Singapore

After working his way from Viet Nam down to Cambodia, Thailand and Malaysia, RV Escatron arrives in Singapore with a backpack bursting at the seams. Find out how he tried to stitch the loose ends of his shoestring budget in what proved to be the most expensive, and some say boring city, in Southeast Asia.

This is the last leg of my Southeast Asia backpacking trip. There's nothing much to do in this citystate other than shopping for gadgets, shopping for clothes and just shopping. And for obvious reasons, I didn't go shopping, baby! Otherwise, if I'd break something at Orchard Road, god forbid, I'd bus tables or mop floors to pay off.

Singapore is indeed one green, clean and, as expected, an expensive city but never boring. There are actually hostels and adventure packages that suit your budget like Inn Crowd Hostel or Sentosa and Night Safari; Iconic Esplanade (unless you splurge at the mall or get tickets for performances) and Merlion are treats for freeloaders. By the way, the art scene in this lion city is they say the most vibrant in the region. And I silently agree. The time I was there, an orchestra played songs from anime shows, perhaps, in the this age of facebook and manga, trying to get the younger generation acquire aesthetic sensibility like the old days but of course, with a twist.

In one of my walks to Singapore River, I said to myself: "when I grow up, I want to work and live here. Someday. And let the cost of living find its own answers." Oh, brother! The food, the rent, the cab. So expensive!

bleep! bleep! GETTING THERE:
Taking the bus from Melaka to Singapore was a big mistake. All the route could provide was a tad four hours of boredom personified looking at the palm oil plantation up until the Malaysia-Singapore border. If there was any consolation, it was the business class bus seat with a leg room enough to fit one pregnant goat. What I had in mind was the Malaysian countryside. You know, the sights: little villages, rice paddies, rolling hills but no! On the other hand, if I took the train, it would mean another three hours back to Kuala Lumpur Central Station and guess-the-train-schedule game. I was actually left with no choice at all.

Once at the swanky Malaysia Immigration building at the border, everyone had to alight and proceed to passport control which for the most part was a breeze. Then, traffic in the bus lane turned bottleneck from the causeway to Singapore. Passing through Singapore Immigration was again, a breeze. By the time the headcount was completed, the bus left for the terminal near Little India. I was planning to stay at Inn Crowd Hostel known for a fun atmosphere as its website claimed. But the afternoon heat took its toll on me. So, I decided to take whatever hostel nearby. Voila! Footprints Hostel! SD13.00 breakfast included and with free internet. The room was clean, the staff friendly but, urghh! My roommates smell! Officially, I welcome myself to hardcore backpacking sans the filth. Just the smell of, you know what I mean.



for travelers on a shoestring budget:
YMCA near Orchard Road, Inn Crowd Hostel and Footprints in Little India. (there's one hostel in the book by Robert Alejandro but I figured out it was way too far from the bus terminal and I read it's filthy, so, I just went straight to Little India which is only a good 15-minute brisk walk away.




Getting Around:
Get the Singapore Tourist unlimited day pass for buses and MRT at 30 Singaporean Dollars (SD$20 refundable deposit included). There are 2-day and 3-day passes as well. Whatever suits you.





I took the MRT to Changi Airport budget terminal and spent two hours waiting for the check-in counter to open. By the time I got my boarding pass, I spent time checking the goods at the Duty Free which claimed to be the lowest priced anywhere in Asia. With USD500.00 still left in my pocket, it's high time I splurge! And yes, I did!

Pasalubong, intawun! Saun na lang.

Georgetown & Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

Part of this backpacking trip, it appeared to me, was getting lost. So, the none inclusion of maps in my backpack was done on purpose. For the most part, intuition played the meaty role. Call it inefficiency, I call it adventure.

The International Express Train (cost: about a thousand baht/second class) that left Bangkok at two forty five in the afternoon arrived Butterworth Station in Penang, Malaysia way past lunchtime the next day.

I just followed the herd up the ramp until they queued in front of a sole booth exchanging ringgit bills to coins. I had no idea where it was heading but I still had my paper bill changed and put in the amount, crossed another ramp, chose the ferry's starboard side and seated in the front row. In less than 30 minutes, the ferry docked near a marina that looked from afar, basing from the moored yachts, as playground of the moneyed lot.

I just guessed that the train or bus station could be a few blocks away from the port. I walked and walked under the midday sun and as soon as I started to feel lost amid Chinese temples and rows and rows of shops, I began to ask for directions. Rather, I began to ask where on Penang is the bus or train station for Kuala Lumpur is located. Everytime I asked a local, he or she either looked perplexed or disinterested if at all. I hollered inside my head "this is the UNfriendliest place I've visited so far!"

I walked and walked, sweat and all, until I retraced my way back to the wharf. A signage read: train tickets for Kuala Lumpur. Only after I purchased the ticket did I realise that there never is a train or a bus station for KL on this island! It's at the other island where I first got off and kissed the Malaysian soil. So, this is Georgetown! A UNESCO World Heritage Site. No wonder the buildings look well-restored. And the whole city is a thriving, living museum.

I hopped on the free bus and explored the city in airconditioned comfort. I had 6 hours to burn, enough time to see what this loverly little town has to offer.



Truly charming east-west architecture. I fell head over heels in love with Georgetown (and MELAKA, in BIG BOLD letters, both UNESCO World Heritage Sites). Both places have picture perfect angles. Every corner, every side street, every back alley, every nook and cranny seems to have a story to tell.







NEXT STOP: Kuala Lumpur!





The train left around eight that evening and it seemed to be filled to capacity. I found my cot inside the fifth couch, drew my curtains, pulled my sheets and slept. I was awaken by an announcement that "this is @#$%^& station..." I asked one passenger standing by the alley if KL Central is next. The answer: still many stations away. I asked my final question: if the last stop of the train is Central but the answer is nope. So, I should stay awake lest I go past the station and end up in Kota Kinabalu or Jakarta! Just kidding.

As soon as the train's PA system announced "KL Central," I got my backpack and off I went up the escalator, asked where the shower room is, took a shower and hopped on the train for KLCC where the Petronas stop is located.

Visiting the Petronas viewing deck doesn't cost you a thing but you have to be there early. Time check: six thirty in the morning. And the queue for the Petronas Twin Towers Skybridge visit was a tad too long already. After waiting in line together with every representative of human race--Indian, Britons, Americans, Koreans, Japs, ad infinitum, I got my ticket for the 9:15 schedule. Soon after the routine security check and 'tambay tambay' at the lounge, my group was called to take the elevator, and in a zoom, we were already in the skybridge and was given 15 minutes to plant the bubblegum explosives, I mean, see the KL skyline from the skybridge.

After lunch, everything was all set for MELAKA! An album solely for this heritage city was posted earlier. Just proves that it is the hands-down winner.

Melaka, Malaysia

Halfway thru Melaka, looking through the windshield in front of me whilst my chin rested on my right hand, I regretted not having much time spent in Georgetown--inscribed as UNESCO World Heritage Site. I could have gotten myself a bunk in a turn-of-the-century building there, slept the whole day and woke up just after sundown.

Here's how the sequence of the storyboard would have appeared: Me pulling a chair in a roadside cafe. Puffing. Sipping whilst taking down mental notes on the city's architecture and simply, just people-watch.

As the bus swooshed its way toward the fringes of Kuala Lumpur and to the historic town of Melaka, the urban cityscape of KL changes to rolling terrains, palm oil plantations and orchards. Two hours have passed and with a clear window, a camera on standby, I could not take a decent photo yet of what I believed were old houses, mostly abandoned and slowly left to decay.



I flipped my notebook as the bus stopped at Melaka Central Terminal. It read: "Take bus no 17 from Melaka Sentral bus terminal. Get off at the red Dutch Square. Walk across the bridge over the Melaka river, turn right into Lorong Hang Jebat. At the end of the road, turn left into Jalan Kampong Pantai. Continue to walk for about 3 minutes. We are on the right."

But the instruction did not prepare me for a delightful feast for the senses. As soon as the bus entered the Heritage City, I felt transported to a living museum which Melaka really is. Spice stores, Chinese restaurants and temples that reeked of incense. Mosque sits side by side temples. These must be the same smell, sight and flavor hundreds and hundreds of years ago when the town teemed with Portuguese and Dutch settlers alongside Chinese traders.

Then, I finally found my hostel-- Riverview Guesthouse. It's a two-story affair housed in a 1900s structure by the Melaka River. As soon as I registered and paid 45 ringgit (USD13.00) for such a very nice room with floor to ceiling windows that empty to the street (the opposite end of the hostel is the river), the very nice couple-- Raymond and Mani, owners of the hostel, gave me a good headstart for my stay in Melaka.



(to be continued...)

Thailand

Bangkok is a City Like No Other

The sight as I cross the Cambodia-Thailand border ripped my heart: rickshaws being pulled by women; my homework about Bangkok left me with the impression that it is much like Manila. To borrow Claire Danes words: " ...a ghastly city which smelled of cockroaches." (which later earned the actress "persona non-grata"; Danes apologized later on). Getting on with Bangkok, its smell and sound, colors and what-not, I can't help but take back what was tucked inside my head.

The transport system is well organised. I mean the BTS and MRT. Forget about Bangkok Jam. Monstrous traffic is but a staple in every mega city. The streets are clean. Pockets of green are everywhere. The food, from street food to food sold at the floating market, dang! it tasted friggin' good! I am now one with my boss who, before I left for this trip, shamelessly said Thai Cuisine is the best in the world!

And the people! With a ready smile, baby! Thai in every corner are more than willing to help you with directions. Moreover, I've never seen a city (i.e. in SouthEast Asia) so fashion forward. The people, I mean. Practically Thai in every corner, from Khao San to Siam Square, are dressed up like the whole city is one extended runway. Astig!

And of course, where else is the center of Asia's backpacking universe, the jump-off point before hitting the beaches of Thailand or other Asian destinations--Khao San Road. The verve is so infectious round the clock!



How else can one best experience the local flavor but through a local's eye. Thank you many times over Aanas my Bangkok CS host; Tum and May; Tommaso of Italy and Daniel of Malaysia! Until next time. Somewhere. Somehow.

Cambodia

The Road (and lowdown) to Cambodia

After a 10-hour bus ride (USD18.00; 5 hours Saigon-Phnom Penh; another 5 hours Phnom Penh-Siem Riep) the bus stopped in front of the National Museum.

The heavy rain that night didn't dampen my mood. After all, I was holed up in a 5-star accommodation at a hostel price (Siem Riep Hostel; USD 8.00/night dorm room). Did I mention there is an indoor swimming pool and every form of wholesome entertainment at each floor?!? and a USD 1.00 buffet breakfast of tropical fruits, cereal, toast and apple juice! Plus free use of bicycle! And it's just a 5-minute walk to Pub Street! A steal already! No wonder the hostel is voted as hostelworld.com's BEST HOSTEL!

My tuk-tuk driver, Samuel, whom I hired to bring me to the hostel from the bus stop at USD 1.00 offered to take me to the Angkor Wat Archeological Complex at USD 8.00 motorcyle only (or add another USD 2.00 if I prefer tuk-tuk).



Of course, first to tick on the list is to see Angkor by sunrise (1 day pass at USD20.00).



Everything happened smoothly as planned except that by 10:00AM, my camera's battery went poof! Drained! And I was barely half-way through the whole complex! To make the story short, I asked Samuel the driver, to just show me around and bring me back to my hostel so I could recharge the battery and pretty much, I would be on my own until sunset in Angkor.





Here goes the photos because there are experiences
which are better left in wordlessness.







But wait, last hirit. Prepare yourself as you enter the South Gate. It's spine tingling!

Saigon, Viet Nam

The Heat is On (Even Before I Landed) in Saigon!

Couldn’t get more boring than this: standing for an hour, waiting behind yellow line before an airline personnel bursts your bubble: “Hey kiddo! You’re 5-country backpacking trip is botched! Forget about it. Go home and get some sleep!" Kidding.

My bloodshot eyes. These eyes, the airline personnel behind the counter took notice of. Must be the A(h1N1) scare. What happen to your eyes, Sir? (holy camote! She knows I am a teacher! She calls me Sir!) "Not enough sleep last night (rolls eyes, secretly), Miss." See. I could be hideous and brat altogether, if provoked. I just try to push it down. The green monster won’t sweat the small stuff, baby.

To backtrack: I got a one-way ticket to Saigon. And per silly Philippine law, I should get a return ticket. Since I will be working my way from Viet Nam down to three other countries before I exit through Singapore, I didn’t bother getting a return ticket from Saigon to Manila. Getting the return ticket from Saigon is downright stupid. Besides, it will further bust my long-been-stretched shoestring budget. Five counters to my left, behind the express counter, I can see the manager talking over the phone. “Waiting for a reply from Saigon Station, Sir” the personnel says. “Whadddda *toooot…*!” I hollered inside my head. “Here, take a look. I got this guidebook (Backpack Southeast Asia and parts of China by Robert Alejandro; Php390.00). The author did this route and there’s no reason why I can’t,” in the most polite manner possible, I informed the lady. She got the book and presented it to the manager.



So, here I am. In cold, standing in front of the check-in counter in NAIA Terminal 3. Wide-eyed and trying to contain the panic creeping its branches inside my chest. This is my friggin’ first trip abroad. Solo at that. I have done every imaginable research. Packed the necessary clothing. Done the necessary rituals (if there’s any). Kissed the appropriate arses (again, if there’s any). And the gospel truth is that, yes, Juan, I am flying to Saigon for crying out loud and do the 5-country backpacking trip before summer holidays officially come to an end.

Fast Forward: The plane lands at Tan Son Nhat International Airport 10 minutes ahead of schedule. As if it matters to me. What greets me is a sleek steel and glass arrival terminal and a relatively younger looking immigration personnel. I intensely dislike the comparison but just can’t help comparing the pot-bellied immigration personnel in *clears throat* where else--my lips are sealed. Passing through the immigration counter is a breeze. No visa necessary in the next thirty days for Pinoys. After breezing through the escalator and x-ray, I come face-to-face with Saigon’s midnight air beyond the gate and sense familiarity through a lady speaking over the phone, in Tagalog. Turns out she is from Antique and works as a household staff for an expat family in Hanoi. Minutes later, another Filipina joins in. She is from Sorsogon and works as a teacher in Pnom Penh, Cambodia. And so, like backpackers anywhere, we easily adapt to the culture of sleeping in airports. But by 3AM, the guard on duty, with a smile, informed us the airport is closing in a few minutes (read: go, find another place to sleep).

To cut the chase, the Hanoi-bound Pinay goes to the domestic terminal whilst the Phnom Penh-bound one gets into the cab with me. We are off to the bus ticket office for Cambodia. In a strange twist of fate, the ticket outlet is right smack in De Tham Street—the backpacker’s area in Saigon. But the hostels open at 8AM. To kill time, we grab a chair in a 24/7 pub and order breakfast with a strange coffee to-go.



By 7AM, I started looking for a USD4.00/night room. Slim chance. For solo traveler, I got a good deal: USD8.00/night aircon room with hot and cold shower and CATV. But I have to sweat my way up on a narrow staircase. The room is on the fifth floor. By 10AM, I was ready to meet my couchsurfing host Jackie—a kindred soul who makes Saigon her home between Cebu and the world.







FIRST STOP: Saigon (Ho Chi Minh), Viet Nam where traffic is crazy! Forget about our Manila drivers because they actually look sedated, baby!



Thank you many times over Jackie--my Saigon CS host. Kita kits pohon~