The Odyssey of Gertrude and Bertha: Part Two – Taking Malaysia by Tropical Storm
Distance travelled so far: 392 km
Bike repairs: Gertrude’s handlebar grip seems to be migrating off the handlebar. No solution yet.
Bertha’s kickstand has bent in half. The solution: no more kickstand.
Gertrude and Bertha go Grocery shopping
I’m writing this is the luxury of a gas station along the highway in Malaysia, crouched in the tiny bit of shade made by Bertha, my trusty bicycle who is loaded to the max with gear, has been rusting since day one, and has developed a particular clicking noise. She’s loaded up with the clothes I’ve washed in the lovely gas station sink, which, judging by the heat of the 10 am sun, will be dry in no time. We’ve stopped to refill water, massage our aching knees, swap tips on the least painful way to sit on a bike seat, buy a new map for the next province, and see if there’s any way to avoid the highway. Not that biking along the shoulder as trucks, cars, and motorbikes whizz by and honk isn’t a ton of fun, it’s just that our days get much more interesting on the smaller roads.
Highways sure are scenic. Just ask Sophie
You never know what the day will bring. Locals don’t seem to care that we have no idea what they’re saying, but are determined to show us that Malaysians are the most hospitable of people. Whether it’s going to a wedding party in bike clothes with the principal of a school, having a cold drink by the side of a road with some strangers, fishing next to a rice paddy with a mother and daughter, or someone is pulling a king cobra out of a burlap sack at dinner, biking through a country is definitely a great way to travel.
I’m sure you have logistical questions like how do we plan our routes, how do we eat, and where do we sleep. Well I have the answers so don’t you fret.
How we plan our routes is simple. We tried going to Hulu Yam on a recommendation, but it turns out that going inland seems to have led us on every hill Malaysia has. I don’t know if you’ve ever pushed a heavy bicycle up a hill in the searing heat of the sun, but I can’t recommend it. We also got to try and hide from two different tropical downpours during the day, and one at night. So now we plan our route along the coast, trying to find small roads where we can, biking as far as we want in a day, consulting the map often, and sitting out the midday sun (our alabaster skin doesn’t react well to the sun).
As for food, that’s even simpler. We eat snacks when we’re hungry, and stop at roadside restaurants for many mystery meals at major meal hours. We also keep getting fed everywhere we go. As part of their hospitality, the Malaysians love to give us delicious food.
And that brings me to where we sleep. We bike with a tiny tent each (the packaging says two person tent. I say two person if you are each a toddler and have no bags.) At the end of the day, we pick a house that seems like it would have somewhere for us to put our tents under shelter (they’re “waterproof”), and then we knock on the door, ask in very basic Malay if we can stay, and then charades and discussions ensue. More often than not we’re given permission and are eventually brought into the house for food and tea, or decisively told we will be sleeping in the house because it is more comfortable. An audience usually gathers as we put up our tiny tents and unpack our bikes, and we seem to pose for every photo combination imaginable. The luxury of a bucket shower, hot food, and slow conversation is more than a girl could dream of.
Happiness is a tiny tent!
