The Malaysian border was set up on trestle tables, with nowhere to fill in the forms I was given (headed ominously with "DRUG SMUGGLERS WILL BE EXECUTED"), so I had to balance them on my knees. Otherwise the border crossing was really easy. I never even spotted the customs, so presumably I didn't look like a drug smuggler.

I needed some Malay money fast, so I had to rush down the high street, desperately looking for a bank or at least somewhere to cash a travelers' cheque. I found the latter, so I could now get the bus to Kota Bharu. This took an age to arrive, but gave me time to meet some other farangs at the bus stop, all of whom seemed to be doing a long haul. One of them, an Asian-American called Lynelle told me some horror stories about Vietnam, but I thought then, and am certain know, that most of her problems were due to being an Asian woman traveling with white men. That, and admitting to being an American, which is not going to make you popular in Vietnam.

The bus to Kota Bharu took about an hour, most of it spent standing up, so it was dusk by the time we arrived. We found a cheap dormitory with friendly staff and checked in. By this time I was frazzled after a hard day's traveling and really badly wanted a beer. Guess what? Kota Bharu is dry! Well almost. After scouring the town centre for a bar, it suddenly hit me that Malaysia was Moslem and that I might not get a drink at all there. And my birthday was only two days away. I had the choice of doubling back to Thailand, rushing through to Singapore or staying sober. For some reason I chose the latter. Fortunately my sobriety was not complete. I went back to the hostel and asked the staff if there were any coffee bars or the like, and was told, no, not really, just restaurants. So there was no chance of a beer? Yes, certainly they said. Just go to a Chinese restaurant, get a carry out and bring it back and drink it on the roof top balcony. They couldn't sell it because they were Moslem, but they had no problem with people drinking beer bought elsewhere. Sweet! So I went out for a couple of beers and drank them with the staff (I was drinking, they were talking) on the rooftop.

All the same I decided to cut my losses and get the early (6am, again. Ouch!) train through the jungle to Taman Negara.

Gwen and Jo having breakfast

The train arrived in Jerantut late in the afternoon. It was met by a number of touts advertising their hotels. One of them offered us what seemed like a good deal, and seemed to know a lot about the national park, so we went with him in his minibus. His hotel was only a couple of hundred meters away, so this wasn't entirely necessary. The hotel, The Sri Emas was basic, but cheap, with squat toilets, which was about the last thing I needed at this time - toilets, yes, squat toilets, no. Otherwise I was very impressed, more with the staff than the hotel itself. They organised a trip to a waterfall and to a local village to fill in time that evening, and then after we'd eaten there was a briefing meeting on what to expect in Taman Negara. And of course they were offering to sell us transport.

A precarious rope bridge

And a happy birthday to me! 40 years old. Fuck! This turned out to be a memorable birthday, both for the location and an almost total absence of alcohol to help me forget. Jo and I had met an American woman, Gwen, at the briefing the night before and the three of us went on the hotel's Agro tour, which meant going to see rubber and palm plantations on the way to the park, rather than a rumble. Gwen had already booked a room inside the park, but Jo and I decided to stay in the curiously named 'Local Village' on the other side of the river because it was a lot cheaper.

Lots of green

Lots more green

The restaurant at the park headquarters did sell beer, so it wasn't a completely sober birthday, but neither the debauched piss-up I'd imagined when I first planned the trip. We ate on the local village side, though, which was completely dry. Gwen and Jo went to bed quite early, I read for a while, drinking more Chocomel than was probably good for me, before braving the thunderstorm to go to bed.

Our plan for the next two days was to do a long hike (6 hours or so) and spend the night in a hide. To begin with this worked well. But then the path we were using seemed to peter out where it met a stream. I clambered across, getting wet feet in the process, but couldn't see where it went. We backtracked, then backtracked the backtrack, then gave up. Somewhat disappointed we headed back to base. The cold beer and warm shower made up somewhat for our sense of failure. We ate again at the local village, by the river. Around 6pm another thunderstorm erupted, making us feel much better about not being in a hide. Several of the patrons decided it would be fun to jump fully clothed into the river during the storm, including one poor guy who forget to take his wallet out before he jumped in.

And some red

In the morning we had some spare time, so we went tubing. A boat took us a few miles up the river, gave us some inflated inner tubes from trucks or tractors and we then floated back down the river, trying hard to avoid the banks and whirlpools. This was harder than it looked, but was still a fun way to spend a morning.

The boat back to Jerantut left after lunch, taking a couple of hours through the lush jungle (left). Finally back at the hotel, with the help of one of the staff, I booked on the night train to Singapore and whiled away the intervening hours with a few beers and a good book.

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© Copyright Chris Rouch. 1999-2012. Comments, complaints, abuse and beers to
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Last modified on 10th December 2008 2:07 PM EST

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