Afraid of dark borders

“What time does the earliest bus leave to Sungai Kolok tomorrow?”, I asked the lady at the Krabi bus station, about 3 miles north of the center of town, where we were staying. To get to the station, Agnes and I had nearly walked the whole distance, setting out a few hours earlier thinking we’ll catch a ride on one of the many local minibusses or taxis driving around, ceaselessly honking and yelling (TAXI! TAXI?) for passengers. But alas!, we took a wrong turn, ended up in no-man’s-land, until finally a local on a scooter took pity on us and told us to hop on, taking us the final half mile to the station, with Agnes in the middle and me in the back, hoping the rear suspension holds.

“9 o’clock”, she answered.

“And how long is the ride?”, I asked.

“7 hour.”

We looked at each other and nodded. That would put us in Sungai Kolok, a town in Southern Thailand on the Malaysian border, at around 4 o’clock +/- (in all reality, only +) 1 hour, which was still a few hours before sunset, giving us enough time to catch a taxi or bus to Khota Bharu, our next stop on the Malaysian side of the border. The dark gives any locale, especially an unknown one, a mysterious and sometimes frightening air. Both of us were unwilling to cross a border, especially one requiring walking and a change of transportation, after dark.

We left the next day on time at 9 in the morning, heading south towards Malaysia. The hours ticked by, and when we arrived at Hat Yai, which I knew from studying a map to be around the half way point, at 3pm, I knew there was no way we were making the border at the time we thought we would.

“She probably meant we’ll get there at 7, and not that the ride will last 7 hours”, I told Agnes. She nodded solemnly in the fading light. As we rode south, we passed more and more military checkpoints, with signs posted with phrases cooked up by some government propagandist like: NO MORE KILLING, NO MORE BOMBS, and NO MORE VIOLENCE.

Southern Thailand has seen some religious violence in recent years put on by Muslim separatists in the predominantly Buddhist kingdom. Things have recently died down, as evidenced by the relaxed demeanor of most of these soldiers at these checkpoints. Nonetheless, we caught the eye of one such soldier through the window and he boarded the bus with a smile, asking us where we’re from and where we are going. Satisfied with our answers, he sauntered off and we continued on our way. We were comforted by the fact that the rest of the passengers on the bus didn't seem to take notice, and all were relaxed, as if this was a normal occurrence on this particular route.

As the sun set and we were nearing our destination, the ticket taker began walking around asking everyone where they would like to be dropped off. Earlier, I had read that Sungai Kolok is a town where young Muslim men come to party and to live a little, unshackling themselves from the conservatism of their native country. Knowing this, when he asked us where we are going, I answered “the border”, thinking that, if what I read was true, there must be some (at least seedy) hotels near the border.

“The border”, the ticket taker muttered under his breath as he looked at us with a mix of mild amusement and pity. His reaction caused me to clarify.

“We would like to go to a hotel. Is there a hotel near the border?”

“Yeah yeah. Genting Hotel. You go to bus station, and take motor taxi to Genting Hotel”.

“Genting Hotel”, I thought. That sounds ... gentlemanly.

We got off at the station, and the helpful ticket taker spoke to the motor bike taxi drivers that were lazing around waiting for our arrival, explaining our predicament to them. In a whir, and in the dark, two drivers took our backpacks off the bus, put them in between their legs while we jumped on the back, and we zipped off through the mangy streets of Sungai Kolok. Both of us on alert for a scam kept close eye on the other, making sure we don’t get split up. Our fears, however, were unfounded, and we arrived at an impressive 10 story building with many cars in the lot and an impressive sign on the front proudly proclaiming “THE GENTING HOTEL", we got off, paid the fair, and began laughing as the tension left our bodies.

“Once again, things have worked out”, we said to eachother  (“znowu sie udalo”) with a relieved giggle.

From the outside, this place looked expensive, but at this point in the journey, we cared not. We were prepared to pay any price for a place to lay our head. As we walked towards the entrance elated, I wondered if this is one of the seedy places that I presumed would exist in such a border town, where maybe rooms are rented out by the hour instead of by the night. Seeing a man well in his 50s escorted by a woman (girl?) in a miniskirt and high heels who didn’t look a minute over 20, my suspicious were confirmed.

Still, in the lobby, the place seemed quite respectable, to a degree. In addition to the signs for the second floor karaoke, third floor discotheque, and fourth floor massages (what kind of ending, we wondered?), there were signs pointing towards a restaurant and a series of conference rooms. It seems that this place caters to business travelers as well. We happily paid the 700 baht charge for the night (about $23 USD) without negotiation, and got in the elevator up to the 4th floor to our room.

As we got out of the elevator, noticing the specially patterned carpet with black bubble gum stains and cigarette burns, the disrepair of the place became increasingly apparent. In short, our stay at the Genting Hotel was the first time we were both inclined to use the full body condoms that are the silk sleeping bags we picked up at a tailor shop in Bangkok. After taking mine out, i realized it was a bit too short for my tall frame, so I laid a shirt on the pillow to give me a few more feet of protection.

We also kept our shoes on in the room, as well as in the bathroom, where turning on the lights revealed cockroaches scurrying away towards the dark corners.

As an experiment to see what the “concierge” would do, I went downstairs to complain about the cockroaches. She didn't understand me until I tucked my elbows in and splayed my hands to the sides, wiggling my fingers while making obscene bug-like noises. With a knowing smile, she sent up a bellboy, who got one of many cans of roach spray from the floor’s janitorial closet and went to town fumigating our bathroom.

I am inclined to leave it at that and to your imagination, but we did take a few pictures, which I include below for your amusement.

The next morning, we woke up and looked out the window, discovering to our suprised that Sungai Kolok wasn’t as ominous and foreboding as it looked in the dark. We were across a pretty little park, and could see the border crossing only a 1/4 mile away. We quickly packed our stuff and left, saying goodbye to the Genting Hotel, Sungai Kolok, and to Thailand, and saying hello to Malaysia!

With our first successful albeit exciting border crossing behind us, we look forward to what the road ahead has in store for us!

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The Genting Hotel

The Genting Hotel offers many entertainm (sic) options, including vibrant dinner shows ...

... BIG fun every night ...

... and snooker (hooker?) tables!

The Genting Hotel does not allow fireworks.

The Genting Hotel checks IDs ...

The Genting Hotel keeps its window sills clean ...

As well as its refrigerators ...

In case of emergency, the Genting Hotel asks you to calmly proceed to the nearest corner.

Never fear, The Genting Hotel is watching.

 The Genting Hotel features plush carpeting ...

 ... and up to date communications capabilities.

The Genting Hotel only serves the finest sausages (if the average lifespan of a sausage is 10 years, this one is 20) ...

The Genting Hotel invites you to the pool ...