No carnet - no can do

 We left our beach hotel in a rainstorm, but it was nothing compared to last night. I mentioned Typhoon Kalmeigi in yesterday’s post, but it really grew into something spectacular — in noise and wind and rain and and and. The hotel owner, being an excellent musician, played both piano and guitar while we bawled out a string of pub belters, Google supplying the lyrics. A great evening.

Back to today: we passed through the Thai border with the help of our guides without any problem, but then came the Malaysian side. Passport control was fine, but the customs man (who else?) said, “Carnet?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” was the précis of our reply.

“No carnet, no entry,” he retorted.

“What? You cannot be serious.”

You get my drift — this went back and forth for a while. We explained that there was absolutely no mention of any requirement for a carnet (basically an expensive deposit guarantee to ensure you don’t import the car and sell it) on any Malaysian government website. Mr Customs told us the Gumball Rally had recently passed through and they all had carnets — so where were ours?

“Listen, chum,” we intoned, “we’ve driven through 18 countries to get here. This is the last one before Singapore. No one has asked for a carnet, and we don’t have one.” Or words to that effect — polite but firm.

Were we stumped? It seemed heels were digging in. Our border agents told us we might have to try another crossing where no such requirement is made, but that meant re-entering Thailand and losing a day — not a good outcome for Ham.

Hustler Chris moved into action. He managed to get hold of the British Consulate on the phone (within earshot of Mr Customs). He then explained to Customs that the British High Commissioner was very upset to hear our London-to-Singapore adventure was being derailed at the final hurdle and wanted Mr Customs’ boss to explain.

This was a complete lie, of course — but it did the trick. We were let in! Hurrah for Chris. Boo for Mr Customs.

We are now in an airport-conference hotel, but it’s dry. Not lacking in rain dry, lacking in booze dry. Disaster.