Along the way, about 2 km from Air Hitam, I stopped at a roadside stall set amongst some padi fields. It was a clean and tidy place, well kept, with a number of tables arranged neatly in rows. A large family sat finishing their late lunch in one corner and a very tanned lady beckoned me sit further in where it was cooler.
She took my order of Iced Lemon Tea and I looked around as I waited. The stall seemed, like many such I have come across, to be an extension to a house or other building. I could see into the kitchen and that look uncharacteristically clean and tidy too. To my left was an expanse of padi fields and then a large predominantly zinc building which looked a little run down. To my right, in the shop, was a table with food in covered metal trays.
A little cooking or barbecueing area and another little counter completed the setup.
My tea came and it was perfect. It's sometimes too sweet - especially when I forget to ask for it with less sugar, but this one was just right.
The lady came up to me again and we chatted about the bike and where I'd come from, the usual stuff. She eventually sat down and we talked at length.
Now, consider that, since Penang, I have not been at 100%. My little period of funk had passed, but my body was struggling to deal with the strain of the last few days' exertions. Riding out from Alor Setar, I wasn't really in the right frame of mind or body to do a long ride. The effects of being in large towns in the last few days had a lot to do with how I was feeling as well.
Penang, Butterworth, Sungei Petani, Alor Setar - all large towns, all anonymous, all wearying in one way or other. I think I shall need to ease back into being in crowded places slowly when I return...
It always happens though, you know. Just when you think you're just that little bit tired, something good happens that lifts you right up again.
I had mentioned earlier how great it was to get the wave or toot or shout of encouragement when you;re cycling along. Well, it's always been much greater to sit down and enjoy a chat with someone in a kampung gerai.
I never caught the lady's name, nor at least 30% of what she said - why can't these darn Kedahans speak normal Malay? But the 70% I understood brought me right back to the feeling I had talking to the two gentleman in the coffeeshop in Seri Menanti, or with Hamzah near Simpang Lima/Sungei Besar.
She told me of how she used to work in a factory, realised it was a dead end job so she went to work in a restaurant. At first she cleaned dishes, then when she expressed an interest in working in the kitchen, they let her learn the craft until she was finally cooking. Armed with those skills, she eventually came out and set up this gerai. Her food was good, if not necessarily spectacular.
What was truly amazing though is her grasp of what makes a good food establishment tick. She spoke about being warm and friendly and recognising that the food business was a relationship business. She worked hard at making sure her customers were happy - whether with the cleanliness of the place, or the quality of the food and drinks served.
She was proud of the fact she had repeat customers - even out here seemingly in the middle of nowhere. And equally proud that some big-shots had dropped by, some repeatedly, to buy her food.
I liked what she told me. I liked the fact she worked hard and with a clear idea of where she intended to be in the future. I liked her work ethic. I liked her principles. And most of all, I liked how she was just so warm and friendly.
Big towns take a lot out of me. I struggle to deal with the fact that people in big towns just don't seem to have the time for each other. I hate the sullenness or surliness. I detest the me-first mentality. And I deplore the fact people just seem to have forgotten how to be kind and warm, even when they've just met you.
This little stall, 2 km from Air Hitam and 10 km from the Perlis border, made me remember the small towns aren't like the big towns. And thankfully so.
I rode off feeling better than I've felt in a few days and when I reached the border a little later, I stopped to take some pictures. And ponder the significance of what I was about to do.
I was about to enter the 8th state on my ride. The northernmost one. I've never even been here in a car, much less a bicycle. The last few days had begun to worry me in that I felt I was becoming focussed on destinations. Sure, the fact that the towns I was in didn't entice me didn't help. But still, I had no desire to end the journey at a point, a destination. This wasn't what it was supposed to be.
And yet... Soon I would be at the end of the ride. Whether that be Padang Besar or Kampung Wang Kelian was still undecided. The former was the original, partly for the availability of transport home (or so I'd thought). The latter for the fact it is indeed the northernmost town, to balance out starting from the southernmost tip.
That decision would be made a day later. Meanwhile, I stopped and looked at the monument marking the border between Kedah and Perlis. It was a milestone in more ways than one. I had done what I;d set out to do, physically.
What I'd set out to achieve philosophically and spiritually was still unfinished. And I'd have a few days yet to ponder what was to come next.
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She took my order of Iced Lemon Tea and I looked around as I waited. The stall seemed, like many such I have come across, to be an extension to a house or other building. I could see into the kitchen and that look uncharacteristically clean and tidy too. To my left was an expanse of padi fields and then a large predominantly zinc building which looked a little run down. To my right, in the shop, was a table with food in covered metal trays.
A little cooking or barbecueing area and another little counter completed the setup.
My tea came and it was perfect. It's sometimes too sweet - especially when I forget to ask for it with less sugar, but this one was just right.
The lady came up to me again and we chatted about the bike and where I'd come from, the usual stuff. She eventually sat down and we talked at length.
Now, consider that, since Penang, I have not been at 100%. My little period of funk had passed, but my body was struggling to deal with the strain of the last few days' exertions. Riding out from Alor Setar, I wasn't really in the right frame of mind or body to do a long ride. The effects of being in large towns in the last few days had a lot to do with how I was feeling as well.
Penang, Butterworth, Sungei Petani, Alor Setar - all large towns, all anonymous, all wearying in one way or other. I think I shall need to ease back into being in crowded places slowly when I return...
It always happens though, you know. Just when you think you're just that little bit tired, something good happens that lifts you right up again.
I had mentioned earlier how great it was to get the wave or toot or shout of encouragement when you;re cycling along. Well, it's always been much greater to sit down and enjoy a chat with someone in a kampung gerai.
I never caught the lady's name, nor at least 30% of what she said - why can't these darn Kedahans speak normal Malay? But the 70% I understood brought me right back to the feeling I had talking to the two gentleman in the coffeeshop in Seri Menanti, or with Hamzah near Simpang Lima/Sungei Besar.
She told me of how she used to work in a factory, realised it was a dead end job so she went to work in a restaurant. At first she cleaned dishes, then when she expressed an interest in working in the kitchen, they let her learn the craft until she was finally cooking. Armed with those skills, she eventually came out and set up this gerai. Her food was good, if not necessarily spectacular.
What was truly amazing though is her grasp of what makes a good food establishment tick. She spoke about being warm and friendly and recognising that the food business was a relationship business. She worked hard at making sure her customers were happy - whether with the cleanliness of the place, or the quality of the food and drinks served.
She was proud of the fact she had repeat customers - even out here seemingly in the middle of nowhere. And equally proud that some big-shots had dropped by, some repeatedly, to buy her food.
I liked what she told me. I liked the fact she worked hard and with a clear idea of where she intended to be in the future. I liked her work ethic. I liked her principles. And most of all, I liked how she was just so warm and friendly.
Big towns take a lot out of me. I struggle to deal with the fact that people in big towns just don't seem to have the time for each other. I hate the sullenness or surliness. I detest the me-first mentality. And I deplore the fact people just seem to have forgotten how to be kind and warm, even when they've just met you.
This little stall, 2 km from Air Hitam and 10 km from the Perlis border, made me remember the small towns aren't like the big towns. And thankfully so.
I rode off feeling better than I've felt in a few days and when I reached the border a little later, I stopped to take some pictures. And ponder the significance of what I was about to do.
I was about to enter the 8th state on my ride. The northernmost one. I've never even been here in a car, much less a bicycle. The last few days had begun to worry me in that I felt I was becoming focussed on destinations. Sure, the fact that the towns I was in didn't entice me didn't help. But still, I had no desire to end the journey at a point, a destination. This wasn't what it was supposed to be.
And yet... Soon I would be at the end of the ride. Whether that be Padang Besar or Kampung Wang Kelian was still undecided. The former was the original, partly for the availability of transport home (or so I'd thought). The latter for the fact it is indeed the northernmost town, to balance out starting from the southernmost tip.
That decision would be made a day later. Meanwhile, I stopped and looked at the monument marking the border between Kedah and Perlis. It was a milestone in more ways than one. I had done what I;d set out to do, physically.
What I'd set out to achieve philosophically and spiritually was still unfinished. And I'd have a few days yet to ponder what was to come next.
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