With my backpack doing an inadequate job of disguising the 50 pounds of life that it's carrying inside of it, I haul it onto my shoulders. Thank goodness I only have to carry it a short way! I drop it off outside the bus and climb on with my 57 squad mates. Its 5:00 in the morning. I'm sad to be leaving Thailand, but strangely (and obnoxiously, I'm told) excited about the 24 hour drive that will take us across the country and into Malaysia. I know next to nothing about Malaysia other than that Christian missionaries are less than welcome to the primarily Muslim country.
The treacherously long drive begins. Eighteen hours later, after multiple movies, good conversations, a bit of sleeping, and plenty of staring out the window, our bus pulls up to border. A few of our leaders hop off to begin figuring out the best way to get 58 Americans and two huge buses out of Thailand and into Malaysia. Finding that the borders close at 12:00 midnight and it is now 11:30, the leaders begin the search for the suddenly missing bus drivers who have mysteriously vanished.
Without any alternatives, three teams of seven people are rushed off the bus. They each grab their packs and hurry as quickly as possible through Thailand customs, across the 1 mile dead zone between the countries and into Malaysia where their contact picks them up. The rest of us, our destinations in Malaysia further from the border, are stuck. The border closes as the drivers of our buses, each of whom happened to forget his passport, arrive.
If I've learned anything on the Race, its that NOTHING is set in stone. Flexibility. So, the new plan is to spend the night near the border, on the buses, and then enter the country in the morning. Unfortunately, the drivers lack of passport prohibits them from leaving or entering as necessary. And suddenly, their prices are increasing. To sleep on the bus? Much more expensive! After a long while of sitting in limbo, it is decided that the 5 remaining teams will bid the progressively sketchy bus drivers adieu and find a hostel to sleep in.
The next morning, without any means of transportation, the remaining Racers and I hoist our packs on and walk across the border. The distance paired with temperature, humidity, and sun strength makes for a memorable hike into Malaysia.
Parched and achy from our unexpected adventure, we load onto a new bus destined to take us to Kulim where our contacts, Pastor Mark and his wife Tina, are waiting for us.
