Galen & Rebecca Kennel’s Weblog

Now for the day I have been dreading ever since we came across the Strait of Malacca – the return ferry trip. We almost decide to scrap the return ticket and fly straight to Kuala Lumpur, but decide we can handle it. I check the marine forecast – Papa Denmark said that sometimes when the sea is rough and one of the engines quits, the trip can take 12 hours. The forecast calls for 9 km/hr breeze from the NE with 1 to 1 ½ metre swells. It doesn’t sound so bad.

I called the ticket office on Tuesday to confirm our ticket. We are to be at the office at 8:30. The office is just a 5-minute walk from our hotel. Once there, we end up paying an extra 30,000 rupiahs each – the bus is free – this is port and handling fees. Indonesians know how to scam money out of you.

About 9:30 the bus pulls up and all the people who have been waiting in the lobby climb on. We spend the next hour driving around Medan picking up passengers from other offices. Then it takes 45 minutes to actually get out to the port. The ferry is supposed to depart at 11:00, but we still have to go through the Indonesian passport control.

Once on the ferry, we select the row we want to sit in and claim the middle two of the 4 seats. Now we will have the whole row to ourselves. The tactic works. The ferry isn’t very full.

Once under way, Galen goes up top to look around and I curl up on two of the seats. When I wake up, a woman is sitting in the seat by the aisle. Oops. I guess we will share our seats after all.

It is breezier than it was the first time we crossed and the waves are rougher. The steward comes through and hands out plastic bags. Not a good sign. Galen takes one of his motion-sickness pills.

The hours drag by as one tries to sleep, then is suddenly awakened when the boat hits a big wave. They aren’t showing any videos this time – perhaps it is too rough. The little woman sitting in our row is sleeping, but she clutches the barf bag. It isn’t long before she is using it. Poor woman. I dig in my purse for my ever-present roll of toilet paper and hand some to her. Then I offer a motion-sickness pill.

She sleeps then, but an hour and a half later she is reaching for another bag.

The steward sells drinks and snacks from a small canteen mid ship. I buy a can of iced coffee (sweetened nescaffe with milk) and ask him how much longer. A little over an hour. Galen is feeling woozy and takes another pill. I go up on the upper deck. I don’t know if I can handle sitting between two sick people.

I can’t see land yet, but we pass several ships and there are terns flying around, taking breaks on the driftwood. Plastic water bottles float by – the scourge of the earth. I see a flash of silver and realize that there are flying fish jumping from the water and streaking across the surface. It feels good to sit here in the open, breathing in the warm, moist air and tasting the salt on my lips. The sun on my back feels warm, but the breeze and the motion of the ship helps cool the body.

Finally I spot land. The waves here are smaller. I go down to let Galen know we are coming close to land. He always likes to be on top when the ferry comes close to shore, but he isn’t interested in anything other than the little plastic bag in his hand. I leave him and go back up.

It feels good to be back in Malaysia again. No hassles. Polite ferry workers offer to help you with your bag. The passport control is easy – they smile as they stamp the passports, “Welcome back to Malaysia.” One taxi driver asks if we need a taxi. “No thanks.”

“No problem. Welcome to Pinang.”

Wow. We are walking to the D’Budget Hotel which is only about a 15 minute walk from the ferry terminal, according to our guidebook. I’m sure we’re on the right road, but we can’t find the hotel. We reach a road where I know we’ver gone too far, so we circle back around. This time I look up the actual address. There is no hotel at that address. We ask a man sitting outside a shop and he says it is closed.

Since we’re half-way to Chinatown where there are a lot of budget hotels, we keep on walking. The sun is setting and the evening food stalls are ‘rising.’ We walk through ‘Little India’ where the DVD shops are blaring out India music. Past the restaurants serving up curries and roti.

We stop at a street corner, near to the Broadway Budget Hotel. The man at the desk motions for us to come in. 55 rupiah for a non-airconditioned room. $15.00. It’s clean and quiet, so we take it.

Then we go out to find a lassi, the Indian yogurt drink we became addicted to in India. That should be good to settle Galen’s stomach.

Photos from the Strait of Malacca.