By: Iris P. Concepcion
H.G. Well's Back To The Future which was turned into a film starring the very amiable and energetic Michael J. Fox is peculiar in one sense. This literary blueprint for exceptional sci-fi writing was perhaps created by an author who had stayed in trains for 100 days. The gargling snippets of creations snap back in this wonderful vehicle that may be launched as writing, thinking pads.
Everytime I step on the tracks and choose which coach to rest my butt on, I cease to be the writer that I am and become the writer squired by Guy Ritchie's cast.
My hosts (my family) provided a date for me to have my Visa extended at the Royal Thai Embassy. The nearest to their place is the Royal Thai Consulate-General located at Kota Bharu in Malaysia. Yala is situated in the southern part of Thailand and a border separates it from Malaysia.
I heeded their advice and experienced another world leafed through in rich, cascading celluloid metaphors. Once you decide to become a citizen of the world, you must think like H.G. Wells and stay aloft.
The processing was fast and the staff, veritably courteous. I had nonetheless retained the wonderful potpourri of creatures whom I had met and talked to for worthwhile remembrances.
Malaysia has business hours even on Sundays. I had learned this from an insurance guy who gave me directions on where to exchange baht to ringgit (Malaysia's currency). One ringgit is equivalent to ten baht. Ecliptically, he asked me if I came from the Philippines. I wondered superfluously how he had guessed it. He replied that he could glean it from my accent.
I did not know that my English is Filipinized and I am proud of myself for bearing this distinction. I told him, in jest, that I came from Pluto. I bid my friendly farewell and followed his instructions from the viewpoint of a traffic light.
Kota Bharu's residents can understand and speak English. I stayed in a hotel called Milton which reminded me so much of the poet John Milton. It is like an American outback saloon weaved through a Wong Kar Wai reel.
The mystic/Just a dough's throw away/From Barney/ Pacific realm/Gorgeously illuminated.
The Visa needs to be collected a day after the application, hence, the time in between, I spent on timely discoveries.
Kota Bharu's main market is a mixture of Mediterranean allure and the bouyancy of America's mall craze. Parkson, a superlative-magnet mall as seen from the outside, provides a seamless and mind-retaining design on top. Shaped like an egg (colored in green stripes), it faces a Muslim-inspired building where various fruits are sold. Its mangoes are like the size of a bartender's arms. Enormous.
This place is a culturally wonderful mix of engineering ideas. These are well-built and one can certainly recall the various James Bond movie scenes, shrank in one corner. Gladiators might have fought inside the coliseums in their friendly trade battles to compete for the purses of the consumers. That is the theme of their markets.
This is the magic carpet, playfully arranged through my retinas, capturing the various food choices. If this is a market, I wonder how creatively engaging their public parks can get.
I immediately felt pangs of poignancy for Quiapo; its dark corners and underground trades. It can be improved with this line of urban planning. Instead of toppling down old, historical buildings, Kota Bharu's urban designers incorporate reverse modernity by restoring the old, architectural make on top of their buildings and designing the ground area with H.G. Wells in mind.
McDonald's here is, thankfully, corporate relevant. Its various flyers are even politically sensitive, dispensing leaflets on how to cure people with harelip problems. Their advertisements are suffused with world concerns. I embrace consumerism this way. I totally agree with the dynamics of businesses. Giving back to society is a must component though, for me to be able to wax poetry about it. I had met here a guy with his backpack and strolling bag looking for Wisma Hotel, after the dawnbreak. He reminds me of the guy who had walked along Ateneo de Manila belt with his space age backpack.
This city teaches, in a way, how to develop without spitting on the sanctity of History.
If one could not espouse minimalism, then, use the sprawling spaces with tact and respect for our ancestral lineages. I am happy to note that while vast outside, Parkson instills the minimalist concept inside. One quaint sight: when tired of walking, one can pay 1 to 3 ringgit for a chance to be Bill Gates with its array of lounge-like CEO chairs. A Sit For A Fee. I saw two guys reading newspapers in this area.
The fruit area is built like a coliseum. Spacious and airy, it emits a Turkey vibe. This could be a place where Jesus can enter dramatically, advising merchants on the biblical tenets of trade. First commandment: Thou shall not shortchange thy customers.
With enough astuteness of mind, one can even become a member of monarchy here. Its gold is wild. Combing the Turkey-Minnesota collaboration of city development, it offers something new to the purchasing capacity of people.
The hotel owner, a well-read Chinese-Malaysian who had provided me the structure of Malaysian government/monarchy, had told me that it only takes eight hours to reach the city of Kuala Lumpur by car and "or about 6 hours, depending on how fast a driver you are." He asked me about Noynoy Aquino. He knows Cory Aquino and referred to my President as "the son."
In this wide mix of encounters, one needs to buy things too. I was given a budget of 1,300 baht(P1,300.00) including fare and accommodation but had so far, used it in a wiser manner, with deeper psyche repercussions in discovering places and people. Curiously, it likewise gives me newer perspectives about the Philippines. I look at posts, water tanks, cables and how they build them here.
Now, for the loot.
My purchases: Two deodorants for male and female smelling like heaven at 14 ringgit. Cadburry's huge size of chocolates at 8 ringgit. Shakes and donuts do not go beyond 4 ringgit as you eat them inside an Istanbul-like locale. I had KFC chicken for lunch that are apportioned like sumo thighs. I had extra to bring back to Yala. Platter costs 8 ringgit, with mashed potato. Thai food is similar to Malaysian food and Yala offers that kind of exciting variety. I saved my adventurous palate in favor of the American comfort food this time.
I finally got my extended Visa and the amiable staff remained respectful. I was seated beside a silent white guy waiting for his turn and where an inch of comedy was had between two, nodding admirers of well-crafted sentences. He said, "where else can you go if you only had one week to discover Thailand." I am paraphrasing but if he is the reincarnate of Alex Garland, I would not be lost. A group of men likewise dropped by, looking through glass doors, rolling some eyes in Keithian (not Keatsian) manner.
On my way back, I befriended a chubby fellow who told me he is from Singapore. He was carrying a strolling bag. I had a nicer coach this time that you pay for 81 baht. It has airplane-like seats. I was chatting joyfully with him as he spills off to me his route like an adventure. He said he also likes travelling in speedy trains. A very happy fellow who took pictures of train stops. I told him why he hopped into the rail. He said it is faster. We exchanged notes on prices. He told me where to get the even cheaper way to get to Malaysia after crossing the border. A happy man with a happy disposition. He is heading for Haad Yai merely for the experience of riding its speed train, going to Bangkok.
I felt like I am the character Saul of Road Trip being made a repository of all these creative munchies.
He told me that he hasn't been to Song Koluk (train stop over) in 40 years. Imagine the untold pages of stories in his own journeys. He said he went around the mountains and just hopped into the train. I laughed with him.
During my clearance at Thai immigration at the border, a bossanova click happened. The baby whom I had described as ridiculously gorgeous (like a doll; curly-haired, bluest of the bluest eyes, plump and wide-eyed) appeared. Cuddled by his Mom, he yelped and gave me a piercing look as if breaking my skull. He is anomalously adorable. God should not make babies like that. It is not sensible. The RPN-9 perpetual baby has arrived and he looks much superior in person.
I had met the Immigration people and they too might have stories to tell. Their faces inspire words.
And yes, this piece is written in singular narrative.
I actually was with a woman who had told me better stories about herself and her sojourns. I shall allow her to write her own tale; she had been helpful and I had taught her only one thing: pack lightly. All our bills, we split in half.
She followed and told me she had a happy experience out of the switch.
And that, dear readers, is only for one day. Experience knows no boundaries, much more, time.
Seizing the experience alters an outlook, in a wheeze.