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Travelers' Tales The following tale comes from reader James Parsons. While it goes back a number of years, in his e-mail tome containing this story James observed in felt it appropriate in these post-9/11 days, a time when it is sometimes too easy for non-Muslims to assume the worst of the Islamic world. -- Mekhong Kurt "A Tale of Muslim Hospitality"
I first married in 1983. Money was very
tight. English teachers made 80 baht an hour at at least one school.
And it was time for my first visa run.
I opted for Kota Bahru. My new wife came
along on the bus. I started to get off in the middle of nowhere just
because it looked closest to KB on the map. The driver kept me on
board to Sungai Golok. First disaster averted.
My sweet Thai wife had no passport, and stayed
on the Thai side with almost no money. I took what little we had for the
bus to KB and the visa fee.
Crossing the border (just a rural bridge back
then), a gruff Malaysian guard asked if I'd read "the sign"
("Death for Drugs - dump 'em here if have 'em"). I gulped and
nodded.
I showed up just before closing at the
consulate. I learned that there was a Muslim holiday the next day.
I was going to be stranded without money for four days. My wife would
be, too, and I had no way of letting her know why. (Thirty day visas at
the land border weren't an option back then.)
The embassy employee opted to help me. I
had no passport photos. He said nothing. He didn't have to; his
facial expression spoke volumes about what an ass I was.
I ran back into town, got the photos and
returned. The consulate had closed. The officer was
waiting in the bushes with the stamps. He processed me and sent me
on my way. I tried to give him a bottle of booze to thank him. I
might just as well have offered a ham sandwich. I really was a cherry
boy.
Second disaster averted, I made it back to the border. Dear wife had walked from town to the border in heels to save ten baht. I splurged and we rode to a cheap hotel. I had no idea how dangerous the south could be for us, and despite each going out alone, we were neither robbed nor assaulted. Third disaster avoided. We hopped a third class train (my first 3rd class train for Sungai Golok to Bangkok but not my last - I'd do it twice more eleven years later) and reached Thonburi intact. Return to the Table of Contents.
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Copyright © 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, and 2008 by Kurt T. Francis, except as noted otherwise. Materials by Christopher G. Moore, Dean Barrett, Richard K. Diran, Sonia Pressman Fuentes, and Hardy Stockmann are copyrighted © by those respective authors. All rights reserved. Please see the Copyright Notice for further information. Click here for our Privacy Statement Please direct all inquiries to MekhongKurt [at] BangkokAtoZ.com
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