UUhhs and AAhhs of New Zealand

They call it the country of "Long White Clouds", now I understand why

Yes those are the only words coming out of my mouth these first few days in New Zealand as I ride by some incredible sights.  Actually Oh my gosh!!! And Jolin!!! (the Spanish translation for no way) follow all the oohhhs and aahhs.  The scenery blows my mind.  In a way, it’s familiar and reminds me a lot of Oregon.  I started my tour of the south island in Christchurch and headed southwest across the plains over to Mt. Cook.  This area was surprisingly flat and dry.  I could smell the pine trees in the air and the water evaporating on the crops coming from the irrigation sprinklers in the fields.  Again, familiar smells that we also have in Oregon. As soon as I acknowledge the fact that I wasn’t expecting to see so much flat countryside, it started to get hilly.  I looked down at my bike computer expecting to see an absurd amount of climbing, but to my surprise I didn’t.  I realized it was because the hills didn’t last long, they are short and sweet, but, continuous. There was not one flat section of road for at least half of the kilometers I did during day two. 

I feel a bit out of place here, although tour cyclists are a common occurance.  I’ve already seen 5!  In fact they don’t even stop to chat on the road.  I pulled over today as a couple went by and they just kept on pedaling.  The sight of other cyclists for me is still a novelty, I guess not for them!  I feel like I’ve been transplanted to a western developed area where everything runs smoothly and works properly.  My mind (and heart) is still somewhere back west in SE Asia and will shortly catch up to my legs that are pedaling frantically here in New Zealand.

Mt. Cook was my backdrop for a good 50km 

The distances here are incredible because the landscape is vast.  I can’t believe how immense everything feels.  I can ride kilometers and kilometers on the same road and the mountains and hills in the backdrop never seem to change.  Except for the camper vans that whiz by and the rental cars, there is little civilization to be seen here.  In Asia, in the same amount of kilometers, I would have passed 3 small villages, a couple dozen people who all greeted me, and a handful of food stalls.  The kilometers in SE Asia went by quickly because of all these different sights.  Here I’m finding that my days pass by more slowly.  Everything seems so far off in the distance, where as in Asia it was much more intimate and closer.  Although I don’t have the same roadside entertainment as I did in SE Asia, I do have some new distractions.  New Zealand is filled with rugged outdoorsy men and I sure don’t mind keeping an eye out for them as I pedal!  I’m a sucker for that accent as well, they all sound so sophisticated, I love it!

Nuts, cheese, dried fruits, back to the basics in New Zealand

Food stalls, well, they just don’t exist here.  There are several little towns dotting the map, mostly touristy developments with little cafes and pubs.  Therefore, my front left pannier, which I put back on my bike after going without in Asia, is filled with food items.  At $4 a cup of coffee and $20 for a simple lunch (sandwich and drink), I don’t think I will be frequenting many restaurants here in New Zealand. Today I bought powdered milk and instant coffee and I was a sad, reminiscing about the days when I would drink 3 to 4 delicious coffees with condensed milk at 30 cents apiece.  Powered milk just doesn’t compare, not even the full fat version!  I’ve gone back to supermarket picnic lunches, eating all sorts of dried fruit, cheese, and crackers.  I can’t believe I survived off of beverages and fruit during my days cycling in SE Asia.  Here, I find myself eating three or four big meals during my ride, in addition to breakfast and dinner.  I can’t seem to get enough fuel!  Without the heat, my body gets hungry faster.

Love my grocery stores here!

The heat, another thing I miss here in New Zealand.  The weather has also caught me off guard.  My body had acclimated to SE Asia’s weather, which was incredibly humid with temperatures were right around 35 Celsius (95-100 Fahrenheit), never fluctuating more than a few degrees from morning to night.  Here, I’m lucky if the temperatures reach 25^oC!  In fact, two nights ago my hosts started a fire in their fireplace and I was dressed in my long underwear leggings and long sleeve wool shirt.  Remind you, it is summer in New Zealand…..My body is in climate shock to say the least and I have a hard time staying warm.  I don’t shed the winter arm warmers and vest until about 1pm, and some days I simply ride with my vest all day long.  I’ve worn it more in the past 3 days than I have on my entire trip!  I’m hoping I will soon adjust but for now, I spend a good part of the day with goose bumps, and try to pedal faster to get warm.  Having said that, the sun is incredibly strong because unfortunately there is a whole in the ozone layer about New Zealand and Australia. The UV rays are very powerful and it is easy to get burned.  I’m coating on the Natura Bisse UPF 50 sunscreen!

Another big change from SE Asia to New Zealand are the prices, I can’t get used to them, I’m appalled!  I knew I was going to be doing a lot of camping and supermarket picnics, but even so, I can’t seem to keep my jaw from dropping when I look at the price tags.  How do people eat healthy here when fruit can cost sometimes 10 New Zealand Dollars a kilogram and vegetables the same?!?  The prices were similar in Malaysia, but there I was dividing the currency by 4 or 5 and in Laos by 10! Here, the New Zealand Dollar is more or less the same as the American Dollar and slightly weaker than the Euro.  I’ll be curious if I can stick to my budget of $17 a day.  I’ve got plenty of time to think about how to get creative and cheap with my diet.  I tend to justify my expenses thinking this is most likely a once in a lifetime trip…however, I say that with a big grin on my face!

I met these British tourists at Lake Pukaki, also cyclists, but this time in a rental car

I forget people speak my language (with a bit of a different accent). On the first day, out of all the cars that passed me, I only got one honk.  In the morning of my second day, I finally got some waves.  I was crossing a bridge and cars could only go in one direction at a time.  I put myself behind a line of traffic and followed.  However, I couldn’t keep up with them, so the cars in the opposite direction waiting on the other side, started to come through.  No problem, the first three were small, and so they passed easily and waved.  I waved back.  My hand was still up as the fourth was about to come, so I proceeded to wave with a big smile on my face.  It was a bigger red sedan with a wide trailer attached to the back.  The man started saying something to me and of course, I assumed he was going to cheer me on, like I was used to in SE Asia.  Well, instead a loud “F*** you biker! Park it!” came out.  I of course, still had a big smile on my face and actually started laughing, being completely off guard by his negativity.  Perhaps all the people were saying the same thing to me in Asia, but I just couldn’t understand them.  However, they all had big smiles on their face and this man was as red as his car in the face.  I don’t understand how one cyclist can make someone so upset, come on!  ¡¡Vaya mala leche tio!!

Sweet Dreams

Don’t get me wrong , I’m not complaining, just taking in my new environment, making observations, and naturally comparisons come about as I try to get my wheels churning here in New Zealand.  It has been a dream of mine to visit New Zealand for a long time.  As a teacher, working during the Kiwi summer, I knew a trip here was going to have to wait until special circumstances, in order to enjoy it during their summer months for an extended period, so that is what I’m doing here in New Zealand on The Loong Way Home! 

Buxum Bike Box: A New Sponsor

My Ventoux Buxum box waiting for me in Singapore

Lots of people ask me if I have sponsors to do this trip.  In the beginning I looked for a few sponsors for some of my gear and materials.  A lot of local companies pulled through from Barcelona to help me prepare my bike and get the correct gear, I even got the support for some special services. However, halfway through my tirp, I never thought that I would land a new sponsor.  Recently Buxum gave me a bike box to use for transporting my bike to complete the rest of my trip.  To remind you, my bike was delayed and hung out in Dubai for a week while I was in Hong Kong.  When it showed up, the box was completely tattered and the front fork slightly bent.

It just so happens that Ed Morris (the same Ed that accompanied me for a week in the Mekong Delta and Cambodia during the holidays and also witnessed the state of my bike’s arrival in Hong Kong) is starting up a bike box business called Buxum.  I will put his bike box to the test for the remaining flights on my trip, and so far, it help up well in the first Trans-Pacific flight from Singapore to New Zealand.  I can’t say I’m surprised; Buxum’s bike suitcases have been brilliantly engineered with the discerning athlete in mind and aimed at matching the highest expectations.

Here's Ed packing up his bike in the Galibier box.

Ed has over 25 years of cycling experience, traveled thousands of miles on planes with his own bike, and he’s an engineer.  He started Buxum after noticing a lack of bike boxes in the market to cater to the various needs of cyclists and different bike frames.  He had purchased a touring bike with couplers so that it could be disassembled and fit into a normal size suitcase.  However, those normal size suitcases on the market were poorly designed and manufactured, so he decided to design one of his own coming up with what he call the Galibier.  A bike box for those cyclists who own a bike with couplers that can be transported as normal checked luggage.  Shortly after the Galibier came the development of two other larger models, the Tourmalet and Ventoux.  The larger the bike box, the less disassembly required.  However, each box is made with aircraft grade aluminum that can be recycled, making it a green product choice.

How does something so big and clunky get in a box that small? Leave it to Buxum.

As you might expect, I have the Ventoux, because for me, it’s a headache to take apart my bike and reassemble.  I prefer minimal work!  My Ventoux bike box was waiting for me in Singapore.  The packing it up and unpacking the bike is suppose to take 5 minutes.  I would say this was wishful thinking for me, as my bike was fully loaded with a front and back rack, 2 mudguards, and a front and rear kickstand.  I also have to admit that I always have a bit of extra help from a friend or a shop at the time of packing up my bike.  So disassembling it to transport using Buxum, was a first-time solo event.  Once the racks and kickstands were removed, it took me about 20 minutes to removes wheels, the seat, and fit it into the box.  It was quite simple as the front and back fork fall into an axel mounting system similar to that of a bike.  The box has four steel twist latches for ultimate security, an anti-crush stacking protection, corners that can take a battering, and a back axel mount that fits varying wheelbases.

Ta Da! Just like that it's ready to travel

My Buxum bike box got quite a few compliments from people who helped in its transport.  The first compliments came from the taxi driver in Singapore who graciously put it in the trunk of his car (it stuck out but was bungee corded down). He admitted he’d transported a lot of suitcases to the airport, but never seen anything quite like this box.  The airline agent was apprehensive about transporting a big box, but he was fascinated by the design and in the end he caressed the box several times before putting it on the belt.  When I got to New Zealand, the customs officers who obviously see a lot of bike boxes also admitted they had never seen anything quite like a Buxum bike box and insisted to open it themselves and test it out.  Building the bike back up in New Zealand was surprisingly more easy than the breaking it down. I’m optimistic that the next time I pack it up, I will be even quicker!

Although the Ventoux model is the largest of the three, the size requirements are still within limits of the airlines.  I filled the box with extra gear and material so the weight went up to 30kg, which caused some problems when flying Etihad.  However, there are airlines out there that allow 32kg. for checked luggage and it is worth doing your research to know who they are to keep costs minimal when flying with a box.  The box and bike alone would have been just below 23kg, and next time I will refrain from filling the bag with all the extra gear.

We are ready to fly!

Nowadays airlines try to complicate flying with a bike, which makes no sense to me.  Cyclists are ideal tourists.  Regardless of the ridiculous charges we can incur flying with a bike, we continue to pack up our bikes and bring them with us around the world to participate in a triathlon, bike race, or tour.  We are passionate about our sport and with a bike box from Buxum, you can be assured that your bike with make it there safely!  Have a look at www.buxumbox.com, I’m sure there is a box model that is suitable for you and your bike!

If there is anyone else out there that would like me to put their products to the test as I make my way home the loong way, I still have 15,000 kilometers plus to do so!  Please feel free to contact me!

So Long to SE Asia

Unfortunately my time has come to an end in SE Asia.  Everyday was an adventure and my route has left with so many amazing experiences and funny stories.  As crazy and chaotic as this continent can be, it is so dramatically different than Europe and North America, the novelty of traveling here never wore off! No two days were the same, and just when I thought I had figured out how things worked, something would surprise me.  Where else in the world can you see five people squished on a scooter, dogs roasting on an open fire, bikes piled high with all sorts of goods, and farmers taking their cows for a run along the side of the road.  Entertaining only begins to describe the sights I saw from my saddle…..

In the western world, you have a certain amount of control, confidence, and insight into how things work in order to make your day-to-day life predictable and comforting.  In the western world, you know what to expect, but in SE Asia, this all changes.  Here, I learned to forget about any expectations that I might have, be open-minded, never make assumptions, and embrace and cheerish the moment.  

I put together a simple list of the top ten things I will miss the most from SE Asia….. 

Personal space, it just doesn’t exist!

After living in Spain, I thought I was used to having people get up close and personal, but in Asia they come even closer!  A lot of times they will grab you and escort you places, touch you, as if you are some sort of object on display.  There is no boundary as far as personal space is concerned.  I don’t think I ever managed to sit at a cafe or restaurant alone for my entire trip, even though I road alone, people always approached me and got up close and personal!  Lots of the people would even snicker and laugh right in my face, which made me crack up as well and laugh right back at them!

I wasn’t the only one with a loaded vehicle…

You won’t get any sympathy from the people in SE Asia for carrying a heavy load on your bike.  The majority of the people on a bicycle or motor scooter are carrying a load ten times the size and weight of what a tour cyclist carries. Bed mattresses, animal cages, furniture, garbage, two additional kids, gold fish for sale, bamboo shoots, you name the object and you can find it on a bike.  Just when you think you’ve seen the most loaded down bike possible carrying an enormous amount of goods, another bike pedals towards you carrying something even bulkier or heavier.  Cars and trucks also carried a ridiculous amount of goods as well! 

And I thought I had a heavy load....

All on the back of a scooter

Food here, food there, food, food everywhere!

You’ll never go hungry in Asia!  There is some sort of food stall, stand, or store every 5 kilometers along the road. In fact you can be choosy about what you want to eat because the first stand doesn’t look appealing, you can be guaranteed to find something suitable at the second.  And if it looks like something that you have never tried,….just put on a look of curiosity spit out a word or two asking if it is sweet or salty and they will even let you taste it! Rice comes in a variety of shapes, size, and forms.  You have all sorts of sweet food made from rice, breads and crackers, and savory meals with rice.  I stuck primarily to vegetarian options and fish after seeing ever animal imaginable on the back of a motor scooter meeting its fate.  “This little piggy went to market,” took on a whole new meaning in SE Asia! I broke all the rules when it comes to eating in SE Asia.  I ate all sorts of unpeeled fruits and vegetables and hardly ever went to a western restaurant.  Only once did I have stomach problems and ironically it was after taking an anti-parasitic medicine for prevention.

What's for dinner?

Everything is cheap!

You’re lucky to get a cup of coffee for a few dollars in developed countries, but for a couple of bucks I ate my heart out in SE Asia.  A bowl of soup and a beer costs just under $2 in Vietnam and in Malaysia you can get a plate of noodles and a drink for the same amount.  For a dollar, you have a kilo of any fruit from mangoes to pineapple, guava, to jackfruit.  In Cambodia, for $3 you could find a clean basic hotel for the night (other countries were a dollar or two higher).  In Laos, this same amount of money gave you internet for a week on a smartphone!  In Vietnam I bought several winter garments for the colder climate up north and spent no more than $4 on each, including a new balance jacket (the real deal, of course)!  Hence you can see why SE Asia is a paradise for cyclists.

Dinner for $1,60

Charades

Communicating was like playing charades or Pictionary.  Although I did miss engaging and thoughtful conversations from time-to-time in my native language, communicating with other people was quite entertaining in SE Asia.  Fingers and hand gestures were by far the most successful means of expressing myself.  When asking a price, 2 fingers always went up and when I handed them the amount, it was never seemed to be correct!

By far the most universal hand gesture was the solo index finger that went up along with raised eyebrows, asking if I was alone.  I had to laugh and look to each side to make sure no one had rolled up when I wasn’t looking.  Men never failed to hold their two index fingers side-by-side, asking if I was married.  Following this question, I was asked if I had kids, a gesture made by embracing their arms and rocking them back and forth.  I had to laugh,…..if I were married, my husband would be with me, not at home, and if I had kids, well, I’d figure out some way to strap them to the bike and bring them with me!! 

I can't remember how many times this many and his friends asked me if I had a boyfriend......

Asian fashion statements

I’ve seen it all when it comes to fashion here in Southeast Asia! My eyes lit up when I spotted a Barça jersey which was by far the most popular football jersey worn all throughout SE Asia.  If I had a dollar for every FC Barçelona jersey I saw, I would be a millionaire!

Women love to wear pajamas in SE Asia, and I’m not talking about little skimpy silky slips.  They wear the full-on long sleeve button down tops and the long pants all day long whether they are going to the market, work, or just hanging out. 

Flip-flops are by far the most popular footwear, even in the colder months.  You see, they’ve invented a special big toe separated sock in order to where them all year round. This sock looks a bit like a foot mitten where the big toe is separated from the rest of the four toes, making it easy to wear flip-flops (unless you have funny toes like me)!

The most practical fashion statement would have to be the backwards jackets on the motor scooters. For an extra layer, drivers put on a jacket, but why bother having to zip it up when you can wear it backwards and leave it open in the back?!?!  What a brilliant invention and a fast way to put on an extra layer! 

Backwards jackets, I get it!

Coffee with condensed milk

My preferred beverage obviously gets a category of its own!  Would I have been able to do the kilometers I did without this sweet caffeinated treat?  I’m not sure.  Whether it be a Café Sua in Vietnam, Kopi Susu in Cambodia or Laos, Iced Kofi in Malaysia, or simply an Iced Coffee in Thailand, I just couldn’t drink enough coffee.  In fact the one and only gift I bought for myself in all of Asia was a small simple coffee filter, Vietnamese style.  I voted Vietnam’s coffee to be the most flavorful and Thailand deserves an honorable mention for their jumbo size bags, that appeals to the tour cyclist.

Better than any sports drink out there on the market

Lack of rules and order

There is no rhyme or reason to the way things are done here and no “norms” what-so-ever.  Anything goes in SE Asia.  From China to Cambodia, men and women of all ages would spit on the ground.  Whether it be in the middle of a conversation, while eating, or walking down the street, people would clear their throats and hock a big loogie. 

When it comes to driving and the rules on the road, it was total chaos, but somehow it worked. Roundabouts are pointless because people don’t actually go all the way around them to make a turn.  They go whichever way is faster. As a cyclist, you share the shoulders of the road with motorized vehicles that are going against traffic for whatever reason. The only two rules that exist I discovered were, 1) never stop and 2) look left.  If you follow those two simple rules, you’ll be set.  Perhaps there are more rules on the road, but since I couldn’t actually read the road signs, I’ll never know!

I actually do know what this is saying!

Feeling Famous

Everywhere I went, people always wanted to take picture with me, even at the most remote little restaurants where I stopped.  Within 5 minutes of my arrival, the local running the joint had called all their friends to come to see for themselves just exactly what had rolled up!  I should have worn a sign that said, Please don’t touch! because they didn’t just want to look, they were fascinated to touch and feel! They were eager to take a picture with me, touch my bike, my bags, my LEGS! A solo female cyclist was such a rare sight for them to see.  In Thailand, I visited a 50 foot horizontal golden Buddha, quite an impressive landmark.  Yet the Indonesian tourists were more excited to see me on my bike than the Buddha!  I was flattered really,… I never would have thought I’d be up there on the list with Buddha for most visited tourist sights!

They were more excited to see me than the Buddha

Jackfruit

I didn’t even know what this fruit was before I arrived in Vietnam.  I remember buying it all peeled and ready to eat after a vendor let me try it.  I liked it, but didn’t see it again until S. Laos.  It wasn’t until Cambodia that I saw the actual fruit and how it was prepared.  Sometimes I wish I hadn’t discovered it as it became an obsession for me.  There was something in that fruit that my body craved and needed for all the kilometers that I was doing.  By the end of my route, I had a to impose a daily kilogram limit or else I would have eaten it for three meals a day. Thankfully I didn’t enjoy the durians as much as they were more expensive and smelled strongly.  Whenever possible I stopped for Jackfruits.  It’s no exaggeration when I say half of my food budget probably went to buying kilos of this delicious tropical fruit, that I probably won’t have again until I go back to SE Asia.

Oh, how I love my Jackfruit!

If I Were a Man on The Loong Way Home……

I don’t think I’d get the same sort of treatment if I were a solo man out here on the roads as I do riding, a solo young lady. Today I spent a good portion of my ride just laughing out loud at all the funny experiences I have had, mostly because I’m a solo female rider. I’m sure guys have a lot of funny tales to share as well, but with male cyclists, there doesn’t seem to be as much of the surprise element that I experience.  Of course I’m not a guy, so I can’t compare, but I can’t tell you how many eyebrows I’ve seen raise and jaws drop as I answer again, and again,….YES! I’m riding alone, YES, just me, YES, no friend!  I’m sure solo male tour cyclists get that question, but without the facial expressions that follow.  Cyclists get honked at all over the world, I know this, but if I were really to record the statistics here in SE Asia, I’m pretty sure 9 out of every 10 trucks that passes me honks, in addition to a hand waving out the window or a thumb that goes up.  The statistics are just as high for male motor scooter drivers who pass me.  I can get a smile and a wave out of a woman, but usually I have to initiate this greeting! I’m not sexists, nor am I a feminist, but I just can’t imagine my trip would be as entertaining if I were a guy on my own.  Recently I’ve had the red carpet treatment by a lot of charming men and I can’t help but think, if I were a solo male cyclist, would a woman interact this way with a man riding?

Georgetown, Penang Town Hall

Last week when I was leaving Georgetown Penang, I wanted to do a bit of sightseeing before I crossed back over to mainland.  I found the colonial buildings, took a few pictures, then went up to the town hall to see if I could go in and visit.  The doors were all closed, but there was a guard there, who, without hesitating had me lock up my bike outside and took me in.  Heman was his name, a fun, carefree, and delightful older Indian man who was born and raised in Penang and very proud of his city.  He showed me all around the inside of the Town Hall and the gardens for about half an hour, gave me a bit of history, and his perspective on life in Penang.  He let me take pictures of the stage and backdrop for the film festival that was happening in the evening, and right before I left his colleague took a picture of us together. We posed with the film backdrop, as if we were at the Grammy’s for the first photo, and for the second photo, all of a sudden I got a nice strong squeeze around my waist, and I just had to laugh,….a bit too close for comfort, but hey, was I really surprised?!?

Here's the first shot

And the awkward squeeze!

At the time I didn’t realize I was getting a VIP tour from Heman, but when I left a young male tourist came walking up to inquire about the building.  Heman didn’t answer, so I spoke up and told him it was the colonial town hall.  He proceeded by asking if he could go in and Heman cut him off and refused his entrance in a cold voice.  When he had left, Heman looked at me and said, “Melissa, you are very special, not everyone gets a tour!”  Then he added, “Come back and visit me Melissa…..I will take you to the heavens!”  A big smile came across my face and I couldn’t help but crack up as I rode away.  No one has ever offered to take me to the heavens before! Ha!  Would Heman have squeezed a young man in that last picture on stage?!?!

Later that same evening I met Din, also an older Indian man, very humble, who I found as I rode into town.  I asked Din for a hotel in town and a supermarket.  He was dressed in all different shades of yellow and was waiting to pull out of a driveway on his small motor scooter. I thought he would just point in a direction like most people do, but he told me to follow him and escorted me to the supermarket first.  He followed me through the aisles and insisted on carrying my groceries. I didn’t feel like going out for dinner that night and bought a few quick snacks and items for breakfast the following day. He kept repeating over and over again, “don’t worry, no problem,” as his arms became more and more full.  He even held the grocery bag on his scooter as we approached the hotel.  Din took me to a little Muslim budget hotel and went upstairs to find out the price and availability and later brought all my bags upstairs.

At this point I was convinced Din was being so kind because he wanted me to pay for his services or at least tip him.  I was so tired from my ride and appreciative of his help I gave him some money.  He insisted he didn’t want money.  He was fascinated that I was riding my bike and wanted to help me.  He told me that he would come back after I showered to show me the way to the road I needed to take tomorrow.  I knew where the road was, but I could see he was delighted to have company, and so was I, so I took him up on the offer.  We snapped a quick photo (no squeezing from Din) but he had one look at the photo, saw his stomach too pouchy and made me take another!  What a funny man. 

Second shot sucking in our stomachs on Din's request

A half hour went by and Din wasn’t down stairs.  I thought I had been stood up, silly me to think he was actually going to come back, so I explored town on my own. On my way back to the hotel, I heard someone say my name. I turned around and it was Din.  He said he had been looking for me in town and was worried.  He still wanted to show me the road for tomorrow, so I got on his moto.  I had my own little tour of town, followed by Roti Canai and tea, at a local restaurant. Din had these eyes that really caught your attention.  There was something special about them, about him.  He kept telling me he was a good man, a nice guy who I could trust.  Usually that would make me feel skeptical, but in fact there was something special about Din.  When we went to leave the restaurant, I tried to pay and he wouldn’t let me, but he also didn’t pay.  He said, “You see Melissa, everyone here knows I’m a good man, they know me very well!”  But it wasn’t just in town where they knew him. He was adamant about escorting me the first 25 kilometers of my ride the following morning.  At 25 kilometers we stopped to have breakfast in another town and again, the same thing happened. I went to pay but the two men at the table next to us ended up paying for our breakfast.  I asked Din about his job, thinking, maybe I’m with a famous local politician or the town doctor, but that wasn’t the case either.  Din titled himself a “Sweeper”, he spends his days doing a little bit of this and that around here and there!  Who Din really was, I don’t know, but what a thoughtful man, the first to escort me a good 25 kilometers! 

Eating Roti Canai in good company

My next encounter was also on a moto scooter.  I was close to my town of arrival when all of a sudden a motor cyclist rides up next to me and starts with the same typical questions…..What’s your name? Where are you going? And of course my favorite, are you alone?  He gave me instruction for finding a hotel, and asked me to dinner.  He told me he would meet me at the hotel he’d just mentioned.  This conversation all happened in motion and to tell you the truth, I couldn’t even understand the name of the hotel he was telling me about, and knew I wasn’t going to be able to find it.  I just said yes to everything to be polite.  Riding into town, I started following signs to the first hotel sign I see and wouldn’t you know, the motorcyclist reappeared.  Gan was his name.  I hadn’t gone to the hotel he recommended, and so I followed him around the block to his.  He helped me bring my bags upstairs, translated for me, and told me he’d be back at 8:30 to go to dinner.  I was intending to trip plan, but hey, that could wait.  No I wasn’t interested in anything romantic with Gan, but dinner company is almost always welcomed.

Delicious dinner, nice company

Gan picked me up at 8:30.  He had changed and gotten all cleaned up, wearing some white Addidas pants and matching white shoes and a shiny black, fake leather jacket.  We walked to a park where there were several restaurants and sat outside.  Everyone was starring at us.  He kept leading the conversation towards boyfriends, marriage, my age, and wanting me to come back and visit him.  I kept asking him questions about his culture, religion, and family to show him I wasn’t interested in anything else.  By the end of the night, he had offered me a ring and his t-shirt so I wouldn’t forget him.  He told me he was going to spend his days praying to Allah so I would become Muslim and could come back and marry him.  I think I’m a pretty optimistic person, but Gan puts me to shame!

The point of me sharing these stories is because I strongly believe that if I were a guy, I would blend in more.  People here don’t see tour cyclists everyday, but I don’t think they have ever seen a female cyclist on her own.  At least that is the impression they give me with their facial expressions and the way they treat me with their hospitality.  It makes for funny memories, that is for sure, but sometime I get tired of always standing out.  In Barcelona, I had similar experiences because there were so few women cyclists, especially ones with blonde curly hair sticking out of the helmet who spoke Catalan with a funny Oregon accent.  In fact if happened quite often when I was out on a ride on my own and a guy rider comes along and he knows who I am either because of a race I was in recently or because he saw me riding with my club last weekend….The conversation usually starts something like this, “You are Melissa…..Melissa Pritchard, the girl who……”

You might think the attention is nice, but to tell you the truth, I would rather there be millions of Melissa Pritchard’s out there, more women on the road to accompany me so that there isn’t such a shock element with seeing a young lady on her bike, on her own. As my SE Asia route comes to a close and I get ready to head to New Zealand and Australia, I am excited to explore what is known as an outdoor haven.  New Zealand, a place where female cyclists are out riding the roads just as often as men! I don’t think I will see any jaws drop there or horns honking at me there, right?

Malaysia: Truly Asia

Here I am in The Restoran Tong Juan digesting my stuffed crab, fried rice, and mixed vegetables that I washed down with the first beer I’ve had since I stepped foot in Malaysia. Next to me there are two tables full of Indians getting their hands dirty with seafood, drinking beer as well. Behind them a few Chinese families eating dinner with a pot of green tea, and a delightfully friendly young Muslim waitress hustling and bustling around serving everyone.  Back in my hotel room run by a Muslim family, there is a Chinese calendar on the wall with a picture of the Vatican.  Now that is Malaysia, truly Asia (it's the government's cheesy tourism slogan, not mine)!

Have to try the local specialties even though crab isn't my favorite.

Malaysia; It’s a fascinating country!  They are getting ready to celebrate The Chinese New Year in a few days and there are Chinese lanterns and lights decorating all the bigger towns I come across.  In the background I can hear call to prayer on the speakers of one of the many Masjids in town and along the roads.  Malaysia mosques are everywhere, like the car washes I came across in Vietnam and the “Volcanizers” in Bosnia.  There are 3 radically different cultures that peacefully share this country called Malaysia.

Chinatown in Georgetown, Penang

Around the corner from Little India

Across the street from Colonial buildings......

Signs here are in Malay and English predominantly but sometimes they will be written in three or four languages, including Chinese and Arabic as well.  People are bilingual and trilingual naturally, but English is commonly spoken acting as a “liason language” between the distinct cultures.  At most restaurants you can find local Malay food, Chinese noodle, soup, and rice dishes, Indian curries, and even Thai and Indonesian specialties.  Muslims don’t drink coffee, but they serve it at all their restaurants along with milk tea, unfortunately the same isn’t true for alcohol (you have to go to a Chinese or Indian restaurant for that)!

You have to try Roti Canai, especially if a local is treating you!

Imagine a country that has Indian and Chinese temples intermixed, and mosques and their minarets can be found in all directions.  Yes, they observe all the sacred holidays for each of the religions, making for, A LOT of public holidays! For Muslims, Friday is the religious day, yet in some towns I still saw kids at school on Friday.  In other towns, school was in session on a Sunday, making it hard to decipher which day of the week it actually is?!?! In Georgetown, Penang, a UNESCO World Heritage site, Chinatown runs into Little India as Bollywood music can be heard from the doors of the Chinese temple nearby, which is across the street from the old British colonial town and city hall.  Fascinating!!!  In Penang, the geograhpy is just as diverse as the culture, simulating a mini-Malaysia.  You have dense rainforest jungles and tall peaks in the interior and pristine white sandy beaches lining the entire perimeter of the island.  Three hours away by ferry is Langkawi, a beach resort paradise, that still isn't too overrun with tourism.

Sunset on the beach where I camped in Langkawi

In the end, I decided to cycle down the eastern side of Malaysia hoping it would be less developed and transited.  This country has plenty of coastline and flat plains.  About 60% of the peninsula is below 100 meters, so I had to go out and find that 40% above and crossed the mountains 100% of the way to arrive on the eastern side of the country. I’m thankful I made the effort and grueling climb to come over because there aren’t as many big cities on this side, which makes for less traffic, although the cultural diversity is lacking compared to the west.  Muslims populate the eastern coast more than other cultures and most of the little villages scattered along the coast are fishing villages.  In the few and far between bigger towns you find more Chinese and Indians, resembling the mix that I found in Penang.  The white sandy beaches lined with palm trees go on for kilometers without a single inhabitant.  Last night I watched the sunset from the terrace of my guesthouse that backed up to the beach and there wasn’t anyone else around enjoying the same splendid sight.  I feel a lot less uncomfortable taking a dip in these ocean waters with my cyclist tan lines than elsewhere. 

Small Muslim fishing village on Malaysia's east coast

Cities are hardly cities over here on the east coast, if you compare them to the hustle and bustle on Penang or Kuala Lumpur (although I didn’t cycle through the latter), yet they have everything a cyclists needs: local day and night markets, food stalls and restaurants, and basic hotels. I had a hard time figuring out the hotels in Malaysia.  They advertise “homestays”, “guesthouses”, and “chalets” on the side of the road, yet when you roll up they are deserted.  I was getting excited to stay with a local family for the night, but I realized they aren’t homestays as westerns would think. Homestays are equivalent to our vacation rentals that usually need reserving in advance.  Hotels in general are more expensive here, but they haven’t gotten any nicer!  That is really my only complaint with this country, the lack of decent budget accommodations that you find in other SE Asian countries.  Unfortunately and obviously, you don’t have the hourly Nga Nghis that were so frequent in Vietnam.  Yesterday my eyes lit up with joy as I saw signs for Rose’s Bed & Breakfast.  I searched high and low in the neighborhood and couldn’t find anything that resembled a B&B.  I went to a restaurant nearby, and the men there all looked baffled and pointed in different directions.  Then one invited me to stay with his brother,…I passed on that option.

I can’t believe I only have 4 days left in Malaysia and a week in SE Asia.  There are so many places I’d still love to see and delicious food to try.  Just yesterday I discovered ABC’s, now that is an easy name to remember.  Iced coffees don’t cut it here, but this is a substitute and along with their milk tea.  I’m still loving the beverages at my pit stops.

An ABC,...don't konw where the name comes from it is shaved iced with all sorts of jelly goodies, syrup, condensed milk and sweet corn,.....basically pure sugar!!!!

I’ve just added Penang to my list.  What list, you might ask?!?!  You’ll have to wait for another blog where I shed light on the places I could see myself living after I finish this loong journey home.

A Public Vow

Yesterday clocked in as the hardest day ever on my trip.  I still can’t believe the route I took.  I don’t know if I would have done the same ride on my normal road bike without the weight had I known what I was in for.  I wasn’t trying for a new record or anything, I just didn’t have many choice for accommodations along the way and I thought I would “push through”…..famous last words!

Rainforest everywhere

I left Penang the previous day, later than I intended, but happy to do a morning school visit and a bit of sight seeing around Georgetown.  However, I didn’t get as far as I intended, but found a simple hotel in a small town at the start of the East-West road across the north of Malaysia.  I knew I had mountains to cross the following day in order to reach the East side of the country, but since I haven’t done a lot of climbing recently, I forgot what positive elevation feels like.  Really, I haven’t done any serious climbing since northern Vietnam and Laos and I think my legs are out of shape when it comes to mountainous terrain. Two days prior I climbed 13 kilometers up to 900 meters from sea level to the highest point in Langkawi. It was short and steep, but doable. 

I didn’t do my research on the climb that awaited me to go East.  Naively, I knew there were mountains, and thought, how bad can they be,….I’m no longer in northern Vietnam!?!?!  Google Maps showed 177 kilometers from where I was staying to the next “big” town with a hotel.  People had told me there was a nice resort somewhere in between, but definitely not one that fit in my budget price range.  My plan was to stop and camp on the side of the road, either by finding a gas station or rest stop to put up my tent, or asking a family.  It wasn’t my intention to ride all the way through, I thought that was impossible although the idea lingered in my head the entire day.

I set out early in the morning.  The sun rises here in Malaysia at about 7:30 and sets twelve hours later.  In reality, that makes for about 10 hours of riding time, if I needed them all, but with about five and a half or six, I usually call it a day.  I should have known after the first 15 kilometers, I was in for a difficult climb.  The road went up constantly, at a steady 7 or 8% from the first kilometer.  My average calculations of about 20 kilometers in an hour was not going to be accurate with this terrain, so I went down to about 15 kilometers an hour to gauge my progress.  I stopped to have breakfast at the first town I found and happened to witness some sort of Islamic parade going through town.  It lifted my spirits after the first section of climbing and off I went again.  The climbing subsided and turned into rolling terrain, which I gladly welcomed.  The second town was another 40 kilometers down the road.  Again, a pit stop with plenty of options for food.  It made me wonder just how few services I would actually find on the road, there seemed to be plenty?

Random, a local parade going through town entertained me for breakfast

Too bad they didn't march by my side the whole day 

I got back on my bike and continued to pedal, entering a national park.  The road went up, so did the temperatures, and my legs just kept going.  I was in the middle of an immense rainforest.  It sounded like I was in one of those stores that plays the CD with all the bird calls and jungle sounds to relax their customers.  There was every shade of green around me you could imagine, from short grass and shrubs to banana trees and mangroves, up to really tall trees shooting high above in the canopy.  I should have stopped more often to take pictures, but sometimes it is harder to get started afterwards when you have an uphill awaiting! Pedaling and pedaling, I reached the resort that was in the middle of a huge lake in the park.  At this point it was a little after 1pm and I was about 75 kilometers into my route.  Was I really going to stop this early and pay the steep prices at this resort (later I found out this resort was rather cheap, wish I knew that earlier)?  Of course not, that wouldn’t be very Melissalike to stop so early in the day, so I kept pedaling, accepting the fact that I would probably end up camping.  The idea of making it to Jeli, the town on the other side of the national park was in the back of my mind, but I still thought it was out of the question as my destination for the night.

Awas is caution, with an exclamation, well,....even more!

I should have stopped at the resort at least for some food, because 5 kilometers down the road my stomach started growling and there was no food around.  By now, I was starting to over heat although I had plenty of water to drink.  It was about 38 Celsius, and I was going up with constant slopes anywhere from 8 to 13%.  I was taken completely off guard by these mountains.  I had underestimated the climb and thought nothing could be as tough as what I had been up in the Ha Giang region of Vietnam.  I tried to use that as motivation to encourage myself, but it didn’t make the terrain any easier.  I even got plenty of honks from cars and truck drivers, but their support made no difference, the mountains were getting the best of me!

It would have made my day to actually see an elephant crossing

As the day went on, I could start understanding the road signs in Malay.  My worst enemy became the sign that informed me a passing lane was coming soon.  For a cyclist this means, caution, major climb ahead!  “Awas” and caution signs were everywhere for the sharp turns, narrow shoulders, and steep grades.  There were also crossing signs to warn for elephants and anteaters.  I didn’t see an elephant, but I did spot a few unique road kill, one an anteater and the other a crocodile.  Both were enough to make me question the wild camping option, not to mention the amount of monkeys I could see playing in the trees on the side of the road.

Luckily I saw a water hose on the side of a road at a truck pull off.  There were two trucks washing down their vehicles. I used the water to wash down myself jumping right under the hose as if it were a cold-water shower.  Delightful!  I asked the drivers the distance to the next restaurant and was finally filled with optimism when they told me it was only 5 kilometers up the road.  I made it to that restaurant and couldn’t stop drinking.  It reminded me of my days touring with Ed, when we had about 3 drinks apiece on the table.  I downed a can of juice, a liter of water, an iced tea, and a new fascinating sweet syrup and milk drink.  I got some sticky banana rice for energy did some quick planning.  Looking back on it, I probably didn’t have enough oxygen flowing to my brain to make a rational choice.  It was 3:30pm, I had cycled 100 kilometers and the owner of the restaurant told me the road went up for another 20 km and then down for 40km,….and there was another 15km to account for in there somewhere.  If I could do the 20 km in 2 hours, I would have a little over an hour of downhill, which meant I would arrive in Jeli as the sun set. 

discovering new beverages along the way

I try to blame it on the oxygen, but I don’t really know what possessed me to make the decision to keep riding. I suppose I wanted a bit of down time to myself, and if I camped at a restaurant or behind the house of a local, I would be in constant company and have to socialize.  I wasn’t in the mood.  Wild camping was out of the question as there was no place next to the road unless I penetrated the thick rainforest filled with all sorts of jungle creatures. No way! 

Cycling to Jeli it was, another 70 kilometers to go!  The road continued to go up and up for almost 20 km.  Every time I saw a passing lane sign I got frustrated, yet every time I came across a little hut where a family lived, I discarded the idea to camp.  I’m stubborn, I know!  I was soon going down, but unfortunately it wasn’t a true downhill as I imagined.  After every 5 kilometers down, it went back up hill until finally I reached a much-needed long continuous downhill of about 30 kilometers.  However, the hours of daylight were coming to an end.  It was about 6:30pm but the dense vegetation of the rainforest made it feel later.  Now I was determined to make it to Jeli!  I kept an eye out for a hotel as I came out of the rainforest and passed through small villages, but there didn’t seem to be any.  I pulled over to put on all my lights and continued cycling. 

I began counting down the kilometers to Jeli and it continued to get darker and darker.  Luckily drivers here are used to small vehicles with little light, as motor scooters are frequent on the shoulder of the road at all hours of the day.   I continued to get a few honks, although at this time of day I think they were warning me rather than encouraging me.  I made it to the turn off for Jeli and had about 4 kilometers to go.  I never really came across an actual town.  I could see a few signs for hotels, but they were still 8 or 10 kilometers ahead, further than the town itself.  I couldn’t make sense of where my “saviour” town actually was.  I passed a fire station and almost pulled over on the verge of tears to ask them if I could camp behind their station, but didn’t.  I did pull over to ask a man for a hotel, but when he tried to initiate small talk, I got impatient and rode off, something I would NEVER do had I not just had the longest day on my bike! 

Clouds rolled in as it started to get dark 

Here I had made it to Jeli, it was 8pm, and I couldn’t actually find the center of town or a hotel.  With tears in my eyes, I pulled over at a grocery store to ask the clerk for a hotel.  She pointed around the corner.   I went around the corner and saw nothing.  I went back to her and asked again.  This time a customer must have realized how desperate I was and walked me over to the guesthouse.  It was right next door, but it was closed.  There happened to be another 200 meters away, and he guided me there.  This one was open.  It was a bit sketchy with tinted windows and advertised as a 24 hour hotel, but for tonight, it would have to do.

I had pushed myself to my limits and I couldn’t walk another 10 meters.  I was done….completely destroyed!  I wheeled my bike in my room and thought that if I didn’t go get food before I showered, I wouldn’t make it out again.  My punishment was the fact that no restaurants were open in this odd “ghost” town.  At the mini-market I found crackers and tuna fish, and called that dinner.  Oddly I wasn’t hungry,….my appetite wouldn’t come back until tomorrow morning when I woke up and visited the local market.  The ride had made me nauseous.  I had done too much, something I will hardly ever admit: 177 kilometers, 2,500 meters of climbing, and just shy of 11 hours on my bike.  I’m not proud about this ride, that is why I have to make this vow public! 

Three weeks ago I did set out intentionally to see just how far I could ride in one day on fairly flat terrain.  I needed a challenge and I wanted to change things up for a day.  I was inspired and motivated to do a loong ride crossing into Thailand from Battambang, Cambodia.  There were plenty of towns along the way in case I needed to stop early.  This was a fun challenge.  Yesterday was different, it was more out of need than desire and never again to be repeated, especially with mountainous terrain!  100 to 110 kilometers is ideal with fairly flat terrain.  140 if I really have to,….but NEVER, will I ever ride 177 kilometers in one day with 35 kg of weight strapped to my bike on a road with limited services and lots of climbing, it just isn’t fun!  So there, I said it out loud, you have to hold me to this!  You are responsible.....

Oh, so there is just one day coming up in March when I’ll have to modify this vow. I’ll be in Australia and doing a Gran Fondo race with some Thomson Bike Tour clients. However, this doesn’t really count because I will ditch the weight but still have the racks on my touring bike,…..what a sight that will be!