Category Archives: Borderworlds

“. . . 
the Borderworld, nothing more than a limbo
of those waiting to cross Styx into Elysium . . .”
- Four Years Before

Weekly Photo Challenge: Escape

Escape to Myanmar?

Escape to Myanmar?

An escape.  Or rather, an attempted escape.

On a trip completely paid for by my employer, I was shuttled off to the north of Thailand for a long weekend.  The highlight of the trip for me was to be in range of the Golden Triangle and the Burma border crossing at Mae Sai.  Everywhere else we would go, I had already been to.

Arriving at the border, we were supposed to be able to leave our passports and pass into the border town.  No foreigners are allowed to proceed onward from that town, but we would still get around an hour to explore.

Leaving our passports with the Thai authorities, we were on a bridge over a stream in a literal no man’s land.  Getting to the Burma crossing, we were asked to provide our passports.  The same passports we had just left behind.  On top of that, they wanted an additional 500 baht or US$15.

This resulted in quite the standoff between our Thai boss and the Burmese border guard.  By the time we actually found out what we needed to do, there wasn’t enough time to even bother.  Instead, most of us went into the duty free store and had a look around.  Zhou, a Chinese coworker, and I both got a can of Chinese beer and had them outside overlooking the stream before heading back across the bridge into Thailand.

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Well, I was there; Singapore, the end of this expedition. The snout of the Elephant’s Trunk. That fabled first world megacity shining over the developing entirety of South East Asia.

Singapore: At the Elephant’s Snout


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Well, I was there; Singapore, the end of this expedition. The snout of the Elephant’s Trunk. That fabled first world megacity shining over the developing entirety of South East Asia.

Crossing the bridge into the island city-state, perhaps a sign of my naivete, I expected to immediately be riding amidst wall-to-wall sky scrapers. But, it wasn’t quite that at all. The area just south of the border crossing is mostly wooded and minimally developed.

The open urban spaces that are through most of Singapore.

The open urban spaces that are through most of Singapore.

 

Unfortunately I had no bearing to the city when I was dropped off at what was more of a parking lot than a bus station. And, I again had none of the local currency.

One thing I did have going for me, though, was that I spoke the language. After months of simplistic English in Thailand and just coming from a mostly non-English speaking country, it was going to be nice to flex the verbal muscles again.

Walking a few blocks away from the drop-off point toward where I was told was a subway, I was quickly able to find an ATM. But, small bills were needed and I hadn’t eaten since Melaka, so a quick Baconator meal at a Wendy’s sufficed before the descending into the subway.

Signs in the four main languages.

Signs in the four main languages.

Singapore-2The subway system here is extensive, efficient and pristine. Signs in Tamil, English, Chinese, and Malay were a prime indicator of the cultural confluence of this country. And while I had heard whispered rumors of Singapore’s overbearing regulations, I still got a laugh out of the official ban on durians (a heavily scented Asian fruit) being posted throughout the subway system.

Singapore is dotted with random budget accommodations, but a good number are in Little India, a neighborhood which always seems to ooze character regardless of the city or country. Singapore’s Indian district was no exception. Fragrant food vendors were closing down as the Bollywood bars were coming alive when I exited the subway station.

Awkwardly shoved in between the Indian establishments are a number of backpacker pubs and guest houses. After a couple tries, I got a bed at the Price of Wales Pub, a bar with a number of guest accommodations upstairs. Unfortunately, because of Singapore’s alcohol prices, a couple beers downstairs comes to almost the same price as sleeping there.

Outside the Prince of Wales Backpacker Pub.

Outside the Prince of Wales Backpacker Pub.

And inside the guest house area.

And inside the guest house area.

 

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Silhouette

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On a spur of the moment trip I couldn’t back out of due to Priceline having my credit card, I made the short trip from Grand Rapids over to Windsor, Ontario. My friend Jeff was supposed to come with me, but after over 20 minutes of pounding on his door, bedroom window, and calling his phone, I made the trip solo.

Arriving in Detroit gave me a rare winter glimpse there as I hopped the People Mover (raised monorail) and headed into Greektown for some gambling and the first Greek food since I had come back from Athens 2 years before.

Crossing into Windsor, the only Canadian city located South of an American border, I drove around and found it a fairly interesting place. A few hours later, Jeff arrived courtesy of a bartender we knew who also had a couple nights off. And together, we hit up the Windsor nightlife that is more commonly known to michigan’s 19 year olds.

Windsor also has a few nice riverside parks which give a nice view of the Detroit skyline. This eerie (no Great Lakes pun intended) silhouette was taken in one of those parks.

A proper So Far travel post, Sundown in Penang coming as soon as I get to an actual computer.

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Crossing the Malaysia Border at Sadao

In all honesty, despite the undeserved props I gave myself for inevitably braving the bombing capital of Thailand, I would much rather have spent the night in the Border town of Sadao.  Just the label itself – border town – it sounds exciting.  And indeed from the little I had read and even less that I saw of Sadao, it looked intriguing.

Getting comfortable.

The morning started out with me hopping into a van by myself just around the corner from where I had stayed.  From there, I waiting in another travel agency for 20 minutes before another van pulled up and I was told to get in.  So, fully loaded, I was heading south to the Malaysian border with a French guy, a bunch of old, smelly Brits, and a Muslim family.

An hour later, we were driving through Sadao, or at least a part of Sadao.  The main part of the actual town of Sadao is built around an intersection.  In one direction, you head west and will end up at the Malaysian border crossing of Padang Besar.  If you continue straight south down the Thailand National Highway 4, you come to the microcosmic chaos of Dannok.  It was here that I was crossing.

The clustered traffic leading up to the actual border was surrounded by a tightly-packed conglomerate of newer looking buildings.  Many familiar names passed by my van’s window including the obligatory McDonald’s and KFC.

A quick glimpse of the McDonald’s.

The extent of my experience with land border crossings had been crossing into Canada, and a lot of that has not been a good history.  As much as I would have loved to take a look around the town, my current ride guaranteed me the direction I wanted to go.

Goodbye Thailand!

Once at the actual crossing, we were told to get out of the van with the entirety of our luggage.  I was amazed how much this actually entailed for some of the other people travelling along with me.  The van waited while we were brought through a border agent who checked our passports and moved us on.  After that, we went into a building where our luggage was x-rayed on a conveyor belt.  Afterward we were all stamped through without any issue.

In . . .

. . . and out.

There was nothing but empty greenery and mountains passing us by as once we were all loaded back up.  This surprised me, given the items I had read about Malaysia’s supposedly detrimental deforestation.  One of the interesting things that became immediately apparent was the series of terraced hillsides likely designed for water drainage.

Another was that everything was no longer written in an unknown script like Thai.  Instead everything was transliterated in an official Latin script.  This has its pros and cons.  The pro, I can read what every sign says.  The problem, I don’t know what any of it means.  In Thailand, although every sign was in Thai, many were also subscripted in English as well.  Not so here.

Regardless, this was just the first step into a country that is, I think, overall much nicer than where I had been living for the last 5 months.

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Crossing the Border. Maybe.

Apparently I set off a few flags when I attempted to cross the Canadian border.  It seems to be a common occurrence when I am crossing border back into the U.S.  As a child, crossing back from Ontario to Michigan with my dad, I was separated and interrogated about whether or not he was actually my father.  Since, then, I’ve had my car searched several times, been brought out and questioned, and even off-handedly asked if the reason I went to Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario was to go to the strip club.

The prospect of me, as they seemed to sum it up, of a 25 year old with no job or rental back home and who only had a one-way ticket did not fit well with their immigration standards.  Apparently they assumed I was coming in and had no intention to leave Canada.  I was asked about my cash on hand, how much I had in my bank account, whether I had medical insurance, why I was going somewhere I didn’t know anyone, and asked to provide proof of my lodging reservations.

Every person on the Greyhound bus went through this process.  Although, coming from a place like New York City, I hardly figured that I would be the character on the bus that would stand out enough to delay the trip for my interrogation.

Finally after them running some background check and convincing them that I was just a low-key traveler who was moving on from Canada as soon as I figured out where I wanted to go, they let me pack up and get back on the bus.

From there it was just about 50 more kilometers to Montreal, just north of the border.

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