In yet another ticket-buying snafu, I tried to reserve tickets online for Mom and Dad and I to travel to Kuala Lumpur next week. The e-ticket system was completely incomprehensible, so finally I just emailed them and made reservations that way. That worked OK but, again, I would have to go to the station and pay for the tickets in person.
I’m pretty sure that I have my facts right, here: the railway system long pre-dates the separation of Singapore from Malaysia, and as a result of some weird political compromise the train station and the actual train tracks leading away from it are still technically regarded as ‘in Malaysia’ even though they are entirely surrounded by Singapore.
And… immediately after separation, Singapore Dollars and Malaysian Ringgits were at parity and used interchangeably. Nowadays, a Singapore Dollar is worth about twice as much as a Ringgit, but the Malayan railway steadfastly denies this national affront. This means that when I reserve a ticket, the price is quoted without units: a first-class ticket from KL to Butterworth costs 30. 30 what? Well, if I pay for the ticket in Singapore, it’s SG30 (US $20). If I pay for the ticket in KL, it’s MYR30. (US $9). What about if I pay for the ticket online? Well, then the website makes a guess about where I’m probably located: If I buy a Singapore-KL ticket, it bills me in Singapore dollars. If I buy a KL-Singapore ticket, it bills me in ringgit. This means that if I want to travel one way from Singapore to KL, it is dramatically cheaper to buy a round-trip ticket KL-singapore-KL and just discard the first leg.
Last year, in fact, when I wanted to buy a one-way ticket from KL to Singapore, the Singaporean ticket agent helpfully provided me with phone number and a dime and pointed me to the adjacent pay-phone so that I could call his counterpart in Malaysia and buy my ticket at the reduced rate.
But, anyway — today I’m baffled by the website, nervous about stranding us without tickets, and generally feeling that the dollars involved are unimportantly few, so I’m just heading for the Singapore counter and leaving with an honest-to-god paper ticket.
First I have to frogger across this scary busy road because of the weird positioning of the bus stop and the (not in Singapore and therefore willfully oblivious to Singaporean street layout) train station.
I enter the train station, and, *ding* I’m in Malaysia. Apparently Malaysia is not air-conditioned.
There are complications. I don’t have an actual print-out of my emailed reservation, so it may as well not exist. Strangely, since I don’t have an emailed reservation, there suddenly are first-class tickets available (although there were none, when emailing.) So, that’s good! And, they take credit-cards, which I was counting on. But, only American Express, for some reason. Which I was not counting on.
So, I’m turned back out into the street in search of cash. And that’s when I discover that the train station is in an inconvenient part of town.
Lots of big scary noisy trucks, since I’m right by the port. Big, generic, run-down looking office buildings. And… no cash machines. I flagged down a cab and asked him to take me to a cash machine, and he asked me, “Where is there a cash machine?” So, that strategy didn’t help much.
I’m starting to feel distinctly uncomfortable. I need cash! And, I’m hungry, but the only food stand within view is closed. And, why isn’t there Wifi service here? And, what if I need a foot massage, or dental implants, or an overnight tailor? Where /is/ everyone? And why is it so hot all of a sudden?
(Later, I discover that it’s so hot because my laptop has chosen that moment to turn itself on in my bag. Time to get that switch replaced again.)
Panicked, I pick an arbitrary direction and start walking. Moments later I’m in a dessert-themed shopping center, buying a brownie from a muffin-bakery next to the cream-puff shop which is next to the patisserie. The muffin baker points out that there’s an off-track betting center 30 feet away from me, and that there are (of course) lots of ATMs next to the betting counters. As well as a donut shop called “Donut and Donuts.”
So, that crisis averted, I headed back to the train station and bought my tickets, no problems. I jumped on the first bus to roll up, and a few minutes later a transit cop got on and started checking proof of fare. This he accomplished not by looking at tickets but by poking people’s wallets and handbags with a little RFID reader that he carries in a holster. Very convenient!
