Thursday, July 13, 2006
Kota Bharu
Our next stop in Kota Bharu was right across on the east coast of the country, and turned out to be one of the most difficult journeys we've had to make for quite a while. The problem was not so much the distance, but that it seemed as if we were the only people who had evered considered travelling from the Cameron Highlands to Kota Bharu. The alternatives seemed to be either a combination of night buses, which took about 12 hours to go all the way back to the west coast before making their way around the north side of the mountains, or a small minibus which went roughly in the right direction and might be persuaded to drop us off after a little negotiation with the driver!The hostel staff turned out to be incredibly helpful and managed to persuade one of the minibus drivers to drop us off at an intermediate point where we could get a connecting bus. This meant only a 7 or 8 hour daytime bus journey. Along the way we discovered that the reason for the lack of direct bus transport was that the (very good) eastbound road through the mountains has not been open all that long and nobody seems to have thought to run scheduled buses along it yet.
It did mean that we got to stop at a little town in the middle of nowhere and have a look around while we waited for the next bus. We'd met a few other people on the minibus but they were carrying on further to catch a train to the Taman Negara national park. The minibus driver helpfully arranged for us to leave our bags in the 'bus station' (a.k.a. concrete shed with barred windows). So we did this, and set off to walk to the village centre for lunch, just in time to see the two ladies from the bus station office drive off in a car without seeming to have done much to secure the aforementioned shed which now contained our luggage. We're obviously getting a bit more relaxed about the whole idea of losing our wordly possessions because we just shrugged it off and carried on walking (NOTE: There is also the fact that despite our luggage being lighter than it once was we have met very few people in Asia who have sufficient build to even carry our backpacks, let alone run off with them, even if they wanted to!).
So off we went to explore. We were in the middle of nowhere in a small town so we looked forward to being the only tourists about and having the place to ourselves for a couple of hours. We're also now in a more Muslim part of the country, so a lunchtime beer was pretty much out of the question, but the food choice was looking good and very authentic...... right down to the Halal KFC on the high street! And wait a minute...... some suspiciously familiar looking white people with backpacks strolling in the other direction.....
It turned out that the train station that the others were being taken to was at the other end of the high street from the bus station. So now we were no longer the sole explorers in a foreign land, but we did have lunch companions. You'll be pleased to know that on this occasion we didn't cross the palm of Colonel Sanders with silver, but instead dined at the local 'Roti Shack' which was far more satisfying, with it's lack of menu, aircon or even walls, but very friendly owners, good food, and almost zero cost.
The World Cup was now over, but the international language of football was still the icebreaker, although in a rather bizarre manner in this case. Right back as far as Tokyo we've grown used to variations on the following conversation:
Local: Where are you from?
Us: England
Local: Aaahh!!! Steven Gerard/Frank Lampard/David Beckham/Wayne Rooney!! (*)
(*delete as appropriate)
However, this time it was different. One of our 'van mates' took up the conversation:
Roti Shack Owner: Where are you from?
Van Mate: England
Roti Shack Owner: Aaahh!!! Trevor Francis, Kevin Keegan!!!!
We're still not sure whether he was simply a fan of bad 70's haircuts, or whether he was actually dispensing advice on the best way to rebuild our national team. Either way it kept everyone amused and may have contributed to the ridiculously small bill that we were eventually presented with.
After all that the actual bus journey to Kota Bharu was quie an anti-climax. The bus driver seemed reluctant to open the big luggage storage doors on the side of the bus, so our backpacks got to ride in the front row of seats whilst we sat down the back. The bus had an entertainment system of sorts, although the radio reception was so bad that it was quite a relief when the driver finally turned it off (or it broke). This also gave us more opportunity to listen to the increasingly loud grinding and juddering noises coming from various mechanical parts of the bus.
Now, the keen F1 fans amongst you may remember how (in the days before engines had to last more than one race) Murray Walker used to tell us all that the perfect racing car would be one that functioned perfectly for the entire race, and then fell apart as soon as it crossed the finish line. Well, if that's true then this bus was clearly designed by the finest engineers on earth, because the further we went the louder the noises got, and the more useless the brakes seemed to become.
Much to our excitement the bus never actually fell apart, although we did make one more unscheduled stop (at least for us). We've got used to toilet and meal stops on these longer bus journeys, but this time not everyone got off (although the driver disappeared). After a few minutes we realised that it was mid afternoon, and that we had actually stopped outside a mosque, which was where half of the passengers had gone.
Oh yes, Kota Bharu, that was what this was supposed to be all about. We eventually arrived in the late afternoon, and for once had no idea where we were going to sleep. We phoned the place at the top of the list in Lonely Planet, the one described as something like "the favourite backpacker destination in town". Well if this was the favourite then I really wouldn't want to check out any of the other places here! To be fair, the owners were incredibly friendly and it was absolutely the cheapest place we've stayed in. Less than six pounds a night for a clean double room with working air conditioning and a bathroom shared with one other (empty) room can only be described as a bargain, but after our long day on the road the lack of hot water wasn't really what we had in mind.
That night we checked out the food stalls at the local night market, with their numerous specialities which included a dish served with blue coloured rice (yes really). Then in the morning we just had time to have a look at the bird singing competition on the way back to the bus station. This appears to be a weekly event and involves the local men bringing their caged birds down to the park where they are all hung up in long lines and the singing is actually marked by other men with clipboards. No idea whether there are any prizes, but I was more interested in what the birds thought of it all, is it like going down to the pub to meet their mates once a week?
So that was it, after all that we only stayed in town a few hours, here are the photos. It wasn't a bad place, but I think we may have discovered the reason why there weren't dozens of regular buses waiting to bring us here in the first place!
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