Sunday 28 June 2009

The intrepids reach Thailand!

Yala station - see the armed guard? He spent the journey with several of his compadres on our train, walking up and down with his not insubstantial weaponry - fortunately he was always smiling, although I've heard Hitler was often quite chipper so that doesn't mean anything.

We cross the border on foot, from Rantau Panjang in Malaysia, walking across the Thailand/Malaysian border into the Southern Thai town of Sungai Kolok. We have not heard pleasant things about Sungai Kolok – mainly used as a party town and sex stop by Malay men – although the people we encounter there are friendly, curious and helpful to us.

We catch the train to Hat Yai, a bigger city further north and pay just over £1 each for a train journey of 6 or so hours. Crazy! We travel 3rd class, which is wooden seats and wide open windows and in the mad scramble onto the train we are lucky enough to get seats. Some of these seats spontaneously collapse as the journey progresses catapulting unlucky passengers with hilarious swiftness to the floor, and prompting the entire carriage to burst into fits of laughter that echo on for quite some time!

A typical Thai station - yes that means I didn't note down the name of it - why don't ours look like this? Apart from the fact that it would be harder to get the palm trees, I mean.

We had been in several minds about the border crossing here as there has been political and religious strife in Southern Thailand over the past few years and the train stations on our route are still considered a target by the Thai government and the border crossing here is not recommended by our guidebook or the FCO. But several Malay people we met in Kota Bharu assured us that they have done this journey many, many times and the level of their knowledge about transport links reassures us so we decide, in the spirit of adventure to give it a go – and we’re fine!

The train journey was amazing and although many travellers don’t do this journey this way round (most people fly into Bangkok and do this bit in reverse if heading to Malaysia), I would strongly recommend it. I had been both eager and nervous about Thailand as many people describe it as wildly hectic (although many who have also done Indonesia say that there are a lot of similarities), but travelling in and up through the South has been a perfect introduction to the people and to the rural scenes of Thailand.

A proud Thai father insists that I take a picture of his son feeding the monkeys - and with a grin like that, how could I refuse? The monkey wasn't impressed by my efforts though and refused to cooperate.

From the train, we are treated to our first glimpses of the rolling lush green hills and fields of southern Thailand, where bright blue birds flit low across the landscape, white cranes (they look like cranes, but I have to say that an international twitcher would know better) stalk loftily among laconic cows (I saw one cow with a little bird sat on his back!), stray dogs look up from dreams disturbed as we pass and the largest spiders I have ever seen hang ominously from their webs set between power lines.

On the train, we are treated to the consistent curiosity and stares of our fellow passengers, who giggle, gawp and even photograph us during our journey. We are also somewhat of a novelty to the armed guards who walk up and down the trains (a response to the trouble in the south, along with armed guards at every station), who pause at the beginning of the journey to shake our hands and take us under their wing, offering to close the window for me when I was being blown to smithereens and then laughing hysterically when I tell them I actually like it!

Having scared off a lot of smaller monkeys to secure this watermelon, he now doesn't really know what to do with it......

We stay only one night in Hat Yai, but enjoy our time wandering the streets of this city and eating in its cafes and restaurants. The day after our arrival, we head off on a local bus to Songkhla, only 25km away, a seaside town we want to visit before heading to Bangkok and making our way to the Cambodia border over the next week. My time is ticking by and we are keen to be in Cambodia for my birthday (so far I cannot talk about my birthday very much as it makes me think of home and a little sad, but I comfort myself with the thought that I can have another birthday when I get home so that no one misses it).

Songkhla, apart from its strange absence of restaurants - tonight we ate in a brothel bar, but the women were very friendly and kind to us and the food was lovely, and the band played us a song in English, which was lovely – is a functional fishing village and you are never far from the smell of the sea, by which I mean the smell of rotting fish (I think I smell a dead fella.......).

The beach wears a cape of white sand and shimmering blue water rushes to the shore. We were too hot the first day we went there so are returning tomorrow to see the statue of a mermaid that the beach is famous for, and to pick up some Chang Beer t-shirts on which we have all rather firmly set our hearts.

Our first Thai temple, I loved it here, and couldn't take my eyes off the tree on the left - a perfect place to indulge your fascination with simple things....

Yesterday though, we hung out at the beach and spent some time with some great monkeys at the base of Khao Tang Kuan or Monkey Hill. They are very tame and are fed by hand by the locals but one glimpse of their sharp little teeth convinced me that feeding them was something I would rather leave to others, and instead I watched the babies cheerfully romping down the slopes. Today we spent some time walking round the local markets and practicing our Thai – we are trying to learn numbers so that we can more effectively barter – so far we have thoroughly mastered both ‘thank you’ and ‘hello’ and the sheer delight people take at our laborious and clumsy efforts make it all worthwhile.

A statue outside on of the temples today - this reminds me of the demon god who holds the wheel of life on my thangka (a Buddhist painting) at home

These the flowers and scarves that Buddhists drape over the hands of the statues - that's just one of his giant hands!

We also visited some of the local temples. Here, being a monk is a sort of national service, and almost every young Thai male spends at least three months in service as a monk. The temples are beautiful and their architecture and decoration intricately ornate and detailed, as well as being very well maintained and clearly cared for. Buddhists make up 75% of the population here and comprise both Thai and Chinese Buddhists, but there is also a strong Muslim community. We passed many Chinese temples on our walk through the old town, and many houses and shops have Chinese style shrines outside with candles burning constantly.

This is one of the carvings on the entrance to the temple and a good example of the ornate decorative architecture that seeks to remind of Buddhism in every detail - providing an opportunity for contemplation and meditation wherever you look.

A smaller shrine within the temple grounds - inside are tiny figures sat in prayer.
I loved this.


A detail from one of the temple doors. Elephants are big in Thailand - well, obviously elephants are big wherever you find them, but I mean they are a symbol of fortune here.

As ever, though, it is the people who make our journey and everyone here has been very friendly to us. Unlike Malaysia and Indonesia, we have more opportunities to meet and speak to women here, who are more confident and curious about talking to us. Men prefer to honk at us from passing bikes or cars – by which I mean they beep their horns, not that they honk like geese – but the few we have spoken to so far are very friendly. I am glad too that the lack of English spoken here gives us a strong incentive both to pick up pidgin Thai more quickly and to become more creative in our communication, often using mime to the hilarity of the locals.

Thai is very hard though, even when you have the words phonetically, as it is based on five tones, which, when used incorrectly, can change the meaning dramatically, so we learn most from practicing with local people, who laugh uproariously as they correct our pronunciation.

Food is our one main issue as we have yet to encounter a strong understanding of vegetarianism and almost everything is cooked or served with meat or fish. Despite this, we have managed to track down veggie tempura served with sweet and sour chilli sauce and fried rice with vegetables, both of which I have delighted in!!

A statue outside a cafe in the old town and a small homage to Songkhla's famous mermaid, which I hope to see tomorrow.

Our hostel in Songkhla is the Romantic Guest House, one of the most luxurious yet as both our rooms have huge double beds and – get this – television!! Although there are only two channels featuring English (BBC World Service and Aussie channel) speech, I actually spend most of my very late nights – it’s so very, very hot and it makes me an insomniac but as yet does not seem to make me tired in the day – watching a combination of music channels and movies badly dubbed in Thai. For the record, you really don’t need to know what actors are saying in movies – you can either pick it up from the visuals, or even better, just make it up in your head. I have got quite addicted to a number of Chinese soap operas shown back to back in the early morning in this way...

When I haven’t spent the night avidly watching my luxury tv or writing, I’ve been surfing the web for our travels, which has been a bit of an adventure in itself. I found a wifi connection to surf from my room quite quickly, but it came and went intermittently. So after sitting in every conceivable part of the room, I tried every floor (4 of them) of the hostel, several unoccupied rooms (or at least I assume they were, they don’t lock the unoccupied ones so I just snuck in under cover of dark in the early hours of the morning without bothering with the light – if anyone was there, they were too terrified or bewildered to say anything) before I finally struck lucky.

This is what happens if you ask Angie to hold your camera while you're busy buying flip flops in the market. She takes random photos of herself. She likes to call these 'Pictures of myself on holiday on my own' and I doubt she is expecting me to upload it to the web. Actually, as we all have some rather incriminating shots of each other I may be setting a dangerous precedent here...

While investigating the front of the building, I discovered that if I held the laptop out of the window, I got a fairly good, fairly reliable connection so I’ve spent the early hours alternating between sitting in front of this window, and if it cuts out climbing through it to a small balcony to connect from there.

The nicest part is that from this window I can see the Theravada Buddhist temple on top of Monkey Hill, where we are hoping to visit tomorrow, if it does not rain again. Moreover, I get to experience the sounds of Songkhla live and unleashed, with its cacophony of fighting, howling stray dogs, motorbikes that ride the street throughout the night and occasional late night conversations amidst groups of passers by. I can even see the moon.

Me on the wifi balcony, my very own internet cafe. Yes, it's very dark out here, and very hot. That's why I look bald and sweaty. I'm not bald. But I am sweaty.

Anyhoo, that’s more than enough from me for now. Suffice to say that I miss you all, and the beauty we see every day only reminds me of the beauty of my friendships at home, and causes me to appreciate each one anew, as do the many emails and Facebook messages you all send. Keep them coming and special thanks to Mum, Shon, Bean, Glenn, James and Lynda for being my most regular – and not to mention entertaining, in such wildly different ways! – correspondents.

I didn't notice this until today, but someone has drawn the best face on my lampshade in my room. Random.

Wednesday 24 June 2009

Kecil Island Paradise

It's a hard life, but someone's got to do it.

Ok, we planned to stay only 4 days on Kecil Island, the smaller of the Perhentian Islands and yet here we are, nine days later! As ever, if you want to make God laugh.....tell her your plans!

We took a bus from the Cameron Highlands straight to the jetty point in Kuala Besut, where we collected our tickets for the boat to the island. The boat to the island is actually a speedboat, something I intellectually knew, but hadn't really allowed myself to contemplate, as those of you who know me well, will also know about my fear of open water (intricately linked to my fear of drowning, intricately linked to my lack of swimming skills).......

I'd never been on a speedboat before.

We stood on the jetty and waited for the speedboat to arrive. It steered gently into the bay and I thought, that's not too bad. We had a bit of a wait until we could get on, in which time my nerves had plenty of time to increase exponentially with each second, then finally we boarded and were issued with our life jackets.

Mira Beach and our very own taxi boat - this little boat does everything, taxis us around, brings the supplies every day and even takes out the rubbish!

Soon enough though, we are clambering over our rucksacks onto the little vessel. I try – and to a certain extent fail, though I do not have the chance to dwell on it for long – to ignore the sign on the boat that clearly reads ’10 passengers only’, having already completed a mental headcount of at least 14people waiting to board. I ignore as best I can the Lynn Faulds Wood voice in my mind chiming ‘It’s a potential deathtrap!’ over and over, along with the unnecessary and obvious mantra of ‘I can’t swim, I can’t swim, I can’t swim.

The boat steers gently from the jetty as we secure our life jackets. I buckle mine tightly as it may be the only thing that ensures my survival if we don’t make it. Kate and Ang are deep in conversation with a couple from Auckland, New Zealand, about their travels and are swapping notes on their favourite places and I am grateful for the chance to hide my terror while their attention is distracted. However, my terror gathers momentum as boat starts to gather sudden and not inconsiderable speed. A glance around the boat tells me that I am not alone in this as I see several faces wide-eyed and feigning calm. A hand on my knee and Kate’s voice in my ear tells me that I may not be able to conceal my own fear as well as I suspect.

“How you doing there, monkey?” she asks.

I turn back to her, grinning, “I think I’m ok!”

Our very own chalet with all our washing outside! Those stairs were steeper than they looked - thank Goddess there's no alcohol on Mira!


Oddly, I actually mean it. Nothing could have prepared me for the thrilling exhilaration of my first speedboat ride: the nose of the boat in the air, the sheer speed of movement, the wind that whips across my skin and the slap slap slap as hull hits water at regular, bouncing intervals. At first, I was terrified, but wild-eyed terror soon turns to wide-eyed enjoyment as I become more accustomed to the sensation. The fear never leaves entirely, but instead combines with excitement to create an electric sense of joy that I can only compare to the early days of love, where I am often terrified, but always wanting more.

After a while, I turn back to Kate and admit, "This is the best thing we have done so far! Without a doubt!"

I would get plenty of time to get used to speedboats, as they are the main form of taxis around and between the islands, but the thrill never wore off for me!

Mira Beach in all her glory! This is the centrepiece that greets you on arrival - public art! Look at those waves!

Describing the island is very hard, as it really defies words. White sands, brilliant blue sea, bright sun and blazing heat, lush green jungle, teeming with lizards of all sizes, birds with beautiful voices and even possums and rats!! We stayed in a place called Mira Beach, the most deserted of all the beaches on the island and a far cry from the tourist resorts of neighbouring Long Beach and Coral Bay.

We lived in a small wooden hut, with enough room for a double bed and a mattress for me on the floor. Rats and lizards come and go with impunity and you just have to get used to it - something that we mastered quite quickly!

A whole blog post without a mention of Misssssssssssster Lizzzzzzzzard? Don't be ridiculous.

It's a writer's paradise and I can honestly say I've written more in the last few days than at any other point in the trip, including some poetry of a quality I can't promise, even some of my crazy doodling, which the locals thought I should get made into Batik! Our first night brought a sunset so beautiful, it made me cry. The air is so still, well, apart from our last night, when a wild and crazy storm raged all night, with the sea only metres from our hut!! Lightning crashed silently across the horizon is brilliant strokes of red and white - the urge to get naked and stand in the middle of it was almost overwhelming, but I contented myself with standing on the beach in my new sarong!

Apart from writing, I managed some shopping (two sarongs and a new skirt - score! and I managed to dump one of my pairs of now too big trousers as a result), did some walking through the jungle (the only alternative to the taxi boats), plenty of reading and - now strap yourselves in, you won't believe it! - some snorkelling!! Yes, snorkelling! Me! Kate was lovely and helped me in the water loads and showed me how to breathe (then kept making me laugh so that I kept inhaling water through my nose) - and not only did I get to see loads of very friendly fish, I loved it!!

Over on Coral Bay for the afternoon and Kate and Ang tough out the hard life of the island over an iced tea...

There were some darker sides to the island. It is primarily a tourist resort, and has a growing drug problem on some of the more commercial party beaches. This problem is starting to cause outbreaks of thefts, and we fell victim to this on our third day or so, when someone came into our hut and stole Kate and Ang's small rucksacks. As ever, we had all our valuables on us (I go nowhere without my phone, passport, money and computer) and the thieves obviously did not check what they were stealing as their biggest catch in both bags were Kate and Ang's memory cards, which had all their memory cards from New Zealand, and means they have lost almost all their pictures from the last seven months. Obviously they were both heartbroken and the thieves are facing some serious bad karma. The only thing of mine taken was my spare toiletries bag, which had some suntan lotion and my electric shaver - nothing I'm worried about.

The sunset that made me cry - I'm officially a sap.

This was the only black spot marring an otherwise beautiful trip, and after our paranoia in some of the cities we have visited, to be struck by theft on an idyllic island just seemed perverse. Nonetheless, we were very sad to leave the island this morning, but excited at the prospect of the journey ahead, and we were glad to arrive in Kota Bharu today. KB is usually thought of as a passing through town, but we've met some great people here already at a local guest house (not ours, but run by the same family, who have taken a shine to us and are already asking us to stay another day) and ate out tonight at the local night market, where we feasted on a variety of Chinese food - hmmmmm.

Tomorrow we are planning to walk across the border to Thailand, but in all likelihood we will stay another day. There is a museum here that contains some fascinating instruments used in circumcision, and Ang and Kate think it would be a terrible shame to miss it. As ever, I'll keep you posted!

Finally - a record number of followers, thank you everyone! Now where have all my comments gone...........?

Is it because you is all emailing me instead????

Our final sunset on Kecil - the island of darkly etched beauty.

Oh, ok, if you're going to beg - just one bad poem that I wrote on the island then.

The lizard, disturbed from sleep
by the scratching step of the squirrel
pokes out his head between two beams,
licks his lips and looks for food;

The squirrel, disturbed from scavenging
by the lizard's sudden face,
scrambles fast and far to the edge of the hut
and leaps in brief flight to the tree;

I, disturbed from my wonderings (my wanderings)
by this tiny drama played by natural actors unaware of me,
liuft up my gaze from my pen, from my self
to see instead the poem that is everywhere around me;

(my gaze especially likes to rest
on the tree where the fearless squirrel lands -
the one where the red flowers grow
each like a wonderful accident, or perhaps a miracle).

Saturday 13 June 2009

Do something scary today

A waterfall at the flower farm, taken at my signature jaunty angle - it's art, man, it's art....

This post is dedicated to the one, the only, the gorgeous and the brave Shonagh, my fellow pioneer and all round beautiful superstar - missing you more than words and love you loads hon - keep the champagne on ice!! Hope Hamie is feeling better xxxx

We arrived safe and sound in the Cameron Highlands in a little minibus that we shared with some of the unfriendliest Germans on the planet.

The trip from Penang to Cameron only takes a few hours, and we left at 6am (I know, feel my pain) to arrive at about 10am. We had set our heart on staying at Daniel's Lodge, which had been recommended to us by quite a lot of different people, and secured ourselves a room there, to our delight.

Daniel's Lodge is a sprawling, very laid back hostel, set back slightly from Tanah Rata, one of the main places to stay in Cameron Highlands. It has its own little bar (this did not factor into our decision to stay here) with a pool table (ditto previous) and a large camp fire every night (ad nauseum ditto-ness). Needless to say we have acquired quite a taste for Chang Beer - the cheapest beer in the bar - while we have been here! We took our first day to wander around the town and get a feel for the Highlands. The temperature is so much cooler here and such a relief after the hot sweat of Penang.

These flowers at the flower farm are known as Butterfly flowers because when you take two buds and put them together - hey presto, a butterfly! Not a real one. It just looks like one. It's not magic or anything.

The scenery is beautiful, as the Highlands are home to countless strawberry farms, bee farms, flower farms and tea plantations, many of which are open to the public at no charge. However, these farms and plantations are known locally as "agri-tourism", and Cameron Highlands is probably the most tourist heavy place we have visited so far, which strangely, we were not quite expecting. Because of this, although the scenery is beautiful (if you keep your eyes averted from the endless hotel blocks and souvenir shops - you would not believe how many gifts you can produce shaped like a strawberry until you've seen this place), it is much harder to spend time with or to meet many local people, which has been a key feature that has made our trip so far. However, it has been a great opportunity to meet other travellers, which we haven't had much of an opportunity to do in Sumatra because tourists have been quite few and far between there.

On our first night, we discovered the wonders of the T Cafe, a local first floor cafe that serves all kinds of food in the most singularly laid back and welcoming atmosphere. It reminded me for some reason of some of the cafes I've visited in Brighton before, the staff are very friendly and the place is well loved by locals and visitors alike. Moreover, they do a lovely vegetarian lasagne that I was very eager to try. Not quite as good as I've become accustommed to at Peace, but definitely not bad.....!

The sheer beau-tea of the plantation - no wonder this stuff tastes so good.

And to give you an idea of the sheer scale of this migh-tea operation.....

The following day we slept late after a few beers (the night before, I mean, we didn't start the day with beer - we can do that at home - although some people here really do!!) and headed out in the afternoon for a pre-arranged tour of the local farms and a tea plantation. None of us were too excited about this, but it was cheap and something to do with a free afternoon so off we toddled. Our guide was Balu, a local young man with a very dry sense of humour and an infinite sense of patience. Our travelling companions were a family from Singapore (great appetite but no sense of time) and a young man from Holland, who was instantly adopted by the Singapore family who spent all their time trying to feed him! Eventually he started to hang with us at each stop, I think to escape their attentions. The Singapore family were also late for every single stop that we made, despite poor Balu telling us very politely what time to be back. This is a good example of cultural differences, as, being English we were not only on time, but waiting patiently on the bus in an orderly queue....

By strict order of the management..... I think they meant the flowers, though there were a few worried looking chickens about and a man with Dennis Healey eyebrows...

Our first stop was the flower farm, and we were expecting to be underwhelmed, but actually we all loved it. The flowers were absolutely stunning and there were so many I had never seen before. I went a bit snap happy, but I am still trying to figure out the zoom on my camera, and my little screen isn't always informative, so I discarded as many as I kept in the end. I have also started to master the art of photography at a jaunty angle, and these are fast becoming my 'signature shot', as you've seen with the waterfall above! Highlight of the flower farm was definitely the peppering of very surreal statues everywhere, from a HUGE Indian's head to strange little cherubs and even a badly coloured in Mickey Mouse. One minute you're wandering through a small jungle of wild flowers and the next you're face to face with Goofy - random.

Our brave little Dutch dude with the Rhino Beetle - I touched it! The beetle, I mean, not the Dutch dude. I'm not a perv. Well. Ok. But not that kind of perv.

We moved on to the Tea Plantation, which was the part of the Camerons I had been most excited about and it was no disappointment. We visited the Boh plantation, which has been owned by a Scottish family, the Russells since the 1800's. The third generation of the Russells now runs the company, Caroline. Strange to come to the Highlands only to find the Scottish ruling the local economy. Work on a tea plantation is hard and financially unrewarding. There was a time when tea was hand-picked, mostly by women, but now the majority of tea is picked by machines that are run by two men at a time and produce three times the amount of tea that hand-picking could. Only up on the highest slopes does the tradition of hand-picking continue, and the pay - whether you work on the machines or the slopes - depends on the amount you produce each day, but is very low.

"It is not a good way to make a living," Balu tells us, shaking his head.

The brave scorpion woman - shortly before she lost it big time and threw one on the floor and I lost it big time and moved at something approaching the speed of light. Seriously, time slowed down around me. It was like the Matrix, man.

The plantation though is beautiful, really beautiful, with the bright tea leaves stretching across the hills into the distance like a wild green patchwork quilt. After a brief tour of the factory, showing us how the leaves are crushed and dried, pressed and sorted, we ran across to the cafe - which stretches out over the plantation on long wooden legs - to taste the tea and we were not disappointed. Tip for the wise: drink coffee in Indonesia (so good I sent some home) and drink tea in Malaysia (so good I'll be sending some home). There was something wildly romantic about the tea plantation that makes the harsh reality of life there hard to believe, and it was hard to avoid the images in my mind of running across the hills of the plantation like a tea-Maria (see what I did there), hair streaming behind me, singing 'The hills are alive!'.....

"Er, back on the bus, miss!" called Balu, jogging me out of my reverie.

Next stop the bee farm! Those of you who know me well know of my fascination with bees and so I was really looking forward to this. The bees were fantastic and I could watch them for hours.

This flower was something else, it was like paper - except real. They were so beautiful that although by trade I am not a nature photographer, I could not resist having a go. It could have been worse, right? Right.....?

"No get too close to bees!!" warned the Singapore father behind me, as I leaned my face towards one of the many, many hives on the farm.

"They're really not likely to sting, you know," I said, "Because they'll die."

"Bees are crazy," he whispered to me confidentially.

I grinned and looked both ways around me before answering, "So am I," I told him.

He looked shocked for a second before starting to giggle. He didn't talk to me again though, except when they all came back on the bus with corn on the cob when he - quite worriedly, actually - offered me his one. His corn, I mean.

I resisted the urge to buy honey from the souvenir shop (I don't even like honey, but the temptation was very strong - I'm such a consumer), but did buy a bracelet and a new pendant - this one with the Chinese symbol for Dragon on it - current jewellery count is now at 4 bracelets and 5 necklaces! Score!

Ok, I'm actually so pleased with this one, I almost can't believe I took it - and on my little camera, which Kate and Ang's cameras snigger at behind my camera's back and think my camera doesn't know, except my camera is really paranoid and so it does know - but I did! Huzzah!!

We moved on to the Butterfly Farm, which I loved. As well as butterflies, there were a plethora of insects, from horned beetles to scorpions and the guides are very keen for you to hold them. I wanted to hold a scorpion, but then was fortunate enough to witness a girl in front of me take one, only to have the guide throw another two onto her clothing.

"No, no! Please no!" she screamed, to no avail, and I did pretty much the same when one of them fell to the floor and began scampering around. My inner grace was completely lost as I shoved the elderly and toddlers from my path to save myself. Still a way to go on that inner zen, it seems. Awkward.

I'm calling this one 'The Butterfly and the Flower'. I took it at the Butterfly Farm - go figure. Michael, in some senses perhaps we are all the butterfly with the incomplete wing? Beautiful in our imperfections...

Our final stop was the strawberry farm, and this was the only part that genuinely did underwhelm us, as we have plenty of these back in Blighty. However, the cafe with its array of strawberry cakes and tarts more than made up for this as we skipped the farm and headed straight for tea and cake. Smooth. The sun was beginning to set, and we were all heartily pleased with our day's labours and the sheer amount Balu had helped us to take in over a period of about 5 hours. It was a whistle stop tour of the Cameron's favourite tourist attractions, but as we're not really here for the attractions, it was the best way for us to do it.

That evening we treated ourselves to several Chang's and played a fair amount of pool. Apart from one disastrous potting of the white with the black - what a shameful Rookie error - I won all the games I played and then we went onto play doubles with two other travellers. Charlie, a young Englishman - from a village called Ham, near Sandwich in Kent, you couldn't make it up, could you? - had come straight to Malaysia from China, where he had spent three months teaching English in a posh school.

"What was that like?" I asked.

He smiled, "I tell everyone it was an experience," he told me, "These are very affluent kids, usually sons and daughters of high level communist party members. The headmaster ran with the Olympic Torch, actually."

"Jazzy," I mused.

Our other pool player was Kane, an Aussie and cool as a cucumber, with a very dry sense of humour. When we were joined by Ruby, the young daughter of one of the staff at Daniel's, who is, shall we say, somewhat exuberant, Kane was far from subtle in his attempts to drive her away.

Missssssster Lizzzzzzzzzzzard..........
I know it looks as though he's falling off, but he was actually asleep. At least I'm hoping he was, because if he was dead then this shot actually becomes something really morbid.

"Hey Ruby, why don't you go and tend the fire? Ruby, was that the phone? Ruby, are kids allowed in the bar, I'm sure I saw a sign. Ruby, I think your mum wants you in reception right now...." all delivered in that trademark twanged accent.

We were a little tiddly after pool and I vaguely remember posting some obscenities on Facebook - sorry about that Steve 'Bee Dance' Bomford! But the next day we managed to do something scary - our very first jungle trek on our own!

We were assured at reception that the walk we had planned would take no more than two and a half hours, and we would get to take in Orang Asli, an aboriginal village on the way. However, it seemed to take about an hour and a half to get to the start of the trek itself, which had no markers as to the trail we were on (I was expecting something a little more organised, a bit like Queen Elizabeth Country Park, but with bigger insects) and involved a climb through a village filled very basic housing and inhabited by very friendly and helpful people. Our chosen route would also mean we could stop for a light lunch before our jungle trek.

Orang Asli, the aboriginal village we shouldn't have been at, when we realised we were where we shouldn't have been yet. Everyone was so helpful to us and so friendly here. See that cloud. That's rain about three minutes away from us starting our jungle trek. Fortunately, it never lasts long here!

"We're looking for Path 10?" we asked, showing the map at the village shop.

Although no one we spoke to spoke much English, all of the people we asked along the way pointed up, up, up. This was strange to us as the path took us right past people's houses on the hillside, making us feel that we were trespassing, but everyone was very friendly, with some people and children even accompanying us for part of the way there.

We stopped for a rest at the top of the hill and I asked Kate for the map. I had a funny feeling that I had seen Orang Asli, the name of the village, before. Sure enough, the 'aboriginal village' that reception had told us about that would be 'halfway through' our walk, was the village we had just come through.

The gang of pioneers - just before we realised we were in the wrong place. Look how happy we are in our ignorance!

"Aren't we here?" I said, pointing out the village to Kate on the map.

She glanced over, "No, no, we're further down, look here's path 10." She looked closer, "That's weird, it looks like.....Hold on, let's look at the smaller map." She turned the map over to the one he had been following.

"But this says Path 10! Here! This is where we should be!"

We were all bemused somewhat until I realised that on one of the maps, the one we had been following, Path 12 had actually been mislabelled as Path 10. Hence our final destination. As none of the people we had spoken to spoke much English, they had not known the number we were asking for.

Ah, how we laughed. We thought it shouldn't be too far down if we were on Path 12 instead of 10, and it would bring us right back to Tanah Rata at the end, so we would just hold out for a late lunch in about an hour's time. Ah, the sweet naivety......

Me inside a very big tree in the jungle. There were a lot of shots like this as I was quite light headed and behaving like an idiot. The rest are censored and will never be shown on cyber space. Ever.

Two hours later and we were still climbing through the jungle. It was about 4pm and we hadn't eaten anything since 10.30am. When I started to feel my blood sugar crashing, I must admit, things got a little hairy in my mind. I've never had a sugar crash in the jungle before.......I decided that it would do no good to dwell on it, and that just to keep going was the answer, so I did.

After a while though, Kate, who was walking behind me, and had noticed that my footing was getting slightly uneven and I seemed to be losing balance a lot, called out "Sarah, are you ok?"

I fessed up that I wasn't feeling good and Kate and Ang were great, we had a bit of a rest, they fed me peanuts and then Ang found a bit of chocolate at the bottom of her bag.

"Mohammed gave it to me in Medan and I forgot all about it til now!" Good old Mohammed, helping us out of sticky situations even when he's not here!

Twenty minutes later, apart from having an odd case of the shivers, I was feeling good again. This was when we heard a series of shouts, screams and crashes through the jungle behind us. A group of westerners about 8 people strong came panting round the path.

"How much further down?" they asked us.

"About 45 minutes, all downhill from here, it's all good," We told them (not strictly true as there is a steep climb up for them at the end of that 45 minutes, but who wants to hear that?), "How much further up from here?" We asked, referring to the peak of Mt Jasar, which we had originally planned not to climb.

"Two minutes tops," one of the men told us, as a woman came crashing out behind him.

"Watch out for the bees!" she called, clawing frantically at her back and her face, "I've just been stung by one three times and they chase you!"

I resisted the urge to point out that as far as I am aware a bee can only sting you once, as I thought this might not be helpful.

"There's a sign saying there's a hive!" One of the others called back to us.

Cripes, we thought, relieved that there wasn't much more climbing to do and glad it was all downhill from there.

Two minutes later we passed a couple who stopped to say hallo, but still we found no bees.

Two minutes after this, we heard screams and shouts and then a familiar crashing through the jungle and the woman reappeared.

"Bees! There are bees! I am stung! In my hair!" She shouted.

We deduced that there was a bee in her hair and Kate whipped off her jumper and preceded to whip it into the woman's hair. Suddenly a large bee flew out of her hair and a large expletive flew out of my mouth. It was really quite a huge bee, and a very bright red it seemed to me, but it disappeared as fast as it arrived and there were no more. It seemed that when the bees attacked (when good bees go bad) the woman and her partner ran in opposite directions, and she waited five minutes or so, visibly shaken and stung a few times before venturing back. We heard her call to her friend and he answered from close by and we heard no more screams so all was well.

Still climbing. It's been hours and we're still climbing. Oh Sweet Lord. Yeah, get a photo of me now, when even my sweat is sweating. Thanks. That's brilliant. One for the blog. Oh, and I'm doing something stupid with my tongue. Perfect.

We walked another few minutes before we came to a piece of tape strung across the path with a note attached to it facing the other way. Due to our wrong path adventure, we had taken the reverse of the route to most other trekkers and as we climbed under the tape we read "Danger! Caution! Bee hive in this section and beware of bees for next 40 metres" (a clear missed opportunity to write Bee-ware here). A quick calculation told us that the spot we had picked for our half an hour break had been smack in the middle of this danger zone!! Why the bees had not attacked us is a mystery......

It was another few minutes to the summit, and cloud cover misted the view completely, but this in no way marred our exhilaration at having made it on our somewhat unplanned trek! There was something beautifully eerie about standing 1600 metres in the air as clouds washed over our faces and we paused awhile before heading back down.

The paths on this part of the jungle treks are almost entirely unmarked and we came across several junctions where it was more by luck than judgement that we picked the right one. What we didn't want was to inadvertently pick Path 6, which everyone warns against and even the map advises not to take as the path is very overgrown and trekkers are warned that it is easy to get lost. After a while though, we could hear the sounds of civilisation close by and we were confident we were on the right track. Going down the mountain was a bit hairy in places, as the gradient is steep, but I prefer climbing down to climbing up, with all the little jumps and slides and we were careful to take it slowly on any parts with a steep drop to one or both sides of the path.

By the time we got back to Tanah Rata, we were exhausted and no longer hungry but we had eaten nothing but peanuts since morning and headed to our favourite Indian cafe for some well deserved claypot noodles and murtabak. The portions are huge and for once none of us managed to finish our meals so it was back to the Lodge for a well deserved rest. As my neck muscles were seizing up so badly that I could now only exercise peripheral vision by eye movement (ok, maybe I'm being melodramatic - a little....), the girls gave me some an organic version of deep heat and after a few applications I was right as rain, and fast asleep.

Today we've taken the day to relax and are planning to treat ourselves to a bottle of wine tonight before our trip to the Perhentian Islands tomorrow, where we're hoping to stay in Kecil island for a few days. We're keeping an eye on the Thai borders, too, and travel through the southern borders from Malaysia is no longer an option due to civil unrest so we're looking at an alternative route to Cambodia. There's no internet in the islands though, so I'll be offline for a while and we've got a couple of weeks left in Malaysia left yet before we have to make up our minds. We're thinking that maybe we will have to look for a cheap flight into Cambodia, where we would like to be for my birthday, and it would be great to make it to Vietnam before I have to fly home in August, but if we don't, it's a great excuse to come back again - bringing as many of you all with me as I can if you're up for it!!

Thanks again for all the comments, emails and facebook messages. Can't tell you how much I love them and to those of you sending me pictures, this is doubled, I've created a new folder on my pc called Memories of Home and looking at them when I'm homesick makes me feel so much better! Matt, if you haven't seen the photo of us all at my leaving do, ask James - it's such a great shot of you, and of us all together!

And talking of great shots....This is taken with Kate's panoramic thingummydoodah on her camera and I think it's genius. I can't quite recall why I look so scared though........ But I love this image, a lot! Until next time.....xxxx

Tuesday 9 June 2009

Happy Birthday Dear Old Dad!

Samosir Island, where we were staying in Bagus Bay Homestay - this was our home for a few days. It's a hard life travelling, but someone's got to do it!

A very very big Happy Birthday to you Dad! Gutted I'm not at home but I hope you're having a great day and a wonderful time. I miss you and am sending you very big hugs through the ether.


We're back in Penang, Malaysia after saying a sad and fond farewell to Indonesia, though I don't think it will be too long before I return there - the English language is very important to Indonesia, and I would love to go back one day and teach there, either in Medan or Bukit Lawang.

But, that's a whole other show.......

I left you hanging on the edge of your metaphorical seats at Danau Toba, didn't I? Danau or Lake Toba, is a lake that is 500 feet deep at its deepest point, with an island the size of Singapore at its centre, Samosir, which is where we spent four blissful days. It had originally been our plan to thoroughly explore the islands, but the main town, Tuk Tuk, is so blissfully peaceful and so beautifully idyllic, that we ended up staying there, apart from one long walk down to Ambarita and back, for the whole time. After so much moving and sight-seeing, our break on Samosir offered us all a chance to relax and write, read or unwind. It was sheer bliss.

Looking back at Bagus Bay, where we stayed, with the water lillies just starting to bloom in the foreground in the fish farm.

However, Samosir has been hard hit by the dropping numbers of tourists visiting Sumatra, particularly due to its relative isolation, and after a day or so, we really started to notice the impact. Firstly, there are guest houses, souvenir shops and cafes everywhere in Tuk Tuk. And I mean everywhere, as in one after another, after another, after another. The government made a pledge a few years ago to make Lake Toba one of Sumatra's primary tourist destinations by 2010 and the local economy responded with great anticipation. However, it seems that little funding or co-ordinated support has been delivered since, leaving the local population economically vulnerable.

As with much of Sumatra, people make their living through a combination of tourism and agriculture, exporting palm wine, rubber, coffee, bananas and cocoa amongst other things. However, a chat with a local cafe owner, Anne, informed us that the weather in Samosir has been changing over the last year quite dramatically, and that they had had no rain for well over a month. This is disastrous for local crops and plantations, and when we were walking back from Ambarita, we passed many fields where workers of all ages were desperately turning and turning the dry, dry land.

Lake Toba, with the mountains behind - did I mention that Samosir is also a super-volcano?

We have heard accounts of the changing weather thus far wherever we have been. In Malaysia, many people we spoke to told us that it has been hotter in Malaysia this past year than the locals are used to, and that people are struggling with the heat. You can imagine if the local people are saying that what it feels like to us at times!! These conversations make me think seriously about global warming, and the devastating impact that climate change has and could continue to have on the lives of people all over the world, many of whose very existences are profoundly affected and even threatened in the face of such changes. It is simultaneously ironic and humbling that us westerners receive such a warm welcome in the countries affected by the very changes we are primarily responsible for causing...

The combination of climate change and decreasing tourists to Sumatra following the natural disasters (and perhaps also affected by the troubles in Aceh) of the past years has left a strong air of desperation over Samosir and Toba, and this was more palpable here than anywhere else we have been.

In Amarita, there are a series of stone chairs which are a local tourist attraction. They functioned as a court for the Batak Toba people here, who, when criminals were found guilty, would execute the criminal, torture him, marinate him in garlic and lemon, cook his organs and then feed him to the king! Yes, that's right, feed him to the king, as it was believed that criminals held huge amounts of black magic and their power would be absorbed by eating them. This practice went on until the 1860's, when a German missionary called Ludwig Nommensen was sent to Sumatra and converted the local Batak Toba people to Christianity. Locals moved to his Christian Village of Peace and the practice of Cannibalism was stopped. Our guide used a young local boy to act out an execution with us, complete with fake screams.

A stone Buddha in the Museum of North Sumatra in Medan. I love how the faces of the Buddhas change to reflect the country and region we stay in.

(On a separate note - did anyone else hear about the Aussie schoolboy who almost hanged himself at fake trial carried out as part of a school lesson. The boy was stood on a desk with a noose around his neck and the teacher left the room. The boy slipped off the desk and almost died - that's what I call a Health and Safety nightmare....!!)

After our demonstration, we headed into the local souvenir market, which was a really sad experience. Row after row of stalls selling identical products for tourists and the stall owners begging you to buy something. Unfortunately there is no ATM on Samosir and we weren't carrying much cash, and we ended up buying trinkets or in my case, just giving some money to the local people. We have no more room in our bags to carry anything substantial until we have had a chance to post some things home. It was very sad and we walked back to our guest house with very heavy hearts. Samosir used to see much larger amounts of tourists, who would number in their hundreds and thousands and fill the island, but there were probably less than twenty tourists on the island when we were there and competition for their trade is fierce.

Inside the Mesjid Raya, Medan, a beautiful mosque. Yusuf took us round and explained the intricacies of Islam prayer practice to us, as well as demonstrating the call to prayer with his beautiful voice - he's also a big fan of Craig David!

Yusuf, our tour guide in Medan and one of the loveliest people we've met yet - also a natural photographer who took possession of Kate's camera for the duration of our time with him - he got some of the best shots for us!

The local guides at our guest house were very friendly. There is a real gender division here, whereas all the women work as serving or cleaning staff, the men act as tourist guides and labourers and you can't walk more than ten yards without men calling out to you and offering to take you somewhere, sometimes with less pure motives than sight-seeing......! Again, as we are a small group of women travelling alone, we are very noticable very quickly and it wasn't long before all the local men knew our names. For some reason, they all remembered mine more easily than Kate and Ang, and so often we would hear "Sarah! Sarah!" as we were walking anywhere.

As a result, we took to spending a lot of time at a Hotel Cafe just down the road from us, called Hotel Toba, which was beautiful, the food was cheap, there was free wifi and the local guides are, I think, discouraged from hanging out there, so we never had any hassle. They also had their own bakery and I can honestly say I have never enjoyed brown bread with cheese more in my life.....!

Outside the Mesjid Raya, Medan, as the sun sets, a very beautiful place to be.

After Toba, we caught a public bus back to Medan and back to our old haunt, the Angel. You should have seen our friend Mohammed's face, who you may remember we met on our one night stay in Medan on our way to Bukit Lawang, when we walked in.

"Sarah! Kate! You came back!!" He exclaimed, then stared at Angie, trying to remember her name.

"Don't tell me! No, don't!" He demanded, frowning, before breaking into a broad grin and singing "Angie! Angie!" a la Rolling Stones.

It was lovely to see Mohammed again, and we spent all three of our nights in Medan in his company, ending each night up on the roof, swapping stories, singing and laughing into the early hours of each morning. He also sorted our ferry trip back to Malaysia for us, which freed up our time to spend a few days looking around Medan.

Crocodiles at the sanctuary in Medan. Seriously, these dudes are scary. They are so still and they stare and stare and stare, but when they move, they move fast.......

We took in some shopping - I've bought some great Sumatran coffee from a local market - a mosque, a meal in Little India (the largest Indian quarter in Sumatra), the Museum of North Sumtra, a crocodile sanctuary and a visit to the biggest mosque in Medan, the Majid Reya, which was beautiful. Our tour was courtesy of a local guide we met at the Angel, called Yusuf, who was awesome, camp, hilarious and so much fun. He took the greatest delight in showing us around, never expected money for it, and made our enjoyment his highest priority. As in Berastagi, you don't get any hassle if you're travelling with even one man, and having a local man with us meant that we avoided a lot of the extra charges tourists are subject to. We got used to travelling round Medan on a combination of local buses and motorcycle rickshaws, which are an awesome experience and really cool you down.

Mohammed, our favourite dude in Medan. He has the cheekiest smile, a really mischievous sense of humour and great English skills - he also does a hilarious impression of Australians! Definitely the Don.

Medan is a bustling city and travellers too often pass through it staying only for a day. We were so glad that we took the time to stay longer, as the place has a generous and passionate soul beneath its sometimes grubby and bustling exterior. I fell in love with Medan, and would love to go back, maybe next year, for longer. Mohammed often takes people from Medan to Jakarta, where he lived for almost two years. Yusuf also took us to his village one evening to meet some of his friends and to see the offtrack parts of Medan, where, only a stone's throw from the city centre, you're back on the outskirts of the jungle, and simple bamboo or wooden houses. The children playing in the streets and alleys there were delighted to see us and once again, the streets echoed with cries of "Hallo Meester! Hallo Meees! How are you?" as we passed. Many people stopped to talk to us in halting English and to shake our hands, grinning broadly.

I have a strong desire to learn Indonesian, too. At Lake Toba, we met a young German couple with a little boy, both of whom are university professors in Siantar, another large city. They are living in Siantar for the next two years and teach in Indonesia, which they learnt in an intensive course over three months.

"The language is very simple," they told us, "There is little grammar to learn, just lots and lots of words!"

I was sorry to leave Indonesia, it's a beautiful, beautiful country with amazing people and I hope to use the time before my next visit, however far in the future that may be, learning much more about the country and its culture. On leaving, we caught the ferry back to Penang, where I was lucky enough to see a dolphin leap out of the water alongside the boat. Kate and I spent a lot of time up on deck where you could smoke and stare at the seemingly endless ocean. I never knew the real meaning of flotsam and jetsam (actually, I still don't - why are there two words for it?) until I saw how much casual detritus ends up floating on the surface of the sea. I swear at one point I saw something that looked like a portaloo floating alongside....

The Monkey in Medan, with a flower in her hair. Yusuf put the flower there so I could be a Batak Karo girl for a while and then he caught this picture of me while I was talking to the little boy who was the son of the stall owner. We were sipping the sweet juice that is pressed in large mangles at roadside stalls and served straight into a cup of ice, it tastes a little like really sweet milk and is delicious.

So I'm writing to you now from Penang, Malaysia, and it was nice to come back here and take the slow walk from the ferry to our guesthouse. This time we did manage to get a room in Stardust, although we had all rather forgotten how hot it is here! We are moving onto the Cameron Highlands tomorrow, and we're not sure about internet connections there so don't worry if it's a while til you hear from me.

Please keep posting all your fabulous comments, and I love getting all your emails - they all bring a touch of home that is so lovely to receive. Love to all, Peace Out! x



Finally, I'm so pleased to be able to post this, Yusuf teaching us how to blow bubbles from a tapioca plant - enjoy!!