For Mom, Love Steve

The house cat thought it was hilarious to bump into my fishing line and then shake his little bell (which happens to be the same year and model of my fishing bell- coincidence, I think not), thereby setting off a scrambling disturbance as I am shocked out of sleep, try to get out from underneath my mosquito net, put on my pants and long sleeve shirt at the same time, and try to clear the cobwebs out of my head so I remember why I am trying to get dressed in the middle of the night, finally stumbling out the door to the balcony where I stare at the rod tip for ten minutes (nothing happens of course), see the cat, give it a head rub and then go back to sleep. Not anymore though, stupid cat.

Fishing in the big blue off the jetty point. Big fat zero for anything decent. Just the normal little rock fish that the locals would love but are still babies to me.

My arch enemies. The top guy uses a net to encircle a big area then he drives inside the circle beating the hull of his boat and using a toilet plunger to make compression splashes to send the fish into his net. The second photo is of a man and his son who I respected the most as they would paddle along the rock lines of the river and using a short five foot section of line a tiny weight and a hook, catch a bunch of small fish. The little white styrofoam box held there live fresh shrimp which they used for bait (me jealous). There is the third type of fisherman who uses fish traps spread along the river. At one point I had a net run underneath the hotels balcony set by the construction guys next door who watch me fish all day, two rows of fish boxes, the guy doing circles out front, and the father and son team picking away at everything else. I just stood there not being able to cast as I couldn’t find any open water. I always took a big breath and reminded myself that they were fishing for food on the table and I was fishing for fun, then I would lob a couple of weights at them and hide out in my room.

Breakfast. Eggs, pork, rice, jelly donuts, and a fanta (always the green when served with meat.)

Lunch. Chicken, noodles, rice, fried veg, jelly donuts, and Fanta (remember red with chicken).

Dinner. BBq mackeral, crab curry, rice, corn on the cob, jelly cake, and Fanta (fish=green).

Banana pancake for dessert.

Cool fruit for snacking. Santa’s dingle berries I think they are called, in Thai at least.

I think I caught the missing link. Maybe a walking fish, breathes out of water, can talk, makes good soup.

More species caught. A sort of Drum?

More fishes. A pretty gold shine.

I caught a few of these nasty critters. I called them a snake fish as the first one I caught I was freaking when I saw it in the water. I remember putting it in a bucket and it freaking out lashing at the plastic buckets edges. The others I would whack with a big stick and it would lash out at the stick when I poked it to see if it was dead. The teeth on the thing is crazy. The lower jaw is lined with needle sharp teeth and the top has one row of teeth going straight down the middle. Freaky. I had caught this one which was huge and about a meter long. I beat on it a half dozen times until I thought it was dead. After my other experiences I just cut the line about three feet away from the head. Going downstairs to see which of the ladies wanted it (but secretly hoping one of them would come up and remove the scary thing from my balcony) I ran into the 17 year old girl that works in the cafe up front. I gestured to her if she wanted to see what I had caught as the people up front don’t really get a chance to see all the things that I have caught. We go upstairs and me thinking it would be hilarious to see this young girl freaking out over a scary snake fish. Nope. She saw it and went right over and tried picking it up by the line. I was kind of caught off guard and was kind of wanting to warn her but with the language barrier and the not wanting to look like a girly boy I just bit my lip. When she couldn’t lift it by just picking up the line, she wound the line around her hand until her hand was about six inches from its mouth. My mind actually stuttered as I couldn’t think of what to do except to just sort of do this little hand robot gestures and muttering ummmm, uhhhh, ummm, uhhhh. Then she was off like she was walking her poodle. I was fine with her taking it as she seemed like she just scored a jackpot. I followed her back out front where she went to look for the old man owner (80- years old). WHen we got outside the front door all of a sudden the thing came back to life and went crazy. It started flapping around, I almost fainted, and the girl just dropped it, waited a second for it to stop flopping and then picked it back up again the same way and headed down the street with another girl death snake fish dragging along the ground. That was first time in a long time that I was at a loss of anything. Hilarious after the fact though. Tough girl.

Not only did I have to deal with the cat, bats, and all bait stealing fish under six inches, this wasp kept coming around and ripping off chunks of my bait. It let me get close to take photos so I let it live.

Checking out the macro setting on the Nikon. Not as good as my Kodak. 4 inches was about as close as you could get for the focus to work.

The fresh water fish area. Most of the stuff I had caught.

The blue water stuff that I am a few kilometers shy of casting to.

I called this my bait area.

Muslim pastry maker.

One of the crappiest jobs being done by one of the unhappiest ladies. I passed by this stall everyday as it was kind of like a car accident (you know its bad but you can’t help looking). She has her permanent stall unlike all of the others as it has the little concrete catchment which is loaded up with squirming slimey catfish. She reaches over with her battle scarred bare hands (catfish have nasty pointers all over it and the slime burns like a mother on cuts and stabs). She slaps it on her tree trunk cutting board, smacks it with the side of her cleaver to stop the squirming and then proceeds to whack off the head (throwing it into the head bin) then whacking the body into chunks. That is her day/rest of her life. Not a happy looking camper. I did see her laughing and smiling when she was playing with someones little boy so she is able to seperate life from work. I would have taken a pass on that career day option.

The sweets ladies. Most of the stuff is too sweet for even my taste.

The flower shop. Every morning school kids come to by a flower for their teacher or supervisor. Not going to see that in America. I think we even gave up the old apple to the teacher bribe.

So thats a touch of Narithawat. Tight lines (thats fishing lingo for have a good day.) Yea- I have a problem.

Okay, the internet café is harder to get to than you realize (in other words, I was lazy), so at three weeks and five days, you get a part II.

Stuff about Narathiwat.

1) Fishing. I am sure enough said, so I will leave it at that. Still, 92.2% of why I am still here is contributed to the fishing part. “He’s got a bevy of hookers right down stairs and 92.2% is contributed to fishing, what a fag.” Well you know what buddy go Google “fish sex” or download some porn, I like fishing over whoring so shoot me.

2) The people. The locals running the place are okay enough, pretty much the same-same as all the other places that don’t speak English. They are jovial enough but don’t go out of their way to make involvements with you. The ladies downstairs are lovely people. Pretty much motherly more than anything. This isn’t a typical Farang love for sale city like Pattaya or Patong so it is not so in your face. Most of the ladies are just that, a bit on the older side, though there are a couple of younger ones, none of them were going to be making big bucks working the Farang circuit or perhaps used to but are a little past their prime. All of them you could tell were very good looking during their younger times and got into the business because they were pretty enough for men to give them money for their time. Only one speaks any English (Eam) so she relays any real important information between us “a soldier came in and said that they just defused a bomb by the internet café so you need to be careful”. Seriously, that happened. Otherwise, when I come back from the market (buying bait), I usually get some samplings of what they are cooking or eating, my bags are inspected to see what I am eating, or the request for some fish are given. Always with smiles and laughter. The whole situation is so low key and non-sleazy that it would be really unlikely the casual visitor would even realize what is going on.

So far there has only been four other foreigners to come to the hotel. Henry (Onri in French) is the long term resident that occupies the other fisherman friendly room on the opposite side (windows over look the water). He is Vietnamese French (escaped during the Vietnam War) and has been here for three months. He has been living in Thailand for about five years and is on the run from his Thai ex-wife. A personable fellow but physically is deteriorating before my eyes. Way too many market runs compounded by a bevy of other pre-ailments. I think he has almost doubled in size in the three weeks that I have been here.

Kevin aka. Riad is a French farang who had converted to Islam and had been in Narathiwat for four months staying in a nice $4US a day apartment that he rented. He was chased out of town after my week two when the husband of the girl he was romancing found out and told him that either he leaves or he gets shot. Henry got a phone call one morning and that day he was helping Riad to get to Indonesia.
Chamberland is another French working tourist who was passing through the south as he had just finished shooting some photos for his new book. You would never guess. Whoa- good guess. That’s right he is a cat photographer. Yea, fairly bizarre. He is not a cat portrait photographer that you can hire to come to your home to take a picture of your cat (you would be a nutter if you did need that), but rather cat’s are his photography niche. He takes exotic photos with cats in them or cat related subjects. For example in Indonesia Borneo there apparently are some cat statues or temples so he flew all the way from France to take photos of them. Same for Israel where he took photos of the Wailing wall with the Orthodox Jews and of course a cat. You scoff, right, cat photographer, well, this will be his second book that he has published as well as selling photos to other agencies. Like he said, everybody these days can take a photo, so in order to make a living at it you need to find a niche. He also is a pro-France anti-American fanatic. I guess for many American tourists who are easy targets they fall rather quickly. I used my patented “American is the only world Super power and you come from a second world country so of course you will never comprehend us.) After one evenings discussion we were back to talking cats and fishing. You can check out his website here.

The last tourist so far is Mario. Mario is the linguist extraordinaire who speaks fluently at least seven languages. He is Italian-Canadian and is a professional language instructor traveling the world and getting paid. Right now he is based in Indonesia teaching French and English to some Chinese-Indonesian students. Mario is the Energizer Rabbit and he is the perfect complement to Henry’s slothness. He is also very women oriented and will keep the ladies downstairs happily employed as well as the girls in Bangkok, Phuket, Pattaya, and all stops in between. He does however have this need to tell me that I am not fishing correctly although I don’t believe that he actually fishes. Getting pretty close to the fire on that one. He brings a lot of needed energy to our slow your roll environment.

3) Markets. Although markets are a majority part of traveling, this has really been the first time that I have had the opportunity to really get involved with the inner workings. Pretty much everything evolves around the food aspect. Although I am a “world traveler” and have no reserve to eating anything put in front of me, I have still really only sampled a small percentage of a regions fare primarily due to the fact that you only get to eat a couple of times a day and the risk of getting something gross somewhat high making risk taking more limited. Here in Narathiwat and also due to the close proximity to the central market and also due to the fact that I have watched every sunset and heard every call to prayer since I have been here (a positive due to fishing 22.5 hours a day). There are basically three standard markets with one in the morning and two others in the evening followed by the usual food vendors night market. The morning market is the largest and is almost right across the street. Talk about intense, it is over by 8:30am and it is fairly large. Along with the norms it has the best fish market that I have seen with all the fish having been caught that night and on display a few hours later. Like I said in an earlier post, it is a shot in the gut after a hard night fishing and not catching. It is however a good motivator knowing that these monsters are out there although they are catching them 10+kms out to sea (I just have to fine tune my balcony cast by around 9kms and 975m.) Interdispersed throughout are the food stall and food carts all displaying their daily delights. Henry likes to eat which is good for me as my usual is to eat what he had the day before. In the morning I see what he had gotten then I find out where he got it from so the next day I can get some. He knows all the little hole in the wall places. Narathiwat is blessed with a cross section and mix of foods. Beyond the normal Thai, there are Malay, Indonesian, Muslim, Indian, Chinese, and Southern Thai. Usually what I do is two favorites and then alternate to a new style. Everyone at the hotel has a hot plate and rice maker. The women down stairs are easily chef quality as every meal is something home made. There are three older ladies who are the main chefs who prepare the group meals and who I give the fish to. They are the ones making all the home cooked stuff that is even better than the market. Yes, I do delve into the eating downstairs. On top of the usual prepared foods there is a great selection of fruits and vegetables which Henry again plays an important role in that he knows about all of them and which gives me an opportunity to try things that I would not normally buy or even to know how to eat. Exotic fruits are outstanding here 90% of which I have never seen before. Price wise the food here is among the lowest in Thailand and the seafood definitely being the cheapest. A full meal at pretty much all the stalls cost 30B or around 85 cents. I have even gone out and purchased my own plate, fork, and spoon as diving into a plate of gourmet food on the balcony overlooking the river is better ambiance than any five star restaurant.

That pretty much covers Narathiwat in a nutshell. A lot of other info I have already covered in my other posts so that wraps things up pretty well. The fishing is definitely a huge draw, but still all the other aspects would probably have planted me for at least a week. Roughly I am spending about six dollars a day so you really can’t complain even without all the other amenities. It will definitely make my top five destinations.

So how long will I be staying. I’ll be moving along soon as the Visa and distance to travel are coming into play. I could easily drop my bags here for a few months without hesitation. If you like fishing, Narathiwat hotel, definitely.

In actuality it is three weeks and three days but it takes a few days after realizing it’s been three weeks that if you don’t hurry up and write up something about holy crap it’s been three weeks already that you will be delving into having to write holy crap it’s been three weeks and holy crap it’s been three weeks part II.

I am still in Narathiwat and I am sure you can guess what I have been doing (no it is not having sex with my downstairs love counselors.) Approximately 22.5 hours a day I am fishing, or more specifically getting my line wet (no that does not mean having sex with the girls below). I mean 22.5 hours of every day for the last three weeks and three days including today which is only half over where by I have fished for approximately 12 hours. But Steve, how can that be? It doesn’t seem possible. To simplify the explanation, I will reverse the explanation and give you the calculations for the lesser time of when I am not fishing ie. getting my line wet. In fishing, it has firmly been established that you are much more likely to catch a fish when your line is in the water than when it is not (I put that in because I want to deflect a bit of the “damn, that guy is freaking fish insane). Well, the largest chunk of time comes from the cumulation of time that the line is out of the water when I am either changing/replacing bait, repairing lost tackle (snagged and broke the line or fish cut off), or changing tackle set-ups (yea- when you fish for 22.5 hours a day you need to vary it up a bit.) I was going to write up a bit about my fishing recommendations for Narathiwat, but it would be a bit cumbersome as I have been endlessly modifying my techniques (think Forest Gump and the guy explaining all the thing you can do with shrimp, in my case, weight on top, weight on bottom, sliding weight, pinned weight, heavy weight, light weight, no weight, etc. etc. etc.) Oh yea, taking a fish off the hook ranks kind of high up there to. The second and only other time that my line is not wet is when I am having sex with the prostitutes down stairs. Kidding, come on, why would I need to take my line out of the water to have sex. Nah, really, the second and only other time that I am not fishing is the time frame it took me to go from fishing at the hotel to fishing on the ocean jetty. That I did five times before I learned that it was fruitless (sandy shallow bottom and way over fished). Well there was that time I ran out of bait in the middle of the night but I ended up tying my lighter to the line and tossing it out (remember scientifically speaking… plus, there is a chance that some stupid fish will see a rectangular, fluorescent orange, hard shelled, chrome headed minnow lying perfectly still on the bottom with a big hook sticking out of it and will think hmmmm maybe it tastes good.)

Beyond that, my prior post about 24 hours of my day is still pretty accurate. I have cut out lunch as my caloric input rate has skyrocketed with three markets and the night market as well as fishing not being a huge cardiovascular workout. Although I like the fisherman lifestyle, I will prefer to not have the prototypical fishermans body ( belly bulging to the point that they can prop their can of Coors light on their stomach and it won’t fall over.)

00:00:01 – It’s been a long napless day. Time to hit the sack. Rig up the big pole with the largest grunt (type of perch) around 6”. Toss it out, hook up the bell, free up the drag so I can hear the line run out and put on a bell as a strike alarm.

00:00:02 - 5:00 – Wake up hourly sometimes because I am dreaming about catching a fish or sometimes because I actually caught something. Replace bait throughout the night as needed.

5:01- 6:00 – The call to prayer songs breaks the calm of the night. There are four mosques around the city and each one has to sing out to its followers. I will admit that they have better than average vocalists. The two roosters they keep in the yard start their calls.

6:00-8:00 – Some people begin to do their exercises in the grandstand/boardwalk just up the river. The sun rises from across the river and it will start to get hot. With the sun up the big fish are done feeding so it is a well deserved cat nap for me. Everybody is up and about doing chores or getting the café open. Henry is back from the market with breakfast and coffee. After bad nights fishing it is not a good idea to go to the market to see the nights catch being brought in and sold. Inadequacy.

8:00-10:00 – Time for some bait catching and prep work. I rig up my spare sets that I will use. Tidying up the room and a cool down shower are in order. If it is a sunny day, which it usually is, I go down to do some laundry after the ladies are finished. This usually provides for a humorous distraction for the ladies as they would gather and sneak peeks at me doing laundry. I knew I would be scrutinized so I put extra emphasis in using the correct technique which I have picked up watching the ladies from 50+ countries.

Marge: What’s he doing?

Fran: I think he’s trying to wash his clothes?

Marge: Are you sure? He seems to be getting them dirtier. Oh geez, I think he broke that shirt.

Sue: I think he’s a bit retarded.

Fran: Marge, go help him.

Marge: Heck no, he’ll probably think I want to marry him. I already have a useless husband and three kids to take care of. The boy has no job, no house, no car, and he kinda smells like the fish market, and not in a good way.

Giggles, laughs, smirks.

Me: (smiling, scrubbing, ringing, slapping, triple turn squeeze (Botswana style)).

10:00-13:00 – Time to catch a little bait and to toss out the big rig. Doubtful about catching anything, but you never know, and it’s still fishing. It’s lunch time so I take a run down to the Moslem mama’s place for some curry then over to 7-11 for a slurpee. On the way back I stop at the market for some fresh shrimp. Back at the hotel, I go to the café and buy a Fanta and get ice in the Slurpee cup to keep the bait fresh.

13:00-17:00 – By 13:00 the sun has passed over the top so now the balcony is in shade and the breeze is coming off the sea. Henry and I usually just hang out on the balcony or the common area table, reading chatting. If a sweet craving hits, I take off down to the beach for a Superlicious. I don’t know what the real name is, but it fits. Kind of like the Razzmatazz in Malaysia but adapted in Thailand and made impossibly better. In a plastic cup you drop in some cakey bread chunks, a scoop of sweet rice, five or six fruit baller size scoops of lemon sherbet or ice cream, black gummies, red gummies (look like pomegranate seeds, corn, mangosteen chunks, a drizzle of sweetened condensed milk, and a candied cherry. Ten Baht (28 cents) for a smashing dessert. I also try to pick one tourist site whether it be the beach, a jungle walk, swimming, a temple, the market, the fishing shop, or anything to burn a couple of hours.

17:00-19:00 – With the coming of sunset I take a drive to the local beach for sunset and to see if anybody is fishing/catching anything. I also stop off for one more sundowner Superlicious.

19:00-20:00 – I need to get dinner before 21:00 curfew so I head over to Mama Muslim for dinner and then to the banana pancake cart down by the boardwalk for a nightcap pancake and to see if they are catching anything on the boardwalk.

20:00-24:00 – This is the beginning of the big fish time. The big boats have finished passing through the channel and the river is quiet. The moon rises around 22:00 right across the river just as the sun did. I catch half dozen grunts and store them in my bait bucket. I set all heavy rigs on both poles with big baits and set the rods up with the bells in front of my screened window so I can hear and see them from bed. I either read or play on the computer with the occasional scramble to throw on a full set of clothes and a scamper outside to pull in a fish. The mosquitoes are pretty brutal even with the swallows at sunset and the bats at night time (bats find it hilarious to smack into my line and then watch through the window as I scramble out of bed trying to get on a full layer of clothes on and out the door. They haven’t cut my line yet because I have no problem using bat as bait. Same with the house cat, it has a bell on it’s collar so when it’s caterwalling around at night I am smacked out of sleep only to find it laughing outside my window.

And that is 24 hours in the life of me. I have actually relaxed a bit on the fishing as the first four days I was really intense. I only left the balcony to make a run for food and a combined stop at the market for bait and the tackle shop for more supplies. Once I started pulling in some big ones, the pressure was off from the ladies for the crazy guy who fishes from the balcony. They bought in to the system and I have gotten more efficient by cutting down at the low percentage times. This has given me a chance to explore and to solidify this town as my favorite so far on the Asian trail.

Downstairs love shacks.

Upstairs fishing shacks.

1. Tom Allemeier
Hey thanks, Steve!
I’ve been driving my old Minsk (looks exactly like yours) around Vietnam for the past 11 years. The thing’s been held together pretty much with duct tape and bailing wire for the past 5 years or so. When I saw your Webpage I decided to run over to Tran Hoa in Saigon and see what he could do for me. He’s been working on it for about a week. Stripped it down to the bare frame, painted it and is rebuilding it like new, piece by piece. The guy is amazing - a bit like American Chopper, Vietnamese style. I pick up the bike in two days and I’m really excited. I’m kind of thinking of doing the reverse of your trip, but completing a circle through Cambodia back to Saigon. Thanks for the valuable info! Cheers!
-Tom Allemeier

Steve: Glad to have been of service. Tran Hoa did a very good job on my bike. I didn’t get to watch him work to be able to judge his skills as the language barrier made it tough to communicate. He basically told me to come back the next day at 5pm and when I got there it was done as he said it would be (I thought he was just going to write up an estimate.) I prefer his was of just getting the job done. The best mechanic (the one that I had most confidence was the one in Laos (Plain of Jars). I got to watch him work and he knew his stuff. Just a front yard shop, but you could easily see he new the Minsk inside and out. I do miss mine as now it is sitting in some farmers place (possible running again) 50kms north of Satun, Thailand. Glad to see someone else who likes a working mans motorcycle. Send a pic I would like to see it when it has been all freshened up.
Steve

2. Jeremy Kroeker
You’re doing it right, man. Nice work! Drop me a line when you do the South America leg on a bike. Who knows? Maybe we’ll meet up.

Steve: I sent you an e-mail. Don’t tell my mom.

3. jeannie
I can relate to your adventures. I married a Palestinian and every 90 days I must go to the “warehouse”. I get many questions, like ‘YOU MARRIED A MUSLIM HOW COME YOU DONT COVER YOUR HAIR?’ or Do I have any bombs, weapons, did anybody give me anything. They dont recognise my husband as an American even with his American passport. He is not allowed in Israel. The women/girls were nice to me but not to the Americans who wore the hijab(coverd). They strip search them. I also wait 4-6 hours. Now I knoe to get there 1-2 hours before they close.
Just to let you know the Arab lines in the warehouse are for Palestinians returning from a trip. The West Bank is inside Isreal so they must incounter many check points even inside their own territory. But they dont wait hours like we do.
The Palestinian women are much prettier then they appear. I have been living in the West Bank 11 months now and I got to know their customs, traditions but most are not religous. I never had anyone push Islam on me , so their pretty cool. They love rap music, tattoos, nose rings, and they love to drink too!! They are not closed minded if they were I would have divorced my husband 13 years ago.
I work at a womens pool and the girls/women are very cool but they’re strong due to the occupation and the check points they encounter daily. You know 18-20 year oldsth m-16 is really whacked.

Steve: Thanks for the real life info. The warehouse was an experience that I am glad I got to go through. It just gave me a sense of how much pressure the Palestinian people are put under. Going through the other maze to visit/leave Bethlehem was another wonderful experience. I still remember the old man and the soldier bickering. The anger in both of them made it easy to understand that fixing the dividing line between the two would be very difficult. Every backpacker that I have met who have done a trip through Israel and Palestine have done a flip flop from supporting Israel to supporting the Palestinian people. The Palestinian side is much more interesting and being treated like a criminal changes a persons viewpoint of Israel. I have friends in both and hope the two state policy will be enacted soon. Oh yea, the Palestinian women are beautiful. When I went to the University at Bethlehem and hung out with the co-eds, wow. Also, I have this great sixth sense of being able to spot a hottie even with the coverings.
Good luck, I hope to go back and get a Palestinian stamp in my passport.

4. Acidspike
P.S. Gratz on the new ride. Now you’re riding Thai Style!

Steve: Thanks. Nobody seems to appreciate my rides.

5. Acidspike
Whoa… Did I catch in that post that you’re planning to come back to the U.S.? Say it ain’t so.
You have to stay on the road, brother.

Steve: Dude, I have to get back to see my family. Non-optional. I would be comfortable going on and on, but I prefer the uncomfortable and unpredictable.

6. Debi
Check out this blog post on fishing in the Yucatan of Mexico. You don’t need no stinkin pole. Go Yucateco and use a roll of line. Might save money, weight, and space - see what you think!
Debi

Steve: I got it worked out. Living my dream- again.

7. Snarky
Whoops, I can see you did find another. Guess I should read all your posts before responding…

Steve: Yea, and in order to get the most bang for your buck, you should start from day one and read all the way through to the new post. That’ll get my blog stats up. Oh yea, send me a nickel a page, help an unemployed guy out.

8. Snarky
RIP Sasha. I hope you find a replacement soon…

Steve: I’ll always have the memories.

I don’t even crave tv anymore. The power of the fish.

Counter-strike and fishing. I thought it didn’t get any better.

The lower end of my neew rig with also a shot of my devastator bait catching system.

Bait.

I was happy to catch this little guy because that means there are some big boys lurking around.

A kind of puffer fish.

Don’t know.

Good fighting fish and the ladies love em.

A type of grouper. We had a fight over this one as I wanted to throw it back as these get big and can really fight. The ladies didn’t want to hear it. Into the pot you go.

Where should I start? How about left to right, simple enough.

I like fishing. Fishing to me is like a massage is to a non-fisherman. Fishing is like me, pure havoc and excitement at one point and borderline comatose the next.

Mary: Where’s Steve?
Sue: Oh he’s out trying to find a new route through Borneo…. Orrrrr, he’s taking a nap.

On the travelfish.org website they list the Nariwathat hotel as being called one of the best hotels in Thailand while some have called it the best. It didn’t take much to steer me to the place especially when rooms were $4US and people were calling it the best hotel in Thailand. It took a bit to find the place as I saw the sign out in front of a slightly worn out wood fronted restaurant. I thought it was possibly someone trying to cash in on the name so I headed all the way to the end of the river road. Nothing, that had to be it. I went back and the guy in the little café took me to check out the rooms. The website did state that the lower level happened to be a “short time” bordello, but having done my share of love shacks I wasn’t worried. The place was actually very large as it did extend all the way to the rivers edge and then with pilons hung out another fifteen feet. We walked upstairs to the long time rooms and he started to show me a room away from the balcony which hung out over the water. There was a guy sitting there at a table in the center of the two rows of rooms. He seemed to be a businessman reviewing a bunch of paperwork although he was in swim trunks and no shirt. He said something in Thai to the guy and he quickly showed me over to a room next to the balcony. The room was another of the old teak style wooden rooms with plenty of space and a windows facing two sides (good breezes for cool nights). All the rooms shared a bathroom but at least the room had a sink and being three times the size of the average Malaysian room I was pretty happy. While the guy was bringing in towels and water, I took a step over to the balcony and saw that it hung past the waters edge by about fifteen feet. I also noticed that it was built on a sort of levee so the water quickly dropped off and was probably a good ten feet deep where the balcony edge was. Looking down the river you could see where the river entered the sea, it was basically the river mouth to the ocean. Bells and whistles starting going off in my head when all I could think of was how great of a fishing spot this place was.

I had been teeter tottering with the whole carrying fishing equipment thing but was still hanging around 30-70 against. I talked to the guy who was at the table and he turned out to be French Vietnamese. He had been at the hotel for two months because he kind of fell in love with the hotels ambiance as well as the need to hide out from his ex-wife. He gave me the lowdown on the hotel and the city and told me of a nice, clean, and cheap restaurant just up the road. I headed down to the restaurant and it turned out to be excellent just like he said. Floor to ceiling tiles, freshly painted, hospital clean, with a double row of curries to pick from. I had found my eating place. Next when I got back I asked about a 7-11 as I hadn’t seen one coming into town. He told me where to find it and I scored again with both dispensers working, but they were the orange and berry, my top two favorites. I was on fire. After hanging out on the balcony talking a bit, I excused myself and headed off on my bike. I figured I would scout out the fishing tackle stores and get an idea of what all this stuff was going to entail. I drove around for an hour and nothing. In the other Thai towns there was fishing stuff in front of every shop store. Here, nothing. I thought my run was over. On a second pass through an area that seemed to have some boating equipment I spotted what looked to be like racks of plastic covered poles. I turned back and yup I had hit the mother load. It wasn’t a big store, but it was a corner nitched out from a hardware store. I started checking out the poles and they were all two piece sets but they were huge. In order to fit on my bike I would have to rig up something so that they stood up in the back. I kind of got it figured out how I might set it up, but it wasn’t going to be easy or convenient. The other thing was that the rods were okay priced, but the reels were way expensive. I noticed that they had some good combo sets hanging from the rafters. I found a couple of good likely candidates so I started checking those out. The people were trying to help me out but none of them spoke English so it was kind of difficult hashing things out. While I was examining those, I noticed a little satchel carrying a telescoping pole. Hmmmm, that would be perfect, but the ones that I had known in the past were cheap pieces of crap that would fall apart before you even got your line wet. The guy brought it down and set it up for me. It was pretty nice and well made. I was quite impressed. I started asking about a cheap reel as the ones in the showcase were around 50-100US. They got confused at that point but luckily a little girl in her cute school uniform ran by yelling for Grandma. She was followed by a really good looking mommy who saw me and started talking to me in perfect English. I was able to ask her about the reel and she quickly got on her I-phone and was chatting away with her husband. She pulled down the set that I was originally looking at and told me that I could have the reel for 600B. I told her I wanted to spend 1000B total so she got back on the phone and chatted away again. She told me that she and her husband really were happy to see a Japanese person in their town as very few come by. I hesitantly told her that I was American and she said no problem Americans are good to. Both of them had worked for a import export business that had dealings with Japan and America. Bam, I was set, rod and reel, I picked up the miscellaneous extras and I was beaming from ear to ear on the way back to the hotel. I had no bait, but I was so happy that I didn’t care as I would be happy just spending the evening playing with my toys and not even starting fishing. When I got back to the hotel the bellboy man started laughing when I walked in with my goodies. We went upstairs and put everything together. He then looked at me and with the usual hand gestures motioned “where’s the bait?” I shrugged. He gave me a “dumb ass” look, and pointed towards the market. With that I was off to the market to pick up some bait. One thing to know about Asia is that bait is food and there is a ton to pick from. All sea creatures are represented so I had my choice. I settled for a 10B bag of shrimp 25 cents for about 20 medium size shrimp. Back home it would probably have beein $10US. Within minutes I was back at the hotel happily pulling in some beasts. Ahhhh fishing.

Bombings. In the guidebook (which is 3 years old) they go into brief forays in every southern towns description about ongoing problems between the Muslim minorities and the Thailand government. Apparently bombing were prevalent during the time the book came out and it was recommended to be extremely careful and to avoid certain areas. I of course have never heard about any of these problems and figured three years ago was a long time ago so what risk during that time frame had most likely fizzled out. Well, I was wrong. Stuff is still as bad as ever with bombings and shooting going on even after my arrival. I was fairly surprised as even on the drive from the border inland towards Nariwathat, they have armed security points every 2-3 kilometers. I also passed about a half dozen heavily armed armored transports doing patrols along the main road. In town it was like being back in Israel with black clad military personel all over town carrying old M-16’s and full body armor. Even security guards were carrying AK-47’s. Stuff was a little uptight to say the least. The French guy warned me my first night that it was not good to be on the streets after 9pm as there had been some problems. A few days before there was a bombing where some teachers were targeted as well as their armed escorts. A mother and son were the only injuries. That same night a bomb went off killing a local man, and I am fairly sure I saw and heard the bang on that one as just before sundown up the river there was a big bang and a large smoke cloud. He had found out the next morning when he went to the market that a guy had been killed as the place where he buys flowers the man there was making the funeral flower arrangements. A few days later a Mosque where some people were praying was shot up. His friend who is in Bangkok keeps an eye on news information and calls him up when there are issues as apparently the government is trying to keep things hushed up. Even the news agencies are hesitant as a reporter was killed here a few years ago. Not to worry though, the happenings usually happen outside the city limits, and I am spending most of my time on the balcony with my weapon of mass destruction in hand.

If you Google Nariwathat & Bombing it will pull up some of the going ons here although I believe a lot of things are swept under the carpet.

Apparently prior fisherman hadn’t had much luck here, but I got skills and I was pulling them in. I was actually surprised at the variety of fish I was catching and some were breaking the kilo mark. I knew the Asians were fond of anything that swims so I started to give the fish I caught to the bell boy. Later I started catching some pretty good size perch and when I went downstairs with a big one in a bag, one of the girls eye-balled it and started smiling. She called another one of the girls out and with a wink I was handing it over. Soon the other girls were promising me soup and stew, so I was soon being given a bucket and orders for more fish. I am working on a deal that when I hit a hundred kilos I get a coupon for a freebee.

For those in the need to know, it is a real low key operation. The front of the hotel is a little café serving coffee’s, soft drinks, and even beer. There is a second building in the back that runs all the way to the waters edge and is two stories. There is a center common area with about five rooms on each side on the lower level and upstairs with three on each side. The ladies each have their own room on the bottom level with the top being solely for tourists. During the day the ladies just hang out sleeping, eating, and chatting. In the afternoons the guys wander in, have a beer, the wander back to where the girls rooms are and the love consultants go to work. Everything shuts down before 9pm and it is strictly quite from then on. It is different than a lot of other normal set ups as this is not a karaoke joint. It is kept very much low key (Muslim state) and the girls have never bothered me accept for the fish and to bring me coffee and snacks. Good times. Price wise, I am sure if you are a hard bargainer you could get it down to 5 0 kilos of fish.

Shootings and curfew I guess could follow along with the bombings section. I am not sure if there is a legally implemented curfew, but stuff is locked down with shudders and steel gates all over town by 9pm. When I go to the night market in the evening the manager warns me to hurry.

Suspicion is very odd here. I definitely do not fit in for some reason as I am getting the usual stares that I got in Africa and South America where I was totally foreign. Here though the stares have a bit of a distrustful worrisome look to it. I know a few people got startled when I go out in my jeans, long sleeve shirt, and hiking boots. I think the boots are somewhat representative of military so people kind of glance down a lot at them with a hesitant glance. Even little kids stop and stare. Maybe it’s because I smell like fish. I don’t know, but I guess with all the going ons here people are very wary about everything. Oh yea, the Muslim ladies who run my mama’s restaurant were very hard when they first dealt with me but as I go there twice a day now and try and joke around with them, they have become much more friendly and joyful. I know the fishing shop is happy to see me come by kacheeeeng.

And so I am adventuring and having extremely joyful times. I can just see the headlines, American tourist (although we think he’s Chinese) was killed in a bombing at a brothel. He died with his pole in his hands. News at 11.

So, I hit the Malaysian border check point and it is pretty much chaos. There is a drive through aisle each for trucks, cars, and motorcycles. Surprisingly, there is also a road that bypasses the whole border checkpoint and just goes around the whole comple. Most of the motorcycles and cars were just skipping the whole bureaucracy of customs and immigration and just skipping it (I guess they were carrying bombs and heroin) so I just followed along. I got half way round and then figured it would probably be best if I at least tried the correct way. I went against traffic and entered back into line and into the motorcycle lane. I was the only one going so I pulled up to the immigration drive up window and stopped. The girl in the little booth was reading something and wouldn’t look up. I took off my helmet as the sign said to take off your helmet. Nothing. Okay, I tried and I drove through the building and out the other side. Okay, things are not going the way they are supposed to. I was worried about taking the bike out as I did not do any paperwork coming in, but now I was actually in reverse land where I couldn’t figure out how to get anybody to care. I noticed a couple of backpackers walking out of a building so I walked in and found the walk through immigration section. I got my stamp as was finally out of Malaysia.

Thailand was slightly less chaotic but there was a line of backpackers waiting to have their Swine Flu check. I figured, why not just skip it so I went to the Entry window, got my stamp (two months) and left. No worries.

No shittin, I passed through town and I was on a wide two lane road with just as wide shoulders, with not a vehicle in front of me or anything in my rear view mirrors. It was like scooter heaven. There was maybe two kilometers the whole time that I was in Malaysia where I felt comfortable riding. (Cool, gunshots… will explain later). Two minutes into Thailand and I already understood why everybody loves it so much.

My first stop was the town of Narathiwat. It was smooth sailing the whole way and it felt good to be back.

Well, in all actuality there is really nothing wrong per say, and I do have to emphasize that I only spent around two weeks there and I only visited the northern east to west sections and I have been traveling around for way too long and seeing too much, so I guess what I am rambling on about is that there is no need for negative feedback as I know all of this is terribly biased and I do have to emphasize I did start off by saying “there was nothing wrong per say”…

In general, what I found to be was India, China, and the Middle East (Muslim emphasis), all rolled up into one. That in itself is Malaysia’s identity, but it comes off as kind of “already been done”. I mean it would be a great place if you wanted to visit China, India, and the Middle East but only had time for one, you could actually skip all three and just come to Malaysia. Hey, that could be their motto, buy one get three… Malaysia.

The others issues are similar in that Malaysia has sights, but having seen too much, they are more second rate versions of the original (blame Justin and Miriam (Nepal trekking companions)). Mosques, temples, highlands, beaches, islands, food, same same but just not as polished or impacting.

Malaysia is also what I would characterize as middle class, the asian version, but similar to the western style of average living. Cars not scooters, pretty good roads, driving standards are law abiding, work, work, work, shopaholics, brand name driven, flash your cash, life is good but it could be better, decent facilities, decent structures, decent government, decent hospitality, I think your getting it. Again, not bad things, just for the traveler looking for adventure, you just might have found your cure for homesickness.

Now for the Steve issues: First, why not fix the flat tires instead of just replacing the tubes. Freaking western disposable cultures. Second, 7-11’s mean Slurpees, fix the damn Slurpee machines. A customer who will but three a day shouldn’t have to walk to six different 7-11’s to find one with a working machine. Third, shit can the dormitory crap. It kind of relates to the fact that Nescafe sucks and all foreigners hate the crap so don’t correlate foreigners with loving to sleep in bunk beds together and drink shit coffee. You really don’t find dorms in the other SE Asia countries as normal rooms are so cheap, but somehow the Malaysians adopted the YMCA as their prototype foreigner accommodation so even expensive hotels have dorms. The coffee thing is that there are areas in the highlands where coffee is grown and is some fairly highly rated cuppas. The locals drink the home roasted, home ground, gravity filtered, sweet cream laced coffee, but somehow years ago some dumbass asked for “that coffee like substance” because how convenient it is and from then on the locals have correlated foreigner with powdered coffee, powdered cream, and sugar packets. You travel half way around the world and looking to sip the brown stuff at ground zero and you get a glass of hot water and powder shit. MMmmmm good. For being a middle class rated society (by Steve of course) the accommodations at the backpacker level is the shittiest I have seen on average. Were talking competing with India, Congo, and the Guyanas. You know that movie “The Beach” where they are in that shithole hotel in Bangkok (?) (real location was in Phuket town- FYI). Basically cut that room and half and dirty it up a bit and you have average standards for backpacker accommodations. That in itself drove me out of Malaysia. Thank god I had the moto as I was averaging 4.5 hotel stops before I found a decent room at a decent price and that was at every city I stayed. Lastly (at least off the top of my head) put some shoulders on the highways so moto people don’t have to play dodge the cars side mirror as they speed 100kms an hour trying not to get run down. Also, sidewalks in the city would be nice. God help the handicap as you ain’t going to get around much in any of the cities. And the griping ends.

So come to Malaysia where you can buy one and get three.

I finished my stay in the pleasantly cool climate of the Cameron Highlands and then did a stop over in the jungle town of Gua Musang. That is the drop off point for boats going down to a nature reserve and also the starting point for a jungle train route. For me it was the stress relieving fix of lucking out and finding a couple of shops who sold the tools I needed to fix a flat tire. It was about a 150 kms of nothing where if I had gotten a flat I was soooo screwed. Again, the moto gods chose not to punish me and I now have the added security of being able to fix a flat should the need arise.

My last stop on the Malaysia tour was Kota Bharu the district capital at about 40kms to the border. I was debating on heading south a bit and hitting the Perinthian Islands, Malaysia’s “almost” version of Thailand’s. It is summer break so the town was packed with Malaysian/Singaporean tourists so it made everything even more congested. I figured enough was enough and I headed for the border after one night.

And that is how my Malaysia tour ended. I do have to add that Borneo, that really Jungly place is Malaysia, so there is a totally different Malaysia out there, but the half I saw, I had my fill.

P.S. I forgot to add a good thing. They have a dessert there called a razzmatazz (I don’t know what the actual name is but it fits). They take a bowl and dish in a scoop of black licorice looking gummy worms, then some green ones, (neither one are candly like the actual gummies), then using a ice shaver a pile of ice shavings go on top, next is the sugary honey like syrup, followed by corn kernels, salty peanuts, some red caviar in milk gummy stuff, sweetened condensed milk, and top it all off with a small scoop of ice cream. Bam, a razzmatazz. Pretty good, but the salty peanuts throws you off a bit. Surprisingly, the corn fits. Good stuff.

The original plan was to travel overland through the rarely foreigner visited border of Padang Besar but with the demise of Sasha I thought that it would be the over sea route from Satun. With new transport acquired it was mission complete as I got to see the black market crossing.

I was slightly concerned with the paperwork formalities as Thailand actually has a computerized system for their Customs work. The worry was actually two fold as I was not taking Sasha out of the country (although I had extended it to the 5th of June) and which could lead to a 150,000B fine. The other was taking the unregistered in my name to be named bike across the border. I had heard that Malaysia was pretty lax on their customs so it was more of a matter of getting past the Thai side. What I thought would be a fairly open and rural outpost turned out to be a pretty tight and secure border checkpoint. The whole place was blocked off and traffic was funneled to a single narrow drive thru window on each side of a mutual Thai/Malaysian building. There wasn’t going to be a drive thru so I just got in line and kept my mouth shut. Everything went pretty smoothly with the only out of the ordinary was the ear temperature check for Swine flu. I passed. The Malay was the same and I was on my way.

I can say that the ride on the Malay side was really beautiful. It would have been the end of Sasha had she made it that far as although the roads were nice new tar, they immediately climbed a thousand meters through a series of windy switchbacks. On the top there were some beautiful views over the rocky buttresses and over into the wide open plains. Maybe Malaysia had more to offer that the preconceived notions.

My target destination was the island (yea, another one) of Georgetown. There was a Thai Consulates office there which would hopefully offer the two month free visas like I had gotten in Cambodia. Although after a long ride I could have made it, I chose to stop at a small town which is on the tourist trail as the landing point for the boats from Thailand and the exit point to the high end island of Pulau Langkawi. I wasn’t going to the island, but since this was a new country and a different culture, I wanted to take a small step and get acclimated (money, prices, language, food, rooms, driving, etc.) The town itself was a transit stop with only expensive lodging so it took a while to find a place that was reasonably priced (30R or @ $8.50) which was 10R less that the only hotel listed in the guidebook. For food it was a roadside curry place where you basically were given a plate of rice and you picked whatever you want from the pans set along a table. Malay food and culture is a sort of mix between Indian, Chinese, and Middle East. I have switched my eating style away from the pork/chicken rice plates to more of a sampler series where I just pick new things along the way. It was all pretty good and I was a bit more at ease with the lodging and eating out of the way. Malaysia is one of the more westernized countries so the costs are upped as well. For the rest of the evening it was a visit to the night market and checking out of the Rally Car event that was being held there for the weekend.

With my acclimation day finished, I was off to Georgetown which took me along the major artery of Highway 1. Not good as the roads are not built with motorcycles in mind. Malaysia is a car society and scooters are the lesser used of the transport. The full sized shoulder that runs along the entirety of Thailands roads is nothing more than a curb with a 12” gap which is cordoned off with a stripe of white paint. No more chugging along at your own pace, you are either keeping pace with traffic or are under it.

I did run into a problem with this new transport, flat tires. In the six months that I had driven around with Sasha I had a total of one flat tire. In the first hundred or so kilometers I had two with one requiring a kilometer push to find a moto shop. Since motos are not used as much, the little shops that are every few hundred meters in other countries are pretty much located in towns along the way making for long stretches of breakdown nightmare. Leaving Georgetown I got my third puncture which I think will make the decision to go toolless void. Here, like a true western society, they don’t fix the hole in the tube, rather they toss the whole thing and put on a new one. Now, it costs around $2 per repair, but it just bothers me tossing a perfectly good tube that in other countries would be repaired ten times before the thought of tossing it would come to mind. I remember in Cambodia when the entire valve stem on my tube had come off and the guy was preparing to fix it when I told him to just put on a new tube. I think a set of tire levers, patches and glue, and a pump will be on the short list of things to buy. I am sitting in the Cameron Highlands a 80Km stretch of hills and mountains which I saw no repair facilities the whole time and made me sweat the whole ride.

Georgetown itself is a World Heritage site but to me it was a Visa stop. The memorable things that I found was Orange Slushes (my new favorite), free wireless internet sponsored by the state government, super duper airconditioned room I bargained down to 25R per night since I was staying for four nights. It was also my first Indian food since leaving India which was not so bad as I had truly been through with anything India. Beyond that the Visa thing went smooth (same day pickup, no fee, not sure for how many days but will see when I get stamped in.)

After Georgetown it was another transit point stop at Ipoh. After living a little bit of Malaysia, I had determined that it was okay, but not interesting enough to keep heading south to the capital and possibly Singapore. I figured that I would take a cut through the country spending some time in the air conditioned hills of Cameron Highlands, and then over to the East coast for possibly a little more island time before making the upswing to Northern Thailand. In Ipoh my interesting thing was having McDonalds for the first time since November 1, 2008. I didn’t have the Bic Mac, but was swayed by a Big Breakfast on my way out of town. It was damn good except that I forgot that pancakes had to be ordered separately and that Orange juice costs as much as the meal itself. That and the utensils, straws, napkins and condiments, are located on that counter behind you on top of the garbage stands. I haven’t been to McDonalds for so long I forgot how they worked. I turned into one of those retards that take five minutes to order, for god’s sake it’s the same shit for the last twenty years.

And so I drove up the windy roads through the jungle covered mountains just praying to the gods of travel to not bust my ass because it became pretty apparent that if I got a flat I was screwed as there was nothing between points A and B. I made it with no problems and have happily spent a couple of days in the highly touristic but cool town of Tanah Rata. The main interest here is trekking, but the Malay army is not strong enough to make me do that, and the guest house where I am staying has a bunch of National Geographics so it has been Indian food, and mopeding around for me. It is kind of a crap place as it is kind of like the highlands in India where everybody in the country descends on it as every spare moment so it is crammed full of Malay and Singapore tourists on vacation. It gets to be a zoo on the main roads and restaurants, but the backpackers tend to be too scruffy for the locals so they stay pretty serene. A positive note is that it is home to a lot of strawberry farms so I got to eat a lot of freshly made strawberry ice cream and chocolate dipped strawberries on a stick. The transplanted Indians here are also very nice and friendly which makes things nice as I at least know a bit about their home culture.

Next stop is the east coast and the possibility of visiting some beach locations or heading straight back to Thailand. First I have to make it back about a hundred kilometers without getting a flat otherwise my next post might be a while.

Malaysia welcomed me by putting up these signs warning all vehicles who utilize steering wheels that messing with me and my new bike would lead to instant death. It was either that or something about all vehicles with steering wheels will try and run me over.

Fully loaded. My bag fits perfectly (actually I turned the bag around and it even fits better now with no steering limitations and full gauge viewing. I love my little basket, it is so handy although I need to add a Slurpee cup holder.

Real islands mean it requires a ferry to reach. Georgetown actually did have a nice new bridge but I think it was one of those racist kind though (no bikes allowed).

Georgetown pretty much is like what the picture shows, old Chinese style intermixed with new skyscraping buildings. Most of the tourist stuff is around the old China town. Orange slushes are excellent. I had to stop at six 7-11’s to find the one place where the machine was working. I was rewarded though by that orangey goodness.

Passing through the Cameron Highlands. It was about the tenth time of passing through similar terrain so I didn’t bother taking a photo. This was something different though. Big letters, cool.