Today was, for the most part, one long train ride. We were met at the hotel this morning at 0630, and driven to the train station. Our driver tells us that to drive to Kuala Lumpur takes 5 hours; our train ride is nominally a bit over 8 hours. The station, the driver tells us, is owned by Malaysia. Singapore has negotiated a deal, and will be opening a new station in 2 or 3 years, farther north. It will be all new and clean.
We exit the car and trundle our bags into the hot, dim, gray building. It's hot and muggy at 7 a.m. There are a few banks of plastic seating, the kind you would recognize from the 70s, perhaps -- four molded chairs all in a row on metal legs. The plastic is so worn that the once-bright colors are washed out and patchy. Maybe it's a good thing the lights are dim -- can't see much. We buy a small bag of peanuts and a paper, and fill out our immigration cards.
At 0715 we are invited onto the platform, and pass through Singaporean customs. We walk through the "nothing to declare" lane without incident, and stroll the length of the train to our car, where we have first-class seats. The seats are roomy and the footrests work, but everything is tired and grimy. The upholstery is faded, the plastic has been washed but hastily, and no one has vacuumed under the seats for an eternity. Our window is fogged up -- the air conditioning on the train does work. I soon figure out that the mist isn't between panes -- the outer pane on our dual pane window is completely gone, knocked out but for a few chips sticking up from the gutter.
We pull out of the station a minute early! And then we sit on a siding for over an hour, no explanation given. At nearly nine o'clock, we are on our way once more ... to the stop where we must clear Singaporean passport control. We dismount the train and queue up for an immigration official. Passports stamped, we have officially exited Singapre. We reboard the train and set out on our journey at last. We never see anyone from Malaysia passport control or customs. Hmmm. I'm keeping the card.
Most of the way we travel through lush greenery: first fields of banana trees and later large plantations of palms, although of what variety I cannot tell. We are served what is perhaps meant to be morning tea -- a bottle of water and a packaged muffin flavored with coconut. We never see lunch, nor are we invited to visit the dining car. We don't see anyone else going either. It's a good thing we bought those peanuts. We know what to do for the return journey, you bet.
We pull into the Kuala Lumpur station at 3:30 p.m., and are whisked away to our hotel. Our driver gives us some tips (don't drink the water, ask the taxi driver to use the meter, don't shop in Chinatown - the prices are outrageous, take the bus back to Singapore instead of the train). Our room is very nice, but the public areas of the hotel suffer, although to a lesser degree than the train, from wear and tear. The seats in the lounge are grimy on the arms and there are rents here and there in the upholstery. In contrast, the marble floor of the lobby gleams and the desk clerks and concierge are spotlessly attired.
We adjourn to the bar for happy hour, and enjoy a glass of wine. Then we walk the short distance to the local shopping mall, the Pavilion, where we score a few snacks and bottled water for our bus trip to the Cameroon Highlands tomorrow. We dine on duck and noodles with a side of shrimp dumplings -- and we are served soup, too! Salty, but tasty.
Still no upload capability to speak of, so no pictures yet. I'll try again when we're back from the highlands -- or maybe at breakfast tomorrow.