Leeches and Beaches

30 September 2009

As beach holiday #3 ends, we're off from the Perhentians to...a beach. I imagine I've about used up any good feelings you people had toward me, earned in the various tragedies I've suffered recently. In case you've forgotten, these include missing beauty products, altitude sickness, and the complete lack of canned Diet Coke in Uzbekistan. My friend Anna has just let me know that she personally is hoping for a painful re-entry into real life for us...love you too, honey! We know we're lucky kids, and we're enjoying all of this in honor of all of you. I swear. Really.

Anyway, after another speedboat transfer from the Perhentians to the small town of Khota Baru (this time with two crabby and very pale British girls onboard), and leaving Amy and Debbie behind to do some more diving, the 11 remaining occupants of the truck drove down to Kuantan, on the coast, to camp in a real, honest-to-goodness campground, with, like, toilets and stuff. This is the first one we've come to since Turkey, so this is news. Tee and Le, who are from this area, arranged the place, and we parked ourselves for two nights in a grove of tall pine trees on the sea. Tee and Le themselves went off to stay with Tee's mom, who is tiny and adorable. This beach was more to look at, a bit shallow for swimming. But we got some bags sorted and had a fire and chillaxed. A little wind and crazy rain, but nothing we aren't used to after all this time in Southeast Asia.

We said goodbye to the Gin Twins, Elaine and Abby, in the parking lot of the campground. Abby's been under the weather for a while, and they had always planned to leave in Kuala Lumpur anyhow; fevers are worrying things in this part of the world, so she wanted to get back to Oz and her own doctor. Waiting to hear from them, but we miss them already and hope (trust) that she'll be fine. I will never forget their unique way of dealing with the mud in Beynau.

Down to Taman Negara yesterday, where we were pencilled in for 3 nights. This is a rainforest, the oldest in the world according to the signage (and signage is never wrong). Loads of activities, including hiking, and trekking, and walking, and probably jogging and...various other stuff which fall into the category of 'things Monica does not do'. This is never going to be my favourite part. However, I soldier on (see, Anna? see?) because David wanted to come down here.

We appear to be camping in the back yard of Cletus the Slackjawed Malay, there are wasps the size of cats, thousands of tiny black bugs that live on the toilet (good water pressure, though), and chickens who have got their timing slightly off. They screamed from 3am until 6:30. Corrie and I spent some quality time debating how many times we'd have to cut ourselves on the rusty corrugated iron in the yard to get tetanus and be medevacced out. The upside is, we're staying only two nights and off to KL early. Praise Jesus.

That said, today was actually really good. Walked about 2km in the rainforest (there are two pages of text about the sorts of leeches that live here in the guidebook: ankle ones so tiny they can get through the weave in your socks, and waist/neck ones that jump off trees onto your bare flesh), then came to a Canopy Walk. This is not "canopy" as in pink-frilly-bed-canopy, but a rope walk along the tops of the rainforest  trees. About 3000 feet in the air, by my estimation. A precarious collection of aluminum ladders with planks laid across and lots of knotted ropes, and away we go. The best bits are that David did not jump on the ropewalk to freak me out more than the bare minimum, and we opted for a boat back to the campsite instead of hiking. Awesome. I am Nature Girl.

Another Day for You, You and Me In Paradise...

24 September 2009

...so says the great Phil Collins. Though really, it's probably just David and I who are currently in Paradise. I'm guessing that you're at home—hello Washington, London, Illinois, Arizona, New Jersey, Minnesota, and all the other places that are not Malaysia.

We're at the Paradise Watercolours Resort, on Pulau Besir in the Perhentian Islands of Malaysia, to be exact. Yes, this is Beach Holiday number three in the last month. We suffer for the sake of this blog; for all of your entertaiment needs, we are lying on yet another white sand beach drinking fresh lime juice and being fanned by locals. Okay, not really with the locals, but the lime juice is nice.

Actually, after six nights at Railay, this one is a bit of overkill. I'm a beach girl, I do love nothing better than lying around in the sun, but even I'm a teensy bit bored this time, as although it's stunningly beautiful there's not a whole lot to do except diving. David's been twice today, and going again before we leave in three days. About half the group are diving in one form or another—Louise, Amy, Debbie, Robin and Denis have gone for the 3-day Open Water full-on PADI course, Corrie and Alex and David are already qualified and therefore just enjoying themselves. Rich and I are wandering about between the beaches and palm trees, trying to entertain ourselves. Thank goodness for the Sony Reader...have gone through about 3 novels in the last week (Shanghai Girls, Assassin's Quest, The Help). In my ongoing efforts to avoid looking like shoe leather before I'm 40, I'm trying to stay out of the mid-day sun. Shade is boring!

The resort is a backpacker sort of place, worryingly strewn with hippies and chickens and sarongs. Not the luxury we've become accustomed to, but it's okay. I can report that the lizards in Malaysia are not as cute as those of Thailand and Vietnam—sort of bumpy. There's a restaurant on the beach, which is nice, although they appear to be out of pretty much everything. Free wifi, though. Barbecue at Mama's last night, we got two huge calimari, chicken, prawns, rice, veg, salad, and fresh pineapple for 60 ringit—about $17. That's alright, mama.

It does feel like we're winding down as we edge closer to Singapore. Three more nights here, then five nights of camping in jungle and on a beach, Kuala Lumpur (KL for those in the know) Melacca (where we lose the truck to be shipped home) and then a few nights in Singapore itself. David and I are flying to Darwin on 9 October, the only ones of the original 22 to make it there on schedule. Eight of our longtime companions are going to Borneo for three weeks to see the orangutans, we lose the twins in KL, Rich is going straight to Perth, Corrie home to Melbourne, Tee and Le home to Oz.

Off to lounge around some more in the sun...

(photo is not upside down, the lizard is on our ceiling...)

Chinese People Will Eat Anything

21 September 2009

Into Pulau Penang, the huge island off the west coast of Malaysia that is home to Georgetown, formerly the British settlement established in 1786 and maintained until 1957. The mainland bit is called Butterworth—which just makes me hungry as I envision a land of pancakes and maple syrup. I had roti and dhal for breakfast, people, I can be excused. Though it was very good roti and dhal and cost me 30 cents.

Georgetown is very cool, a Unesco World Heritage city, protected, and yet still a bit rough around the edges. Loads of colonial buildings, mixed in with Chinese temples and Indian restaurants; the push to be “1Malaysia” composed of a harmonious mix of ethnicities and faiths is tangible here, something the government is clearly pushing hard. But it is actually noticeable, there are groups of Indians, Chinese, and Malays all in distinctive clothing—some headscarves, some tank tops, some saris. Little India is loud and busy, music playing from shops, and smells of cumin and cinnamon. Chinatown is all red banners and gold lettering, noodle shops and steamed buns. In between are mosques and churches, and families piling into all of them in new clothes for the holiday. I'm not sure how much mixing there is personally, something it would be interesting to know more about...adverts seem careful to include a comprehensive range of ethnicities, but people on the street seem to stick to their own company.

We had a gorgeous Indian meal last night; no plates, just banana leaves to mix your curry and rice on. Wandered along the sea and past Fort Cornwallis (would also like to know how Cornwallis got a fort named for him in 1786—had he not just lost, you know, America for the British? I need wifi). We're at the Cathay Hotel, which looks colonial and whatnot outside, but is a bit shabby in...I think it's seen better days, and there is a sticky brown stain on the floor that we are avoiding and also quite hoping is coke, not blood. But after Railay, nothing was going to measure up, and the sheets are clean.

Today David went off to see the Leong San Tong Khoo Kongsi, which is apparently a Chinese clan house and the Heritage Jewel of Penang. I went to the mall and read a trashy fantasy novel. And had iced chai tea latte at Starbucks. We went to the cinema for the first time in about 8 months, because we were bored and wanted some air-con...G-Force is about secret agent guinea pigs and not the most intellectual film ever, but had the undeniable advantage of being in English.

For dinner, one of David's beloved treks to find street food...and one of his better efforts. Lovely cab driver who lived in London for 8 years and chatted about Penang for ages, dropped us at the Hokkien Chinese food markets on the sea front at Gurney Street. Hundreds of people out for the holiday, at dozens of food stalls offering every kind of cuttlefish, dried squid, chicken feet, intestines, sour plum juice, and every other nasty things can think of. Seriously, Chinese people will eat anything. Fortunately, they also make very nice other things to balance out the weird bits, like Asam Laksa—some sort of fish with noodles and onions and broth that is very yummy, and Penang Prawn Mee, sort of a noodle soup thing, and watermelon juice and, somewhat randomly, sarsparilla soda. Nothing cost more than $1, which is how we (read: David) like it.

6 White People + 1 Crabby Thai Guy = Independent Travel

20 September 2009

Kicking and screaming, we left Railay behind to join back up with the truck for the final three weeks of our Epic Journey.One last night of drinks at the house...sigh...Carol and Amy brought round a fresh young coconut as a hostess gift, which was sadly foul and which Denis still agreed to drink for $20. See following Celebrity Handshake Photo.

Because there was some confusion over the Thai visa situation (it's only 14 days if you enter at a land border, not 30 as it would be in an airport), we needed to get ourselves into Malaysia on the 20th, when our visas expired. The original plan was to go back up to Surat Thani, spend a final night there meeting up with the other 8, and driving to Pulau Penang on the 21st. Things change, though, and so we booked ourselves into private minivans from Krabi direct to Penang, for 800 baht each including the boat journey from Railay. Carol was there to see us off at the appalling hour of 6—that's am. Not pm. AM. Despite all my best efforts, I have now seen a sunrise. It was poetry and magic and all that crap. At least there's photographic evidence, see below. There is usually a later boat, but as this is a religious holiday weekend for Muslims (end of Ramadan), only the ungodly early van was running. How's that for irony? Get it? Ungodly?

I would probably have blocked the entire dawn-escapade from my mind if not for Captain Misery, our own personal van driver. He met us at the pier in Ao Nammao, and proceeded to have a tantrum that we were late (our longtail had waited past the 6am departure time for a shipment of Thais who only rocked up at 6:15—and who all got driven across the acres of sticky mangrove mud that the six of us trekked across in flipflops. But I am not bitter.) Anyhoo—this guy screamed at us, threw David's bag on the ground, and went to start the van in a fiery rage. Effect somewhat dampened when the engine failed, and the boys had to push it started. Not that he said thank you, but I think it stole a bit of his drama. He drove us silently to Hat Yai, about 4 hours from Krabi, and left us at a travel shop to catch the 12:30 van to Penang.

David and I ate at a place called the Rugby House in Hat Yai, and if ever you find yourself in this otherwise featureless town, I highly recommend it. The owner played rugby at school (rare enough in Thailand), and had a good chat to us about it. Turns out that the Thai word for 'love' is similar to 'Rug' and his wife's name is Bea...so the restaurant's name is, conveniently, also a tribute to her. She had cool hair. The juicer had no juice (electricity is not 24/7 in Thailand), so this guy hand-squeezed lemons for David's fresh lemon drink. The curry was beautiful, and all of $2.

Roll on Malaysia, Country Number 21.

A Whole Lot of Nothing

18 September 2009

Doing nothing takes it out of a girl...today is possibly my first quality time alone in months. David, Rich and Denis have gone off to partake in some of the world-class rock climbing that Railay is known for. Fully expecting at least one of them to come back limbless. Louise has taken herself off on a snorkeling trip to Koh Phi Phi, where parts of Alex Garland's 'The Beach' was filmed...just couldn't rouse myself to accompany either jaunt. End result, I am lounging about on beaches, interspersed with some blogging and package-tracking...how can it take 3 months to get from Bangkok to Arizona?

We've all been deeply indolent so far...there is loads to do in Railay (the brochures say so). But mostly we're swimming and sunning and drinking and eating and generally rewarding ourselves for surviving Central Asia. Some occasional dancing to Flo Rida's 'Low', some seaweed crisps, a little competitive Trivial Pursuit (I did not win, but also managed not to have a tantrum, so count it a success).

Avoiding the monkeys is taking some effort...nasty little things. I'm no animal lover, god knows. But surely failure to evolve into creatures that value hygiene and stand upright isn't reason for humans to get all excited about them? Everyone else seems charmed. Apparently the monkeys here are only afraid of men who pretend to shoot them with a slingshot (and I'm assuming this was a hard-learned lesson) so of course Dave and Rich and Denis have been doing this regularly. Personally, I think the monkeys are laughing at all of us.


David and I went round to the isolated beach at the bottom of the peninsula yesterday, wandering along the mangrove-y East Side on the way. It's no beauty, but dramatic and quite cool. The lovely beach at Phra Nang is also home to a grotto-shrine dedicated to the spirit of a drowned princess. The local fisherman (Muslim and Buddhist alike) bring her offerings of carved penises and Fanta. Awesome. I really feel like more religions should be giggle-inducing. The world would be a better place.

West Side Story

16 September 2009

To the cruddy little transport hub of Surat Thani on Sunday, a trip Tim expected to take 10 hours from Prachuap Khiri Khan. Happily it's actually more like 6...but as there is zero to do in Surat Thani, and the hotel scene leaves room for improvement, I sort of wish we'd just hopped a bus from there across to Railay immediately. Anyway, spent the afternoon and evening killing time at Swenson's American Ice Cream Shop, and up first thing yesterday to get the air-con bus the three hours to Krabi province, on Thailand's west coast. 

Tim and Cheryl and about half the group are staying on the east, mostly on Koh Samui and Koh Phangan, and Corrie's going to Koh Tao for a diving course. David and I have already been out there (and it is gorgeous), so have come west to the Andaman Sea with Louise, Richard and Denis, and booked ourselves into the Railei Beach Club. Luxe! Amy and her mom (Hi, Carol!) are also here, having spent a few days on Koh Lanta, and Debbie looks like she may be heading down after her Independent Travels to Hanoi. Tee & Le were on the same bus as us over here, and are roving the west as well, on their own. 

We got a bus from Surat Thani for 140 baht each for the 3 hour trip, then after a teensy bit of a clusterfu*k in Krabi itself (how many bus stations can one town really have? I hate independent travel), then hopped a longtail in what I personally think were vicious and dangerous seas (though no one else seems to be of this opinion) with our Tesco shopping for the 10 minute trip to Railay.

RBC is one of the very few places in Thailand where you can rent a real house, and having had quite enough of hotels and camping in the last 5 months, we are all very excited about plural rooms and a kitchen and whatnot. Our house is called Baan Duong Dow, or House of Shooting Stars. It's all dark wood in the Thai style, raised up into the trees on stilts, with fans and mosquito nets and posh bathrooms that have showers open to the sky...it's 100 meters from the beach and backs onto limestone karst mountains, has a hammock and big airy decks, and is quite perfect. The kitchen may be the most exciting bit for us--when you haven't been able to stand in the front of an open fridge and stare blankly at a range of snack options for five months, this activity takes on new resonance. We made spaghetti the first night and were all terribly excited about it.  The sheets and towels were arranged like fans and scattered with exotic flowers when we arrived. I miss luxury.

Railay does have plenty of places to eat, and last night we had dinner at the Railay Bay Resort's restaurant (in the middle of a fantastic monsoon) with Amy and her mum...but as everything has to be boated in (Railay is a peninsula, but blocked from the mainland by said limestone karsts), it's really cheaper to eat at home. Plus the fridge is very exciting. Lousie and Richard went off on a boat this morning, braving the sea to provide for the rest of the pack...they are our own Tim & Cheryl. 

Being a peninsula, this place has something of a split personality. East Railay is a mangrove beach, shallow and muddy and, I think, quite interesting looking. Most of the longtail boats come up here, and the cheaper accomodation is all over here...which ranges from really stylish places to some cruddy backpack lodges swarming with faux-rastas and places called things like 'Skunk Bar'. However, it's a five minute walk to West Railay, which. Is. Gorgeous. And is where we are.

The beach is a wide swathe of fine white sand nestled between two towering peaks--these are dripping with rock climbers (why, people?). It's lined with swaying palms, and rocked by a pale blue surf that's just high enough to play in. There is wifi in the clubhouse, and cold beer in the cooler, and I think I might just stay forever.

Prachuap Khiri Khaaaaaaaaaaaaaan!

13 September 2009


Leaving Bangkok behind us, we drove on down the skinny bit of Thailand to the beach town of Prachuap Khiri Khan, whose name is right up there with some of the other gems we've stayed in on this trip...I'm thinking Turda, I'm thinking Deckchair, I'm thinking Akcakoca. Jeti Ogusz, I'm looking at you.

Prachuap is a quiet place most of the time and mainly caters to Thais instead of Westerners, though the beaches north and south of town are apparently heaving at the weekends with locals. Famous for cotton fish that's sun dried, deep-fried (hi, Brett!), and served with spicy green mango salad. There's a KFC. There are internet places full of small boys hogging all the high speed connections. Racks of drying squid-cuttlefish thingeys along the sea front. A random Jesus boat--he is the Fisher of Men, after all. A mountain-top wat overrun with monkeys (ugh). And not a lot else.





Lovely clean and new hotel on the seafront, all the rooms looking over the water toward sunrise (or so I'm told...I don't get up for the sun--the lovely sunset I can attest to), and the strongest air con I've ever experienced. David actually turned it off in the night, because HE was cold. It's like Bizarro World or something. The hotel is called Sun Beach, which I kept hearing as 'Son of a Bitch,' as spoken by your average Alabama redneck. Lots of giggling to myself. No one else thought it was funny. Beautiful pool with jacuzzi-ish bit; didn't actually make the beach, as we rarely got farther than dinner-distance from said pool. Resting up on the sea, for our upcoming week of lounging on the beach.

Dinner at some place on the sea with Louise and Denis, served by the sweetest lady boy you ever saw, sad victim to her receding hairline; the tempura prawns were exceptional, though.


On our last night, Tim & Cheryl shopped their little hearts out and provided a beach-barbecue of some enormous mystery fish baked with limes, prawns the size of a fat guy's thumb, and  mussels. All local, all lovely. 


Some mis-spent time watching illegal movie downloads on the laptop...I really do know better, intellectual property and all that. But Star Trek isn't out yet and I say it's better to watch it without parts of the actor's heads than not at all.