Saturday, 12 September 2015

074 CYCLING MALAYSIA (2) - WAITING FOR A NEW PASSPORT


MALAYSIA (2)
3,205 Kilometres - 66 Days
8 June – 11 September 2015

 

8 June - Hat Yai, Thailand – Alor Setar, Malaysia - 105 km

After an easy 55-kilometre cycle, I arrived at the Thailand-Malaysia border. It was a hassle-free border crossing, and I was automatically granted a 90-day stay, which was a relief. Sixty kilometres later, I reached Alor Setar, which is known as the gateway to Langkawi. However, I hadn't planned to go there and was only looking for a place to spend the night.

While no country is perfect, some come closer to paradise than others. With Malaysia’s delicious cuisine that blends Malay, Chinese, and Indian, I was in my element and felt that Malaysia rightfully earned a top spot on my list of paradise-like destinations. The aroma of spices and the sizzle of the hotplates at the night market next to the guesthouse where I stayed was a sensory delight. I was spoilt for choice and couldn't resist trying more than one roti canai, especially since they were inexpensive.

 

9 June - Alor Setar – Penang – 100 km

The ride to Butterworth was relaxed and offered views of scenic rice paddies and beautiful temples and mosques. Once in Butterworth, I boarded a ferry that transported pedestrians, cars, and motorbikes to the island of Penang. A few minutes later, we docked at famous Georgetown.

I discovered a crappy but inexpensive abode with an air-con and window (considered a bargain). The guidebook mentioned that Penang was known as the ‘Pearl of the Orient, and it lived up to its reputation as I saw rickshaws peddling past Chinese shophouses. Georgetown was further renowned for its street food, and countless vendors were selling Malay, Indian, and Chinese cuisine at the numerous stands that lined the town's narrow lanes. Feeling famished, I rushed to the nearest food cart to grab my daily plate of Nasi Goreng.

 

10 June - Georgetown, Penang

Although Georgetown’s centre is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it remains a working town with Chinese shophouses where people live and work. Rickshaws pedalled tourists around the labyrinth of chaotic streets and cobbled pathways, past British Raj-era architecture, strings of paper lanterns, and retro-chic pubs, boutiques, and cafes. I spent the day searching for famous street art, with a camera in hand, and my efforts were well rewarded. Street art was dotted all over town, and locating it was an enjoyable challenge that took the best part of the day.

 

11 June - Georgetown, Penang

I wasn’t entirely done with all I wanted to see in Georgetown, so I extended my stay by one more day. I explored the narrow alleys, discovered more street art, and came across many interesting sights. My ramble led me past the joss stick maker, the goldsmith, the garland makers and the ever-present food vendors. Through Little India and Little China and past the old clan jetties, I meandered before returning to my abode in Love Lane.

 

12 June - Georgetown – Taman Damai – 55 km

Not in the mood for cycling but not for staying either, I dragged my heels, making my way to the ferry for the return trip to the mainland.

No sooner were we underway, than rain came pelting down. In Southeast Asia, the rain comes in droves, and motorcycles and scooters usually pull over at designated places during such weather. I followed suit and waited until the worst of it passed. Barely a few kilometres further, the heavens opened once more. What can a woman do but find digs and watch the weather from the porch while drinking a tall Tiger?

 

13 June - Taman Damai – Taiping - 44 km

My next stop was Taiping, known for being the wettest town in the region. Even during the driest month of June, the city still receives significant rainfall, with 159 mm of precipitation. As a result, it's almost impossible to pass Taiping without getting soaked. As there was no real reason to stop early, I took some time to explore the city.

When I arrived at the hotel, I was surprised that they allowed me in, as I was dripping water all over their shiny tiles. Unfortunately, the rain never stopped, and I ended up staying at the hotel for the rest of the day, not doing much except eating.

 

14 June - Taiping – Lumut - 95 km

Breakfast was from McDonald’s after which a 95-kilometre ride took me to Lumut, the departure point to Pulau Pangkor. The rain dissipated, and the previous night’s rainfall brought cooler weather. The temperature was around 30°C, and although incredibly humid, biking remained a pleasure. Lumut took me by surprise as it looked good enough to spend a night instead of getting directly onto the ferry to Pangkor Island.

 

15 June – Lumut

First thing in the morning, I went to the mall to do some shopping. Once done, I bought a photography magazine I read at Starbucks while having coffee. It was nice to have a regular day for a change. However, purchasing the magazine was maybe not the best idea, as reading it made me want to buy a new lens.

En route to my abode, I made a quick stop at the Mangrove Park to snap a few pics of the monkeys. While doing so, the buggers stole my water bottle off the bike, which I had thought was tightly secured into its cage! I waved my fist at them but swear I could hear them laughing from the treetops.

 

16 June - Lumut

The reason I was dragging my heels was that I was waiting for my new passport. With no word of the replacement passport, I assumed it best to remain in Malaysia as it was one of the few countries allowing a ninety-day stay. After which all one had to do was cross the border into Singapore and upon returning you were given an additional three months.

Malaysia wasn’t overly expensive, and although not part of the plan, Lumut appeared to be an excellent place to lay low. Staying put was a whole new experience. I was happy in the tropics, and there was nowhere else I would rather wait until the passport arrived.

I liked Lumut as it was situated along the ocean, and was close enough to the larger town of Seri Manjung. Lumut further had various restaurants and bars, as it was the departure point for tourists to Pangkor Island. I searched for a place to rent and was surprised to find a considerable number of options available in such a small village. I treated myself to a lovely studio apartment with a small balcony. The condo was quite spacious for a studio, and the complex came with a massive pool that was all mine to enjoy as it was Ramadan and Malaysia was relatively quiet at the time. The staff was very accommodating and even provided me with a little table and chairs for the balcony. They also took care of my laundry and offered me one of their laptops with a big screen.

 

17–24 June - Lumut

As part of my new routine, I started going for a jog followed by a swim. However, I needed running shoes and swimming goggles. Despite being determined to get running fit, it turned out to be more challenging than I had anticipated. I wasn't sure if I had enough patience to continue with such a slow start.

 

25 June – 5 July - Lumut

Fortunately, I love tropical regions. While returning from the shops, I had a great time dodging monkeys that tried to snatch my shopping. However, renting an apartment for a whole month was a bit excessive. Before even reaching the halfway mark of the month, I was already eager to leave.

Feeling bored, I cycled to Marine Island, hoping to go scuba diving, but the shop was closed. Restless, I headed to the Mall instead, where I pampered myself with a facial and later explored the Rahmat Maritime Museum, a navy battleship that was a fun place to visit.

 

6 July - Lumut

The twin islands of Pangkor and Pangkor Laut are situated three miles offshore. They are home to several fishing villages featuring traditional Malay houses. A round-trip ferry ticket costs only 10MYR, making these islands a popular destination for both backpackers and domestic travellers. I, too, joined the crowds to explore the islands and see what they had to offer.

 

7 July - Lumut - Bangkok

Months after applying for a new passport, the passport saga continued. Only after I made a phone call to the Bangkok Embassy did I learn I had to pay double the original fee as I had lost the passport. Unfortunately, nobody had informed me beforehand about this additional cost. Furthermore, I had to pay this fee at the embassy itself. It's ironic how reality can sometimes be more unbelievable than fiction. I hastily packed a backpack and hopped on a bus to Bangkok.

 

8 July - Bangkok

Twenty-four hours later, the bus arrived in one of my favourite cities. Peachy Guesthouse was my abode of choice in Bangkok as it was cheap as chips. While there, I noticed a familiar-looking pannier by the rubbish bin. I knew the pannier quite well as it belonged to Ernest, an old cycling buddy with whom I had parted ways in the Americas. It seemed that he had stayed at the same guesthouse recently and, like me, his panniers were also falling apart.

 

9 July - Bangkok

First thing in the morning, I caught a water taxi to the Embassy. I’m always thrilled to use city transport, like everyone else. I paid the required fee at the embassy and then trundled around the many malls.

Afterwards, enough time remained to visit the National Museum. To celebrate the 60th birthday of HRH Princess Maha Chakri Sirindhorn, the Fine Arts Department hosted a special exhibition, “Feminine Deities: Buddhism, Hinduism And Indigenous Cults In Thailand”. Maybe they weren’t well-liked, as the majority were headless.

 

10–11 July - Bangkok

Staying in Bangkok one more day was easy as I was in no hurry to go anywhere, and Bangkok provided an endless array of exciting events and activities.

By evening, Khao San Road was its usual hive of activity. Situated in the heart of Backpackerville, it’s here where you could be pierced, tattooed and dreadlocked if you wished. You could eat bugs, shop for jewellery and clothes (which I did) and buy fake IDs, driver’s licenses, diving cards and even photographer’s passes (tempting… imagine what one could do with such an ID). By evening, an outdoor cultural show had me transfixed.

The idea of leaving Thailand without watching the national sport is quite inconceivable. Muay Thai is a sport like no other. You can, seemingly, use knees, elbows, shins, hands and feet. It’s an intriguing sport, and the men are well built which is enough reason for me to watch.

Finally, the time came to leave Bangkok and return to Malaysia. This time, I believed it was far nicer to go by train than by bus. I love how the tray tables unfolded when serving food (tablecloth and all) and how they make the beds at night. It reminds me of a long-forgotten era. There’s nothing quite like crawling in and falling asleep to the hypnotic clickety-clack of the wheels on the tracks. I love how the sound steadily increases as the train gets up to speed—pure magic.

 

12–16 July - Lumut

Arriving in Lumut felt like returning home. I smiled at the staff, saying, “Hi, hello. Did you enjoy your holiday?” This is typically followed by, “Have you eaten?” a standard greeting in Malaysia.

 

17 July - Lumut – Sungai Besar - 107 km

Finally, my last day in Lumut arrived, and I was happy to pack up and resume my journey. Cycling the same country twice could be somewhat monotonous but there are always new places to explore and I had no choice but to wait until the new passport arrived.

I pedalled until reaching Sungai Besar, where I found inexpensive accommodation. The evening was enjoyable as people celebrated Eid, marking the end of the Islamic holy month of Ramadan. This celebration, known as Hari Raya Aidilfitri, is a time when countless Malay families wear new clothes in the same hue. Men wear loose shirts with trousers, and women wear full-length blouse and skirt combinations, typically made of silk or silk-like material. I understood that this tradition signified unity.

 

18 July - Sungai Besar – Sekinchan - 25km

Plagued with a stomach bug, I pulled into Sekinchan. I scarcely took any pictures as I had other things on my mind (LOL). The room rates in Sekinchan were more pricey than usual as the Eid festival was in full swing. The festival was a family-and-friends day where people visited family and asked forgiveness for wrongdoings that occurred in the past year. However, most people seemed focused on eating during the festival.

 

19 July - Sekinchan – Klang - 80km

My late departure was due to waiting until the weather cleared and it was late before I pedalled out of Sekinchan. Unfortunately, the drizzle continued for the best part of the day. Still, I didn’t need to run into the bushes like the previous day, and the overcast weather made it comfortable riding. The traffic was hectic but, mercifully, a smaller path ran parallel to the main road.

 

20-21 July - Klang – Taman Pura Prima - 30 km

From Klang, I veered slightly inland to visit Peter Yoong, a fellow cyclist and Warmshower host I met in Thailand while on his Southeast Asia tour a few months earlier. A short and easy ride led south along a separate motorbike lane, complete with road signs.

I soon arrived at Peter’s place, and was greeted by his lovely family. Peter even had a cold beer waiting for me.

The following morning, we visited the market and afterwards Peter baked three pies. Did I pick the right Warmshowers host, or what? By evening, Ivan, a fellow cyclist, arrived. Peter drove us to Kuala Lumpur, allowing us to take pictures of the famous Petronas Twin Towers.

 

22 July - Taman Pura Prima – Lukut - 115 km

Peter suggested taking the coastal route as a shortcut to Port Dickson, and it turned out to be a great idea as it was far quieter and more scenic. The path cut through oil palm plantations until it reached a river where a small ferry carried people across. Once on the opposite bank, a short distance remained to Lukut.

 

23-25 July - Lukut – Malacca - 100 km

A pleasant day led across large rivers and past green and lush swampy areas, precisely what one would expect of Malaysia. My arrival in Malacca was in good time, and I searched for the Warmshowers host. Howard ran a small guesthouse and hostel where cyclists could stay on the rooftop terrace for free.

Howard was incredibly generous and helpful, providing complimentary coffee and tea. The following day, I took my bike to be serviced and explored the streets of old Malacca, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

It was easy to stay an extra day. First, I went on a free walking tour and then took my camera to a shop to have it cleaned. On my return, I stumbled upon a bonsai show. Although I don't know much about bonsais, they were absolutely magnificent.

 

26 July - Malacca – Batu Pahat - 88 km

Not a great deal happened during the day, except it started raining, and instead of becoming soaked, I found a place to take cover until it was over.

 

27 July - Batu Pahat – Pontian Kecil - 77 km

During my ride to Pontian Kecil, I made my usual stops to refill my water supply or sample the local food. I initially planned to stay at a Warmshower accommodation, but due to a misunderstanding, I had to find an alternative place to stay. Interestingly, the hotel staff still used an abacus, which made for an intriguing experience. It's incredible how diverse and unique our world can be.

 

28 July - Pontian Kecil – Kota Tinggi - 105 km

I spent the better part of the day riding on busy main roads, which wasn't very pleasant. Unfortunately, I got caught in the rain again, but it didn't last long. When I finally arrived in Kota Tinggi, I had enough of the awful traffic and decided to stop at a hotel. Luckily, there was a food court right next door where I was able to enjoy delicious curry noodle soup.

 

29-30 July - Kota Tinggi – Mersing - 105 km

The route to the East Coast was primarily undulating through oil palm plantations but, overall, it was a comfortable ride. In Mersing, a spot at the famous Embassy Hotel was the best value in town, and I paid for two nights’ accommodation.

The day after, I called the SA Embassy in Bangkok and they revealed that the application was finally on the Home Affairs’ system. I hoped that matters wouldn’t take too long from then on. The rest of the day was spent doing regular rest-day chores.

 

31 July - Mersing – Chalets Kampong Merchong - 96 km

The coastal road eventually led onto Route 3 via Rompin. Sadly, workers were clearing the natural forest to convert it into oil palm plantations. A little beyond that a fire was used to make clearing easier. It's always a sad sight.

My path took me past a massive brick-built aviary, used as a swiftlet and edible bird’s nest farm. At the time, a kilogram of white nests could cost up to US$2,000, and red nests up to US$10,000, making it an extremely lucrative business.

Basic chalets along the river made it an excellent place to spend the night. Sadly, the air was thick with smoke from fires, to such an extent that I secretly planned what to grab when push came to shove. Fortunately, a thunderstorm came to the rescue and calmed things down a tad. Phew, what a relief.

 

1-2 August - Chalets Kampong Merchong – Kuantan - 111 km

Roadside stands sold various exotic cuisine - lemang was a delicacy of sticky rice baked in bamboo. It’s a good thing I take pictures as I sometimes think nothing happened until I look at my photos. Someone once said: Travellers see more than they remember and remember more than they see. I thought it a very true statement.

Kuantan was considerably larger than anticipated, featuring a backpackers' hostel without bicycle storage. So, instead, I settled for a guesthouse. Luckily, the place was opposite the night market, and as I hadn’t eaten all day, I shouldn’t have gone shopping hungry.

I tried to fix the laptop’s touchpad but only broke the entire thing. Therefore, I sought out the computer shop in the morning.

 

3 August - Kuantan – Kerteh - 97 km

I laughed out loud when biking out of Kuantan - the joy of moving on and the freedom it brings can sometimes be overwhelming. I must admit I usually have this feeling on the downhill. LOL. Although several places of interest were sprinkled along the way, I didn’t feel like stopping and biked until reaching Kerteh. Unfortunately, conservative Kerteh didn’t have a considerable number of attractions. Not even beer but a good enough bed could be found, which was all I needed.

 

4-5 August - Kerteh – Kuala Terengganu - 117 km

Once again, a pleasant and easy ride led past plenty of fishing villages and across wide rivers, reminding me that this was indeed the tropics. The Seaview Hotel lacked a sea view but had a ground-floor room to store the bike. Nearby Chinatown made for a relaxing stroll and provided a much-needed meal.

By morning, I handed in my laundry and returned to Chinatown, which offered interesting 3D street art. The paintings were so lifelike that it was hard to tell where the real thing ended and the picture started. The area was fascinating, full of colour and delicious food. Markets were crammed with unfamiliar merchandise and strange smells, making it a fascinating visit.

 

6 August - Kuala Terengganu – Kuala Besut - 109 km

It took the best part of the day to cycle the 109 kilometres to Kuala Besut, as cycling was into a mild headwind. The route was pan flat and hugged the coast. The East Coast was dotted with small islands, the most famous being the Perhentian Islands, which I was heading to.

Once in Kuala Besut, food stalls miraculously appeared, and I had plenty to choose from—it was a good thing, too, as I hadn’t eaten all day and was starving.

 

7-9 August - Kuala Besut – Perhentian Islands - By ferry

In Kuala Besut, the friendly guesthouse owner agreed to store my bicycle while I visited the nearby islands. The ferry stopped at various places, but I got off at Longbeach. The village offered budget accommodation and cheap diving. Oh La La came at a reasonable price and I booked a dive for the following morning and spent the rest of the day snorkelling.

The next day, we took a boat ride to a pinnacle about 20 minutes away. Although the visibility wasn't excellent, the dive was still incredible, with plenty of marine life along the reef. In the evening, I joined other divers for a delicious supper on the beach. The following day, we went on another dive to a cave. The water was so warm that diving without a wetsuit and only a T-shirt was possible. We returned just in time for me to catch the return ferry to the mainland.

 

10 August - Kuala Besut – Kuala Terengganu - 112 km

Some days are stranger than others and this was one of them. Soon after departing a motorbike pulled up next to me and with lightning-fast action, the man reached out and grabbed my boob and then sped off. I let rip with profanities and gave him the middle finger. He highly likely didn’t understand “Jou ma se moer!” Ha, ha, ha.

Later, a friendly chap stopped and offered me a ride to Terengganu. To him, Terengganu was too far to cycle in a day, even though only 50 kilometres remained. I declined his offer, thanked him for his kindness and with my faith in humanity restored, proceeded to Terengganu where my arrival was in good time. I picked up fried noodles and beer in Chinatown and headed to the Seaview Hotel without the sea view.

 

11 August - Kuala Terengganu – Dundun - 94 km

During my ride to Dundun, the route passed numerous roadside stands selling satay-skewered chicken wrapped in banana leaves and cooked on a smoky charcoal grill. At one of the stalls, I realised I was wearing odd shoes, which was quite a feat considering I only had two pairs.

Unfortunately, I spent most of the day riding into a stiff breeze, and midway to Dundun, the rain came gushing down so heavily that I had to take cover. Dundun had several options for accommodation along the beachfront. However, they were all quite expensive and, in the end, I chose the least expensive of the bunch. Big mistake, as it turned out to be the worst place I have stayed at during my time in Malaysia. On days like this, I must remind myself that I’m not buying the place and that I'll be out of there by morning.

 

12-13 August - Dungun – Cherating - 86 km

Cherating was a charming fishing village along the coast. Before direct transport from the highlands to the Perhentian Islands, travellers stopped here to enjoy a bit of R&R. Nowadays, very few travellers stop in Cherating, and the place has a sad air of ghostliness and decline. However, heaps of accommodation with practically no one there made finding bargain rooms easy. Staying the following day was easy, and it was an excellent place to do laundry and lounge about.

 

14 August - Cherating – Pekan - 90 km

Retracing one’s steps is never much fun, but staying in Pekan was intriguing. Not only is this where the Sungai Pahang (the longest river in Peninsular Malaysia) flows into the South China Sea, but the town was further home to rows of traditional Chinese shophouses.

At my abode, I debated where to go once I received my new passport. The monsoon season was on its way, and I was drawn to India where it was about to end. Not having cycled Bangladesh made the country a fascinating option.

 

15 August - Pekan – Rompin - 94 km

An easy day of biking led along the ocean. As requested, I received word from the Embassy in Bangkok informing me my passport was sent to Bangkok instead of Cape Town. The passport was already in the diplomatic bag and would arrive in Bangkok in two days. I was understandably sceptical regarding this info. If that were the case, I could either have it couriered or collect it myself. That’s if the Thai border control would let me in with a nearly full passport.

 

16 August - Rompin – Mersing - 66 km

Mersing was only a short distance away, so I didn’t bother with breakfast before setting out. The coastal route was far more pleasant than the main road, and the ride became one of many coffee stops and grand vistas. In Mersing, settling for the Embassy Hotel was a no-brainer, as rooms came with hot water, air conditioning, and TV.

My laptop finally gave in. Although it still worked, the screen was shaky, and I guessed it was only a matter of time before it packed up entirely.

 

17 August - Mersing – Kluang - 90 km

The ride would’ve been nice if only the road had been slightly wider, and the multitude of trucks didn’t make biking any easier. Instead, the way mainly led through oil palm plantations and partly through a natural forest.

Sadly, I spotted a distressed-looking monkey and noticed her little one was knocked down. The poor mother looked stressed and disorientated, pacing up and down as any human would. How incredibly sad.

 

18 August - Kluang – Muar - 108 km

The 17th came and went, and still no passport news. Sigh. I assume the passport wasn’t in the diplomatic bag as promised. The route to Muar was uneventful, and once in Muar the town was more significant than I had foreseen.

I had a long chat with the man at the reception desk. What impressed me was that Malaysians generally speak up to six languages: predominantly Malay, English, Cantonese and Mandarin, and various other dialects.

 

19 August - Muar – Port Dickson - 126 km

I pushed on to Port Dickson as I had already cycled this section a few weeks earlier. Once in Port Dickson, I pitched the tent on the beach under trees, a lovely spot with a view over the ocean, where I sat watching the sunset before trundling to a nearby restaurant.

 

20 August - Port Dickson – Puchong - 90 km

No day comes without a few surprises and this morning was no different. I woke to a massive storm and had to lean against the tentpole with all my might to prevent it from breaking or tearing the tent. Rain bucketed down, and I feared I pitched the tent too close to the water’s edge as I could hear the waves crashing ashore. Fortunately, the tide never came quite that high but when the storm subsided, I discovered seafoam inches from the tent. Phew, that was too close for comfort!

Sopping wet, I biked toward Puchong where the plan was to stay at Peter’s place for a few days or at least until my new passport arrived.

 

21-25 August - Puchong

I hardly did anything, apart from chatting with Peter and his family. Another guest, Carolina from Brazil, also stayed there and helped Peter with his garden. Carolina was a lovely, energetic lady who always looked for ways to help. She was part of a wonderful programme called HelpX, which allowed members to stay with locals for free in return for helping them with various tasks.

The days slipped by unnoticed. At last, I have organised for my passport (still in South Africa) to be sent to Malaysia. Then, surprisingly, my laptop returned to life and seemed to work fine.

It turned out to be the Hungry Ghost Festival. In ancient Chinese folk culture, people believed this was a month of ghosts. It’s thought that the gates of hell are thrown open, releasing hungry ghosts to wander the Earth in search of food. During this time, people placed food and paper money outside, and at temples, they burned exquisite paper houses, cars, mobile phones, and even paper shoes, so the spirits didn’t have to go barefoot. These ghosts are believed to be unfortunate souls who committed evil deeds in their former lives, including overeating, drinking, gambling, and smoking. A substantial amount of these items is put out for these sad souls. If that’s indeed the case, I am doomed to become a hungry ghost. LOL.

 

26 August - Puchong

Peter drove us to the nearby Hindu temple. The temple was brand new, and parts were still being painted. Hindu temples are elaborately decorated, and the architecture is simply breathtaking. I understand that artisans were brought in from India.

Although these temples are places of worship, it’s interesting to note that the Hindu Monk, Swami Vivekananda taught that temples are simply means of reaching God, not an end. “Man is to become divine by realising the divine. Idols, temples, churches, or books are only supports.” ― Swami Vivekananda.

 

27 August - Puchong

Peter and I set out in search of the alleged haunted house of Puchong. The home is located on a hill in the suburb of Taman Tenaga. The story goes that the house was once owned by a wealthy Chinese businessman who went bankrupt. He and his entire family committed suicide but various versions of the story did the rounds. Others say they were murdered by an unknown psychopath killer living in the house’s walls. The place was left to go to ruins in fear of the souls living there.

I read that Bomohs (Malaysian witch doctors) use the house to practice their rituals. Stories of Pontianaks (female vampire ghosts) taking up residence in the place were popular. Reports tell of people seeing lights turning on and off, even though power and water have been cut off for years. As could be expected, people heard screams of children and, of course, saw shadowy figures. We found the place but no ghosts; only thousands of pursuing mosquitoes, which one could easily have thought possessed. Needless to say, we made our way out of there in a hurry.

 

28 August – 2 September - Puchong

Finally, my passport arrived, and I was happy to move along. The question remained where to go. India and Bangladesh were my first choices. Applying for visas in Kuala Lumpur made sense, seeing I was already there. However, being a weekend, and the following Monday a holiday, it was Tuesday before I went to the Bangladesh Embassy. Peter drove me to the city only to find the Embassy only issued visas to Malays. Hence, I decided to cycle north to Bangkok and apply for an Indian visa there.

 

3 September - Puchong – Sekinchan - 110 km

Although sad to leave Peter and his family, I was happy to get underway. Peter suggested a smaller path along the coast, which was great for cycling and far better than the main road. This was my kind of riding - a quiet path along the beach with only a few monkeys and the odd monitor lizard.

 

4 September - Sekinchan – Sitiawan - 127 km

Breakfast was roti canai, but barely 10 kilometres further, I had to make a Gaviscon stop. Chillies, which I should’ve known by then, wasn’t such a good idea first thing in the morning. Later, I returned to the tiny coastal path of the previous day and proceeded past small fishing hamlets and lovely-looking resorts with cabins on stilts over the water. My path weaved its way through palm plantations until reaching a river that mercifully had a ferry to take me across.

The smoke haze wasn’t improving, but instead worsened. According to newspapers, the causes of the fog were forest burning, smoke from factories, vehicle emissions, and open burning. The pollution surely can’t be healthy. Nevertheless, nothing of interest happened after crossing the river, and I pushed on to Sitiawan.

 

5 September - Sitiawan – Taiping - 90 km

Although it was drizzling, it never rained awfully hard, so I continued until I reached Taiping shortly past midday. Skipping breakfast left me starving, so I went hunting for food almost immediately.

The Taiping Zoo was open at night and made a great place to explore after sunset. The zoo was dimly lit, resembling a full moon. I thought it quite magical wandering about listening to the sounds of the night and smelling the damp forest. Much grunting, stomping and chewing could be heard. While wondering what I would do if a crocodile suddenly jumped at me, a deer bounced out from behind a bush, giving me the fright of my life!

 

6 September - Taiping – Penang - 101 km

A quick breakfast and I was on my way—although slightly further, minor paths made a far more pleasant ride. Malaysia is exceptionally modern, and one can easily forget how tropical the country is. The way crossed numerous rivers, all jam-packed with fishing boats of all shapes and sizes. Finally, it spat me out in Butterworth, where I boarded the ferry to Penang. Although there was a bridge, the ferry was extremely popular with cars and motorbikes.

I felt privileged to return to Penang with its historic district and an immense variety of street food and street art. I searched for a visa agent as only a two-week stay was typically granted at Thailand land borders. One can, nonetheless, easily obtain a three-month visa beforehand but it comes at the cost of RM150. As I planned on applying for an Indian and Bangladesh visa in Bangkok, I opted for the three-month option.

Loads of places offered visa services, and I handed my passport to them to do what was necessary.

 

7 September - Penang

As the visa took a day or two, I had a relaxing day. Finally, I started a new blog as I couldn’t access the old one even though I knew the password, email and username. The problem being I no longer had access to the phone number provided many moons ago—what a load of crap!

I finally gave up trying. The new blog kept me busy, as the last update was way back in the Philippines in 2013. In fact, it took another seven years before I could delete the old blog!

 

8 September - Penang

Working on the blog occupied me as I desperately wanted to finish it before departing Malaysia. At around midday, I collected my passport and then updated the blog. A saunter around town revealed the town buzzing with the Hungry Ghost Festival. The festival lasted roughly two weeks and occurred during June/July (Chinese calendar).

Not all areas celebrate the festival simultaneously—in some places festivities were already finished, while others had just started. In Penang, giant joss sticks were burning, food stands were everywhere, and live performances created a festive atmosphere.

 

9 September - Penang

I emerged to pouring rain and waited a while, but the rain never subsided. In the meantime, I met fascinating people at the Love Lane Inn hostel. At least five of them were travelling by motorbike. A French guy was travelling on an Australian “Postie”, an Indian chap was on a motorbike, and so was the French couple. The Australian travelled using local motorbikes, buying and selling them as he went along. Taking them across borders was far too costly. I thus stayed and had a couple of beers with the other travellers.

 

10 September - Penang – Guran - 110 km

I finally departed via a secondary path, and though it drizzled on and off all day, it wasn’t too terrible. Sadly, once in Pantai Merdeka, the ferry across the river was nowhere to be seen. Even after asking around, I couldn’t locate anyone to take me across, so I returned to the main road and onto Guran, which had digs and food.

 

11 September - Guran, Malaysia – Sadao Border Post, Thailand - 105 km

It turned out to be a good day of biking, the rain was gone and the sky was blue. A small path ran flush along the main road, making pedalling easy. The rain of the previous two days made for flooded rice paddies and fresh air, and the countryside looked lush and green as my route headed to the border.

The border crossing into Thailand was surprisingly troublesome. First, I now had two passports (the old one and the new one), and second, you had to produce cash as well as a return ticket. So, off I went to the bank to draw money, which satisfied the officer. After explaining I was travelling by bicycle, they mercifully didn’t insist on a ticket out of the country. By then, it was already relatively late, and I overnighted in Sadao. 

Tuesday, 9 June 2015

073 CYCLING THAILAND (5) - WAITING FOR A NEW PASSPORT

Through Heat, Rain, and Kind Roads:


Rolling South to the Border




73 THAILAND (5)
866 Kilometres – 12 Days
25 May – 7 June 2015



MAP

PHOTOS



 

Prelude

Thailand greeted me not as a clean slate, but as a familiar chapter reopened—one written in steam‑heavy air, unpredictable skies, and roads that demanded equal parts patience and resolve. This was my fifth time crossing into the kingdom, yet familiarity did not lessen the challenge. From dripping border crossings and rain‑soaked highways to frantic city traffic and blissfully empty coastal lanes, Thailand unfolded as a land of contrasts.

 

 

25 May - Koh Kong, Cambodia to Trat, Thailand (108 km)

The Cambodian immigration office was just a stone's throw away, a mere 10 kilometres across the stunning Mekong River. Before I knew it, I was navigating through the bustling Thai border control. The sky poured as if it were trying to quench the earth after a long dry spell, signalling the end of the dry season. Despite the relentless rain, I pushed myself through 100 kilometres to Trat, a charming little town with a handful of basic guesthouses. This day marked a significant milestone—my fifth entry into Thailand, leaving behind the vibrant landscapes of Cambodia.

 

26 May - Trat to Klaeng – (136 km)

Emerging from my windowless room the next morning, I found that the rain had not let up. With each drop, I could feel the humidity creeping back into the air, making the ride to Klaeng a challenge. As I pedalled along, I passed by intriguing spots that beckoned for exploration, but the relentless downpour pushed me to keep moving. Every day has its tales, and on this soggy adventure, I wished for restrooms more often! Let’s say, I was immensely relieved to finally roll into Klaeng and find a place to crash—time to wash those cycling pants! If you were ever considering envying my adventure, believe me, today was not that day!

 

27 May - Klaeng to Chon Buri (108 km)

Thank heavens, the rain finally let up, and the typical hot, humid weather returned, making the 100-odd kilometres to Chon Buri a bit more pleasant. Just moments before I arrived in Chon Buri, I witnessed a truck overturn right in front of me. It was a sobering reminder of how quickly things can go wrong. Miraculously, the driver walked away unscathed. Yet, just down the road, another accident unfolded between a scooter and a car. These harrowing scenes made me acutely aware of how vulnerable we cyclists can be on the road. I’d often naively assumed that traffic rules remained constant across borders, but it turns out each country has its own interpretation. Even with a well-defined shoulder, it wasn’t a designated bike lane, and I kept my bike as close to the edge as possible. Staying safe truly felt like a team effort today!

 

28 - 29 May - Chon Buri to Samut Prakan (85 km)

Soon enough, I found a welcome opportunity to veer off the hectic highway onto a peaceful coastal road, breathing in the salt-scented air. I planned to find a place to stay on the outskirts of Bangkok so that I could pop into the city the next day. A new front pannier was desperately needed—my old one was barely holding on with duct tape and prayers, slowly costing me my belongings. With a two-week limit at land borders, making it to Malaysia seemed nearly impossible, so I opted to take a taxi into Bangkok to get my panniers and return swiftly.

However, finding a budget room on the city’s outskirts turned into a real mission. While the streets were lined with hotels, most had price tags that made my wallet wince. In the end, I settled for a quirky love motel, complete with a convenient chair that made me chuckle. Reflecting on it now, I think biking into Bangkok to snag those panniers would have been the better call. But, hey, every misstep is a part of the grand adventure!

 

29 May - Samut Prakan to Oena Resort, Khet Bang Khun Thian (40 Km)

The next morning, I hopped into a taxi, my excitement bubbling over as I headed into the bustling heart of the city. My mission? To hunt down some much-needed panniers—only available in pairs, of course. I also picked up a new lens cap after tragically losing mine on an escapade during the Cambodian boat trip (a story for another day). By the time I returned to the motel, the midday sun was blazing, but I was unprepared for what lay ahead. Navigating the northern tip of the Gulf of Thailand, I found myself trapped in the maddening city traffic, inching along amidst honks and heat. Frustrated and weary, I decided to call it a day, hoping that the morning would bring clearer skies and clearer roads.

 

30 May - Oena Resort to Samut Songkhram (85 km)

Samut Songkhram wasn't in my original plans, but sometimes detours lead to the best adventures. I headed straight for the famous Railway Market, and what a spectacle it was! At first glance, it appeared to be a typical market, alive with vibrant colours and cheerful vendors. But look down, and you’re walking on the very train tracks themselves! Each time a train was scheduled to pass, the stallholders sprang into action, quickly packing up their goods to make way. Unfortunately, no train came that day—maintenance issues kept it at bay.

But the day was far from dull! With it being the weekend, I ventured to the Amphawa Floating market, where the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. It felt like a well-kept secret among locals, with not a single Westerner in sight. The food? Divine! Freshly cooked delicacies were served straight from the boats, and at only 50 Baht, I couldn’t resist the tempting canal tour. Fellow visitors graciously shared insights about the temples we visited, bringing the Thai culture to life for me. By the time we returned, the market was a lively hive of activity, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon.

 

31 May - Samut Songkhram to Cha-Am (95 km)

Having cycled this route between Bangkok and Malaysia twice before, I still relished every moment of this scenic coastal journey. The road was as flat as a pancake, flanked by bustling salt farms and charming fishing villages. Plus, I was thrilled to have a dedicated bike lane all to myself. When I finally rolled into Cha-Am, the weather threw me a curveball, clouds darkening the sky. It seemed like a perfect excuse to find a cosy room and hunker down for a bit.

 

1 June - Cha-Am

Cha-Am was so delightful that I decided to linger an extra day. I savoured a long stroll along the coast, followed by a short yet invigorating jog. With time on my hands, I tackled some much-needed housekeeping, and in a spontaneous moment of self-care, I treated myself to a mani-pedi at the local hairdresser. Pure bliss!

 

2-3 June - Cha-Am to Prachuap Khiri Khan (125 km)

Leaving Cha-Am, I cruised on a flat and easy ride, stopping to savour roadside stalls filled with tropical fruits and delicious fishy snacks. Just before reaching Prachuap, the skies unleashed their fury, drenching me despite my best efforts to speed through. Thankfully, once I arrived in Prachuap, finding accommodation was a breeze—there were plenty of options!

 

4 June - Prachuap Kiri Khan to Bang Saphan (Nipa Beach Bungalows) (93 km)

I took my sweet time on the way to Bang Saphan, the route winding through breathtaking scenery that felt like a painter’s canvas. After months of solitary travel, I finally encountered another kindred spirit on two wheels—an Italian cyclist on a remarkable journey to Italy from Cambodia, whom I couldn’t help but think was going the wrong way! Thailand’s beautiful beaches were a sight to behold; wide stretches of powdery white sand beckoned, all blissfully empty. Quiet resorts nestled behind canopies of bougainvillaea and frangipani flowers lined the coast, complete with hammocks lazily swaying between palm trees. When I stumbled upon Nipa Beach Bungalows right across from the beach, I knew I had found my oasis for the night. What a perfect way to end the day!

 

5-6 June - Bang Saphan – Sea Beach Bungalows (99 Km)

The ride from Bang Saphan was nothing short of breathtaking, weaving through hills that seemed to dance under the golden sun. My destination was Chumphon, the pressure of visa time looming overhead like a storm cloud, pushing me to leave the country sooner rather than later.

Just before I reached Chumphon, I discovered Wua Laen, a coastal village boasting a beach that looked like a slice of paradise. The beachside bungalows immediately caught my eye, and as fate would have it, another cyclist named Peter Yoong, a cheerful guy from Malaysia, arrived just as I was considering a stay. Together, we secured rooms at Sea Beach Bungalows.

While we chatted on the charming little veranda, in walked an Italian cyclist I’d met earlier in the day—though he initially didn’t recognise me in my "civilian" clothes (we shared a good laugh over that!).

That evening, the three of us set out for dinner, creating a delightful atmosphere filled with laughter and the camaraderie of fellow cyclists. Peter, a Warmshowers host, generously invited me to crash at his place once I reached Malaysia. Little did I know that this meeting would spark a friendship that would last for years.

The next morning greeted me with glorious weather, and despite knowing it would put my border timeline at risk, I decided to linger a bit longer in this slice of bliss. After a stroll and a refreshing swim, I savoured the simple joys of travel before digging into breakfast.

 

7-8 June - Hat Yai, Thailand to Alor Setar, Malaysia (105 Km)

With a bit of reluctance, I accepted that cycling wasn’t an option to cross into Malaysia this time. Instead, I hopped on a bus to the border, without a twinge of guilt since I’d ridden this stretch before. A scenic 30-kilometre ride led me to the bustling bus terminal in Chumphon, where the buses to Hat Yai awaited.

Upon reaching Hat Yai, an easy-going 55-kilometre bike ride took me right to the border. Navigating immigration was a breeze, and I thought to myself, “If only all borders could be this seamless!” I stepped into Malaysia with a grin, eagerly welcomed by a generous 90-day visa—now that’s the kind of entry I could get used to!

After rolling another 60 kilometres, I found myself in Alor Setar, the gateway to Langkawi. While I had no plans to visit the island, I certainly needed a comfortable place to lay my head for the night.

No place is without its quirks, but some countries sweep you off your feet, and Malaysia was truly enchanting. The food scene, a vibrant tapestry of Malay, Chinese, and Indian influences, had me swooning. I stumbled upon a room only steps away from the night market—talk about lucky! With Roti Canai priced at just RM1, I indulged in a few too many, leaving the table utterly satisfied. There’s nothing like savouring delicious food while surrounded by the vibrancy of a night market—it was an experience I wouldn't soon forget.

 

Epilogue

As Thailand slipped quietly behind me, I carried more than tired legs and stamped pages. I carried small, lasting impressions: markets that transformed at the sound of a train, roads flanked by salt fields and fishing boats, beaches so empty they felt borrowed from a dream, and chance encounters that turned strangers into companions.

This stretch reminded me that travel is rarely about perfect timing or flawless plans. It’s about adapting when the rain refuses to stop, laughing at inconvenient detours, lingering when a place feels right, and knowing when it’s time to move on. Thailand once again proved to be a place where the road tests you—but also looks after you, just enough.

With a final push toward the border and the promise of new flavours, landscapes, and stories ahead, I rolled onward—grateful for the miles behind me and quietly excited for what waited beyond the next line on the map.

 

Monday, 25 May 2015

072 CYCLE TOURING CAMBODIA (2) - WAITING FOR A NEW PASSPORT

Ancient Wonders and Everyday Life


CAMBODIA (2)

929 Kilometres – 21 Days
3 May – 25 May 2015




MAP
PHOTOS



 

3 May - Sa Kaeo, Thailand to Saophoan (Sisophon), Cambodia (107 km of Racing the Rain into Cambodia)

Once in Cambodia, the route headed east toward Siem Reap. The road was in good condition and ran past stilted houses and dry rice paddies. I was going like the clappers, trying to outrun the approaching storm, wondering if reaching Saophoan without getting soaked would be possible.

At this point, the trip had already turned into a race against nature—and nature looked very confident.

 

4 May - Saophoan to Siem Reap (107 km, Dust, Heat, and Questionable Life Choices)

The following morning, the route was, for the most part, in good condition, except for a section under resurfacing. The dust was horrendous, and I had to use a buff to cover my face. Luckily, this wasn’t the rainy season (small mercies, apparently). Being early May, the weather was scorching, and the mercury hovered around 40°C.

To stay cool, I occasionally wet my shirt, but it would dry within minutes—clearly, evaporation was working overtime. Like a diver needing decompression, it felt like I needed an air-conditioned room to “de-heat”… or perhaps just a giant fridge.

I passed by several rural communities and saw countless schoolchildren riding their bicycles. It's heartening to see that in this country, kids are free to ride their bikes to school—while I, a fully grown adult, was busy melting into mine.

Coming from the countryside, Siem Reap, known for its tourism, appeared chaotic and over-commercialised. In the rural areas, the cost of water was only 500 riel, but in Siem Reap, some places charged as much as 4000 riel. Apparently, the closer you get to temples, the more valuable hydration becomes.

Ivy Guesthouse had fan rooms, but unfortunately, the fans didn’t make the slightest difference. At 11 p.m., the weather bureau reported a temperature of 30°C, but it felt more like 35°C. As it was noticeably cooler outside (which says a lot), I set out to explore.

 

Accommodation Hunting & Temple Dreams

By morning, I searched for better accommodation and discovered a whole plethora of places, all roughly in the same price range—proof that choice doesn’t always make decisions easier.

My main reason for staying in Siem Reap was to explore the temples of Angkor Wat, and I purchased a three-day ticket. My first stop was Angkor Thom, the last great capital of the Khmer Empire. Approaching the site, its magnificent entrance gates came into view, flanked by 54 demons and 54 gods engaged in an epic tug-of-war—arguably the most intense team-building activity ever carved in stone.

Inside the gates, the old temple features 54 towers decorated by 216 enormous faces of Avalokiteshvara (The Lord who looks in every direction), which is said to bear more than a passing resemblance to the great king himself. It did feel like being watched… constantly.

I felt a bit unlucky when it came to capturing sunrises and sunsets. The previous night's sunset was without colour, and this morning's sunrise was unimpressive. However, I still managed to snap a few pictures, as I rarely wake up at 5 a.m., and documentation was required as proof that it happened.

After sunrise, I stopped at the stunning Ta Prohm temple, which became famous after being featured in Tomb Raider. Unfortunately, the Cambodians were busy renovating the structures, making it difficult to photograph them. However, this work is vital to keep the temple standing. Fortunately, there were still plenty to photograph, and I half-expected to run into a hobbit—or at least Lara Croft—but neither showed up.

 

Heat Management Like a Professional

An additional day was spent exploring some of the more distant ruins in Angkor. With my three-day ticket, I could explore in the morning and then return to my air-conditioned accommodation during the day, only venturing out once the heat subsided.

This quickly became less of a travel plan and more of a survival strategy.

 

8 May - Siem Reap to Kampong Kdei (61 km– The “Rested” Cyclist Who Wasn’t)

After three days of not cycling, I expected to be full of energy. However, instead, I felt lethargic and struggled to get going—clearly, my legs had enjoyed retirement and were reluctant to return to duty.

My path passed typical Cambodian houses on stilts, where people seemed to spend most of their time under their homes. This is where they could escape the heat and rain, eat, socialise, and relax in hammocks. Frankly, they seemed to have life figured out.

Cambodians traditionally prefer to sit on the floor or in hammocks rather than chairs. This is a sharp contrast to other cultures, where people usually rest or sleep in the privacy of their homes. Here, everything felt more communal—and far more sensible in the heat.

Several vendors were selling bamboo rice and dried fish along the way. I found the bamboo rice quite tasty, as it was cooked in bamboo stalks over an open fire. A rustic culinary win.

Further along, I was surprised to come across an ancient bridge built between 1181 and 1220 AD. The bridge was built along the old road that connected the ancient capital of Angkor to the south. It was impressive that the bridge was still in use, even though a new road had been built to bypass it. The bridge measured 86 metres in length, 16 metres in width, and 10 metres in height. It had 21 arches supported by 20 columns and was adorned with a 9-headed Naga balustrade. Pedestrians, motorbikes, and bicycles all used the bridge—proof that good infrastructure really does stand the test of time.

The guesthouse beside the bridge made a convenient overnight stop, albeit a tad early. These village guesthouses made interesting stopovers. Rooms cost $6 and had a fan, an en-suite bathroom with a squat toilet, and a mandi (a sizeable concrete tub filled with water). The Cambodians were very diligent about complementary items such as toothbrushes and soap.

Even the most basic rooms offered a toothbrush, soap, and the ever-present communal hair comb—and I wondered who the heck uses a communal comb? But, judging by the blackness of the teeth, they were well-used items!

 

9 May - Kampong Kdei to Kampong Thom (90 km – “Falang!”: Instant Celebrity Status)

Feeling surprisingly energetic after the previous day's tiredness, I left much earlier than usual. Cycling in the cool morning air was a pleasure. The road was crowded with schoolchildren on bikes, which surprised me as it was a Saturday. It made me realise that, although almost all children attend school, the ways they get there vary greatly.

As on the previous day, the route passed by wooden houses on stilts. I heard the usual "Sabadee falang" greeting coming from under the houses or behind banana plants. The word falang (foreigner) appeared as a code among the younger ones—once one child spotted me, the alert system kicked in.

Only one had to shout “Falang!”, and suddenly all the kids in the neighbourhood would come running, yelling “Falang, falang!”—clearly, subtlety was not part of the system.

Since it was the weekend, wedding ceremonies were common. These events usually took place in pink and yellow marquees outside the family homes. I must admit that my curiosity sometimes got the best of me, and I would slow down for a quick “cultural observation,” which may or may not have looked like shameless staring.

 

Tuk-Tuk Temple Safari

Rumour had it that pre-Angkorian temples were scattered in the forest roughly 30 kilometres from Kampong Thom. After hailing a tuk-tuk, we set out in the direction of the site. The ride was slow and took the best part of an hour—plenty of time to question whether this was a good idea.

Upon arrival, I discovered various trails leading into the woods. It was great fun locating these temples and exciting to stumble upon these ancient ruins. More than 100 structures are scattered throughout the forest—essentially a historical treasure hunt.

The information board provided fascinating facts about the area, stating that it was once called Isanapura and served as the capital of Chena in the early 7th century. Fascinating stuff—and surprisingly easy to forget the mosquitoes while reading.

 

11 - 12 May - Kampong Thum to Kampong Cham (113 km – Bugs, Buddhas, and Bad Ideas)

Shortly after departing, my route passed an area where temple statues were being crafted. The sculptures, ranging from big to small, were exhibited along the road. Carving these statues was an immensely dusty process that couldn’t have been healthy—your lungs probably deserved a souvenir too.

The path resembled a never-ending village, with each house having a plastic contraption with fluorescent lights to trap bugs. It appeared no one in Cambodia wanted to run out of hors d’oeuvres.

The roadside rubber plantation looked lush and green, making me want to take a break in the shade. However, I had noticed numerous snakes over the past few days and decided against such a move—especially after cycling over one earlier. That tends to sharpen your decision-making.

I found the labour-intensive process of harvesting latex from rubber trees fascinating.

I chose to stay overnight in the small settlement of Kampong Cham... bought a beer, gulped it down while enjoying the sunset... stayed another day devouring anything in sight and watching the Mekong flow past. Life was very good.

 

13 - 17 May - Kampong Cham to Phnom Penh (107 km - Improvisation Along the Mekong)

I woke early to witness the sunrise and took a few pictures. I’m not exaggerating when I say that after snapping one shot, all the colours disappeared—as if the sunrise clocked out early.

It’s said that even the most mundane trip becomes an adventure when travelling by bicycle… and this day delivered.

Google Maps didn’t show a road along the river to Phnom Penh. That didn’t stop me.

The Mekong is a mighty river, so I assumed people lived along it. Reasonable logic. Questionable execution.

Soon, the path turned into a sandy track, and I bounced along dusty trails past villages where people reacted to me like I was an unexpected episode of television. Kids shouted, adults stared, some laughed—fair enough.

Eventually, a highway appeared like a reward for persistence (or stubbornness).

Phnom Penh offered comfort, air conditioning, and something rare: the chance to stay put for five days. Bliss.

 

Culture, Comfort, and Reality

The traditional Cambodian dance show was a pleasant way to spend an evening… even if my photography skills weren’t keeping up.

The Killing Fields was deeply sobering and illustrated the tragic history of the Khmer Rouge.

The contrast between Cambodia’s ancient grandeur and more recent history was impossible to ignore—and impossible to forget.

 

18 May - Phnom Penh to Traeng Trayueng (90 km – Traffic Chaos & Duct Tape Engineering)

At 8h00 on a Monday morning… getting out of Phnom Penh was an utter nightmare.

Cambodians drive in weird and wonderful ways—and on both sides of the road. Not surprisingly, I had a minor collision with a motorbike that ripped my front pannier.

The repair solution? Duct tape. The strongest engineering philosophy known to travellers.

 

19 May - Traeng Trayueng to Veal Rinh (93 km)

The landscape became hillier as the route headed south towards the coast. Much of the land in the country’s southwest is covered by the Cardamom Mountains, and one needs to cross these mountains to reach Thailand.

Upon arriving in Veal Rinh, I was too lazy to bike an additional 50 kilometres to Sihanoukville to check out the diving, so I opted to stay at a conveniently situated guesthouse.

 

20 - 22 May - Veal Rinh to Sihanoukville (53 km - Headwinds, Hills, and Poolside Laziness)

The road headed south into the wind—cooling but slow, the ultimate double-edged sword.

Food stops were excellent (especially the curry noodle soup—so good I went back for seconds).

I eventually reached Sihanoukville… found a place with a pool… and motivation quietly disappeared. Although the diving didn’t live up to expectations, lazing by the pool, however, exceeded them.

 

23-24 May - Sihanoukville to Koh Kong (By bus – If in Doubt, take a bus)

It rained. The pannier was still broken. Naturally, instead of fixing it, I took a bus to the border. This solved absolutely nothing—but it did involve less effort.

Arrived in Koh Kong. The pannier remained broken—unsurprisingly. Eventually, I accepted defeat and shoved everything into a waterproof bag. Not elegant, but effective.

Sometimes travel is less about solving problems and more about working around them.

 

Jungle Adventure & Coconut Mastery

The next day, I took a boat upriver and hiked to a waterfall through dense forest. The guide casually climbed a tree, grabbed coconuts, and crafted straws from reeds like it was second nature.

Meanwhile, I considered it a win when I didn’t trip over a root.

Monday, 4 May 2015

071 CYCLING THAILAND (4) - APPLYING FOR A NEW PASSPORT

Racing Time and Chasing a Passport




71 THAILAND (4)

 338 Kilometres - 7 Days

26 April - 3 May 2015

 

Between Kingdoms: My Reluctant Journey Through Thailand and Cambodia

 

 

Prelude

 

Every now and then, the journey throws in a gentle reminder that you are not, in fact, in control. This particular chapter began with a perfectly reasonable plan: Cycle through Myanmar to India. Simple. Efficient. Almost professional.

Naturally, it fell apart almost immediately.

Instead of smooth progress, there were a lost passport, deadlines, two-week visa limits, embassy queues, and the creeping suspicion that I had seriously underestimated how long anything takes in real life. Throw in a bit of tropical heat and some highly questionable decision-making, and things were off to a solidly chaotic start.

What followed was less a well-executed route and more a loosely connected series of events involving cycling at odd hours, improvising solutions to self-created problems, and occasionally wondering why I thought any of this was a good idea.

Somewhere along the line, Cambodia entered the picture—bringing with it temples, heat intense enough to melt ambition, and a history impossible to ignore.

In short, the plan didn’t survive. But, as it turns out, that’s often when things get interesting.

 

 


 

26–27 April – Mae Sot to Bangkok (By Bus, with Questionable Life Choices)

After losing my passport in Myanmar—a minor inconvenience unless you enjoy borders refusing to let you pass—I miraculously rediscovered my old passport buried at the bottom of a pannier. Like most important things in life, it had been there all along, quietly minding its own business.

It even had two blank pages left. Two. I was practically rich.

My mission was clear: get to Bangkok and apply for a new passport before my current one officially retired from active duty. At the time, Thailand allowed a two-week stay at land borders, which meant I was not operating under a very relaxed, completely manageable, not-at-all-stressful deadline.

Naturally, I sprang into action… and immediately hit my first obstacle: the next bus only left at 18:50.

With nothing else to do except wait and sweat, I left my bike at the hotel and went on a short exploration of Mae Sot. By “exploration,” I mean I lasted about ten minutes in the heat before retreating indoors like a sensible person who had made several poor decisions leading up to that moment.

The bus ride itself was surprisingly pleasant. I dozed off and woke up at 3 a.m., which is never a reassuring time to wake up anywhere, least of all on the outskirts of Bangkok.

The bus station was about 10–15 kilometres outside the city, surrounded by roadworks and puddles that looked like they might contain either water… or the end of my journey. It had rained the night before, and I found myself cycling through mud in near darkness, carefully avoiding anything that looked even slightly suspicious—which, unfortunately, was everything.

At that hour, Bangkok was eerily quiet. The streets were occupied by a strange mix of the homeless, the drunk, and the mildly unhinged.

It didn’t take long to realise I fitted in beautifully.

 

28–30 April – Bangkok (Paperwork and Existential Reflections)

The next few days were spent rushing around the embassy, filling out forms and handing over money—an experience I hadn’t missed nearly as much as I thought I might.

It felt like a brief return to my old life, except this time I was wearing cycling shorts and carrying everything I owned in bags that smelled faintly of damp socks.

While waiting, I noticed men in suits marching purposefully past, talking into phones, making deals, and generally looking important. Their tone, posture, and seriousness triggered something deep inside me—a faint memory of deadlines, meetings, and PowerPoint presentations.

I stood there, eating an ice cream, watching them, thinking:
“Been there, done that… and I definitely prefer this.”

Of course, that feeling might change somewhere up the next mountain pass, but for now, homelessness with a bicycle felt like an upgrade.

 

1 May – Bangkok to Chachoengsao (85 km of Regret and Traffic)

Good news: the new passport will be ordered and sent to Bangkok.

Bad news: It took five months and I only had two weeks in Thailand.

Clearly, the only logical solution was to pretend this wasn’t a problem and continue cycling around Southeast Asia.

Getting out of Bangkok took almost the entire day, which felt more like a gentle departure than a slow escape. The city seemed reluctant to let me go, throwing traffic, heat, and general chaos in my path.

Eventually, I broke free—slightly traumatised, but free.

 

2 May – Chachoengsao to Sa Kaeo (125 km of Heat, Rain, and Coffee Diplomacy)

Another day, another attempt to slowly cook myself alive.

Thankfully, clouds rolled in around midday, followed by rain—sweet, glorious rain. I pulled over at a roadside restaurant, where communication was limited to pointing, smiling, and hoping for the best.

Miraculously, this strategy produced a decent cup of coffee.

We may not have shared a language, but we shared something more important: a mutual understanding that coffee was non-negotiable.

I waited out the storm, stretched the coffee experience as long as socially acceptable, and continued on to Sa Kaeo, where a signless “hotel” and a calculator-based pricing system secured me a room. International communication, at its finest.

 

3 May – Sa Kaeo, Thailand to Cambodia (107 km and a Gentle Introduction to Chaos)

The Po Pet border marked a noticeable shift: leaving Thailand’s relatively organised environment and stepping straight into Cambodia’s more… improvisational approach to structure.

The crossing itself doubled as a full-blown market, requiring me to navigate what felt like an obstacle course of stalls, noise, and general confusion before reaching immigration.

It was chaotic, loud, and slightly overwhelming.

In other words, I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

 

At this point, any lingering illusion that this journey was under control had quietly slipped away somewhere between the muddy potholes of Bangkok and a roadside coffee stop in the Thai countryside.

From here on, things would only get hotter, dustier, and significantly less predictable.

Perfect.