Prisoner of Penang

Anybody who spends more than 30 days in Thailand is familiar with the “visa run”. This involves a trip to the nearest border – which is often not so near - to stamp out of Thailand, cross the border and return to the Kingdom to enjoy another 30 days. In southern Thailand the 30-day visa run is usually to the Burma or Malaysia border.

When 90 days in Thailand have expired the visa run becomes a major undertaking to a Thai Embassy or Consulate in a neighbouring nation. A common place to attain an embassy/consular visa is Penang, Malaysia. According to the official Thai immigration website express visas are processed on the same day. A service charge applies.

I stay in Ranong Province and the 30-day visa run is close by to the Burma border. I have done the consular visa run to Penang before and it has been quite easy and fast once you reach Penang. Of course, getting there is the long part.

I knew this particular visa run would be interesting when my friend Pon, owner of Pon’s Place in Ranong, told me the train was full and I would have to go by bus. I boarded the 8pm bus to Had Yai to find myself seated beside a large and unyielding woman who occupied her seat and half my seat. I squeezed in and established a little space in about ¾ of the allotted area. She seemed to care little about proper seating and had no problem sitting half on top of me, thigh on thigh.

As the bus departed we were treated to the typical Thai karaoke videos. Fortunately the volume was not the customary ear piercing level, a small bonus. After a few stops to collect the remaining passengers we headed south toward Phuket and then east through the mountains to Surat Thani. I managed to keep most of my ¾ space but was unable to get any sleep from the combination of discomfort and loud chit-chat and cackles from the driver and crew just in front of me.

I squirmed around so that my neighbour and I were now butt to butt, she facing the window, me the aisle and caught a few minutes of shuteye before the attendant decided to crank up the music. It took some time for him to realize he had turned it up for the whole bus and not just the front cab. He finally turned it down but not until most of the people on board were awake. The squirming game with my neighbour continued for the next 7 hours until we finally reached Had Yai.

In Had Yai the only open place at 3:30am was, not coincidentally, where they hawked minivans to Penang. The initial price of 450 Thai Baht (TB) was reduced to 350TB after lengthy discussion. My Thai is not strong, but good enough to negotiate. I sat for the next 5 hours waiting for the 8:30am departure desperate to catch a few moments of unsettled sleep before the next leg of the journey.

The minivans rarely leave on time and today was no exception. It departed late and immediately stopped at head office to register the passports of each passenger. Around 9:30am the van finally left Had Yai and in spite of a delay at the border arrived in Penang on Tuesday around 2:30pm. Malaysia is one hour ahead of Thailand.

At N.J. visa service on Chulia Street, Mr. Muhammed Haji Jabar advised me to pay the 100 Malaysian Ringit (MR) for the express service as Chinese New Year was two days away and the regular service would not return until the 11th because of the holiday. Hoping to return to Thailand as quickly as possible I paid the fee happily. Mr. Muhammed then explained that the regulations had unexpectedly changed Feb. 1st and the application required an air ticket out of Thailand. Fortunately, I had my laptop with me and printed the e-ticket to fulfill the requirements. Next, Mr. Muhammed said the consulate required proof of a hotel receipt in Thailand something I definitely did not have.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “I will take care of that for you.” I thanked him and went to one of the dozens of nearby cheap hotels to sleep off 16 hours of travel.

Wednesday morning I went to the visa service to check on the status of my application and Mr. Muhammed advised me the vice-consul, Mr. Panurit Chamrasromram had informed the staff at the consulate that he might not sign any applications that day. There was a 50% chance I would not get my visa until Monday! I told him that if there was anything I could do to see that I got my passport - like pay more money - I would be happy to do so. After all, I just paid 100MR for the express service which might not be. Mr. Muhammed said it was not about money. His contacts had told him the vice-consul simply wanted to start his holidays early and to check back in one hour. When I returned, Mr. Muhammed said the chance I would get my passport that day was now 30%.

“Please check in one hour,” Mr. Muhammed advised. An hour later the odds were reduced to zero and Mr. Muhammed returned my express fee and apologized.

“There is nothing I can do, I am sorry,” he said as he counted out 100MR.

“Is there anyone in the consulate I can talk to?” I asked of Mr. Muhammed. He dialed a number and handed me the telephone. The voice on the other end told me there was no way I would get my visa that day. I pointed out the official website advised a one-day service was available for a fee. The man on the other end said “the website is not correct.”

“How can the official website be incorrect?” I asked.

“It’s not my problem, it’s yours,” he responded and hung up the phone. To add insult to injury, the vice-consul locked my passport as well as those of dozens of others in the same situation inside the consulate and there was no way to access them until Monday - 5 days later. I could not leave Malaysia to apply in Indonesia or Singapore and thus became a “prisoner of Penang.”

A young French woman overheard my conversation with the consul staffer and asked what I had learned. “Nothing,” I said as my irritation increased.

“I came here for a work visa,” she explained. “I have been hired as a manager by the Hiatt Hotel in Hua Hin and the company lawyers prepared all the documents. They advised me to come to Penang where I was assured I would get my visa the same day. I am supposed to start work Monday and I will not even receive my passport until Monday afternoon,” she said on the verge of tears.

We decided to drown our displeasure in alchohol. By coincidence, I met another Canadian in the bar who had just been to Kota Baru. She informed me that the consulate there does not require the ongoing ticket or a hotel receipt in Thailand. She had received her visa in one day without any problem. This further increased my irritation as I knew that I would remain a prisoner of Penang for the next five days.

Next time you go to Malaysia, I recommend Kota Baru. Perhaps the Consul Mr. Surapon Petch-vra and his team will treat you better than the Penang prison masters.

Copyright, Tim Morch, 2008

Sunset Club

As the sun dips gently toward the horizon and another day comes to a close, the "Sunset Club" gathers to share stories over refreshing adult beverages.

Boat

"Boat" at fourteen months cruising the restaurant at Bamboo Bungalows.

The Invisible Apprentice

Ma Soe Moe is a Karen ethnic Burmese refugee. She lives near the Thai/Burma border in the town of Sangkhlaburi, Thailand. The UNHCR has documented approximately 4000 Karen refugees in this region while an estimated 50,000 live without documentation, assistance or recognition. In spite of this, Ma Soe Moe is fortunate: she found Daisy Dwe and the Weaving for Women programme. Weaving for Women, is a self-sufficient grassroots organization that trains single ethnic refugee women to weave under the tutelage of Master Weavers from Burma and provides them with employment.

Ma Soe Moe’s daughter Swa Li Har was born in the Sangkhlaburi hospital. Her birth was recorded but she does not officially exist in either Thailand or Burma as her mother is not documented in Thailand. Swa Li Har is invisible to both nations. They cannot return to Burma or they would join the nearly 200,000 Internally Displaced Persons of Karen ethnicity, half of whom are in hiding and the other half living under the strict control of the military government.

Until there is a dramatic change in Burmese policy, the future for Swa Li Har is in Thailand. In time and with luck, she may become the Invisible Apprentice.

Of Men and Dogs

When you live in a foreign place, you start to pay attention to the smallest details. Living on a tropical island in Thailand, life is slow and the time to observe lengthy. Lately, I have been contemplating if men have evolved more than dogs. The more I observe the more I note that the behavioral patterns of the male of both species are similar. A male dog is happy to hump anything: a chair, your leg, or another dog, irrespective of gender. A man is happy to hump anything: a pillow, your leg, any woman and even men too. A dog has the advantage of being able to lick its private regions, something I suspect every man has pondered.

But when a female is in heat the world goes on its side. When she sends out her sexual signals males take notice. They come from all over; some you have never seen before, even though the community is small. A male will follow a female around as though on a leash - and a very short one at that. Every time she stops he slides a little closer, hoping, waiting for a signal. She is in total control and knows it as she toys him. He just wants sex but she forces him to be attentive, metering her favors to keep him focused.

In this particular case, the female is a small Asian, Shitsu, and her lover a fairly large German, shepherd. He is looking for one thing and she holds the key to his pleasure. She is keenly aware of this and offers enough to keep him eager. Her special power keeps him close at hand. Other males recognize the signs, but she has chosen one lover. The others look longingly while he basks in the glory of her attention.

This morning, she is perched on a beach chair. He sits at her feet, big eyes staring lustfully, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth, hoping she will come down from her throne. He can smell sex and is eager. She simply sits, knowing he will not leave unless sent away by her mother or father. She even plays on this, teasing both the male and her parents by engaging in a coy game of deceit. He cares not and waits though his patience runs thin while desire rages. Her father comes out in a show of force and he retreats to a safe distance. As soon as the father turns away, he slinks back to the base of her throne. Mother calls to her but she feigns deafness.

If she so much as moves a muscle, he leaps to his feet hoping this might be the moment. She merely re-adjusts her seat and he hangs his head dejected while slipping closer. This is the daytime routine. When the sun goes down, the lights dimmed and parents asleep there are no witnesses. She lets him come to her and have his way with her. This is the inevitable conclusion. The evidence is undeniable in the early morning when she can be caught lying in his arms. The glow in their eyes tells the truth of the night before. As day breaks, she returns to her throne and he returns to his attentive position, dreaming for the night to return.

This scenario is repeated along the beach, across the island, throughout the nation and around the world. Under the shade of palm trees and in dimly lit alleys, wherever the sexes meet a universal ritual is performed, man or dog.

Tim Morch, Copyright 2006

A New Beginning

Koh Phayam, Thailand, March 14, 2007: the end of an era. Six weeks of two-on-two volleyball every morning ended when the core players retreated from our tropical island paradise and returned to whatever constitutes their “real world”.

Somewhat disoriented by the change to the morning regime, I decided that paddling my kayak was a good substitute. A strong northwester blew side-onshore so I pointed upwind, stroking steadily into the chop. After 1.5km, I reached the end of the white sand beach where a rocky headland juts out perpendicular. The cliffs created a wind shadow and the waves diminished with each stroke. I changed course and traveled toward the open sea staying close to the headlands. Creeping over the shallow reef, I watched Dusky Damselfish defend their territory while Moorish Idols paraded lazily amongst the corals. Sergeant Majors and Banded Butterfly fish cruised calmly through the green-blue water.

Leaving the rocky point behind, I rounded the tip and found myself in a confused sea. The combination of wind generated waves and surge waves coming from opposing directions, mixed with the rebounding surge from the headland, created a bathtub effect. Water sloshed everywhere as I bobbed along. I sat idly and watched thousands of small baitfish school at the surface. It looked like water was boiling only a few feet from my kayak. Occasionally, the ubiquitous predators that lurk below dashed through the school scattering the pack in a frothy frenzy only to regroup instantly. There is safety in numbers.

I floated on the wind back to the headland, lost in contemplation. Replaying some of the best serves, sets and smashes in my mind, I recreated rallies from recollection. I recalled the quips that were fired over the net as often as the ball, retorts returned with speed and a smile. I reminisced at the competitive nature of each player and noted that none lost their cool on the court or their sense of humour.

I repeated out loud the distinct declaration of disappointment of each player. Laurent “The Wall”, with his French-Canadian accented “ooohhhh noooooo” which was perpetually repeated with peels of laughter. “Rocket Boy” Jim and his gargled “aaarrghh” rarely failed to generate a comment. Or images of Chris paddling about in the sand with one hand on his bandanna covered forehead uttering a plaintive “ooooohhh” and our subsequent wisecracks. Each brought a smile to my face.

In the shelter the cliffs once again, I cooled off with a swim and found myself gazing aimlessly toward the horizon. The bright sunlight created bizarre effects on the wind whipped water and I imagined a variety of visions in my mind. I was almost certain I spotted a dorsal fin but decided it was a mirage created by the elements. Snorting at myself for conjuring images I was taken aback when the dorsal fin flew from the water, attached to a male dolphin performing a graceful aerial maneuver.

Attention suddenly focused, I paddled steadily toward the dolphin, two dolphins, make that four dolphins! They frolicked and fed nearby for almost half and hour. They moved in the water with grace all around me. As the foursome breached in unison I noticed that they had a baby no more than one meter in length squeezed securely between two adults. I also noticed that a fifth adult was distinctly pink in colour. At first I thought the light was playing tricks with my perception but after several sightings from a variety of angles I was certain it was pink.

The current eventually changed and the dolphins followed the food supply around the rocky tip out to sea. This small pod patrols the coast here but rarely comes close to the beach. I thought of the fortunate timing of my paddle and considered whether or not it was some kind of omen. Perhaps the end of the morning sessions signified the start of something new. Regardless, that day will remain rooted in my memory.

Copyright, Tim Morch