phuket today.

When I woke up at around 7am, the first thing that materialised in my mind was my passport. I barely had the appetite (which is really unlike me) to eat the banana cake we bought at Robinson’s yesterday for breakfast, but I had to anyway. This whole passport issue took such a toll on me that at one point as I showered in the bathroom yesterday, I almost cried – that feeling of utter confidence, that feeling of security that had bounded me throughout the trip vanished into feelings of helplessness.

We left the guesthouse at 7.30am to wait for our van to bring us to the pier. As we did so, I went to the nearby telephone booth next to the bookstore to phone Mr. Tuk with expounding feelings of hope – and when I discovered that the passport had not even arrived yet in Suratthani (assuming it was the same type of bus, we arrived in Suratthani at 5am yesterday – so yeah), I felt a little disappointed, and I know that I can no longer trust their words completely.

We went on board a cruise ship to Phi Phi Island, and I know that as I paid good money for this one day trip, it should be something I should be enjoying – but honestly, really, how can anyone enjoy the rest of one’s travels anymore when one’s passport was missing? It’s like a dark hanging gloom that casted its shadows over me and blocked out all radiant sunshine.

I don’t know what was on my mind to snap this pic, as you can see, I was so fucking worried and engrossed with my passport problem, I looked like a stoned, worrying wreck. Didn’t even bother to eat the free breakfast provided by the cruise ship that Siew was eating – a croissant and a choice between coffee, tea, or water.

After Siew was done with his breakfast, we went outside to the deck to savour the salty breeze and the open sea that surrounded us. At last I couldn’t take it anymore – of not being able to confide in a close friend or family member – that I SMSed my dad about the trouble I landed myself into and asking him about the details of the Malaysian Embassy here, something I thought of as a final resort. My dad replied to my SMS with the necessary embassy details (and that I had to make a police report) and phoned me, and though it didn’t change the fact that I was as helpless as a lost sheep, I felt incredibly better.

Some islands we passed by.

When I later analysed this curious sequence of events that transpired, I realised that I was worried like heck because I didn’t have a plan for a worst case scenario – I didn’t know what to do in a situation as new and raw as this, with no one experienced about this to turn to.

After my dad phoned me, I made up my mind: I’ve had little hope left for my passport to arrive in Phuket, so my next course of action would be phoning the Malaysian embassy in Bangkok, fly to Bangkok the next day no matter what the price was, get my travel document, and fly back to Malaysia. My confidence was trickling in, and I began to be more.. happy, even enjoying myself at that point.

Siew wasn’t afraid of falling into the ocean – grinning like a Cheshire cat.

We spotted the 4 Bhutanese who were in the same bus with us yesterday! Turned out that they took up the trip to Phi Phi too (duh) although on a slightly different itinerary. We discovered as we chatted with them (or rather only 2 of them, who know English well) that they were actually working in various ministries – ranging from Finance to Home – with at least 6 years working experience, sent on a government scholarship to NUS (National University of Singapore) .

3 of the 4 Bhutanese from the right. We talked mainly to the green shirt Bhutanese guy who was blowing/cleaning his specs in this pic.

Group pic with 3 of the Bhutanese (why do I look so tall wtf).

When they first talked in their mother tongue yesterday at the bus stop in Suratthani to go to Phuket, I thought they were speaking Korean.. until of course, we found out where they were from. They were also asking me about my passport – maybe they overheard me talking to Mr. Tuk yesterday – and they told me that I’d definitely get my passport back (Siew: “See, what did I tell you?”), and wished me best of luck with it.

Look at the amount of foreigners aboard. -___- There’s a nice cove ahead, but the cruise ship couldn’t stop by there.

Phi Phi Island!

For lunch, we were all ushered into this good-looking hotel and had a scrumptious buffet for lunch, where we were all divided into different tables – probably the most expensive-looking food we’ve ever encountered in our trip so far. Spaghetti!! Fried chicken!!! I lunged for the spaghetti and the fried chicken – having not eaten something remotely close to the extravagant choices before us, it was only natural to look like a hungry savage. That, plus my appetite returned due to aforementioned worst case scenario already developed and ready to be deployed.

We chatted with a couple from Beijing who was sitting at our table, who honestly surprised me with their fairly fluent English, even though it was coated with a thick, recognisable Chinese slang. I was even cheerfully telling them that I lost my passport wtf as I was sooo bloody calm right then – a complete polar opposite of the devastation I felt just a few hours ago. And of course, that question of whether we know how to speak Mandarin surfaced, of which I proudly tell them that I’m taking classes to rediscover my cultural roots wtf.

And I had to ask. “If we were to go to China one day, and we don’t speak Chinese, ta men hui ma wo men ma (would they scold us)?”

The couple looked surprised and reassured me no, and asked why I thought that way. I said that since we looked Chinese and we don’t know Chinese, that there could be a possibility of some extreme Chinese culture devotee who’d scold us for our inability to speak our mother tongue, as what hilariously happened to Esther with a Taxi Uncle. The couple in turn, said that now being modern times, that was less like to happen.

So we walked around Phi Phi Island for a while after eating, as we were given some (very short) time to explore the island before we had to return to the cruiser.

The town, filled with shops selling/providing diving equipments and services.

Part of the beach – we didn’t really explore that much given the limited time.

When we returned to the cruiser and got on into another ship that’d bring us to a snorkelling spot, we were surprised to see the Beijing couple once more, who initially told us they didn’t want to snorkel. We agreed with their opinion that Phi Phi Island was rather boring, hence why they were on board with us.

The snorkelling spot turned out to be only 10 minutes from where Phi Phi was, and off we went, scuba equipment and all. We were only given 1 hour to snorkel.

A picture of me snorkelling using my waterproof camera case .

There really wasn’t anything to see – dead corals everywhere (plus I had stupid sea water seeping into my goggles all the bloody time).

Siew’s favourite pic of himself lol.

Discovering more of the dead corals around.

Lots of fish in an array of colours swimming around, though not as in abundance and as beautiful as the ones I saw in Tioman.

Some other dude was snorkelling nearby.

I told Siew I don’t fancy snorkelling, but after getting over my passport issue, I was feeling quite perky that I kinda enjoyed the snorkel. (That was the boat on the right that brought us to our snorkelling spot here.)

Even more fish – the sea water looked murky.

The appointed time was soon up – time seemed to fly really fast while we were in the waters, it only felt like we were there for only 20 minutes.

As we journeyed back to Phi Phi Island again, I immediately went down to the phone booth to try and make a call to the Malaysian Embassy while Siew returned his rented flippers (he didn’t want to rent the ones from the cruiser as they were slightly more expensive). The phone call failed to get through somehow, so we went back to the cruiser to our same spot once more.

Lalala.

Siew acting cool.

En route back to Phuket, I borrowed a few staffs’ mobile phones to try and call the embassy – the staffs were quite generous about it, probably because I used the number 1 confirmed sympathy-hogger reason: “I lost my passport”. The line was quite bad as we kept zooming in and out of the range of reception on the sea, but even when I did manage to call through, I had to contend with the automatic dialling crap – “Press 1 for English” zzz – and after ten years later, when I managed to talk to a living person, I was disappointed to learn that the person on the other end of the line was.. a Thai! Not a Malaysian!

Not only that, she put me on hold and when I waited for another ten centuries, I finally gave up and hung up. I couldn’t believe such incompetence from Malaysia itself extended all the way to its embassy in another country! If I was my worrying self earlier, I’d have freaked out by now.

I was then presented with one other choice, and phoned Mr. Tuk. I had to practically scream down the phone to get him to understand me amidst the loud, incessant engine sounds the cruiser was making (I was inside the ship when I made the phone, seated at a place meant for staffs as the woman who lent me her handphone asked me to). He then told me the news I had been waiting to hear all along: my passport had arrived in Suratthani! He even read out my full name to confirm that the passport was indeed mine and was already there – and oh god seriously, the other polar extreme of emotions – unfounded ecstasy and relief of the highest degree – overcame me, and I was already grinning from ear to ear as I talked on the phone.

He told me that it would take a longer time if he were to send my passport to Phuket, and said that he’d send it to Krabi instead. I made the lie that I was flying off from Krabi back to Malaysia tomorrow at 12pm (that was Siew’s flight, not mine) to demonstrate the urgency, and he told me it wasn’t a problem. He gave me all the necessary details I needed: the name and the address of the agency in Krabi, which I jotted down and kept with me very closely, and regarded and worshipped as important as my passport itself.

My mood was lifted up tremendously. I thanked the woman who lent me her handphone profusely, and told Siew the good news. The sea looked bluer than before, the breeze carrying the cooling vapours more welcoming, the cloudiness quite comforting, despite there was a danger of rain the entire day.

I felt like seeing Jess even more than before, to share this good news with another familiar face in a foreign land. I successfully convinced Siew to go together with me by saying I’ll pay 3/4 of the motorbike rental fee – I was very inexperienced motorbiking around anyway, plus I needed him for the navigation, especially at night.

Our cruiser at the pier at Phuket. I finally figured out what those photographers who snapped picture of the passengers were there for: to later develop and print them on mugs, plates, etc to sell them to foreigners wtf.

The male staff of the guesthouse whom I passed his number to Mr. Tuk told me the first thing he saw me that he sadly didn’t receive any phone call regarding my passport. That was to be expected which was why I had to make the initiative to call Mr. Tuk each time – so I told him the good news that the dude would be sending it to Krabi. I even asked the motorcycle rental lady to use her phone to ask her to talk to Mr. Tuk to get the address of Andaman Wave Master – the name of the agency – in Thai.

All was good.

After dinner at Ocean Mall again, with the friendly noodle soup auntie who tried to practise her English with me (“Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!”), we eventually made our way to Patong Beach on the west coast, where Jessica was staying at.

Going there was a bit of a trouble as the road signs weren’t helpful and the locals kept giving conflicting directions. We kept asking the locals, especially when we stopped at the traffic lights – asked the motorcyclist immediately next to us, “Patong Beach?”, and we’d be pointed to a particular direction and we’d follow. That was how we got there, ‘cause the map given to us wasn’t of any help at all.

At one point at the traffic lights, when we asked a car driver instead of a motorcyclist, he actually asked us to follow his car! Oh such kindness displayed by the locals! We didn’t know if he actually went out of his way to help us, but halfway through, after riding through unlit streets and mountains when the signs to Patong Beach surfaced clearly, he had to leave us – and the only way that I can do to demonstrate my utmost gratitude amidst moving traffic was to scream at the top of my lungs at him and his young son, “THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!”

Ah we eventually managed to reach Patong at around 8pm, although it wasn’t exactly small, so as we stopped by at the first 7-Eleven we saw, I sent an SMS to her indicating where we were. In verbatim, our next SMS conversation was as follows:

Me: “Im at 7eleven in patong, near Sol Pisitkoranee 1. i think its the town. where are u now? landmarks and street name wld be great lol. we dont hv patong’s map”

Jess: “You know how many million 711 there is around here? Haha. I’m at the road parallel to the beach right in front of the beach. Go to the beach we go find you. Haha.”

“Oh mcd and burger king are on this road.”

We eventually decided on McD’s, and after waiting her to arrive while Siew and I talked, she arrived at last with her family, after sending almost RM20 worth of SMS to set up this meetup. At that moment, I thought it was incredibly cool to be meeting up with a member of my extended family in a foreign country – I still think it is now.

Jess and family walking in front on the incredibly populated streets of Patong – a contrast compared to the quiet Phuket Town.

We walked around for a bit and then stayed at Burger King where we chatted a lot – in retrospect it seemed like we were talking more to her parents who were asking the both of us all sorts of questions lol. Jess’ dad was also saying how if you snap a photo of yourself with the foreigners as the background, you can lie to your friends that you’re in a European country wtf – which was very true because, I kid you not, there were THOUSANDS of angmohs populating the streets that there were more of them than the Thais.

Time as usual flew very fast, and though we hung out for only about 2 hours, I was still satisfied with our short meet.

Proof that I met Jess in Thailand! :D (and that Ronald McDonald doing the “Sawatdee-krap” sign, LOL.)

Justine, Jess, Siew (covering Ronald’s eyes wtf), me.

We left at about 10.45pm on motorbike, and finally reached our guesthouse at 11.30pm – thankfully this time around we didn’t get as lost as when we were heading to Patong. It was also a little scary to ride around at night as some of the roads were very badly lit, and it was even cold when we were motorbiking around, the acceleration of the motor plus the dropping temperature contributed to this.

Siew got his passport back from the motorcycle lady (we phoned her, as we had agreed to earlier – Siew was paranoid about his passport that he has to use as a guarantee after my own fiasco lol), and after taking a nice shower, I watched Siew’s iPod for a bit, then slept at 12.30am.

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Day 25 – 28th December 2007

We woke up at 5.30am to catch the first bus that departs to Krabi – the 7am bus. We got ready by 6.30am, and as we barely walked a few metres from where we lived, a motorcycle taxi approached us and took us to the bus terminal for 50baht. We were just on time as the bus left at 6.45am.

From Phuket to Krabi to Satun – my trip for today.

Surprisingly we reached Krabi at 9.45am (surviving the bus’ aircon was considerably cold), which was incredibly early and we didn’t exactly anticipate. Immediately as we arrived, a couple of people approached us for their usual transportation and accommodation services which we didn’t really need, but in the end we went into this tour agency opposite the bus station.

With the help of one of its staffs, I took a motorbike taxi to Andaman Wave Master with greatest anticipation, and when I arrived there, I discovered that the bus with my passport didn’t arrive yet. -__- I was told to return again at 11am, and that was when doubt began to set in.

Krabi Town looked boring and dull – like any regular town, except that it was clean and organised. We didn’t have time nor money to go to the Ao Nang Beach either.

I killed one hour while waiting for 11am to arrive by stoning, and then walked to the bank to try and exchange money but one couple kept hogging the counter for some time that I was fed up with waiting. When I returned to the agency, Siew was ready to leave for the airport, and I had to have some form of conclusion to our nearly month-long trip together. As we stood awkwardly near my motorbike taxi guy, I said, “Thanks for everything man.”

“Don’t be such an auntie lah!”

And that was how we concluded our backpacking trip, as he walked into another branch of the tour agency, and I sat on a motorbike leading me to the Andaman Wave Master for my much-wanted passport.

When I arrived there again, there were two new buses there who had unloaded its passengers. I strode to the counter once more and asked for my passport, and the old guy whom I presume was in charge of the place, took out a cellophane-taped brown box. He cut it open. And sitting inside the box were some receipts belonged to the agency and my grey pouch – the Underwear, as Siew and I liked to call it – and I unzipped it open. And my red Malaysian passport was nested comfortably inside it, and the same euphoria and relief settled inside me. Though my RM100 inside my pouch was gone – it was only to be expected – I didn’t fret over it, since even getting back my pouch was considered a miracle to me.

I caressed my grey pouch softly, wore it again around my waist, and the feeling of nakedness I felt throughout the past few days was gone – the pouch was right at home where it belonged.

After the motorbike taxi took me to a bank, we returned to my tour agency at 11.30am – he even had the cheek to ask for some tip, which I gave him 10baht anyway. The staffs told me that my mini bus to Satun (at 11am) had already departed, and suggested I stayed overnight at Krabi instead – fuck no. The lady boss earlier told me that the mini bus would wait for me, so when this happened, it was natural for me to be dissatisfied.

I asked them if there were any more local buses to Satun, and they told me no. Disbelieving them, I went to the opposite bus station and lo and behold, there were buses every hour or two hours to Satun heh, although the woman with the glass eye told me that the bus would be full and that I’d have to stand instead WTF. She also cited something about it being their local new year tomorrow as the reason, and seeing that I had no choice, I bought the 1pm tix for 220baht, compared to the 500baht that was offered to me for the mini bus.

I waited in the bus station from 11.45am and killed time by listening to my iPod. I’ve had to kill so much time throughout the trip that this wasn’t really a huge problem although, while this time-killing was in progress, I couldn’t help but feel bored.

Krabi’s bus terminal that was hot as there wasn’t any fan or air-con.

My bus finally arrived at 1.15pm, and to my delight, I discovered that the bus wasn’t full after all and there were more than ample seats to accommodate one skinny me. I also discovered that I was the only non-local there, and I was beginning to see more and more women in headscarves which somehow brought about some slight comfort as they reminded me of home, but at the same, I was paradoxically in a little paranoia as I had heard of troubles of bombings in the south of Thailand in the past.

My very comfortable bus, with televisions that play very fucking annoying Thai music videos loudly.

I will bore you no further about how I spent the rest of my time looking outside the windows at the increasingly less developed surroundings, listening to iPod, and basically people-watching and thinking of how I was going to cope being alone for the first time in this trip.

When I reached Satun at 6pm, I was immediately approached by a motorcycle taxi guy who spoke no English. Trying to bargain with him proved futile until a Thai Indian who was nearby approached us, who became an interpreter of sorts for the both of us. After talking to him for a bit I discovered that he works in Langkawi as well, and he thought that I’m.. Japanese wtf!

In the end, I took the motorcycle taxi for 20baht to the cheap guesthouse that we agreed upon earlier with the help of the Thai Indian, when he asked what type of hotel I was looking for.

My very simple guesthouse – only 140baht/night.

I was already feeling quite uneasy and nervous when I arrived in Satun – the absence of my travelling partner was probably one of the main sources, even though sometimes we could spend hours not talking to one another. I was not used to not having someone familiar around – and I walked around in search of food and cybercafe, armed with a lousy map and information obtained by asking the locals.

Compared to Patong, there was hardly any foreigner around, and when I saw an angmoh walking around, I said “Hi” to him impulsively – being all alone compelled me to speak to strangers for some reason.

So.. empty.

I ate fried rice for dinner at a restaurant for 30baht, watched Chelsea v. Aston Villa for a bit on the telly where they were drawing at 3-3 on the True Sports channel. Beneath that television was a cabinet, and there was a replica of our Petronas Twin Towers, which I pointed out to the lady boss when I told her that I’m a Malaysian.

I went to the nearby cybercafe (it was hard to find any open shops at that hour at around 7pm wtf), and I chatted with Daniel, Lim, and Matt on MSN. Also blogged, and at the end of my Internet session, I felt incredibly better and much more positive, as if Internet was some kind of stimulating drug. =.= Also probably because I had completed my writing therapy aka blogging.

The empty, quiet streets of Satun.

Some kids playing near my guesthouse. The kid in the middle kept laughing and waving at me.

I went back to my guesthouse at 9pm, lepak-ed around before sleeping at 10.30pm.

My incredibly small and somewhat stuffy room – emo pic wtf.

..I woke up 1 hour later to Ding phoning me WTF =.=. That woke me up considerably as I ended his call (international phone calls are charged both ways, and I didn’t have much credit left), and later I discovered I didn’t reply to his SMS of him wanting my brother’s phone number – I requested him on MSN earlier to help me to go to my house to take my towel as I left mine in Songwoot’s house in Bangkok. I replied to his SMS and couldn’t sleep until probably another hour later.

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Day 26 – 29th December 2007

Woke up bright and early at 6.30am wtf, and I was earlier worried I would overslept and miss my boat to Langkawi – my alarm that I set at 7am didn’t even ring yet.

Rising sun, snapped from my window.

I walked around looking around for breakfast and there were few choices from my side of the town. There was a Chinese-looking restaurant that seemed to be crowded people, that seemed to be selling dim sum or something, and there was a Muslim stall selling something wrapped in a paper bag.

I later discovered that that ‘something’ was actually a small roti canai!! And when one of the two women who could speak a little English found out I was from Malaysia, we eventually hit it off speaking Malay!

“Ohhh kamu boleh cakap Melayu ya!” said the woman in the headscarf.

“Memang boleh! Saya ingat orang Satun tak tahu berbahasa Melayu!”

That felt completely right at home although their choices of certain words weren’t exactly common in Malaysia – and the idiotic tour agency staff in Krabi told me, when I asked him, that Satun people don’t speak Malay zzz.

My roti canai – with no kuah whatsoever.

So.. tiny wtf.

As I listened to my iPod to kill more time and waited for 8.30am to arrive, the motorcycle taxi guy from yesterday who promised to come to my guesthouse to pick me up didn’t arrive at all. In fact, I was surprised when he passed to me a paper with his phone number on it – and as we couldn’t understand one another’s language, I had no idea what he was trying to communicate, whether to phone him if he was late or something? But hell no would I be giving business to you if you don’t bother to come on time. =.=

I gave him an allowance of 10 minutes, and when he didn’t turn up, all I had to do was to walk barely a few metres and I could flag down a motorbike taxi to take me to the Tammalang Pier. And as I negotiated the price with him in English, he told me the price in Thai wtf and I obviously couldn’t understand. He then later came up with the price in Malay – 50baht I think – and again I was pleasantly surprised at another Malay speaker and took up his services. He didn’t want to lower his prices further as he told me, “Harga minyak sudah naik lah” wtf and I thought it was a reasonable price anyway.

We then conversed in Malay all the way as I sat the pakcik’s motorcycle to the pier. Thanked him, went to the pier, got my passport checked and bought my tickets for around 280baht, and waited for a bit. I then saw the same Indian dude from yesterday who appeared to be working there, and asked him what I was supposed to do next.

The pier.

I merely had to go to another counter for the exit stamp on my passport and I could go ahead to wait for my ferry to arrive.

Waiting for my boat to arrive that was 30 minutes late.

I initially thought it was going to be a sampan, but I was surprised to find a comfortable air-con boat with televisions playing B-grade movies. :) I already got multiple calls from my friends by then, and had to reject their calls (I was still connected on a Thai line) with the same reason of diminishing credit I listed above.

I was already feeling so much at home then, as I sat on that boat and looked out at the various islands that we passed by, that after close to a month of travelling across the thoroughly scenic lands of Laos and the conspicuous busy ant-like lifestyle of Thailand, no matter where I go, I’m still a Malaysian boy at heart.

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This concludes my second backpacking trip of 2007, that took me nearly as long as the trip itself to write – I’m proud to say that I’ve ‘conquered’ 4 out of 5 mainland South-East Asian countries (Myanmar was the exception, with its political instability, I’m likely not to go there anytime soon).

And there are hundreds more to go.

I remember telling Siew that my only regret, should I lose my passport for real (which nearly spoiled the end of my trip), was losing the stamps on my passport that were proof of my being at those countries. Those entry and exit stamps were not merely stamps for bureaucracy purposes – they evoke memories of those border crossings, what we did then and there, and proof to friends, family and my future generation that I’ve been there, done that.

I asked Siew on our 2nd last day when we were in Phuket, whether he preferred our current trip better or our previous Cambodia/Vietnam travels. He told me he’d need to think about it, and would tell me tomorrow, so the next morning on that early bus en route to Krabi, I asked him the same question again.

He paused to think, and we listed down the pros and the cons to aid us to discover which trip we enjoyed better, but after a while we collectively agreed that each trip has its own amazing qualities and its own potholing downsides. We weren’t saying so because we were being diplomatic about it – but there simply wasn’t one sustained reason that we could lay a finger down to pin on a trip we thought was the ‘best’.

Through the alpha and the omega of my travels, I have experienced so many things one wouldn’t experience normally (lost my passport, relaxed at a town for nearly a week doing mostly nothing, not bathe for 4 days straight), met many people one wouldn’t meet back home (Johnny the Russian!), encountered genuine kindness and generosity one wouldn’t have encountered in hostile urban KL itself. Flashes of these things come back to me occasionally – both the good and the bad – and at the end of it all, I think I’ve grown a little bit more.

I’m also left with a permanent souvenir to remember this trip by – a scar that wouldn’t heal near my right elbow that would serve to remind me how I crashed Johnny’s bike for the rest of my life.

If this was an RPG videogame of my life, I think my experience points would’ve compounded and multiplied exponentially, and that I have now.. levelled up.