Welcome to the TeakDoor.com The Thailand Forum. |
You are currently viewing our boards as a guest which gives you limited access to view some discussions and access our other features. By joining our free community you will have access to post topics, communicate privately with other members (PM), respond to polls, upload content and access many other special features. Registration is fast, simple and absolutely free so please, join our community today!
If you have any problems with the registration process or your account login, please contact us
|Malaysia Forum Malaysian Travel Forum to post about your Malaysia holiday, did you visit Penang or go on a tour of the Malaysia island of Langkawi, Malaysia has many tourism destinations including Johor Bahru, Malacca, Genting Highlands, Kuching, Kota Kinabalu, or maybe you were just passing through on your way to Borneo, Brunei, Singapore or Thailand.|
| ||LinkBack||Thread Tools||Search this Thread||Display Modes|
|22-10-2009, 05:31 AM||#1 (permalink)|
Last Online: 28-01-2015 05:47 PM
Join Date: Jan 2009
Location: Koh Tannga
Mysteries of the Jungle, Malaysian mishaps !
THE MYSTERIES OF THE JUNGLE
Although Mike will disagree with me I have at various points in my life come to the not unreasonable conclusion that Mike is the root of all evil. There may be something in it actually because he seems to be one of the few members of the small band of layabouts and underachievers that I call friends who ever seems to have any money which could be the roots that support him while I occasionally shelter under his branches. Anyway I can’t say too much because he’s quite successful in his own right and its not that I’m all that bothered about shattering his reputation it’s more the fact that he’s about the only one of my mates that could afford a lawyer.
Where were we? Yes the mysteries of the jungle. Sorry I forgot. I’d been in Thailand for a while and as I’m sure I’ve already explained or will get round to explaining somewhere else mere mortals visiting the Kingdom of Thailand have to leave the country every thirty days or so to get a new visa and Mike was in Malaysia on business at around the time I needed to leave the country. He’s a brilliant salesman and had convinced me that a visit to Kota Kinabalu which is the Western bit of Malaysia would be a worthwhile trip and why not join him and then follow him onto Kuala Lumpur. He explained how fantastic the jungle trips were and what a rewarding experience it would be for me to go on a trek and see the Urang Otangs. So I flew down didn’t I.
When I landed at Kota Kinabalu airport I filled in the medical form asked if I’d suffered diahhrea, nausea, headaches or flu in the last 30 days, so I told a little white lie (which had they inspected they would have found out was not the colour of my underpants) and handed in the form.
Anyway I passed through customs without having my prostate checked and was sat about wondering what to do. It was actually quite a nice place, tropical heat palm trees, uplights in the road that sort of stuff quite a quaint place if I’m honest. Now in Thailand there’d be herds and herds of cabbies and pan handlers and hotel reps trying to get you to stay at this place or the other or get a lift to here or there and you’d pass over a few baht jump in a barely roadworthy automotive contraption and pull up the drivers sister in laws guest house fifteen death defying minutes later with somewhere to stay and a brown patch in the seat of your trousers. Not Malaysia though, it’s an off spin of British colonialism, you can’t have people at railway stations and airports trying to help you can you? Anyway I sat about smoking cigarettes and couldn’t find any cunting taxi driver who spoke English or Thai so I babmbled about looking lost and smoking fags.
Anyway I was struck with a brainwave as to how to get into town, why not ask some [at][at][at][at], and the fellow I chose to accost turned out to be a fairly decent German type who looked like a birdwatcher or butterfly collector. He seemed to know where to find accommodation and suggested we could walk so I agreed and followed him, then it started to seem like a bit of a hike so we got in a cab, anyway long story short we found a hotel within budget and he got put in the room opposite me. I’d discovered on the journey that he was a kindred spirit, like me he was on a visa run and he was married to a Thai bird and lived in Samat Prakhan.
Fast forward an hour and I’m sat in the bar of the Sheraton with Mike (whose want is to stay in such places on his trips round the planet) talking shite, catching up and listening to him enthusing to me about what a fascinating place we were visiting. We had a couple of sherberts and headed into town. Then what happened , we went round a few bars on the sea front had a few scoops, went in an upmarket disco and watched football on a big screen while we had a few more beers, nothing too exciting but not bad. Then last orders came so we asked a couple of people drinking nearby if there was anywhere we could go for a late drink so they pointed us in the direction of a slightly lower rent gaff that had a couple of pool tables and a bar that was open.
Anyway Mike had to be at some business meeting or other at 10 in the morning so he beat a retreat at about 1 am while I’d had a bit of Dutch courage and was making friends with a couple of European guys who were playing pool. They were the sort of vaguely itinerant well educated drifters you tend to meet off the beaten track in South East Asia not quite hippies, not quite career men. The French guy told me he was teaching at a local university and started going on about ecosystems and wildlife and stuff while I played pool with him for a drink a frame. When the bar started to close up he asked me if I fancied a nightclub and ever the intrepid explorer I agreed.
A twenty minute taxi driver later and we’re in some nightclub in the middle of nowhere, we’d driven for a bit out of the town and there was this street with houses that had neon outside and we were in one up a flight of stairs. So anyway the disco looks a bit iffy but I’ve faced worse opposition in my time so I got a drink and tried not to look too conspicuous. All was going well, there were a few Malaysian gangster types, the odd foreign couple on a gap year and me stood not too bothered but wondering where Piere or Luc or whatever his name was had gone. Then this fellow comes up to me with a big smile and a pot like the sort you get Starbucks Frapes in with some yellow stuff in it that looked like a Mango shake or something and said ,”Here, drink this.”
I laeticiously obliged and once I’d slurped the lot down through a straw asked the sprightly young chap what he’d so kindly concocted for me.
“Magic mushrooms,” he replied with an evil grin and fucked off.
It was seven bastard hours before everyone in the club took their Star Wars masks off and I felt safe enough to venture outdoors. During the night Mick Macarthy the manager of Sunderland FC had become embossed in the wallpaper and was berating me about his teams defeat at the hands of the Latics, John Merrick the Elephant Man had done a spot on the decks and I’d vomited fire and somewhere during the night I’d realised I was about the only white guy in club full of Malaysian gays. Not a cool scene if I’m honest about it. At one point I thought I was inside my fridge in the flat in Stockport sat next to a pack of Birds Eye grilling steaks.
When I was eventually brave enough to leave, the French guy was waiting on the balcony, I asked him if he could get us a cab but he explained that taxi drivers thought the area was too dangerous and we’d have to wait for the first bus back into town.
When it eventually arrived I was a walking hallucinating corpse and I had to share a bus with fifty Malaysian schoolkids. When I arrived at the hotel I hallucinated a sea of schoolkids in the reception. I felt like Raul Duke on his quest to find the American dream. Anyway before I went into my room I thought I’d check on the German fellow to see if he could talk me round into mental stability but when I knocked on his door he answered bollock naked.
I shook my head went into my room and crawled under my sheet until the monsters left me alone.
To view links or images in signatures your post count must be 0 or greater. You currently have 0 posts.
Last edited by Marmite the Dog : 22-10-2009 at 08:45 AM.
|22-10-2009, 11:18 AM||#3 (permalink)|
Last Online: 31-01-2011 09:29 PM
Join Date: Aug 2007
Location: Rawai Phuket
It is in the far East of East Malaysia
|22-10-2009, 10:45 PM||#5 (permalink)|
Last Online: 28-01-2015 05:47 PM
Join Date: Jan 2009
Location: Koh Tannga
The stamp in my pasport read something along the lines of "Sabaha and Western Isles" although I had the relevant documentation stolen at a later date so can't verify it.
Hail Caesar !
|26-12-2009, 02:46 PM||#6 (permalink)|
Join Date: Aug 2007
Peninsular Malaysia , Sabah and Sarawak
The country is crescent- shaped, starting with Peninsular Malaysia (West Malaysia) and extends to another region, Sabah and Sarawak (East Malaysia)
"Keeping quiet while monks and other peaceful protesters are murdered and jailed is not evidence of constructive engagement." - Arvind Ganesan, Human Rights Watch.
"I think...I think it's in my basement. Let me go upstairs and check" - M.C. Escher
|Currently Active Users Viewing This Thread: 1 (0 members and 1 guests)|
|Thread Tools||Search this Thread|