We should be up and raring to go today but we're a bit slow off the mark. This room induces lethargy. Or is it just me? The results of the Worthington Cup flash up on the news ticker (after three Premiership scores) and Liverpool won 2-1! Yay! Then they appeared to have won 2-0! Hmm. At least they won, I assume.
We check out which takes a little time, I think they send someone to check the room. They have a note in the room suggesting that if you're attracted to the linen or towels feel free to purchase them from housekeeping direct at the following prices... The first taxi is a "prestige" taxi, a Mercedes E class which reminds me of Dusseldorf, at least, where all the taxis are C class. I don't think the driver wanted to go to the bus station as much as we thought it a bit odd to arrive in a prestige taxi to catch the bus. Besides the other taxi was S$3.70 vs. S$15 the prestige man wanted.
We stumbled around the bus park to find a wizened old man shuffling coins on a desk with a bunch of blue tickets. We handed over S$2.40 each for the trip to Johor Bahru just over the causeway on the Malaysian peninsula. Oddly, Helen and I seemed to be the only people with large packs, most people were lightly loaded. You're dropped off at the Woodlands checkpoint where you depart Singapore and for some reason are given two Singapore Immigration documents. Outside there are a few nervous moments as we look for the bus queue but we get a friendly smile from and old lady so follow her. I then surrepticiously check she has the same kind of ticket. We pile onto the next bus. I was a bit nervous as the queue was large and Helen and I were using two seats each but the ticket inspector was wise to us and kept a few people off to make sure there was room. There's a bus every 15 minutes or so.
Then over the causeway and dropped at Malaysian immigration. After a few minutes we found the immigration forms and went through. No sign of "plant quarantine station" or indeed customs at all so I don't know if we've smuggled the bao beans or sea shell into Malaysia. I don't fancy six months in prison (which is what you get for entering a National Park without a RM3 fee (RM3.8 to US$1)).
We're approached by a man trying to offer us a lift. Eventually we accept and head off to the airport for tickets and a flight to Kuching on Sarawak/Borneo. We seem to miss out the tickets part and go straight to the airport but following him in we find the ticket office. It's a bit of a hit and run into Sarawak (there's so little time!) and we buy flights back out for Wednesday to Kuala Lumpur (KL). The man's said it's OK to pay in Singapore dollars so I give him the requested 35. This was based on receiving Malaysian Ringgit in our change the other day and being told it was interchangeable. On arrival at the bureau de change and ATM moments later we discovered the exchange rate was over two to one. Ah well, a good profit for him. Helen didn't look too impressed with me though. I take RM1000 out of the ATM then have a minor panic. The tickets were RM906 and now this. Have I blown my current account? Fortunately not -- a good job we have a calculator as I ca't divide by 3.8, I'm having a bad couple of days -- as it's only US$500. We check-in some 3.5 hours early and have some nasi goreng in the Malaysian equivalent of a motorway fast food joint, I'd say.
A pleasant flight with Malaysian Airlines, surprising for being both a mere US$50 and 1.5 hours -- I didn't think the two parts [of Malaysia] were that far apart. I declined a copy of the Sabah Times but noted it headlined WBA vs. Soton on the back page. We flew at 33,000ft and I'm sure there were dark clouds overhead. At Kuching International a nice man told us to fill in another immigration form. The small print of this morning's visa is that we're allowed into peninsula Malaysia for three months. An extraordinarily similar form lets us into Sarawak for a month.
The information desk suggests a taxi into town and one zone 3 taxi coupon later we clamber into the taxi at the front of the queue which by chance appears to be the most, um, venerable. I'm sure it's moving side to side on top of the earnest efforts by the driver (a Brian Glover looky-likey, complete with flat cap) to get it moving. The Kuching suburbs are new and clean, bright well maintained housing and commercial blocks all round.
We loop around the centre as we don't actually know where we're
going and he drops us off outside a small hotel. We lug our bags up
to the third floor where the room is a bit rank. We decline and march
up the road to where we'd seen another small hotel. This one's fine,
especially at RM58. We head out for a walk along the waterfront just
as dusk is setting in. They do like to light up the trees round here
as well as the mosques and temples. I foolishly suggest to Helen that
she take some slow shutter shots of a fountain/statue but after
fifteen minutes I have to go [away]. Some geezer interrupts my
meandering with a How's it going? You Australian? Is that an
Australian hat?
and continues to wibble at me adding Is that
your daughter?
when Helen turns up. Fortunately he leaves and we
can enjoy our dinner. Main courses at this swank bistro checking in
at RM20 (about US$5). Beer's still relatively expensive, mind
(although only RM8 for a glass). We wander back and stop in a little
restaurant over the road from the hotel that looked quite nice.
Sadly, it'll have to remain "looked" as they're closed on Tuesdays
(tomorrow) when we might have sampled their wares. Not that Helen was
impressed by the hot chocolate. We step into the room and it's a lovely cool feeling. The air con unit thinks it's 26C, mind.
Fata Hotel, Kuching N1.55510
E110.34773 Elev. 23m
Copyright 2003 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.