From Kota Bharu to the Thailand border was about 25km of flat road. Shortly before the border we passed a four or five-storey tall Buddha sculpture. A scaffolding in front made it look like Buddha was getting a face lift. KB is more strongly Muslim than any other city we rode through in Eastern Malaysia, so this statue surprised us, but we were glad to see it. We looked forward to gettinginto another culture just for a change of pace. Also we were getting tired of the Muslim Scowlers (see Malaysia chapters).
A river separates Malaysia from Thailand at this point
so we had to get a ferry across. Just before we entered the ferry terminal
we used the last of our Malaysian money to buy a couple of sodas. A 12-year-old
girl filled two 
plastic
bags with ice, opened the Coke and Sprite bottles and poured the conteents
into the bags. It felt good to hold the ice-cold bag. (Joan: We've seen
people in a lot of countries pour sodas into bags like this, so they can
keep the bottles for recycling. But I'm not sure it helps the litter problem
since the little baggies end up in streams and all over the road).
When he ferry arrived we watched four or five men and boys push a giant cart--six or eight feet wide and 10 feet log, with two wheels near the center--up the boat ramp. The cart was packed high with durie and other fruits, and veggies (Joan: we've been too chicken to try durien. It's a scaly skinned thing about half the size of a watermelon, and reputedly "tastes like heaven and smells like hell." We've read that the taste is sort of like garlic ice cream. Many planes and hotels post signs banning durien from the premises because they smell so bad. Later in Thailand we met a Swiss biking couple who had tried some Durien and made the mistake of carrying it in their panniers for a ways. A month later, they were still trying to get rid of the smell). They unloaded three or four carts like that. Before we left some of the carts came back on the boat empty.
I
put my pant legs on before we walked over to the Thai Immigration booth,
but it wasn't necessary. The border guard just stamped us on through after
we filled out the paperwork. (Joan: actually it would have been very easy
for us to just walk past him into the country, but we would have had a
hard time explaining our lack of entry stamp on the way out later). It
was the first time we had crossed an international border on the surface
instead of by plane.
The first thing we did was make a wrong turn. After about one kilometer, the road became quite narrow and I heard people saying what sounded like "wrong way" as we passed. But I wasn't sure. Finally a passing woman pointed us in the right direction.
As in Indonesia and Malaysia, lots of people elled "Hello!" to us as we rode past. Here they seemed even more enthusiastic than in Malaysia. The kids especially. Joan said she felt like she was the ice cream man.
Soon we passed a sign that read, "Bangkok 1187km." (Joan: it was a little daunting since we've been pretty wussy so far, riding only 750k or less at a time before flying somewhere else.)
We
stopped for lunch and discovered what a problem the language would be,
especially without a good phrase book. We had tried and failed to find
one in Kota Bharu. We could say nothing to the woman at the food stall.
So we pointed to some soup on display in a glass case. It didn't taste
bad but had a couple of gristly things in it we couldn't begin to identify.
She also served us tea over ice. She used lots and lots of ice and the
cubes were small. I took this as an excellent sign: Thailand must like
things cold!
It took us about 10 minutes to figure out how much we owed her, during which time she taught us to count to 10 with the help of our guidebook (the guidebook had a few pages of phrases).
The rest of the ride to Narathiwat was hot and dusty. Unfortunately much of the road was under construction. Someone (a non-cyclist) told us we would have more trouble with the drivers in Thailand. Actually they treated us quite well, often honking two short beeps to say "hello" or giving us the thumbs up. Almost always they gave us a lot of room.
The traffic thickened near Narathiwat. We stopped at a street corner to figure out where we were. The road signs were mostly in Thai script so it got confusing to say the least. A young motorcyclist, about 22 years old, stopped and offered help. We had learned in Indonesia to be suspicious of everyone who offers help in a city, since they were usulaly trying to sell us batiks or hotel rooms. But we decided since we were in a different country, we'd give this guy might be different.
He was. We told this guy, Charin, we wanted to go to the Narathiwat hotel. He guided us there on his motorcycle (Joan: the route took us through a Yamaha motorcycle rally, where a guy thrust Yamaha stickers into our hands as we rode past. It was our first introduction to how ubiquitous motorcycles are in Thailand. This is the only place I've ever been tail-gated by a motorcycle while walking down the sidewalk). This saved us a lot of trouble.
I checked us in while Joan and Charin drank sodas in the lobby. One of the geat things about Thailand is the hotels give you a bottle of cold water when you check in. I gave ours to Joan and started carrying everything upstairs.
The
hotel didn't look like much from the front. It was just a regular, two-story,
shabby unpainted store front that looked like it could have been part of
an old Western movie set. But it was nicer inside. After you walk through
the restaurant downstairs, and down a boardwalk, you get to the hotel,
which had a great balcony over the river. It was one of the best hotels
we've stayed at on the trip and cost only about US$3 per night.
We got a room on the second floor overlooking the river. The balcony gave a 180-degree view of the river and on out to the ocean. Best of all, a gentle breeze kept us cool all afternoon and night. The breeze was way better than air conditioning.
I don't think Charin had any self-interest in mind when he helped us, except maybe a chance to work on his Engliss, which needed a lot of work. Our only problem with Charin was we couldn't lose him. We both just wanted to get a shower and lie down for awhile but Charin just kept hanging around. (Joan: We ended up taking shifts keeping him company in the lobby, while the other one went up and enjoyed a bit of the evening river view, which would disappear by dinner. And we weren't planning to stay another night, so we really wanted to see that view). He even went to dinner with us, though he wouldn't eat anything. He did accept a drink.
Fortunately both Joan and I place a higher value on meeting people than on getting our usual after-biking shower and rest period. (Joan: that night I wasn't so sure). Although if we had ridden 120km instead of just 72km, as we did that day, we probably would have felt differently.
Charin told us he was an engineer. He had spent two years in school and now traveled around Thailand's southern peninsula working on things, I think cellular communication towers. But I'm not sure because we were communicating well. (Joan: actually, I thought he said he was a sanitation engineer, in charge of guys who dig ditches. Maybe the ditches were related to the cell towers?)
We passed lots of hair "saloons" as they are often called in the English versions of their signs. It must be popular to get your hair cut at night, because they were all open after dinner. Joan got her hair cut in Singapore, but her hair cutter had refused to cut it as short as she wanted it. So we stopped at an appealing, well-lit beauty saloon.
Joan:
The main haircutter spoke a little English. I told her I wanted my hair
SHORT, SHORT. She nodded and showed me a book of ladies' hair styles. All
the women in the pictures had hair at least down to their ears. I had more
of a crew cut in mind. So I just said, SHORT, SHORT. She started cutting,
just a little bit at a time, real timidly. I guess she was scared of pissing
me off. I kept wishing I had gotten my hair cut with Eric in Mersing, where
the guy with the razor lopped Eric's hair off in 45 seconds flat. This
cut took about 45 minutes. Every time the woman stopped cutting in an area,
I would grab the hair in my fist and say SHORT, SHORT. Finally she pulled
out a book of men's hair styles, but even those had hair too long. Eventually
she got it. She said OK, OK! And I emerged with the crew cut I wanted.
For only US$1.50, compared to US$20 I had paid in Singapore.
At the end, I don't know if she was horrified or pleased, or what, but if she was horrified she didn't want to let me know it. She talked with her friends in Thai, and they said the word "soy." She told me that meant "beautiful," and said that I have a beautiful face. Of course, flattery gets people everywhere with me, so I was happy to hear that. One woman in the peanut gallery was particularly enthusiastic. I said, You Next? and she laughed and hid her face.
The
truth is, it was a little scary looking. But I didn't really care because
the weather was so hot I needed a little relief. Also, I had a bandana
that I planned to wear around my head, pirate style, during the day. Every
day I would soak the bandana in water and then put it around my head, under
my helmet to keep cool. I sometimes wore it at night, too, because I was
a little embarrassed of my crew cut, but soon I got used to it and started
walking around with the crew cut after my evening shower. Although some
people pointedly told me that I looked like a man, to my surprise, most
people seemed to recognize that I am a woman right off. They would call
me Ma'am and later, in the Philippines, Madam.
Eric: We loved the dinner at the floating restaurant, though the portions were a little small. So after the haircut, we walked around town and found a night market with lots of goodies. I got some square donut things that tasted a bit like beignets from Cafe du Monde in New Orleans, except they came with granulated sugar instead of powdered sugar. The best, though, were the coconut crepes.
