Sorry, folks, I should have written it long ago. Two other stories are on the way - Nepal-Thailand and East Timor-Darwin
Cargo-report
Malaisia (Port Dixon) - Indonesia (Dumai)
11.08.07
PD MARINE SERVICES SND.BHD
office no42A, Wisma YBH, Jalan Mahajaya,
PD Centre Point, Peti Surat 51
71007 Port Dickson, Negeri Sembilan Darul Khusus,
Malaysia.
Contact person- ZAHARI OTHMAN,
operation manager
mob 016-6044 344
fax 606-647 3280
e-mail
ybhpd@yahoo.com
95 ringits for my ticket, 250 - for my motocycle*
Port Dixon (Malaisia) - Dumai (Indonesia)
Port Dixon is a small port between Kuala-Lumpur and Melaka, it's located at the end of route 5, exit 209 from the Main Thailand Highway E1-E2.
High-speed sea passenger boats go from Port Dixon the same as they do from any other port at the shore. The only difference is that Zaharia can place your motocycle on one of them and all others can't.
The pier is not the best in the world and you'd better ask Zaharia use the next one to load your motocycle. And only after that to let passengers to get aboard. As you might find it slightly inconvenient to ride down the stairs above the sea to land on the little ground 1.5x1.5 and after that totarget your front wheel at the tiny little door of passengers salon while the boat is jumping on the beam sea.
Local folks are very friendly. In orger not to waste my time, Zaharia's staff bought a ticket for me, brought a customer officer to stamp the cornet and even tried to feed me all the time.
The boat goes once a day at about 10-11 a.m. If you get there, please, say hi to Zarharia.
Unfortunately, you can't see hunderds of wooden onion boats in malasian porst any longer. They've changed something in indonesian laws and this business is almost dead. Sad Abu standing on an empty pier in Sungai Rambai said that the last boat had left about... a month and a half ago.
Passenger boats are along the whole coast line - I have seen them from Port Klang to Melakka - but their owners don't want to take a motocycle explaining that indonesian customs won't allow it to Indonesia and that just a week ago one guy tried to and I had to take my boat back and you will have to go back together with your motocycle. And that there is a special indonesian law forbidding motocycles in and that you need a special letter from indonesian embassy - IT'S ALL NOT TRUE. I didn't understand all the details but to my mind they just don't want to think how much a ticket will be and how to get the motocycle on a boat.
That's it
. That's what we call being relaxed
Summing up I should say that at any unusual (read: inconvenient) situation the first answer you will get is "no!". Don't give up - you will always find the right solution for you.
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* Had to think real quick how much the ticket for my motocycle will cost. Based on the weight - if I am 90 kg and my ticket is 95 ringits, how much will it be for 240 kg of my moto-belongings? That's right - 250 ringits
If you don't give them a clear logical system of calculating the price, theywill base it on some fantasies and this won't make any good for you at all.
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To brighten up my story
Port Melaka, a small passenger pier, empty office units, very dark evening and not a single person for 800 meters around. From the waiting room, the door being opened with his butt, through a square piece of light a man appears going backwards with a bucket and a duster cleaning the stairs.
My translation of our conversation
- Hey, boss! Is it that the boats to Melaka here?
- Sure, mister. You go away now. You come back in the morning. Noone's here.
- When will someone appear here?
- Well... You come by 9 and you will find out. Where do you wanna go?
- To Indonesia.
- Well... I understand that not to the South Pole. What port do you need?
- To Dumai, I guess.
- There will be a boat to Dunai at 10. Every day at 10.
- Will my motocycle fit in?
- No, absolutely not. Can't take motocycles. Not allowed.
- How's not allowed? It's written on the website...
- Not allowed for sure!! I tell you.
- Wait, wait. Maybe there will be some person in the morning who knows better? And how come you know everything, who are you, an honoured duster-cleaner?
- Mister! I am the security officer of this port. And.. uh.. the duster-cleaner... well... do it part time as our cleaner got really pissed yesterday. So what do you think - is there anyone here who knows better than I do?
Well, I thought. Shit happens. Gotta go back to Port Klang that's almost near Kuala-Lumpur where I came from earlier. There is a big port there. I will find something.
Went to Port Dixon to stay for the night. This is a local name, don't mix it up with the place in Zapolarie. There was a local bikers festival on August 4th, in the pub called.. uh.. Grey Eagle? Well, some sort of eagle anyway, everybody knows where it is. On the programm - whose tuning is most crazy, who can do the slowest drive and who can get pissed real fast... All very serious and friendly. At the end I even heard malasians singing karaoke Hotel California in a choir with a celestial melanholy in their eyes. Horrifying.
Oh. Port Klang is a huge port. It's so huge that there are three of them - and you can't really figure out on which of them you are now - the Northern, the Eastern and the Just Klang. The first and the second are useless - plenty of conteiner ships, security pretending to be serious and suspicious, no agents and everything is kinda large-capacity. If you ask me, the only thing that makes the whole place running safe is their ****ing mentality - noone really knows anything. They don't know how to get from the Northern Klang to the Eastern. They don't know where the passengers or cargo pier is. They even don't know in what port this pier is and if there are any piers at all.
Somehow managed to find a passengers pier in the Just Klang.
First tried to find out how much a ticket for my motocycle will be. Then Lame Leg came - a very loud lady who was bitten by a sharq in her childhood as port taxi-drivers always say. Well, I would say to this sharq - looser! First learn how to bite and after that call yourself a predator. As this loud lady survived andstarted speaking to me with long explanation about the letter. And being shown the letter with allowed destinations from the indonesian embassy she changed the software in her brain and started calling everyone her agents and sending me with them to different places - to the customs or some other useful official offices. Me... being send to places... She probably did hoped that I will get lost on the way there.
After that another guy appeared. A sales... marriage... well... some kind of an agent, strangely insinuating, with a business card, he looked at me and said - why are you talking to them, bebahshid? Their mentality is lame. She is good but she is kindalame, you know.
I say - everything is lame here, where is the main main boss. I mean the very main, the mainest. Munching his main lunch? Show him to me now.
The main main boss turned out to be a sea cowboy from the polish movie about russian military forces. I mean he has tatoos on the chest, guts to look significant and even a proper anamnesis but... you know... something felt wrong.
Here you go. He is not the main main boss. He is just the main cashier but it doesn't keep him from bossing around with an attemp to get some money and celebrate a succesfull end of another working day. As---le (oops, pardon my french, folks). And at this very moment it happened to be 5 o'clock and the working day was over. I guess not very successfully for all the heroes of this story.
The next day.
I appear and some expert appears. First thing he calls somewhere. Having understood that to wait on the phone will cost him grey hair he takes me to the port on his motocycles. A small office for cargo transportation on onion boats... well, these boats also happen to be sheep boats, potato boats, fish boats and other hell-knows-what wooden old boots. A woman with a scarf on her head starts making orders to her staff - an indo-girl and mala-boy. They start calling somewhere and find out that there is a boat. Maybe. On Thursday. And today is Monday. Gotta wait. Can I go with my motocycle, I ask. Well, they answer, if the captain is in a good mood. Well, sounds like a plan. But not a good one. Ok, I say, I will come back tomorrow. If you call me it will be expensive as it's a roaming through Moscow. So I can call you on a public phone but I'd better come tomorrow in person to see you. Yes! Don't be naive. If you don't get on their ass and on their nerves with your kind eyes looking hopefully at their faces (and in their brain) they won't lift a finger to do anything.
The next day.
Came over, zero information. Two hours of waiting to get this zero information. Went away.
The next day.
See above.
The next day.
A very long zero day with following the captain, examining the onion boat, listening to the complains that there is no information, that boats come and go and they don't have any idea where and when. ****ing A. This port was built just for the fun of it. I asked a question - is it Friday tomorrow, isn't it the right time? They say, yes, yes, yes, the very right time, mister, the time when all your dreams will come true.
The next day.
Bummer!
As the marriage (read: sales) agent warned me that I gotta go myself with my motocycle and not deal with illeagal helpers. And it turned out that all the boats were going past the indonesian customs and that's why they couldn't get me there. But! There came a "but" from info-girl who started to show a high level of eagerness to help me. Her "but" meant that there was one empty boat that goes to Dumai. And the captain doesn't mind taking my motocycle. And she also has one indonesian friend who can help me (yeah, right... when I saw this friend I felt that you really shouldn't trust him your old and stinky socks to say nothing of any other help with any other personal belongings). Do you understand malasian, asked the girl. And what is your budget? We sent one guy a year ago and he paid 2000 rupiahs. Miss, I said, how much you think is one hour of helicopter rent? As 2000 rupiahs is apprx. 555.555555 dollars.
Custom officer appeared and said - no, you need to get your boat ticket with a stamp. Otherwise I won't allow you to go. And where were you two days ago? Well, he said, I was just asked about it now.
Here you go. India, part two. Been there, done that.
After that I went to Abu to Sungai Rambai. Abu called Dixon.
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In Port Klang the following things were stolen one after another
1. my beloved matt with yellow laces that I bought at Elbrus in 1995 when I was shooting another Guiness record. It was fastened on the top and was used as a cooler as it was in a tent bag and a bottle of cold water fit it perfectly. My friend, I will never forget you.
2. combination pliers from the tool bag on the steering wheel. During the day!
3. they would steal the bag itself but alarm woke me up. I jumped out, looking sleepy yet hostile. There was a tall and skinny indian sitting on the table next to my bike and pretending that it wasn't his business at all. I am sitting here and smoking, his honest eyes were trying to tell me. When I started explaining him very emotionally what his useless head would go through now, two hotel staff guys appeared and the jerk took off and dissapeared in the darkness. He unfastened plastic locks outside the bag but I am not that stupid to make it that simple
. The bag fixed so that noone could take it off.
It all happened at the hotel. I fastened the motocycle with a chain but you can't really see it from the window because of the door roof. The reception is on the second floor, the door is on the first. All other hotels are even worse, either farther than 5 km or more than 100 dollars per night.
A nice and friendly town if you ask me
Hopefully, all other world is full of combination pliers
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As soon your boat touches Indonesian land another horror story begins as a bunch of locals rushes through the door. Faster-faster-faster, mister! Go-go-go! They will close the customs - you will never get your visa - Indonesia will be closed for you - and you will stay here forever (and die)
. This is how Dumai porters work. Each of them is a customs agent, an expert on local problems, a banker, a security guard and a gangster. Achtung! Ahctung! If you are not in time, you are late
Relax! Take your luggage and to go the pier. Look as if you are the only one here and enternity is waiting for you to make you journey devine. If they see that, they will dissapear in a couple of minutes and you will be able to get you bike without any rush. Everything in this country can wait. Even eternity
, to say nothing of a customs officer.
And when you enter a empty room you will get everything what you need - 25 dollar visa, a stamp "used" on it, your passport number typed in their computer and another stamp "arrived at...".
- Very good afternoon, mister, this person will accompany you to the customs that is 1 km from here so that you don't get lost (silly tourist), I mean, we are REALLY pleased to meet you here
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PS. To register your bike in local police is not necessary even though they will insist and recommend you to do so.
PSS. Thanks to all who has read to the end.
Yours respecfully,
Dmitry Shalganov
Honda Africa Twin
Ушел в бедуины.
5:28 p.m. Perth, Australia