THE LONGEST WALK…
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Day 30
Start – Shell Service Station at Port Linggi, Malaysia Finish – Kuala Lumpur Distance travelled – 120km Words by - Swells |
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After a surprisingly good sleep at the service station (where we enjoyed an early visit by the Easter bunny), we woke at about 7am and prepared a day pack for the walk ahead. We were about 10km from the port, and with no money it was going to be covered on foot. We hitchhiked a little but we were unsuccessful. I am not complaining – I wouldn’t have picked up three unkempt hairy blokes either.
As Dan and Shaun dropped back (I suspect Dan was now suffering from a delayed case of ‘Bali Belly’) I powerwalked ahead – keen to see if my bike was going to be at the port or be lost forever. On finding the port I was happy to see the bikes safe and well and apparently looked after on the boat in the bay. A wave of relief washed over my body. A lot of things can still go wrong from here, but at least I have a visual on the bike again.
The port facilities where good and while Shaun disappeared into the free computer room, I got to work on customs for a smooth bike-release.
When our boat finally docked Dan and I unloaded the bikes. Then I was left alone on the port with the 3 bikes while my travel buddies disappeared. It was at this time that the customs inspection began, and it was not a pleasant experience. A short, stocky Malaysian man with bad teeth took obvious pleasure in bossing me around for the next 15 minutes much to the amusement of a building crowd of dock workers.
My policy is always to smile and be friendly in these, and all, situations – my theory is that people are nicer to nice people. But this guy was a grade-A asshole off the bat. I had a bad feeling from the start, when I met him up the dock and he didn’t shake my hand or return my smile. As we walked towards the bikes he deliberately slowed down (as if to say, I am the boss, we go at my pace now - buster).
He tried to make me flip-up the seat (scooter style) to show him what was underneath (he obviously hadn’t seen this type of bike before). I explained I needed a 10mm socket for that, and he started yelling that I have to lift the seat. After about 5 minutes he asked if there where drugs in there, to which I said no, and then he was satisfied (for the record, that’s obviously what I would have said there were drugs in there). He made me pour the entire contents of all the panniers of all the bikes into the dock floor and then stood over me as I re-packed the bags, but best of all was when he was checking all the numbers of the bikes – he yelled at me because I couldn’t point out where my postcode (4556) was written on the bike (WTF?). Anyway, I grinned and beared it for as long as I could - I knew getting mad wouldn’t get me out of there any sooner but towards the end I was at the end of my tether and started yelling back. Contrary to my policy of smiles and friendly this kinda worked and I guess Mr Customs decided he had humiliated me enough. The carnets were stamped and he let me go.
About this time Shaun and Dan surfaced again, oblivious to the shitstorm I just had to endure to get our bikes. I made straight to the ocean to cool off and re-compose myself.
We headed back to the Shell service station to grab the rest of our kit and thank the service station owner who had kind of became our Malaysian mum – taking us in and looking after us in our time of need. She even insisted on giving us some Malaysian dollars so we had cash in our pockets. We are very grateful – sometimes it feels like we have tapped a rich vein of undeserved good karma that was probably meant for someone else but has been mistakenly allocated to us.
Back onto the road and a confused GPS gave us an opportunity to find a shortcut to the highway through a date palm plantation. It was refreshing to have some ‘proper’ riding again.
The day ended in a cheap hostel in Kuala Lumpur and us doing the tourist thing again. We found an ATM, a hostel and a bar (in that order) I think we were all keen for a drink after the lack of alcohol in Sumatra and money problems we had been having so far in Malaysia.
As Dan and Shaun dropped back (I suspect Dan was now suffering from a delayed case of ‘Bali Belly’) I powerwalked ahead – keen to see if my bike was going to be at the port or be lost forever. On finding the port I was happy to see the bikes safe and well and apparently looked after on the boat in the bay. A wave of relief washed over my body. A lot of things can still go wrong from here, but at least I have a visual on the bike again.
The port facilities where good and while Shaun disappeared into the free computer room, I got to work on customs for a smooth bike-release.
When our boat finally docked Dan and I unloaded the bikes. Then I was left alone on the port with the 3 bikes while my travel buddies disappeared. It was at this time that the customs inspection began, and it was not a pleasant experience. A short, stocky Malaysian man with bad teeth took obvious pleasure in bossing me around for the next 15 minutes much to the amusement of a building crowd of dock workers.
My policy is always to smile and be friendly in these, and all, situations – my theory is that people are nicer to nice people. But this guy was a grade-A asshole off the bat. I had a bad feeling from the start, when I met him up the dock and he didn’t shake my hand or return my smile. As we walked towards the bikes he deliberately slowed down (as if to say, I am the boss, we go at my pace now - buster).
He tried to make me flip-up the seat (scooter style) to show him what was underneath (he obviously hadn’t seen this type of bike before). I explained I needed a 10mm socket for that, and he started yelling that I have to lift the seat. After about 5 minutes he asked if there where drugs in there, to which I said no, and then he was satisfied (for the record, that’s obviously what I would have said there were drugs in there). He made me pour the entire contents of all the panniers of all the bikes into the dock floor and then stood over me as I re-packed the bags, but best of all was when he was checking all the numbers of the bikes – he yelled at me because I couldn’t point out where my postcode (4556) was written on the bike (WTF?). Anyway, I grinned and beared it for as long as I could - I knew getting mad wouldn’t get me out of there any sooner but towards the end I was at the end of my tether and started yelling back. Contrary to my policy of smiles and friendly this kinda worked and I guess Mr Customs decided he had humiliated me enough. The carnets were stamped and he let me go.
About this time Shaun and Dan surfaced again, oblivious to the shitstorm I just had to endure to get our bikes. I made straight to the ocean to cool off and re-compose myself.
We headed back to the Shell service station to grab the rest of our kit and thank the service station owner who had kind of became our Malaysian mum – taking us in and looking after us in our time of need. She even insisted on giving us some Malaysian dollars so we had cash in our pockets. We are very grateful – sometimes it feels like we have tapped a rich vein of undeserved good karma that was probably meant for someone else but has been mistakenly allocated to us.
Back onto the road and a confused GPS gave us an opportunity to find a shortcut to the highway through a date palm plantation. It was refreshing to have some ‘proper’ riding again.
The day ended in a cheap hostel in Kuala Lumpur and us doing the tourist thing again. We found an ATM, a hostel and a bar (in that order) I think we were all keen for a drink after the lack of alcohol in Sumatra and money problems we had been having so far in Malaysia.
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