Kiran Jonnalagadda’s Blog

So I’m in Kuala Lumpur and wondering where to go next. When I started this trip, I had no clear agenda beyond that I was going to visit four neighbouring countries and experience a slice of local life. I was making it up as I went along.

It’s one thing to read about these places and see pictures. It’s another to walk the roads of a strange new city, fending for oneself, experiencing first hand the sights, sounds and grime.

Bangkok was a metropolis, and full of character at that. In Bangkok I found a theme that could carry me through the trip: visit all the metropolises in the region and experience the subtle differences to their characters. On the surface, all big cities are the same: they have wide roads and flyovers and mass transport and rush hours and traffic jams, and are different only for the topography they were built on.

Yet, deeper, each city has unique character. It’s fascinating. In Bangkok, for example, English is a distant second language, used only because it makes for contact with the farangs. It’s otherwise unwanted. Leave the city and even road signs no longer use it. Contrarily, In Kuala Lumpur practically everyone speaks it, in an accent perfectly intelligible to my South Indian upbringing. English is native here.

It makes sense therefore, to round off the trip with another metropolis, using Singapore to counter observations from Bangkok and KL. Cambodia was to be just a side show, visited because its monuments are world famous and it’s so close from Bangkok.

I didn’t expect Cambodia to be a love affair.

I didn’t expect to be so moved by the warmth of the Cambodian people. I didn’t expect to cry learning about their recent history. Now I’m torn between going ahead with visiting Singapore versus returning to Cambodia. There isn’t enough time for both.

Singapore makes rational sense. It’ll round off the study and it’s cheaper. I have friends there for accommodation and a plane ticket out of the place. Changing that ticket at short notice is going to cause a big dent in my budget. To get to Cambodia from Malaysia, I’ll have to fly; another significant expense. It doesn’t help at all that Cambodia runs on USD. (“Hey mister, you wanna buy a cold drink? Only one dollar.” Only, my foot.) And I’ll have to pay for accommodation again. I had no budget for accommodation for the second half of the trip.

I’m staying at Sham’s place here in KL. Sham had to make an unplanned trip to New Zealand and will not be back while I’m here, but was kind enough to put me up with his family. Yes, it’s a bit awkward landing up on unfamiliar people.

For either Singapore or Cambodia, I have to apply for a visa. Each will take at least three days. With one and a half weeks left, it can only be one of the two.

Either I postpone the love affair for another time, or I go for it, and return to Bangalore looking for income rather more desperately.

What should I pick?

Kuala Lumpur looks great from the sky. It’s covered with Palm groves that look like the curls on a Thai Buddha’s head. The horizon’s framed with a mountain range peeking through clouds. There seems to be a lot more open space here than in Bangkok.

I’m at Kuala Lumpur Sentral Stesen, where they have free wi-fi and a Starbucks. Looks like I can finally upload pictures.

KLIA immigration was the best ever. It took about 2 minutes. I walked up, found myself alone in the queue, handed over passport and arrival card, said “yes” when the fellow asked “holiday?”, and that was it!

The arrival card needed an address. Since I had no planned accommodation, I asked the fellow next to me. He had no clue either—he declared “Crown Plaza Hotel, Kuala Lumpur”. I used the same.

New number in Malaysia is +60-16-321-4530. yawhatever and jackol, thanks for your messages last time. It was too expensive to respond there, but is cheap here.

The travel agent called back. He was open today after all. I made the trip and explained that I hadn’t stayed at the place he had booked in Siem Reap, so could I please have a refund? He made some calls, apologised that the place was not willing to refund, then made up for it by giving me another day at the current hotel free.

My hotel booking is up to the 11th. My flight out of Bangkok is on the 14th. My visa expires 12th. Half my baggage is with Klaikong, who returns from Chiang Mai 11th.

So I called Air Asia to reschedule the flight, paid three times as much for the new fare (original was a mere 499 baht plus taxes), then went down to the manager to tell him I was going to stay one more day. How much did it cost?

“1200 baht.”
But I went to a travel agent and paid only 600 baht, I protested.
“So you go back to T.A.T. tomorrow and get voucher,” he smiled.

T.A.T.? I recalled noticing that travel agents had a ‘TAT Authorized’ statement on their shop fronts. Tourism Authority of Thailand?

This didn’t make sense. If I went back to the travel agent, he would take a commission, so the hotel gets lesser than 600 baht. Why not just take that amount from me? The manager didn’t speak enough English to get this point across.

This morning as I prepared to leave, it dawned on me it was a Sunday. Most of the Pranakorn neighbourhood is closed on Sunday. I called the agent. No answer. Phone’s switched off. Shop’s shut too, likely.

I’m going to have to pay the manager what he wants.

I went to the lobby again to ask about laundry. I have a Cambodia-trip worth of clothes needing washing. The rate card said 50 baht per shirt. If I submit before 12pm, I’ll get my clothes back tomorrow at 6pm. If I want my clothes today, there’s a 100% surcharge. I leave at 4 in the morning. At 238 Guesthouse, Ton charged 100 baht to wash all my clothes and returned them dry in under two hours.

If there’s a clear message in this, it’s that guest houses are far more economical than hotels, even if the hotel is offering a substantial discount. I think I’m carrying my laundry to Kuala Lumpur.

udhay suggested I post to Silk List about Cambodia, and AMS wrote in asking for travel advice. I thought I should post it here too.

Avoid the tour operators. You’ll pay way too much. Here is what it cost me for a trip from Bangkok:

Read on...

In Cambodia I met Pete. We were on the same bus.

Pete’s a Brit who, after eight years as a recruitment consultant in London, decided he needed an adventure before settling down. Driven by an interest in Byzantine history, he bicycled from London to Istanbul, camping in open fields and cycling an average four hours a day. The ride took five months.

After a few weeks in Istanbul, he flew to Bangkok to spend sixteen days in the region before heading to Sydney, where he plans to find a job as a bartender in the seediest place possible, likely a strip club. As long as the income covers expenses, he won’t be eating into his savings. When he’s bored of it, he plans to head to the tip of South America, hiking north, finally returning to London.

Pete found me quite curious because I’m the first Indian backpacker he’s met, not counting West-settled Indians. We chatted for a few hours on our respective backgrounds and on what’s changed since he last visited India in 1996 (for six months, then having just graduated). Unfortunately, we couldn’t talk longer. I had to retire by nine since I planned to wake at 4.30 to shoot the sun rising behind Angkor Wat.

That conversation was the first proper one I’ve had since leaving Bangalore. It was energising. I had trouble sleeping. It was also to be exemplary of my overall experience in Cambodia, where everyone I met, whether tourist or local, showed genuine curiosity and regard for well-being.

The travel agent I got my tickets to Siem Reap from also booked me a hotel for my return. It cost the same as the guest house I was in earlier and offered better facilities.

When I checked in, the porter who carried up my luggage showed me around the room, then said “Girlfriend in Bangkok?”

“No, no girlfriend, don’t want,” I hastily responded. It took him a moment to register. As he prepared to leave, he turned and asked again, “Should I send massage girl?”

Truth be told, I sorely wanted a massage. Having spent three hours standing in line at the border with two heavy backpacks (and having stupidly used the waist belt on the lighter one), my shoulders now ached so bad, they hurt to even touch. A shoulder massage was just what I needed.

The porter waited expectantly. “No, don’t want,” I said. I didn’t trust him. Even this hotel looked downright seedy.

It is the day after tomorrow now and having not been solicited since, I am starting to get accustomed to the place. It is located a kilometre from MBK Center. The building’s visible out my 9th floor window. Establishments around here don’t shut shop at six. I can eat dinner at a comfortable ten. It was a pretty nice deal for 600 baht.

This afternoon I encountered the porter again in the lift. He didn’t remember what floor I was on.

“Where you go today? Shopping?”
“No, stay in room. Busy today.”
“Girlfriend come back?”
“No, no girlfriend. Don’t have.”

I think I will not be staying at Tong Poon hotel again.

Cambodia was awesome. I have a good mind to lop Singapore from the itinerary and spend that week in Cambodia again, starting in Phnom Penh and taking a boat up the Tonle Sap to Siem Reap.

Pictures and longer write up coming over the weekend. Have to be up at 5 tomorrow for a trip to the old Siam capital of Ayutthaya.

Poipet in Cambodia appears just like a rural Indian highway town. If it weren’t for the difference in facial structures, you wouldn’t be able to tell. Cellular signal’s fading out. This is where I go offline. See you on the other side!

I’m in Cambodia! They wouldn’t let me through initially. I had to get a re-entry visa, which costs the same as a new visa but doesn’t extend the validity of the current one. No one else needed it. What a scam!

At the Thailand-Cambodia border. Everyone else on the bus is applying for a visa right now.

I’m going to Cambodia in the morning and will be offline for most of the week. This is a short trip: only two days in Siem Reap, visiting the Angkor Wat and Ta Prohm temples, after which I’m back in Bangkok.

Ta Prohm is the setting of the Lara Croft: Tomb Raider games and movie. It’s the scene where a jungle is growing out of a temple. The temples were built nearly a millennia ago, lost to the jungles, and rediscovered again. I’m quite excited to be seeing them in real life.

More later.

For a country as sexually permissive as Thailand, what is the porn magazine scene like? Paris Hilton, nearly naked on the cover of FHM, is currently sitting at bookstores across skytrain stations, alongside such publications as National Geographic. Magazine’s tame, I figured.

So of course I was a bit startled to discover Penthouse next to FHM at a store today, a store where school kids milled around carrying ice cream and buying stationery. Those who have seen an issue will know Penthouse hardly classifies as soft. And yet, there it was, on open display, accessible to anyone who wanted it.

Now I had to look between the covers… and came away disappointed. If you can get off on Cosmopolitan, the Thai Penthouse will appeal to you. Those needing a stronger dose will have to look elsewhere. Bangkok’s real sleaze must sell in better demarcated locations.

Today’s Bangkok Post newspaper has an interesting report from Singapore:

Read on...

Finally some nightlife in Bangkok. Reggae band at some place far far away that Klaikong assures me is still in the heart of Bangkok. The band’s good.

Klaikong and Tai were married two weeks ago. They’re showing Ying and me their wedding reception video. It’s the most fun thing ever. They have a traditional ceremony in the morning and photo ops at the reception, just like in an Indian wedding, but the reception is a lot more fun. It’s telling that even the video is fun to watch.

At dinner with Ying, Klaikong and Tai. They’re taking me to a concert after this.

The Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho, Bangkok. Because of the surrounding pillars, this is the only point from where you can see the entire structure. The resulting accumulation of tourists makes it appear like paparazzi hounding a celebrity.

Finally, a Tuk-Tuk ride. These things are longer than autorickshaws, make you sit like you’re reclining on a couch, toss you around at the slightest unevenness on the road, sound like high power motorcycles, and speed like maniacs.

I had a half hour massage at the Wat Po Thai Traditional Massage school. The process is totally non sleazy. You keep all your clothes on and so does the masseur. Mine had a sense of humour too. She laughed alongside when I was tickled. The beds are arranged three to a row. All your belongings go into a basket that sits next to you through the session. No massage oils are used. It’s done with the bare hands. The masseur will put her fingers down on specific spots and then apply her weight to it. At the end they give you a cup of cold Samrong drink.

The massage was very, very good. I was sorry when it ended. I think I’ll go again before leaving Bangkok.

The Reclining Buddha at Wat Pho is awesome. The idol is so large and so enclosed by pillars that it’s not possible to get a full sidelong view. I couldn’t even get all of the head at 18mm on the D70. Naturally, there’s no getting the tourists out of the frame either.

This morning was going great until again, a minute ago, that terrifying sense of loneliness engulfed. I’ve been thinking about it a bit, wondering exactly what it is.

I think I know now. It’s not loneliness per se. It’s fear of the unknown. It’s the feeling that says “I’m a tourist, I have to go see this place. If I just sit here in this room because I don’t know how to get to the place and am afraid of getting ripped off trying to find it, I’ll spend my entire vacation just sitting here, wasting a lot of money, and then I’ll go home feeling even worse.” Now it hurts either way, whether I act or not act.

That is it. That is all it is. Those little mental blocks preventing exploration of the unknown and not-yet-assured-friendly. Those blocks that aren’t so hard to get over, that are not even remembered once passed, but that so conveniently allow lethargy to kick in.

The only way around appears to be to plan ahead. One way or the other, I’m forced to deal with plan making.

At MBK Centre yesterday, I wandered past a music and video store that was heavily promoting a Thai action movie. A poster covering the entire storefront, television screens playing the movie continuously, even a PC video game and plastic action figure on sale. So of course I had to see it. How could I skip a movie in which a fellow picks up an elephant with his bare hands and tosses it aside? Even if it was only a baby elephant?

The VCD cover was all in Thai. No DVD until next year, the store clerk said. “But what about subtitles?” “English speaking, Thai subtitles,” he said.

The movie’s name is “Tom-Yum-Goong”. No, seriously, that’s the name. It was also the name printed on the cup of noodles I had in the morning. I took the disc home, played it, and discovered it was in Thai after all. However, I didn’t need to know any Thai to understand it. I could have been deaf for all that it mattered. The storyline was straightforward: boy grows up with elephants, elephant gets kidnapped, boy goes on killing rampage ending with destroying the abductor’s empire, or at least all the henchmen it was built of. Simple.

The action choreography, however, was excellent. Well worth 140 minutes. Better than any Jackie Chan movie. Even Chan himself makes a cameo appearance.

“I have cup noodles for breakfast today!” Ton happily announced as I descended yesterday morning. I was rushing to the Singapore embassy and was glad for her offer of a no-frills get-done-quick breakfast. At least it would be better than the previous day’s omelette and toast. “I have three varieties (all described in Thai)… this one’s spicy, this one is not… and this one is not either.” I took Spicy. Five minutes later, I discovered the white stuff among the noodles was shrimp. Should have checked the cup. It had pictures of seafood on it. Having paid for it now, I ate it.

At the Singapore embassy, they dismissed me again saying I need a local address in Singapore. Either a hotel booking, or if I’m staying with a friend, a copy of their work permit and a signed declaration from them on my visa application. The nice lady explained that it was simpler to get a hotel booking. Lesser documentation. What she didn’t reveal was that this is a standard tactic: book a hotel, apply for a visa, cancel hotel booking. If you go to a reasonably expensive place, they won’t charge for cancellation. She said visa processing takes three days, so if I could come back with a hotel booking the same day, I may be able to get the visa by Friday. But sometimes it takes up to seven days, so she couldn’t assure me anything. It was already 10.30am. They stop taking applications at 11am. No way I could go out, find a place to get online, book a hotel and print a receipt, and get back in time. If I returned Thursday, my passport would be stuck with them until at least Monday, maybe even later.

I didn’t look forward to being in Bangkok for another week, so I called Colin and Sham in Kuala Lumpur to ask if I could apply there. Colin didn’t know. Malaysians don’t need to apply for a visa for Singapore. Sham said yes, I could. I’m staying with Sham in KL. At least I’ll have the comfort of familiarity if I have to spend a full week there.

Hence rendered activity-less, I took the skytrain to Siam Square where MBK Shopping Centre is located. The skytrain is an elevated railway system. It has a fairly small footprint on the ground—about ten feet across—but a significant turn radius, making it deployable over only major thoroughfares. Bangkok’s skytrain has been in operation since 2000.

MBK Centre is, for lack of more descriptive words, stupendously huge. In fact, that probably doesn’t convey a sense of its size, so let me try again. MBK is so huge that I spent all day wandering inside and by evening had only covered two of six floors. MBK is where you go when you’re bored and lonely and want someplace comfortable to wander around.

MBK is also the place I saw the most disturbing sight so far. I was resting my weary legs at a food court and across from me was this white man being served by a Thai girl. Nothing out of the ordinary, probably a waitress. But she was pregnant. Maybe working as long as she could? Then she sat down and shared the man’s meal. Then she got up to get him something else. She was pregnant. There was obviously some intimacy between them. He just sat there waiting to be served. I couldn’t get it off my mind the rest of the evening.

For dinner, I went to The Atlanta off Sukhumvit road. Sukhmvit road is the tourist corner of Bangkok. The place is crawling with them. I saw a white man with a Thai girl on his arms every 50 feet or so. They all looked like perfectly normal, respectable men. Perhaps it should be no surprise then that the Atlanta features this sign at its door:Post dinner, I took the metro. Bangkok’s metro is exactly like Delhi’s metro, down to the last detail. Perhaps this is where Delhi’s authorities did their research. But wait, there’s a difference. In Bangkok, tracks are separated from the platform by glass walls with doors that open only when the train has halted. In Bangkok, they also don’t perform an airport-class security check before letting you on the train.

From Hua Lamphong station, I took a bus back to the guest house. I’m glad I didn’t take up accommodation around Sukhumvit.

Entrance to The Atlanta hotel. Their name is far less prominent than this board.

And this is their famous menu, so often stolen that they have to make a special request.