Thirty-Four Hours in Kuala Lumpur

Kady and I negotiated a price with a taxi driver to carry us to the bus station for our 12am overnight bus to Kuala Lumpur. On the way, he offered us some fatherly advice regarding our brief stay there. It went along the lines of "don't trust anyone ever no matter what"... which is fine. He was adorable and all of this made Kady and me smile to one another. The advice that followed however, was downright menacing.
"Don't help any old ladies who are carrying anything. Ever. Don't help them cross the street. Don't help them carry grocery bags..."
"What!?" we inquired, confused.
He then proceeded to explain how even the sweet little old ladies are in on the whole KL drug ring. This made me really sad. And probably caused me to view with suspicion the little old Chinese lady at the bus stop I thought was viewing us with suspicion. Turned out she just really wanted to have a conversation in English.
Kady and I learned that her sister lives in Pennsylvania. We learned that the film "Anna and the King" was filmed in Penang and they paid hundreds of locals to be extras. She and her family made around $5000 from this. However, only her brother appears in the final cut and, as she explained, the film completely tanked. I tried to decipher how self-deprecation could translate as she repeated several times that she was not intelligent like her sister and she was a little bit worthless because of her health problems; however my favorite fact about her was not that she really enjoys the American television series "Baywatch", but that she thinks Shannon Doherty (who she has only seen on the 1990's series 90210) is the most beautiful woman in the world.
"She is so sweet like a baby doll!" she described giddily which put me at ease now that I understood that all of the Asian women who had been coming up to me saying, "You look like a baby!" or "Ohhh, like baby doll!" were actually complimenting me.

Kady and I arrived at a bus station in Kuala Lumpur somewhere between the dark and fateful hours of five and six am. As usual, it was in the middle of nowhere and as usual, we were accosted by taxi drivers who try to snatch you up when you're exhausted and vulnerable after spending the night on a bus. We stood our ground because I refuse to make decisions under pressure and there's always a cheaper way. We hauled it the quarter mile to the bus station for a Kady and Summer powwow- now a standard feature of our travels together. Nothing was in English and there were no maps anywhere. We had no idea where we were. We were just about to give up and accept one of the taxi drivers over-priced fares when we stumbled upon what seemed to be a mirage- a local bus that appeared just meters from the spot we accepted defeat. Inside of the bus was a helpful bus driver who dropped us off exactly where we wanted to go.
(CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!)
I stubbornly insisted on checking out several guest houses which paid off as we ended up getting the nicest hotel room of our entire trip for the same price as all of the nasty ones we looked at.
(CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!)
We checked in at some unknown hour and showered, falling asleep in the freezing cold air-conditioning until about 5 pm.

Kady and I awoke with that limbo-y feeling. We were tired and had been travelling at quite a fast pace for several weeks. We also didn't know much about Kuala Lumpur. I had always wanted to go there but at this point really couldn't recall why. It's huge and very modern with enormous skyscrapers and pristine malls. And more Indian food. Oh man...
Since this was the biggest and most Western city we'd visited, we decided it would be a good idea for Kady to finally get her hair done as she had been complaining about feeling ugly and mousy since we met up in Bangkok. We found a salon near our hotel with an advertisement for a color-line I recognized. That was the easy part.
The hard part was trying to explain to the entire salon staff what Kady's hair wishes were. We looked through magazines. We pointed at photos. We demonstrated with our hands...
They came to the conclusion that it just couldn't be done. I tried to explain that it was all very easy and see I know because I'm a hair stylist and all you need to do is this...

A call was made to the manager and in ten minutes, I was mixing up bleach and folding foils. What followed is best described with pictures:

I insisted one of the adorable Malaysian hipsters style Kady's hair and we were off...

into a torrential downpour that banished us to our room for the next couple hours until at 11 pm, I got the incredibly practical idea to go jogging to the twin towers. We didn't quite make it there but, despite the dripping sweat, got some great shots and bonded with our taxi driver...

So far, no old ladies with grocery bags...

No One Wins! Again...

Malaysia and most southeast Asian countries have a form of transportation that is most commonly called a cyclo or rickshaw. It's some sort of two-person carriage fashioned to a bicycle. The "carriage" itself is fairly decrepid looking. But it really doesn't compare to its driver.

One day Kady and I approached one of these drivers with a map, showed him where we would like to go and asked "How much?""
"Twenty-two Ringit."
That's close to seven dollars. That's just a little less than the price of the bus that would take us to Kuala Lumpur later that night.
We look at one another, knowing neither of us has any intention of paying that. But we can't even open our mouths to negotiate a lower price. What kind of people do you think we are?

We will feel so guilty that this 90 pound 85 year old man is pulling all 500 pounds of us behind his rickity bicycle in 108 degree weather that we will end up buying him a gallon of water, lunch and dinner and three ice cream cones. Then we'll want to get him cab fare home and a new pair of shoes.

We walked away in silence.

Blind Optimism

The second mistake started off so idealistically. I decided to give Southeast Asian massage another try. I was in another country; things might be different... Better.
Kady and I were limping like fools all around Penang due to the 1,237 steps up and the 1,237 steps down to and from the Tiger Cave and my legs screamed as I stepped up or off of every curb. We hobbled up the steps to the massage place closest to our guesthouse. We perused the menu and I decided upon the full body oil massage. I knew this was risky business but I was feeling so carefree... this town had been so good to us.

The front room was clean enough and the man who appeared to be the owner or the manager seemed respectable enough. I left Kady in the main room as she had selected the foot and leg massage and was led into the back room.
I don't really know how to describe the pit that grew in my stomach as I stepped into that back room. There was a small TV in the corner and gathered around it were six or seven... "therapists"-
all of them horribly disfigured, deformed, or suffering from some level of disability. I wanted to turn on my heels and get the heck out of there but I was paralyzed... Aaaand having a pretty complex relationship with my discomfort.
My therapist was selected. She had a severe cranial deformity and was probably 4 foot 8. I was silent as I stumbled into the back room following her. She left me there and I stood in the center of the room wishing she had left me with some sort of instructions. As I surveyed my surroundings, my internal monologue was too cluttered to make out much more than "this is really happening". She came back and I asked should I remove everything? She said yes but then just stood there. I waited a couple moments but then finally turned my back and began undressing. My eyes glanced at the table I was about to spend an hour on- nothing but a ratty towel between me and the vinyl that had seen better days... perhaps fifty years ago.

The therapist eventually ducked behind the curtain and I lay down.
The massage went on for a couple minutes before I finally realized what was now so obvious.

She was blind.

Which might lead you to wonder:

How does a blind massage therapist keep track of the time as she delivers a 60 minute massage?
Why, she places a talking clock in between your legs and presses a button every four to seven minutes:

(Robo-voice:) two fif tee... seven
(six minutes later:) three... oh... three...
(five minutes later:) three... oh... eight...

The only thing more painful than the awkwardness of the sixty minutes was the mediocrity of the massage itself. So to make sure it was forever memorable, she makes me sit up for the last four minutes of the massage and pretty much just grabs my shoulders and jiggles them back and forth. I probably should have a little more dignity and not use the verb "jiggle" to describe this. But I don't know any better way to express how glad I was, at that moment, that she was blind.
The worst part is... how do you complain that a blind midget with a severe cranial deformity gave you a bad massage?

You can't. You're a terrible person. And no one wins.

The Two Mistakes I Made in Penang, Part I

The first mistake I made needs no words, really. The photo should adequately describe how big of a mistake it was.

I had seen "cuttlefish" advertised everywhere and had made a mental note to try it. I had no idea what it looked like or what it was but I was feeling adventurous on this trip. I had already eaten full meals off the side of the street that I paid fifty cents for, selected solely by "pointing"... along with grasshopper, a grub, and plenty of nondescript meat.

I saw this creature with its "Cuttlefish" sign next to it, took a deep breath and ordered.

Mistake mistake mistake. They tried to disguise its flavor with the sauce but the sauce was atrocious.

And the texture... well, just use your imagination as there are no words.

It gets the big stamp:

MISTAKE

Living It Up With the Locals of Penang

Apart from the incredible food and adorable Colonial architecture, Kady and I had even more reason to love Penang. We had never felt quite so comfortable among the locals.

Granted there were plenty of people who wanted to sell us their products or services. But mostly there was just a very laid back vibe, a nice and easy pace of life in Penang.

We ended up at this strange place that attracted us with its neon lights. Once inside, it was basically a giant food court. But a giant food court that, at its center, held the most wonderful prize:

Dozens of Malaysians of all shapes and ages line dancing to a man singing and playing keyboard. We're talking "Achey-Breaky Heart" (pay attention to the one in the blue shirt), the "Electric Slide", etc...
It was magnificent (click here for more).

Later that night, we got friendly with the young hipsters, Karoke-style. Was there uprorious applause for our rendition of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" and Air Supply's "All Out of Love"? Oh yes there was.
We worked up an appetite in order to get in as much eating as possible the next day before leaving for Kuala Lumpur.

Hitting Our Stride in Penang, Malaysia

Penang was smiling on us, embracing us for our our diligent efforts in getting there. Either that or Kady and I were simply hitting our Southeast Asia stride... as almost everything about our visit to Penang was easy and charming.

The food was so insanely delicious and fairly priced, I was prompted to say one night, "I wonder how much eating we can get in tomorrow." The two largest groups that make up the Malaysian population that Kady and I encountered in Penang were the Chinese and Indian. We straddled the line between satiety and gluttony indulging in the latter's delicacies. Most of this took place at "Line Clear"- a famous alleyway that serves up heaps of masalas, curries, and other delicious delicious delicious Indian dishes.

Pick your food here. The guy in the blue shirt will give you a sample of pretty much everything.



Find a table in the alley...


After eating, just wash your sticky fingers here:

Do your best not to see a guy "farmer-blowing" into the sink next to the one with the dishes.

We would split a plate of rice, some iced chais and a couple bowls of various curries for around $3. We were perhaps never happier in our lives.

Well, not until later that day when we were able to country-line dance with the locals and sing karoke with the young Malaysian hipsters.

More on that soon...

Shirley Temple'd Out

Many who travel through these parts claim that by the end of their trip they have become "Temple'd Out". These temples are incredible but I can see how they would all start to run together if you were planning all your "sight-seeing" around visiting them. Kady and I have made no special pilgrimage to any of these temples really. But you cannot escape them. At every corner, you are bombarded with images like these:



For the most part, my favorite Thailand sites and activities were the ones we sort of accidentally stumbled upon:

*feeding the elephant



*exploring this cave with adorable children watching our every move



* The countryside, in general

* The Butterfly Tornado at the Waterfall

So we opted to wander through or around only the temples we happened to stumble upon.

For the most part...

The one thing/temple Kady and I truly sought out was the "Tiger Cave". Kady had started chatting with a French couple (maybe they were siblings?) who had moved to Krabi. I asked them, "What must we absolutely do before we leave Krabi?"

They described the Tiger Cave in language that made it sound like to most tranquil, wonderful, beautiful place in the world. The accent didn't hurt.
It was settled; I had to see it.

This proved to be more difficult than we could have ever envisioned. We had a map but it was the most worthless map ever composed. Even the locals couldn't read it. And don't even get me started on the signage in Thailand. There will be a sign and it will say: "Tiger Cave". It will say 11 km. There will even be an arrow pointing that way. Then two kilometers later, there is a fork in the road with no further instruction. Don't eeeven get me staaarted.

It took us three days to finally find the Tiger Cave. In the end, all we really would have had to do was look up. It's so high up and shiny and golden, you can see it from almost anywhere in Krabi.
We arrived perhaps three hours before sunset. The grounds were quite a spectacle. There were food stands, places to buy bananas for the monkeys, and women selling the local lottery tickets. People from all over Asia were here and the various structures seemed to represent different sects of Buddhism- the Chinese people were over at this structure and the Thai people were over at that structure, etc...
I believe this was the first time I've been in close close proximity with monkeys- not to be confused with monks (I've seen lots of those)- which was very very exciting for me. Everywhere, there were signs warning us to keep our belongings close to our persons to avoid being ripped off by the monkeys.

On the way down, I took some video-footage (stay tuned) of a little tiny baby monkey who wasn't cooperating and stopped putting the plastic bag over his head as soon as I started filming. As my attention was turned towards the baby monkey, a large one inched closer and closer to me. I looked over my shoulder just in time to scream as it lurched at my bum. That's what you get for having brass buttons on the backside of your pants.

We had been told we had over 1200 steps to climb to get to the top of the main temple. I don't know why this didn't faze me. But after about 100 steps in 95 degree weather choking on 98 percent humidity... I pretty much thought I would die.

Monkeys raced all around us in trees. But even they didn't climb much higher than step 300 or so.
Monks and monks in training of all ages came and went.


We had been told the view at the top would be beautiful and on a clear day you could practically see three countries. It's not that I didn't believe it would be beautiful; there just really wasn't any way to prepare for it. We stayed up there for over an hour which allowed us to see the light change over and over and over.

I can't really think of a more perfect way to say farewell to Thailand- a country I've been obsessed with visiting since I was about 10 years old.


Well done, Thailand, I thought to myself. Well done.

Mission: Beat Their System, Part III

The bus slowed down and Kady and I were instructed to exit and "go that way to hotel". No one else exited the bus and we wasted about fifteen minutes wandering around with all our luggage trying to figure out what they meant. Eventually it became apparent we were going to have to walk across the border into Malaysia. We tried to gather information about how to get to the bus station to get a ticket to Penang. That's when we found out we were about half an hour too late... we had missed the last bus leaving for Penang from that station. We would have to go to a farther station.
A nice Thai man who was crossing the border to get the cheaper Malaysia gasoline gave us a ride to the taxi stand. These taxi drivers could charge us anything they wanted as they were the only taxis and they knew we had hit a dead end. Their prices reflected this knkowledge. We protested and haggled and Kady waved her arms and pointed. We were angry and feeling defeated. It had started to get dark shortly after exiting the bus, but it was decided we would walk (well, perhaps storm off was a better description) as every time we have done this to "cool off", a better opportunity has presented itself. Which it did about thirty seconds later when two of the taxi drivers standing by as Kady argued with the main driver had flagged down a tour bus headed to the next bus station where we would be able to get a ticket to Penang that night.

I'll always wonder what their "cut" was.

This bus was a luxury hotel on wheels which bucked a little against my principle of doing it "our" way, the "local" way. But man that air-conditioning was soothing. And we were still under target, pricewise.
This bus ride was less than 20 km but they somehow managed to drag it out over two hours. The drivers mocked us by immitating our voices as we expressed concern to one another- concern that perhaps there was a huge misunderstanding or we had just been "sold" to these drivers. But the old rich-looking Westerner sleeping to our right provided a constant source of placation until we finally arrived at the station. The station where, if we had arrived 20 minutes earlier, we could have purchased a ticket directly to Penang for a few dollars and left immediately.
But instead we had to wait an hour and a half for the midnight bus. The midnight bus to Butterworth that would maybe- just maybe- get us to the ferry to Penang before it closed at 2am. We could break even. We couldn't beat their price at this point- too many things had gone wrong. But we could feel vindicatied in matching their price against all the odds. And the character that had been built within us that day- well, that really is priceless right?
Right?

Every sign we saw for this town was spelled differently so it will remain nameless in this blah-g. But it is a Muslim town in a Muslim country and a town that is notoriously hard on Western women. And there Kady and I were- two Western solo-travelling women feeling naked with our exposed shins and forearms in a sea of women in hijabs and frowny frowny men.
I stared at the ground while Kady somehow got into a discussion with a mulleted Muslim man who claimed to be a rockstar. She got in an argument with him after he said that even though he regretted the second wife, his wives liked the situation.
"No, they don't," Kady said. And she stood her ground.

I drifted in and out of sleep on that bus as I watched the clock. I had to subtract 27 minutes from the clock to know the real time. We arrived at the Butterworth station where the bus clock announced the time as 2:12... minus 27 minutes...is 1:45 am! We had fifteen minutes to get to the ferry!!! We were so close we could taste it. We got our luggage and raced to the ferry. We arrived breathless, hearts racing after 50 or so steps, to find a sign with scribbly symbols on it. The Indian man standing there looking just as dejected as we felt explained that the ferry was inexplicably closed until 5am.
A lot happened over the course of deciding whether we would be stubborn and wait til five am or just take the overpriced taxi to the front stoop of our hotel. There was plenty of arm-flailing and pointing on Kady's part.

In the end, we accepted defeat with a sigh. In an attempt to hedge one more point in there for team Kady&Summer, we offered the nice Indian man a free ride in our taxi.

Yes, their system beat us that day. It threatened our sanity and our friendship and almost broke my arm. But we are, uhm, better for the?... at least we?... our character?...

... well at least someone got a free ride out of it.

Mission: Beat Their System, Part II

We had a second part to our mission that day: I was out of Baht and Kady had far more than was desirable considering she was headed to a new country with new currency and that's a recipe for a an atrocious exchange rate. This set us up for a potentially mutually-beneficial co-dependent relationship. But, still, it was a delicate mission. We needed to come as close to using it all up as possible without necessitating an ATM withdrawal. It would be my turn to withdraw as I was the one out of Baht. My bank is the devil and charges me 5 USD to use an International ATM... Thailand charges me 5 USD to use the ATM... which means that pulling out 5 USD would actually cost $15. Fifteen Dollars! That is food, lodge, and all transportation for an entire day in Thailand.
Kady and I piled onto the bus. For a few moments we ignorantly wondered who had made the mistake and sold too many tickets. Then we remembered this is what we had signed up for.

We quickly learned that any Thai person walking along the street was a potential fare. The bus would simply slow down, the doors would swing open and one of the surplus employees would hang outside and yell. Kady and I had found seats across from one another in the very front row which, along with our singled-out Western-ness, allowed us to be the chosen targets of the abusive fare-collector. He smacked Kady on the arm demanding her ticket. He banged his coin-jar on my shin to get me out of the way as he slithered through the sea of swaying bodies packed into every crevice the bus offered in order to collect the recent boarders' fares. He made us move and stand and rearrange as much as he possibly could, all the while with a slimy smirk on his face. But, you see, little did he know the joke was on him; we had beat the system- cracked the code. We had payed the same as every person on that bus- all 150 of them sitting three to a seat and piled on the floor and standing in the aisle. So what if we had to put up with a little bit of abuse? Every time he smacked that coin-jar on my shin, my chest puffed with self-righteousness. He was simply giving us a better story.

Kady and I split noodles for 30 baht at the designated commission-earning post en route. We had 57 baht left. We had paid for our tickets to the border town of Malaysia and were therefore expecting/hoping to be able to pay for the next leg by pulling Malaysian currency out of a Malaysian ATM.

We arrived at the "border" town to find out... it wasn't actually on the border. Everyone had told us it was the border town and we could get the bus to Malaysia from there. Our guidebook told us so... the locals told us so.

But for whatever reason... this day... it wasn't so.

CLONK!

The official-looking workers in their official-looking vests tried to sell us tickets on a minivan going to Penang. We even got the price down to around 300 baht. Purchasing these would have still delivered us to Penang for 527 baht- 73 baht under target... but the principle! The principle!

We knew there was a bus. A BUS bus- a local bus- a cheap bus. They just wouldn't let us get on it!

One of the be-vested workers: "No big bus. Only mini-van. Malaysia holiday. All come here now go back to Malaysia"

Kady: "I don't believe you!" (pointing)

Man: "Only mini-van; no big bus."

Kady: "Oh really? All the Malaysians are going back to Malaysia in a mini-van? Hundreds of Malaysians returning to Malaysia twelve at a time in a mini-van? Where's the bus all the Malaysians are taking back!? I want that bus."

Man: "No bus, only mini van."

To this day, we know he was lying. Because we know, we know there is a bus to Malaysia from that town. But we were flustered and exhausted and we just didn't speak Thai. We needed to get to a different town, a real border town. Which we could do for 40 baht *click!* a person. We could get to the border- the border border of Malaysia and walk across for 40 baht a person. But that's 80 baht. And all we had was 57 baht. *CLONK!* My heart sank as I realized all I needed was 23 baht- TWENTY THREE BAHT!!! That's 72 cents. And it was going to cost me 10 dollars to pull that out.

Now, this had nothing to do with their system; I could have just as easily had to pull Baht out two or three days earlier if I had purchased another water bottle or coffee, etc... yet it was at this point that I began to suspect we would be beat by their system. However, haggard as we were, we were going to keep fighting. Kady and I split a 40 baht beer, I pulled money out of the ATM (thankful that I can use the Baht when I return to Bangkok shortly before flying home to Vermont), and we chased after the bus.

Flinging my bags onto the second local bus of the day, I was shaky and dehydrated and hot. A nice family in the back of the bus helped me try and rearrange my disheveled bags. At this point, I'm having trouble lifting my suitcase on my own and my backpack seems to weigh about 20 pounds more than at the beginning of the day. Before I know it, I've got thirty things out of my bag, trying to reorganize them in a manner that will make zipping my luggage possible.

And that's when the bus decided to stop in the middle of the freeway. The nice family translated the orders that were being barked at us: We were to get off of this bus. We were to get on another bus. A bus that was sitting on the other side of the freeway... on the other side of six lanes of traffic. Before I knew it, Kady was off the bus bounding across all six lanes. I frantically tried to shove everything back in my bag but all the items had magically expanded and no longer fit. My hands shook from low blood sugar and nerves and my bag exploded everywhere- its contents rolling around on the bottom of the bus... the driver barking barking barking at me... hysteria sneakily clawing its way up from my stomach making my throat tight... I almost twist my ankle as I exit the bus... dizzy shaky head rushes threaten me... There was no doubt about it: I had gone to the dark side- the place that is reserved for me when it's that hot outside, I've gone that long without eating, and am that sleep-deprived. I am no longer capable of thinking the thoughts of a sane person and cannot be held accountable for this.

I was able to make it across the first three lanes of traffic to arrive at the median. The median was about three and a half feet tall. I lifted my bag to the top of the mound of grass- arms shaking shaking shaking. I pull myself on top of the grassy median and survey my next feat- climb down off median and cross three lanes of racing traffic.

I've lost all sense of reason at this point. I look into oncoming traffic and see what appears to be miles and miles of non-stop automobiles piled up, twisting snakelike into the horizon and zooming past me. Rationale has departed and I decide that the only logical explanation for this misery is that it is all Kady's fault.

There she sat on the bus looking out the window laughing- laughing at me. How could she do this to me? How could she make the bus stop and make me get on another one? How could she make sure that the bus stopped at the exact moment I had emptied the contents of my bag onto my lap? How could she just leave me there with my crap rolling around on the bus floor, hands shaking? Look at her- sitting on that bus gloating at my suffering. How could she do this to me?

Miraculously, there is a clearing in the traffic. The wheels of my roll-y bag make contact with the road as I fluidly race across the street pulling it by the handle. Navigating the pavement and gravel of Asia with a rolling suitcase is no easy feat. But this bag and I have become One. I know the exact velocity at which I can travel while pulling this bag behind me to achieve optimal speed without it toppling over. However, to Kady, this tactical method appeared as me sauntering across the highway.

After climbing on the bus and Kady and I sharing a few choice words with one another in front of a Thai audience, we arrived at at least a loose understanding of the other person's perspective: It was not Kady's fault the bus stopped; she did not know my crap fell out of my bag all over the bus; her intention was to hold the bus; and I was moving as fast as I could to avoid a toppled bag or sprained ankle- not moving in slow motion to prove a point.

Kady has never let me go that long without eating ever again.

I sat in the seat in front of Kady. The windows on this bus were no school-bus windows; they were heavy. The kind of heavy that requires exertion in a standing position in order to lift. My window was awkwardly positioned with 1/3 of it behind my seat-back which required Kady to help me lift it. As the bus rambled on and the breeze drifted in, I strained to find humor in the day. I knew deep down at the end of it all when we were in air-conditioned beds with full bellies in Penang, we would laugh at this day's misery. Oh how we would laugh! However, I also knew that we still had a long way to travel.

As I wrapped my mind around how we could maybe-just-maybe still win... the window came crashing down on my arm. All seventy-five screaming pounds of it. I let out a huge awful animalistic groan/scream. The entire bus turned to look. I bit my tongue as the tears streamed down my face. Kady laughed and laughed and laughed. Not because it was funny.

But because it was awful.

Thankfully the giant red welt that would turn purple then blue then green and so on as it spread over a good seven-inches-in-diameter swollen bruise-glob on my bicep was a nice badge for the next three weeks- To remind Kady that it was she who did not latch her side of the window.

...To remind her of that time she made the bus stop and made my crap fall everywhere and made me risk my life zig-zagging across a freeway.

Kady and Summer: 4 points

The System: 6 points

To be continued...

Mission: Beat Their System, Part I

Kady and I have made pretty phenomenal travel companions in my opinion- despite the fact that our schedules can't seem to sync up (for two weeks, I was rising at 6 am and now I can't seem to drag myself out of bed before 10), we're never hungry or sleepy at the same time and she can have an hour long conversation with every English-speaking human we bump into while I completely zone out...

I had forewarned Kady in multiple emails of my intentions to be the cheapest person in the world on this trip. I had pre-apologized and everything. I had promised I wouldn't make her do anything dangerous but was more concerned with her not wanting to do anything, well, gross or dirty.
We started off in a ridiculously pristine hotel, then downgraded after several days and she had already had her street-food baptism (woman fondling the noodles she would eat with her bare dirty hands). Our first travel day had been downright decadent in a fluffy air-conditioned bus. But this comfort in itself did not bring me comfort- I was here to see things they see, taste the things they... bla bla bla...

The beach vacation portion of our trip was nearing its end as we started researching the cheapest, best, most authentic way to get to the next country- Malaysia.

In real life, you ask someone where the bus station is and they... tell you... where it is. If you have a map, they will even show you how to get there. In Thailand, where every restaurant, cafe, hotel, and souvenir shop moonlights as a travel-agency, this becomes increasingly difficult. After asking them how to get to the bus station, they ask the only question in Thailand that is more popular than "how much you pay?"...

"Where you go?"

We tell them we aren't interested in their coach tour bus or minivan. We just want to take the BUS bus- the local bus- the cheap bus.

They give us the list of all the reasons we don't want to take "that" bus but this only makes us want to take it more. After all, what are they keeping from us foreigners?

It took concerted effort to get to the actual bus station because within a hundred meter radius are at least ten more travel agencies that have done their best to look like the "official" bus station. Outside the "official" bus station are also many "official"-looking workers wearing "official"-looking vests. They scoop you up before you can get to the real counter and deliver you to the various agencies around the bus station.

Our destination had been decided: Penang, Malyasia- famous for its colonial architecture and food.

The travel agent we'd been scooped up and dropped off at against our will offered us a pick-up service from our hotel and an air-conditioned minivan ride to Penang for 600 baht. This was 50 baht cheaper than our bungalow's service.

We asked for 500 baht. She said she had already discounted it. You see, their system is flawed in that they claim to give you the "discounted" price before telling you what the real price is/was. I'm sure this works on dozens of people a day.

("How much are the DVDs?"
"8 ringit"
"Oh, can you do a discount? 6 ringit?"
"Already discount. Normal price 12"
Perhaps many people think it's their lucky day and they're getting an awesome 50% sale price. But there is NO sale price. There is no real price. There is no discount.)


I knew the mini-van option would be easy. It would pick us up at our hotel in Krabi and deliver us to our hotel in Malaysia 9-11 hours earlier. But where was the adventure, the authenticity in that?... the thought of "easy" wasn't putting a smile on my face. We were firmly told once again that the price couldn't be further reduced and this may or may not have been the first time I heard Kady utter what would become one of her new catch-phrases: "I don't believe you." (often accompanied by pointing at the person accusingly).

We looked at one another. I hated the idea but was willing to cave and take the ride because I didn't want to make Kady suffer through doing it the long cheap way. So when she turned to me and said she wanted to do it the hard way- try and beat their system- I felt like a proud parent. I beamed as we both agreed that if it was awful and we failed and ended up spending five more dollars to get there the long way, it would be ok because the other option was to always wonder. We floated out of the office holding our heads high.

We knew getting to Malaysia the way the locals would get to Malaysia would require at least one transfer, maybe more and we could therefore not beat their "time" so we had to beat their price. That would be our mission the next day.

The next morning, we went for one last jaunt around the peninsula on our scooter.

A day or two before, Kady and I had advised a "System Beater" points system: We got "points"- represented by saying "click!" in a happy, high-pitched tone accompanied by miming the act of clicking a clicker- when things went in our favor: we liked the price, we found a subway station instead of having to take a taxi, the beers were cheap cheap cheap...

To be fair, however, points could also be taken away when the system beat US. This was accompanied with a low-pitch "clonk" and a thumbs-down clicking motion with our imaginary clicker.

After saying goodbye to Krabi, we hopped on a tuktuk straight to the bus station at 60 baht a piece. *Click!* We purchased 2nd class tickets to the border town at 167 baht a piece. *Click! Click!* We would be more than halfway there and still have 373 baht to beat their system.

*Click! Click! Click!*

We were winning...

The Moped Diaries

Our second bungalow in Krabi was around 8 USD a person per night. Not our greatest deal on the trip but we could literally walk to the beach in about thirty seconds without rushing.
We saved 4 bucks a night by going with a fan-cooled room instead of air-conditioning. The fan was between two twin beds and the sound of it oscillating was unbearable. So we turned off the oscillation and pushed the beds together to ensure maximum fan-cooling. I may or may not have been guilty of knowing the fan leaned a full degree or two in my favor.

We were awakened far too early by the housekeeper. I answered the door trying to cover myself up in my t-shirt with that blank look on my face one has at 8:30 in the morning when on a beach vacation. I declined any cleaning service and turned to survey the view the cleaning lady had just gotten- the highlights being: Kady lying languidly in a bed wearing not much more than a sheet... and a bottle of five dollar Thai rum at the foot of two twin beds awkwardly pushed together.
I was uncomfortable with the conclusions one could have falsely drawn from that scene so I opted to combat any rumors about our lifestyle by wearing this:

Kady and I made a fateful decision in Krabi, Thailand. One that would change not only our trip, but our lives. Now- Father, Brothers, others... do not fear... as we are safe and were never in any danger.

...We rented a motorbike.

Anything I say will sound trite compared to the reality of having this bike for three days. The bike cost 6USD a day and the freedom this afforded us was priceless. One of the most exhausting things about travelling is having to suss out the cheapest way to get around. Well, we had the cheapest way for three days. There was no bargain-hunting to be done. No schedules to comply with. Getting lost in the mountains and jungles of Thailand with no real timeframe or destination... anything I say about how "awesome" it was... will just frustrate me. So I'll simply offer a few photos of things we accidentally stumbled upon thanks to this destiny-altering motorbike.

To Southern Thailand...

Selecting a Southern Thailand destination was difficult for Kady and me. There were a lot of options. And this destination needed to fit our few, simple stipulations:

*it shall be insanely cheap to get there

*it shall have cheap and clean accommodations

*it shall have cheap and delicious food

*it shall be accessible- easy to navigate but of course not too "touristy"

*it shall be the most beautiful place we've ever seen

*it shall be everything we could ever dream of at a price so low we have never dared dream it

Our guidebooks had lost some credibility after they failed to warn us how shaming trying to haggle would be. So we had forgotten one of its most prevalent warnings: If a taxi or tuktuk driver tells you something is closed, they're lying.

Forgetting that was how we ended up at a Travel Agency when what we wanted was the city bus station. There's no way to know what our driver's commission was on the tickets we purchased to Krabi, Thailand. But to Krabi we would go.

Kady and I squeezed in three of our four "must-do-in-bangkok"-s before we arrived at the travel agency where we were first introduced to the concept of Southeast Asia's "HURRY UP!!!! (and wait)".

This is just how they roll. They deceptively state their departure or arrival or opening or closing time at specific, precise time intervals such as 6:10am or 3:40 pm. Everyone in the whole world knows that 2pm means somewhere between 2 and 2:30 pm, but when you start throwing around ":10s" or ":25s"... it means serious business. Right?

Wrong.

We were ushered into a pickup truck, driven all over Bangkok, then dropped at a corner in the touriest touristy tourist block. We waited for fifteen minutes. At thirty minutes, we were both quite agitated. The two dollar gin and tonics were calling our names and at 33 minutes, I was on the patio ordering one for each. At 45 minutes we were both on the patio with all our luggage. At 57 minutes, we were sure we'd been scammed and had purchased counterfeit tickets. At one hour and twenty minutes, I was crossing the street to call what was surely a phony number to this phony travel agency that had probably packed up and skipped town. I was half-way across the street when Kady screamed my name and I turned around to see 27 backpackers bounding along...

They transferred us another kilometer or two and within twenty minutes I was snuggling in on an air-conditioned coach tour bus with the super nerdy and embarrassing "Euro-travel cozy" I carry around on travel days. An American film played on the tv and I was ready for the Dutch we'd be-friended to shut up about his dislike of Germans (you see Germans are everywhere in giant groups of Germans speaking German and if he wanted to be surrounded by Germans speaking German, he can do that at home bla bla bla) as I sweetly drifted in and out of sleep for the next eight hours.

These tour buses are organized to get you to spend as much money possible at as many commission-earning posts en route. So their stops are strategic and mostly unnecessary. And never anywhere you would actually want to stop. Even the place Kady and I had been abandoned for nearly two hours came with instructions: "one stay, one shop". After much of this unnecessary stopping and my stubborn refusal to pay those kind of prices ($2 for noodles?! it should be 50 cents!), we were finally finally on our final bus to Krabi. We nicknamed it the Honeymoon bus.

We had made friends with a German couple and bonded over our outrage at the inconsistency of the prices of tickets- some had paid 500 baht, some 2500 baht, for the trip there. Kady and I were somewhat appeased knowing our price fell somewhere in the middle but I was still angry as all I'd ever wanted was to take some five dollar local bus there.

This was our introduction to the final stage of their - ha, I got you, you stupid Westerner travel-scheme: The bus company drops you in the middle of nowhere with no map and offers an outrageous (by outrageous, I mean like $2 a person) price to get you into "town" or to your hotel.

I was really furious at this point and this is probably where I started to have the first signs of a personality change. I had learned to say "I don't have much money" in Thai which I would say sweetly with a smile. Almost as an apology to not buying something. Sitting at this random-in-the-middle-of-nowhere agency, stuffing my pockets with wads of their napkins to use as future toilet paper in a sad attempt to avenge the overpriced coffee, "Mai mi thang" was now a revolution- A revolt against their oppressive snare of a system.

"Oh, so expensive... Mai mi thang... " I said, nicely, in response to the price for taxi.

"Well, if you have no money, you can walk. The taxis run on gasoline. They don't run on water."

I was furious. I knew this "threat" was a bluff (also I'm pretty sure we pay more for our bottled water than they do for their gasoline). So walk I would. I gathered up Kady and the Germans and left in a dramatic huff. We had walked no more than sixty feet when a taxi picked us up for about half the price (four dollars instead of eight haha). Kady and I would have held out for cheaper yet and kept walking but the male half of the German couple wasn't as angry as us and accepted this fare. I had a bittersweet reaction to seeing the logo for the travel company we had just departed from on the van-taxi we piled into.

We left our Germans in pity, as their hotel seemed to not exist and the number to both the hotel and agency that had sold them the ticket seemed to be bad. Kady and I didn't have it as bad as I angrily wanted to believe.

We arrived at our $20 a night bungalow and slept on and off for several hours. That evening we explored and ate at an amazing seafood restaurant with twin midget Thai waitresses. Local youths hanging out on the beach offered Kady and me chicken satay with big smiles as we walked past their Tsunami memorial.

Oysters, crab, rum, etc, etc... for less than $15 US

Kady and I were happy happy happy, overall.

The next day we transferred to a cheaper hotel across from the beach. Surveying the view the next day... we felt we had chosen the perfect Southern Thailand destination.