3 weeks is a long time to travel and remember all the
awesome/embarrassing/scary things that happened. So, inspired by Regina Spektor, we began to
randomly remind each other of the good, the bad, and the…interesting…
Hey remember that
time in the middle of the night when I thought Liz’s hand was a rat and I
jumped OUT of the bed like a Ninja and freaked everyone out? Childhood nightmare: realized.
Remember that time we
found an abandoned shopping cart and…well that was fun.
Remember that time
when four emotionally unstable foreign women got locked in a mall in
Malaysia at midnight? Oh right. That was us. Lemme Explain…
Upon discovering that we could see movies in Malaysia for less
than $3, we decided we would WATCH ALL THE MOVIES!!!! We didn’t get far. After the looooong awaited Les Miserables, we decided on The Impossible, a highly-rated drama
with Ewan McGregor and good acting. And FACT: the movie was incredible, with
some of the best child actors I’ve ever seen. I’m glad I watched it. But FACT: You shouldn’t watch a
based-on-a-true-story movie about a family on vacation that is separated by
tsunami that hit Thailand in 2004…when you just
came from vacationing in Thailand and you haven’t seen your family in
months and you don’t well with on-screen wounds to being with. I don’t remember ever being so emotionally invested, heartbroken, victorious, and
sick to my stomach during a movie. When
it ended, all I wanted to do was lie of the floor, call my family, and tell
them I loved them.
Yet my feels were interrupted (#rude) as we were quickly
ushered out of the theatre in to a dark, unfinished, empty hall with NO exit
signs and the definite distant sound of rushing water. We couldn’t handle it. Emotionally unstable and wanting out, we went
back through the theatre and came to an abandoned mall that apparently had
closed at 10. Now is was midnight
(again…probably not the wisest idea), and all the escalators were blocked off
with welcoming signs that read “Trespassers will be arrested.” We power-walked through the mall, looking for
a way out other than the sketch parking garage stairways that every woman has
been taught to avoid since birth. Some
men showed us the hidden elevator in the parking garage, and we booked it out
of there, past the sketchy security guards smoking by the side entrance. I’ve never Ashley Solomon walk so fast. We took the first taxi home, not bothering to
haggle, and I relieved my feels by watching the Barcelona/ Madrid game and
yelling stuff in Spanish. That was our
last trip to the theatre.
Remember my
boyfriend from the Baan Suan hotel who held my hand? Too bad he was 20 years younger than me.
Remember that time
when a man came out of the shower I was waiting for and we both glanced at
the gender sign and it was his bad but I still felt awkward? Yeah.
Hostel problems.
Remember that time we
took a trail that didn’t seem like a trail and took a bus that wasn’t a bus and
waited for a bus that didn’t exist and then hitch-hiked on a charter bus? Yeah.
Best day in Malaysia. Here’s what happened…
Our second day in the Cameron Highlands we decided to hike
trail A. I had taken a picture of the
map and directions with my ipod, so we were pretty set. The first part of the trail was gorgeous and
easy, taking us past Robinson waterfall and providing ample opportunities to
Instagram and make “Nature’s Pretty Neat” videos. We sang though the Tarzan and Jungle Book soundtracks
before coming to an ominous sign that read, “The next 1 km of the trail is
difficult. Very difficult when wet. Not
suitable for children.” Not intimidated,
we put away our cameras and put on our boss backpacking faces. As we climbed over/under fall trees and
bush-wacked our way through brush, it soon became apparent that either A. the
trail was very overgrown or B. we had
missed our turn at the farm we had passed and were now getting lost. To this day, I’m not sure which one it
was. We didn’t want to turn around when
we were so close, but I was already
envisioning a repeat of the punctured-leg-off-the-Great-Wall incident. We finally broke through the rough-age and
found ourselves on a farm with the road in sight! Rather than mohican it down the hill, we
finally found a way to actually get to
the road, and what sweet victory it was.
We hopped on a yellow school bus-ish vehicle, already
occupied by the two German guys who had passed us on the trail. While comparing notes with them, we realized
the bus we were riding wasn’t actually a bus—just two guys offering us a ride
down the mountain. We got dropped off at
a bus stop and waited for the bus that, according to the guidebooks, would take
us back into town. 30 minutes later, we
realized there was no such bus. (Good
thing someone told us; we were used to patiently waiting for buses, so we could
have been there all day.) So we set off
for town…9 kilometers away. No big. Like we’d make it there before dark, and we
had nice Germen boys to protect us from any mean German boys that we might
encounter, but we decided to give hitch-hiking a try. After all, Malaysia is known for its hitchhiking
and we figured there was safety in numbers and daylight. Our efforts earned us friendly honks and
waves, and finally someone stopped and gave us a ride. Our ride was no school bus/jank
pick-up/BobMarlyMobile, however; this was a Charter Bus, complete with air-co,
curtains, and an entertainment system.
Jackpot. We hitch-hiked back to
town in style and continued to say for the rest of the trip, “Guys. If we hadn’t hitch-hiked, we’d STILL be
walking!”
Mmm. Good times.
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