Love In Pai: A Singaporean's Superbiker's Love Story In Thaliand

KUROSAKI

CHAPTER ONE

THE NEW PATH

The morning sunlight shone through the windows of my hotel room.

I was lying in my soft bed in a beautiful resort in Melaka, Malaysia, where I had stopped for the night. Only because I was tired and it was 3.30 a.m. and I had been riding my Honda CBR600RR bike north for hours the previous night on the Malaysian north-south highway. The highway stretches from the southernmost tip of the Asian continent – the city of Johor Bahru – to the Thai-Malaysian border, 772 kilometres away. I had left Singapore around midnight. There are stretches on the northbound highway that are unlit. I have never been afraid of the dark, but I had also never ridden any long distances alone before. I guess there is a first time for everything.

Some of my friends, veterans of long bike trips out of Singapore, said I had ‘flipped’, to use a Singaporean term, when I told them I was planning to ride my bike from Singapore to Vietnam. A sport bike, on which you ride hunched over the gas tank. For hundreds, maybe thousands, of kilometres.

Why a sport bike? Because, I told my friends, they look so beautiful with their sleek lines, built for speed,

much cooler than ‘touring bikes’. Touring bikes have more upright rider positions and therefore infinitely more comfortable and suitable for long road trips. My friends laughed at me.

Get yourself some backache ointment! Trust me, you will need it!

If you make it back to Singapore alive we will definitely treat you a grand dinner, and you can eat all you want!

239 kilometres later, in the small dark hours of the morning, with my back aching unbearably, I realised my friends were right when they wisely said, Beauty has its price.

I saw the sign for ‘Melaka’. I turned my bike left and exited the highway in desperate search of a place to stop and rest.

Fifteen minutes later, I came across an expensive-looking hotel. I was beyond caring how much it would cost. I rode up to it and climbed stiffly and clumsily off my bike to check in. My room was a luxurious wooden cottage on the landscaped and beautifully-lit grounds of the resort. But the bed in my room was the best thing I had seen for a long time. I dropped my bag and dived on to it, and soon was in deep slumber.

***

Back in Singapore, I had had a good life working as an interior designer. I was earning enough to sustain what I used to consider a comfortable life, even by Singapore standards. Singapore has one of the highest per capita incomes in the world, but it comes with a correspondingly high cost of living. For me, it was definitely a comfortable life, a comfort zone.

I used to get up early in the mornings, shower and dress and get to the office before anyone else did. It was a matter of routine, and maybe even of pride to me then. I was one of the best designers in the company. I enjoyed my work and was good at it. I secured enough deals to meet and exceed my sales quota every month. My company would pay me incentives, to encourage me to work even harder the following month. Working ten straight hours, and having less than eight hours of rest every day was a normal thing. It was just the price you pay for the lifestyle, for the privilege of living in this beautiful city.

Being ‘materialistic’ is something everyone says they don’t like in others, but what were we all doing? Desiring the latest smartphones, the best cars, the possessions that we all covet – what is all that, but being ‘materialistic’? All that technology, the social media, the friends posting status updates about their newest Hermes or their latest Lamborghini.

I was one of those people.

In Singapore, even when you own a regular Japanese car, which is already a very expensive asset (Singapore car prices are the highest in the world, because of huge government taxes on the price of vehicles), you would still consider ‘the next step up’ to be buying a continental car, like Porsche. Then, when you own a Porsche, you would wish it was a Lamborghini. In Singapore, as far as coveting material things was concerned, the sky was the limit. In Singapore, there are kids in clubs who compare their private jets.

There was certainly a lot of pressure to keep up, and I put that pressure on myself. I wanted to drive a better car than any of my friends, or own the most expensive watch. All those so-called status symbols to show everyone how much wealth I had, how successful I was.

Yet, it was like hell. I had huge debts and bills that haunted me like nightmares.

I determined that I had had enough of this materialistic rat race. I decided to see my boss, have a word with him about resigning my job. Of course, he thought I had a screw loose, and he tried hard to convince me to stay on. But as I explained to him that I wanted to find a new path for my life, that I no longer wanted to be controlled by this demon called ‘being materialistic’ anymore, he listened quietly to me, and in the end he reluctantly wished me the best in life, and gave me a warm farewell hug.

As I walked away from the office for the last time, I felt such a sense of relief and freedom excitement. Yet – it was scary, and I felt slightly lost. Suddenly, the future was uncertain. I stopped at the nearest café for a cup of coffee, to think about what I was going to do next. My next big master plan.

Maybe a good start would be to get out of Singapore for a while, I thought. But simply getting on a plane, and flying from beautiful Changi, the best airport in the world, seemed too easy!

A road trip, then? It would definitely be more interesting that just getting on a flight. I had loved riding motorbikes ever since I had learned how to ride a rented Vespa scooter on holiday in Phuket, Thailand. Scooters are fun to ride, and with their easy manoeuvrability they are an ideal way to get around any place. But I soon wanted more power from my ride, and on that same holiday I hired a bigger bike, a 1300cc Suzuki Hayabusa sport touring bike. I had fallen in love. I rode that bike for the rest of my stay in Phuket.

***

Like a cartoon light bulb lighting up over my head, the idea of riding across the world on a bike came to me as I sat in that café with my coffee. So I made a list. The logical first thing on it would be a bike, of course. Without giving it further thought, I went and bought a black second hand Honda CBR600RR. For the rest of the things on my list, I headed to the nearest travel store. It was one of the biggest stores of its kind in Singapore, and I had no problems finding whatever I thought I would need.

Then, on the way home, I considered where I was going to go when I rode out of Singapore.

I decided to look at a map. I saw it would be possible for me to ride all the way from Singapore to Vietnam, passing through Malaysia, Thailand and Cambodia on the way. I began to search the internet for all the information I could get my hands on. Apparently, all I needed were my travel documents and the papers for my bike. Great, I thought. Vietnam, here I come!

***

Even the darkest night will end, and the sun will rise. I woke up in my luxurious hotel room in Melaka. It was twelve noon. I couldn’t remember the last time I had slept so late.

I had left Singapore at around midnight the previous night to spare myself from being roasted riding under the hot sun. Before leaving, I had gone to see my regular money changer, who knew me well because I always went to exchange my Singapore dollars there for the currencies of whatever country I was travelling to.

He was curious when I told him I needed Malaysian Ringgit, Thai Baht, Vietnamese Dong and American dollars, and he asked me why. When I told him, he gave me a wistful smile, one which I still remember clearly. Time waits for no man, he said. I envy you. If I was a young boy, and I had another opportunity to be your age again, I would choose to see the world too.

Those words removed all my doubt, and fuelled the fire of my desire to follow my dreams. I smiled back at him and expressed my gratitude for his encouragement, and went back home to do a final check on the things I would need for my trip.

That night, I loaded up everything on my bike, got on my bike and started up the engine. The beautiful sound of my CBR600RR roaring to life in the stillness of the night air filled my heart with joy as I set off on my wild adventure.

***

It wasn’t long before I arrived at the Singapore border. A Causeway bridge links the island of Singapore to the Malaysian peninsula. I realized how tiny my country was. No matter how advanced and how modern Singapore may be, the fact remains that you can travel from one end of the island to the other in less than one hour.

The Malaysia-Singapore border crossing is usually a very busy one. Many Singaporeans drive the short distance across the Causeway to take advantage of the cheaper prices of petrol, food and other goods in Malaysia. That night, as I embarked on my journey, the border was relatively quiet, and I was able to ride up to the immigration booth without much delay. I handed my passport to the officer. A minute later, I was on my way.

The Causeway is less than two kilometres long, but for me it was a bridge that separated two worlds – the past I was leaving behind, and my new beginnings. That moment in my life seemed to me like a poker game in a casino – you don’t know whether you will win, or even what sort of card you have drawn. But all that matters is that you are in the game.

***

By one-thirty a.m., I was getting hungry, and decided to stop somewhere for something to eat. Singapore is deservedly famous for its great street food culture, and Singaporeans can and do eat at all hours of the day and night. In that respect, I am a true-blue Singaporean!

Because of our countries’ shared political and cultural history, some aspects of Malaysian life can be very similar to Singapore’s, and I was thankful for that when I found food stalls that were open at all hours too. Hunger satisfied, I started up my bike and hit the road again. The cool Malaysian night air felt good on my face.

***

The next morning, I woke up feeling like an old man. I was only thirty years old, but my spine was stiff and sore from riding hunched over the tank of my bike for more than two hundred kilometres. I dragged myself into the shower and stood under the water for a long time. The hot water helped to ease my sore muscles. I went to check out and was soon on my way again. The beautiful road leading from my luxury resort towards the highway was quiet, rustic and unspoilt.

Within minutes, I was back on the mighty North-South highway. The highway runs up the length of the Malaysian peninsula, with long stretches that run alongside the beautiful Titiwangsa mountain range that stretches from Thailand and forms the ‘backbone’ of the peninsula. The ever changing views are spectacular. Under my helmet, I had headphones, and I switched my music on. The ride and the music were two elements that began to alter my thoughts, and my very soul. Appreciating the scenery, I was reminded of a phrase: life is a journey, with problems to solve and lessons to learn, but most of all, experiences to enjoy.

My body began to adjust to this new challenge of riding, and I quickly got used to being