Johor Bahru, Malaysia would be a quick 15 minute bus ride from Singapore, if it wasn't for the thousands of Malaysians who travel back and forwards.
Singapore employs many Malaysians for the menial tasks of running a city. Street sweepers, maids, labourers etc., make up a large percentage of the labour force from Malaysia.
Singapore is an island just off the Malaysian peninsular, joined across a narrow strait by a causeway. It serves a purpose but it's not pretty. The traffic across is solid from one end to the other. Singapore's immigration offices are housed in an imposing concrete structure that stands as a sentinal when viewed from the Malaysia side.
I thought it did nothing to encourage Malaysians to enter Singapore. Maybe that's the point.
The lanes of traffic waiting for emigration to Malaysia are several deep. Tourist buses wait their turn to be given the OK to pass onto the causeway.
I lined up waiting for my turn to pass the emigration counter. I took the bus from Woodlands to the border, did the necessary paperwork, then boarded another bus to take me to Johor Bahru otherwise known as JB. In JB, I joined the immigration line for entry into Malaysia. The whole crossing took about an hour. The causeway traffic moved with all the speed of a stoned snail.
Once in JB, the contrast in standards of living is immediately apparent. The streets are less clean, some shops store their excess supplies and garbage on the street and the general look and feel of the buildings and streetscape is poorer than Singapore.
By this time it was midday and I looked around for a place to eat. A large shopping complex is a short walk from the immigration office with plenty of eateries. After a meat and vegetable stir-fry, I began my search for a travel center.
I tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, but with a small back-pack, walking shoes and 20cm above the average population, it was going to be difficult.
As I rode an escalator in the shopping center, a voice behind me said "Hello sir, are you looking for something?"
I turned to face a neatly dressed older man with a white, friendly smile. He introduced himself as Sonny (or Sunny) and asked for my name. He was very polite and unassuming.
On other trips to developing countries, many of the locals hound you to buy their products. Sonny seemed friendly without asking for anything. It's always important to ask locals for advice and my immediate thought was "Here's a man who could help me get to where I want to go."
"I'm looking for a travel agent in (another part of JB)".
He asked, "Would you like to see a little bit of the district on the way?"
Of course I wanted to soak up as much of the scenery as I could. After all, when would I be back in Malaysia? So I readily agreed to a tour by taxi of the area.
Then a strange thing happened. Sonny hailed several cabs but I noticed that most of the drivers drove away after shaking their head. I asked Sonny why we couldn't get a cab, and he explained that they can't all go to the district I was going to. Sounded fair enough to me.
Of course, I couldn't understand what he was asking. He must've hailed 20 cabs and I began to suspect that something wasn't right, until a taxi came that was happy to take us.
Sonny asked if I'd like to see the King's palace, the royal Chinese burial ground, a Muslim mosque and other local features. So we spent an hour or more, looking at these sites and even stopped to talk with some local residents who were building a fence along the street in front of their house. It was all such a contrast to my own way of life. I found it all interesting and exciting. We stopped for a few minutes at each place so I could take videos. At one place, I pointed the camera towards the taxi in which Sonny sat waiting.
Once back in the cab, he was very interested to see what I'd taken pictures of. He seemed satisfied that I was a regular tourist and we moved on.
So after a time with the afternoon drawing on, I felt the need to move on to the center where I could buy a ticket. I had no idea where we were and was completely in the hands of Sonny and the taxi driver.
After a drive along wooded roads, past roadside shops and businesses, we arrived at the shopping center. The taxi stopped outside the centre and I asked about the fare.
Sonny announced that because this was a personal tour with personal commentary, in comparison to a tour company's price, USD290 was fair value.
I knew immediately the meaning of "being taken for a ride".
"What!!" I cried in disbelief. "You must be joking. There's no way I'm paying you USD290."
After some haggling and recovery from shock, I took a mix of Australian and United States notes from my wallet and shoved $70 into Sonny's hand.
I watched in dismay as the taxi pulled away, with Sonny licking his fingers to sort how much he'd suckered me for.
Red hot mad at my stupidity, I wandered into the shopping complex. It's not often you meet a con man, but I reckon this one spotted me from half way across the causeway.
After all that, the air tickets to Vietnam were no cheaper than could be bought in Singapore.
I asked the travel agent how much a taxi fare to JB would likely cost. He said "about 7 ringgits". That's a little more than AUD2. This information didn't make me feel one bit better. I knew I shouldn't have asked.
I found myself fantasizing about how to slit an elderly Malaysian's throat in his own country and dumping the body in a pile of street garbage. You can be sure that I looked at every man I saw on the way back to JB. I knew it was pointless; Sonny and my money were gone.
It all added up; the multiple taxis who wouldn't take the fare, the explanation, the interest in what was recorded on camera and other little clues that now made sense. To top it off, no cheap air ticket either.
There was one consolation. Adventure comes in different forms and price variations.
I arrived back in Singapore late afternoon and found my way forlornly to Josh's lodgings. I was almost too embarrassed to admit my foolishness, but Josh said, "Let's go eat. I know a great place and the food is cheap." And he was right.
I knew I could trust Josh.
Next time; Singapore Sabbath.
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