Malaysia

November 7, 2005

It was a long and windy route from Cameron Highlands, Malaysia, to the island of Sumatra in Indonesia—We made our way to sea level by bus and then took the ferry to Georgetown on the island of Penang, Malaysia, where we intended to catch another ferry to Medan, Sumatra, the next day. While checking out a guest house in Chinatown, Steve discovered that, lo and behold, the hotel he had stayed at 15 years ago in Penang, the Swiss Inn, was right across the street! The price was right and it seemed fitting that we pay it homage as Steve had found safe refuge there after a harrowing experience one night in Penang. Eager to get to Sumatra, we buckled down to wrap up any unfinished business so that we could leave for Sumatra early the next morning. 

However our plans were once again thwarted by the post-Ramadan Hari Raia holiday. When we arrived at the ferry terminal, throngs of Indonesians trying to return to Sumatra after the holiday had beat us there and were clamoring to get a seat, any seat, on the boat that day as well. After exhausting all possibilities of leaving that day, we purchased tickets for two days from then and returned to Chinatown for two more nights at the Swiss Inn. That day we went shopping for rain coats and other supplies at the Komtar, a large multi-level shopping complex in the middle of the city. I chopped my hair off to a ½-1 inch buzz, the first time since Placencia, Belize. As I directed my male hair-dresser to take more off, he finally pointed to his hair style which was short and spiked at striking angles and I said, yes, I wanted a cut like his! My mother-in-law who was in the next chair was shocked by the quantity of hair I shed and said it would take some time to get used to my tropical butch! As far as I’m concerned, it’s the only way to go in the tropics!

While at the Internet Café near our hotel, we ran into our friend, Fiona from England, who we had met at Taman Negara. It was a joyful reunion and we shared our adventures since we had seen each other last. It turns out we had stayed at the same guest house in Cameron Highlands and had missed each other by just hours as we arrived the day she left. That evening we met for dinner at an Indian restaurant and consumed large quantities of garlic nan, Indian bread, along with other Indian specialties. We also saw our zoologist friend from Australia, Gordon, the morning we were catching the ferry to Sumatra. This backpackers’ route is well-trodden and it is always fun to run into and catch up with friends from the trail!

November 5, 2005

We and thousands of other Malaysians arrived in Cameron Highland to spend the long weekend. Affordable accommodations were scarce and once again we were fortunate to meet up with Paul, the drive at Father’s Guest House. He took us around but we eventually return to Father’s Guest House and all of us signed up for a bed in the multi-bed dormitory. The rainy season has arrived and the highlands true to their elevation were cold. It was strange to seek refuge under a pile of blankets, the first time on this trip!

We had lots of work to get caught up on but the tea plantations beckoned us to visit during a spectacular mid-day sunburst. What a lovely panorama, plump green clusters of tea blanketing rolling hills and valleys, thick jungle encroaching its perimeter, workers shaving the tops of the plants, and a dose of mist floating in to soften the scene. Our taxi driver was very informative, explaining that these tea plants are 70 years old. Like grape plants, the bases remain, while the tops of the plants are harvested for leaves every 3 weeks and the top branches are pruned every 4-5 years to regenerate growth. By the time we reached the main tourist center at BOH (Best of Highlands) Tea Company, we were sold and immediately purchase 10 kilos of tea to send back home, ordered our tea and crumpets, and found a spot on the veranda to sip tea and enjoy the soothing view.

We really got down to business the next day and we spent the day in fun productivity. Peter is now our official Indonesian teacher as he seems to have an aptitude for this language, and Paul, our resident naturalist, began a series of classes on the birds of Indonesia in preparation for our upcoming trek in Indonesia.  

Across from Father's Guest House was a Catholic church and we attended services that Sunday evening. After mass, one of the parishioners, George, who is an environmental activist in the area, gave us a ride back to our guest house as once again it was raining. We were very disappointed that we would miss the opportunity to eat at his cafe in town, the T Cafe, www.t-cafe.biz. The next morning as we were leaving Father's Guest House, I had the opportunity to see George's wife, Belle, as she was harvesting mishapen carrots from the garden that is cultivated also by retired parishioners at the church, the same land that Father's Guest House is located on.

November 3, 2005

We had intended to travel to the Cameron Highlands today but we failed to factor the madness of Hari Raya, the biggest Muslim holiday all year. There were crowds of people in the bus station and all the buses directly to Cameron Highlands were booked. We managed to finagle a ticket to Ipoh, the closest larger northerly destination to the highlands. But, when we arrived in Ipoh, we were unable to get tickets to Cameron Highlands. The bus counter was like a gambling table with people thrusting their fare like bets in through the slot at the window. In the end, a group of local Indians had it rigged and just kept feeding their Ringott in to their front man at the window until the bus was filled. We hung around the window after the frenzy hoping our luck might change. The bookee felt for us but there was nothing he could do, especially with a party of 5. We finally gave up, purchased tickets for the next morning and caught a taxi to town to stay the night. As it turned out, we stayed in a really nice hotel and it was located across the street from a great Chinese restaurant. So, we got to lounge in relative luxury for a night and enjoy a delicious Chinese meal (and Peter nursed an upset stomach with several pots of healing Chinese tea).

November 2, 2005

Peter, Paul and I braved the Golden Triangle shopping district in Kuala Lumpur, multi-level shopping complexes, crawling with people and bargains to be negotiated. Thanks to Peter’s expert electronics counsel, we negotiated a damn good deal for a videocamera for Paul, and he has now launched his career as a film producer. We should have a first-rate production of our travels to show all of you when we return next year!

We made our way to KLCC, Kuala Lumpur City Center, using Petronas Towers as our guide, and tried to weasel a ticket to the skywalk on the 44^th floor of the 88-floor building. Although the visit is free, you have to stand in line to get your tickets early in the morning for your 30-second speed elevator ride to the skywalk that day, and because of holiday, there would be no more tours for the next four days. We were content to make our claim to having been in the lobby of the tallest building in the world and headed to the other large shopping mall in the complex across the street. We reveled in the very large bookstore on the top floor for almost two hours and finally broke away to return to Chinatown. On our way out, we got to see the synchronized fountains in KLCC’s park, an oasis in the middle of a forest of skyscrapers. When we got back to our hotel, we reconvened with Steve and Grandma and headed to the local restaurant Steve had found on the outskirts of Chinatown and feasted on roti canai and murtaboks. The chefs and servers were happy to be celebrities as Paul filmed the colorful and animated Malay cooking.  

November 1, 2005

Alias at Family Restaurant arranged for us and our friends, Gordon and Pierre, to take a local boat back to the pier at Tembeling, complete with people heading to see family for Hari Raya festivities and slabs of rubber from plantations upstream. We idled downstream for a leisurely 2-hour-plus cruise. At one point, we had to request a bathroom break and it was funny to see all the men and boys line up along the jungle shore to pee!

At Jerutut, we weathered the onslaught of people traveling for Hari Raya and secured tickets on a 4 p.m. bus to Kuala Lumpur. It was dark by the time we arrived in Malaysia’s capitol and we got brilliant views of the world’s largest buildings, Malaysia’s own twin towers, the Petronas Towers, and the space needle. The town was rocking with celebrations as Deepavali, Indian new year, Hari Raya, the end of Ramadan, had converged on the same week. As a result, Steve and I spent a good hour trying to find affordable accommodations. 

October 31, 2005

Cross-cultural Communication

For the past five days, we have been enchanted by the 130,000,000-year-old jungle of Taman Negara national park in east Malaysia and the people who live on its outskirts. We first stayed at Tahan Guest House, a funky, family-run accommodation decorated with colorful murals of jungle wildlife and scenes in the village of Kuala Tahan. The guest house was located at the base of the road to the local mosque, and at various intervals throughout the day, the surrounding hillsides resounded with the chants of faithful Muslims in prayer. One evening, we met Mazlan (pronounced like “Mazatlan” Mexico, he explained) a young Muslim from Kuala Lumpur who was visiting the mosque/Muslim community here in Kuala Tahan as a Ramadan pilgrimage. When he discovered that we were from Oregon, he began to cite various geographic landmarks in the region. I was impressed with how much he knew about the Pacific Northwest, so far from his corner of the world. You could tell that this intelligent and well-educated young man was hungry to learn about the world, and, now that he had the opportunity to find out more about American culture and people, he eagerly engaged me in conversation. We became deeply engrossed in our discussions, talking about everything from cultural customs to ultimately, politics. While we were talking, Peter came down and asked, in his characteristically direct manner, for money to go and pick up some roti canai at the local marketplace. He also gave me a fairly detailed budget update as he had just been working with Steve on our trip budget. Mazlan observed these interactions with keen interest. He noted Peter’s intelligence and was intrigued with his direct approach with us and how freely children participate in family decision making. He said that it was very different in Malay families but he liked the easy manner between American children and parents. He told me how Malay families are now experiencing the disintegration of the nuclear family as children move out of the villages to urban centers and seek their own destinies. Though he personally enjoyed the freedom to pave his own path, he was concerned about the integrity of the family unit and the erosion of certain traditional values. He was very curious about our expedition, and we talked about our motivations to take this trip and expose our children to different parts of the world, particularly developing countries affected by U.S. politics and global corporate enterprises. I told him how deeply I was affected by our experience in Guatemala and Laos because of the U.S.’s role in destabilizing those countries and wreaking economic and political hardship on its peoples. At this point in the conversation, he paused and with emotion, he said, “I’m sorry to say this but I have not met many Americans like you; you are truly travelers, not just tourists.” I told him, also with emotion, that I considered that the highest compliment. It was approaching 7 p.m., the hour to break the fast, and he had to go. We exchanged e-mail, pledged to stay in touch, and bid each other a fond farewell.

I didn’t quite muster the courage to trek the longest suspension bridge canopy walk in the world but Peter and Paul eagerly dragged Steve along for the adventure. Apparently at a couple of intervals in the walk, Steve’s knees were really quaking and he had to summon all his focus to get through the ordeal. One of these segments was what Peter dubbed the “Stairway to Heaven” because you had to climb a fairly steep series of stairs to ascend to even greater heights than the normal 25 meters above the ground! At another hairy segment, the interval between solid tree platforms was unusually long and Steve found himself swaying quite precariously in the middle of the segment. Freaky! He did seem a bit ashen when he returned to the resort!

Peter-Monkey Show-Down

On the way back from the canopy walk, they saw a family of monkeys (long-tailed macaques) in a large tree outside one of the cabins on the resort and were eager to show them to Mom and me. They were still there when we arrived and we watched them and their antics overhead, especially tracking a mother and young baby. Suddenly, one monkey shimmied down a pole and began pursuing Peter. It took us a moment to realize what was going on. Peter had just broken into a package of chocolate-covered peanuts and that monkey wasted no time trying to acquire those tasty morsels. After Peter’s experience with an aggressive monkey in Lopburi, Thailand, he surrendered without a fight, flinging the package on the ground away from him, and that monkey very meticulously picked up all the candies that had fallen out of the package and very properly picked out the rest in the package. Any candies he missed were scavenged by another monkey who wanted a piece of the action!

The Lost Trail

We all took a boat up river to a waterfall. Mom took the return trip by boat and we were dropped off on the other side of the river to hike the 8.5 kilometers back to the resort. Soon after we had begun the hike, we came upon a large tree that had fallen across and was obstructing the trail. After a cursory investigation, we didn’t know how to proceed. Each of us began trying to contribute to the resolution of our predicament. We located our whistles and Steve began systematically exploring the perimeter of the tree while Paul, Peter and I retraced our steps back to the trail head to see if we had missed another alternate trail. Peter also pulled out a compass and began recording directional readings and times and determining, from the map, which direction we needed to head. I was the timekeeper, tracking the time we had been on the trail. After about a half hour, Steve found the resumption of the trail, and we made our way through the tangle of branches and debris to the other side of the tree and were back on the trail. We had gone just a short way down the trail, however, when it ended and we had to back-track again! After consulting with the map, we realized we needed to cross a nearby stream. We found a trampled spur off the main trail that led into the stream, and we sent Steve to the other side to scout the resumption of the main trail again. We were relieved when Steve reported that he had found it after all and for the remainder of the very long, arduous trail though we never encountered a soul for the entire length of the trail, we were more-or-less confident we were heading in the right direction, thanks to Peter’s diligent compass readings. The trail was riddled with leeches, much to Paul’s dismay and constant vigilance, but fortunately, our friend, Dee, from the Tahan Guest House, had told us about a product called Beygon, very effective leech prevention, and though those persistent little buggars tried, they never penetrated. With only a few kilometers left of the trek, we were crossing a bridge deep in the jungle when we heard the very distinctive call of the hornbill. We immediately began tracking three or four of them through the dense vegetation and witnessed a rhino hornbill fly across the stream and land in a tree where we got a nearly unobstructed view of this grand bird, relative of the toucans we had sighted in Costa Rica. For over 15 minutes, we were privy to their animated chatter and watched them congregate in a distant tree for their social hour. It was an absolutely magical moment and we reluctantly proceeded on the trail. We arrived back at the resort, weary, bedraggled but high from our encounter with the hornbills.

Jungle Target Practice

One afternoon, Peter, Paul, Mom and I headed just a short distance down river to an Orang Asli village. Mr. John, the village’s spokesman, greeted us and began briefing us about the Orang Aslis of Taman Negara Park. For centuries these indigenous people have lived in harmony with the jungle and its other inhabitants. Mr. John works in partnership with the national park rangers to catch poachers of some of the park’s most endangered species—rhinos and elephants. Recently, most of the poachers have come from Thailand and Indonesia and John was involved in catching one who killed a rhino this past year. They estimate that only 24 rhinos remain, far below the critical threshold.

Peter and Paul were eager to hear about the blow guns of the Orang Aslis, and John brought out a beautiful bamboo specimen and explained in detail how these handsome implements are made. The barrel of the gun is made of bamboo that is hollowed out until it is perfectly smooth; this process alone takes at least a month. The dart is made of the skin of the palm frond and reinforced with the sap of the too gum tree. Its tip is fashioned from pule, a soft wood. Finally, the tip of the dart is dipped with poison, derived from the sap of the apel tree. Like maple syrup, the saps are prepared by cooking into over a fire. The darts are stored in a large cylindrical container made of bamboo with slots for each dart made of bamboo of a smaller diameter. The bottom of the container is made of beeswax. The rings at the joints of the protective cover for the gun are made of rattan. Peter and Paul were even more eager to give it a try and after a few quick demonstrations, they were loading their weapons, plugging the end with the skin of a tree and blowing non-poisonous darts at a target with relative success. The secret is in the sharp, concentrated expulsion of air from the gut. They were at a disadvantage in the village because young boys join their fathers on hunting expeditions at 3 years of age! Accuracy is critical as you must aim shoot your prey in the arms or legs and immediately sever the limb from the body so that the meat remains uncontaminated from the poison. I tried to shoot it once and the dart fell limp just a few feet away. I fear I would not make a very impressive hunter. And besides, just the notion of killing a monkey elicits a nauseating reaction.

Unexpected Spelunking

After our visit, Peter and I decided to hike to a nearby cave. When we arrived, another group had just entered the cave and Peter urged me to follow, telling me that he could already see the other end of the cave. Harmless enough, I thought and trustingly began crawling through the entrance of the cave, even providing inspiration to a young English woman who was working up her courage to venture in. Well, it soon became apparent that it wasn’t just a simple in and out as we penetrated deeper into the bowels of the cave. Still, Peter urged me on and before I knew it, I found myself deep in the interior of the cave, far from any natural light and relying on my flashlight only to illuminate the way. We had to crawl under ledges and through crevices so narrow I had to take off my backpack to fit! As we emerged into the next chamber, we kept disrupting colonies of bats and had to stand still until the shaken inhabitants re-equilibrated. At one point, we rounded a corner and I heard a rather excitable, “Snake!” come from our Chinese companions ahead. Since I couldn’t see, I imagined a menacing snake ready to strike our defenseless leaders… so I screamed… loudly, “Sweet Jesus!”  Despite the seriousness of our predicament, Peter was duly embarrassed and illuminated the culprit that appeared to be asleep on a ledge above us. I watched it warily and was none too pleased that we had to travel right under that ledge. In the meantime, it was at this juncture in the trail that our Chinese friends lost the rope guide and didn’t know which way to go and there we were waiting in the front parlor with the snake until they sorted out our route! Geez! The English young woman and I favored turning around and going back the way we had come but definitely weren’t keen on going at it on our own, and, since only one of the Chinese party understood English and he only minimally, we didn’t have much choice but to wait. After an eternally long several minutes, we finally got the signal that they had found their way to the exit. Alleluia! But the end was not without a few more perilous trials—we still had to lower ourselves into a shallow chamber, ford a cave swamp and hoist ourselves through the narrowest crevice yet. I was shaking and drenched in sweat (and not all from exertion) when we re-emerged into the glorious sunlight but I felt elated to have weathered the challenge intact. It was a bonding experience for Peter and me and he acknowledged with pride how I’m slaying my fears right and left on this trip and that by the time I return, I’ll be free of them all! And, I acknowledged him for being my main inspiration in this trying endeavor, a brilliant, encouraging beacon and guide in the quest! We were so high from our adventure, we were ready for more and decided to hike the 2.5 kilometers back to town. We were rewarded with an encounter with the largest tree in the park. It’s a ceiba-like tree with a smooth trunk, involuted and sprawling in layers of folds that encompassing a large fraction of the slope on which it was rooted. Though I was dreadfully out of breath on the steep trail, this tree demanded an almost reverent awe as I came into its grand presence.

We made it back to Kuala Tahan just in time for the evening market. We had worked up a ravenous appetite and ordered 6 murtubaks and several roti canai and devoured them from a bench overlooking the river.

Hiding in the Jungle

Stocked with water, food and binoculars, we found ourselves back in the boat and heading upstream on the Sungai (River) Tembeling to the remote village of Kuala Trenggan with our friends, Pierre and Fiona. By early afternoon, we arrived at the remote hide of Bumbun Kumbang and settled in to watch any wildlife lured to the salt lick in our hide’s view. Already at the hide was Gordon Frost, a zoologist from Australia who is touring national parks around the world for the next 3 years. We were so fortunate to hook up with him at our night at the hide. Before the action began, he took Paul out to the salt lick to whet his appetite for the coming attractions—to view prints, pointing out tapir, sambar deer and guar, or Indian bison, prints. Gordon had briefed us on hide/wildlife viewing protocol: Basically, after 5 p.m., we had to be absolutely quiet and avoid any unnecessary back lighting. Gordon, as our resident expert, would operate the search light and identify the species. Well I can’t say we were perfectly quiet but we did try to build the environment and they did come… and come… and come! At 5 p.m. came a herd of wild boar. They had us surrounded, scurrying around the salt lick and our hide, rooting and grubbing for earthworms and other wiggly delicacies. In the meantime, a family of banded languar had the tree tops covered. I swear, one adolescent monkey was suffering from ADHD because he couldn’t sit still, as Steve who was trying to take a photograph of them could attest! While his mother snacked peacefully in the crook of the tree, he performed one acrobatic stunt after another. Just before night fell, the wild boar and banded languor monkey cleared the stage for what would be the main attraction for the rest of the night. At 7:09 p.m., the trumpet ciccadea announced his arrival, and a Malay tapir made his grand, no I would say, very grand, entrance. What a beauty! This is the largest of all the tapirs. He has a leathery hide with a white trunk and black body, and basically looks like a small rhinoceros, but has a family of his own, and I have to say, I fell in love, he was so cool! There he was with his long snout, making gentle slurping sounds as he eagerly sated himself at the salt lick, and he was in no hurry to lumber off. He actually seemed rather attached to his audience, and, if he took a break from the limelight, he would soon return. And, I was there, throughout the night, to faithfully document his appearances. For a brief while before the hour he left, but at 7:55 p.m., he returned. Again at 8:10 p.m., he left and returned. Then, at 8:30 p.m., he very abruptly left when a group of guar, the largest wild cattle in the world, appeared on the scene. Unlike our friend, the showman tapir, these creatures shied away from the spotlight and all too quickly exited the stage. Within a couple of minutes, the tapir was back, assuming his old role. Again at 9:10 p.m. another group of guar appeared; the tapir exits stage right into the trees. At 9:35 p.m., as if on cue, he reappeared, and this time he remained, even when a herd of sambar deer joined him for a jungle chorus act at 2:30 a.m. At 3 a.m., he took a short break and was back at 3:20 a.m. He only took his final curtain call at 4 a.m. I had the romantic notion that this was the same tapir, who sensing our appreciation, remained faithful to us all night, but Gordon assured me that each sighting must have been a different tapir. Either way, I fell in love with this gentle species and vowed to accompany them through the night.

Dazzled by the evening’s performance, we set-off to hike the 12 kilometers back to town, despite the lack of sleep but when we arrived at the river crossing, we determined that the river was too high and fast to safely traverse. We headed back to the dock at Kuala Trenggan to hail a boat back to town. Gordon had left the hide before us for a head start on the trail but when we arrived at the dock, there he was, having also determined that the river just wasn’t safe to cross. Within minutes a boat arrived to drop off another group heading to the hide and we negotiated a ride back to town, all of 8 of us in a 5-passenger boat! Yes, we were low in the boat in this fast-moving river. It made for a thrilling ride back down the river and we got a rapids adventure for a fraction of the cost! There was Steve’s backpack on the bow, like a beacon, and Peter and Paul right behind it, bobbing up and down and taking the brunt of the splashes. From the rear of the boat, Steve and I could hear them shouting their glee as we dipped and coursed through the rapids!

It was our day to be doused because no sooner had we showered and cleaned up that we were caught in a rain forest deluge crossing the river to go to the Internet café in town. Our friends at Family Restaurant provided us with safe refuge and when the rain subsided, an umbrella to make it the short distance up the hill to the Internet café.

We had a reunion of our group from the hide that night at Family Restaurant, recounting our tales of adventure and marveling at the wonders we witnessed that magical night. It was also our last night with our friends at Family Restaurant and we want to thank Alias, Mahathir, Fendi, and Dee, the Thai cook, for their friendship and sustenance. During our stay at Taman Negara, we were regulars at Family Restaurant, having been recommended by our other local friend, Dee at Tahan Guest House. Their camaraderie made our stay in Taman Negara that much more special. Alias prepared me for the upcoming Hari Raya festivities with these greetings:

• Selamat Hari Raya (Happy Hari Raya)
• Semoga Panjang Umur (Old life to you)
• Murah Rezeki (Good luck)

And these expressions of forgiveness to your parents and other elders for all your failings:

• Saya minta maaf (I'm sorry)
• Banyak-banyak
• Kalau ada salah (Please forgive me)
• Dan silap selama ini.

October 24, 2005

Our time on the beach had come to an end and, along with our friends Luci and Robby, we bid Long Beach farewell that day. The weather had changed and the sea was quite rough. Fierce winds were stirring up swells 8 feet high with white caps. We decided to face the tumult of the open sea with two other boats and waited for them to pick up passengers at other villages around the islands. As we merged into the open sea together, our captain dexterously avoided what he could but it was inevitable—we were going to get wet! As we crashed into one oncoming wave after another, we were slammed violently into the deep troughs of the waves and my side of the boat bore the brunt of the backwash. Waves of water washed over us and in no time, Peter and I and all our fellow passengers on our side of the boat were completely drenched and sitting in a pool of water! Each time a wave plunged into us, I shrieked with a mixture of exhilaration and shock from the cold. Luci, who was sitting across from us, captured the relentless assault and our apparently amusing candid reactions to it on film. Upon arriving at the pier, we quickly changed into dry clothes and jumped into a taxi to our next destination, Tanah Merah, where we planned to catch the jungle train to Taman Negara the next morning. The train station at Tanah Merah was several stops closer to our final destination and meant that we could catch the train at 7:10 a.m. instead of 5:30 a.m. However, when we arrived, we discovered that the town was quite off the tourist trail. We were the only foreigners in town, and there were only three hotels to choose from-one was too expensive, another was tenement-like accommodations in a narrow, grungy looking hallway, and the last required a phone call to a property manager. After negotiating with the more expensive hotel, we dropped off our bags and went in search of a bank and food. We found a small restaurant, run by a friendly Muslim Malay family, that served excellent Malay food. There we indulged in the local specialties—murtubak, flat bread filled with meat (choice of chicken, beef, and in this case, mutton), spicy fried chicken and fish, chicken with honey sesame seed sauce, and a banana fritter dessert. As it was early evening, we were there only customers, and the whole family swirled around us, eager to introduce us to their food. The daughter of the family, who had studied English in school, served as our translator. I think she was just slightly older than Peter. She was quite lovely and eager to talk to us. Perhaps she sensed Peter’s intelligence or simply thought he was quite handsome because she was very intent to learn more about him, inquiring about his education and whether or not he was a good student. Their company and the meal were quite satisfying and we reluctantly took our leave and returned to our hotel for the evening.  

October 23, 2005

Our first destination on the snorkeling tour was a remote reef off the big island of Besar. Our guide very unceremoniously anchored and announced that this was our first stop and we could go ahead and get on with it! Without further coaxing, we plunged into the deep blue water and were at once dazzled by the teeming life that lived in and around this massive coral cathedral. As we meandered along its dramatic perimeter in awe, however, we had to be aware of the current slamming against the reef.

Before we arrived at our second destination, a beach off the big island, we sighted a large shadow moving through the water. As soon as I realized it was a giant sea turtle, I hurriedly grabbed my mask and jumped in without my flippers and began following these mammoth but graceful creatures. The visibility was poor, yet they were hard to miss and we accompanied several turtles on their way back out to sea. We swam above them, dove down and swam beside them and watched them rise to the surface to breathe and then plunge down again into deep waters. On a couple of their forays to the surface, we were practically riding the turtles and actually touched their shell and tough, leathery flippers. After having watched sea turtles lay eggs in Costa Rica, it was a treat to swim with them here and feel their awesome presence as they glided through the water with the greatest of ease. It was an amazing experience for me, an opportunity to commune with a mother from another species on the arduous course of bearing children and I didn’t want to leave. But eventually our guide called us in to go to our next destination, shark’s corner, a large congregation of gigantic bulbous coral heads. No sharks but we got to see our first Nemo (clown) fish, much to the delight of the children, and they wildly gesticulated underwater every time they saw another Nemo hovering in the anemones! We also hitched a ride with a school of needlefish, slender silver fish with a long delicate snout.

Next we snorkeled off a peninsula extending out into deep water. We followed the coral shelf to the edge of the open ocean and gazed into the depths of the ocean from the ledge. On our way back, we floated with the current through a narrow passage way between two large coral masses. On our way back, we had to make like a fish and really use our flippers to propel our way against the current back to the boat. As we were climbing back into the boat, Steve told us about how he almost lost his wedding ring. As he was snorkeling, his ring came off and he watched it drift down, down, down in a slow-motion nightmare! He wasn’t able to quite catch it but miraculously it gently settled on a ledge that was within reach and he retrieved it and clutched it desperately in a seal tight fist all the way back to the boat! Apparently, he is losing weight because it slid right off his finger! It’s now safely secured in his mother’s rosary bag.

We rounded off our idyllic day with a visit to Turtle Beach, a turtle nesting sanctuary and pristine beach straight out of Castaway. I wanted to explore the island but I couldn’t get my kids out of the water! I was standing near the surf watching Paul snorkel when suddenly he began swimming quickly to shore and I knew he had seen something large and ominous. He emerged from the water flushed with excitement, “Mom, there was this fish. It was as big as me or bigger!” Peter and I jumped in to check it out and swam a ways out without seeing anything but as we were turning around to head back, there it was and it WAS big. Yikes! After snorkeling all day, it felt absolutely luxurious to lay out on the beach and take a nap. We savored our last fish barbeque at Lilly’s on the beach.

October 22, 2005

Traveling the length of Thailand enroute to Malaysia gave us an appreciation for how long Thailand is, and while traveling to Bill’s house on the farm, we passed the narrowest segment of Thailand, only 19 kilometers wide, sandwiched by Gulf of Thailand on the east and Myanmar on the west. After much deliberation, we decided to take the train through the troubled region of southern Thailand into Malaysia. For the past couple of years, Muslim extremists wishing to secede from Thailand and create their own Muslim state have been targeting local Thai Buddhists. Recently, a couple of boys, who were tending a Buddhist temple, and a monk were killed. As with many of these conflicts, these two groups have coexisted quite peacefully for decades but economic and political pressures have coalesced to precipitate conflict between them, and despite the government’s pledge to resolve the conflict swiftly and effectively, it only appears to be worsening and already many Thai Buddhists are fleeing to neighboring Malaysia for safe sanctuary.

With some apprehension, we passed through peaceful-looking towns comprised of Muslim Thais busy with their daily work. The trains were heavily patrolled by Thai police, and we arrived in the border town of Sungai Kolok, one of the hotbeds of this current conflict, without incident. Never-the-less, we didn’t dally at the border and crossed quickly into Malaysia. We were hoping to get some lunch before heading south to the Perhentian Islands on the east coast of Malaysia as we had left at 6 a.m. in the morning with only scant breakfast, but unfortunately this predominantly Muslim country was deep in its observance of Ramadan and all the restaurants and most of the businesses in town were closed! Thankfully, we found one market open and spent our first Ringotts on water, peanut butter, crackers, and raisins, our meager sustenance on the two-hour taxi ride to the boat dock in Kuala Besut.

Once again we were accompanied by many international tourists on the boat ride to the Perhentian Islands, and we struck up conversation with a German man named Thomas and a Dutch couple, who ended up staying at the same guest house as us. Over the course of our time on the islands, we were to meet Luci from France, Toni from Australia, Pierre from Quebec, Canada, Andy from England, Rashid and Abdul from France, and many others.

The water taxi to the islands was exhilarating as we galloped over the swells of the open sea and then surfed our way into shore on the gentle but large waves that shaped the cove of Long Beach on the island of Kecil (small island). After eating a late lunch/early dinner, there was still time for body surfing in those fantastic waves. Steve, Peter and I ventured out a considerable way along the variegated sandy bottom to meet the best waves. I have to admit, some of them were quite intimidating, a veritable 6 to 10 feet of potentially lethal undertow, and we spent much of this first encounter just getting acquainted.  During that critical testing period as we gained confidence and tested the strength of these oncoming walls of surf, Peter and I mostly bailed and dove through the really towering waves, only hitching a ride on the tamer looking ones or the secondary breaks, as these waves often reformed and crashed again before reaching shore. Steve, who easily reverts back to his childhood days body surfing in southern California, was bolder and urged us on with his assessment that despite their appearance, they were remarkably gentle. When he caught a wave, we would watch him whizzing past us with his eyes bugged wide open and his mouth puckered like a fish—he looked hilarious!

Over the course of the next several days, we spent time body surfing, lounging on the beach, swimming, body surfing some more, drinking fruit shakes and eating fresh fish at Lilly’s nightly barbecue, playing cards, watching British soccer nightly on the tellie, and getting into an all-too-comfortable routine of beach living! One day we took the short walk to Coral Bay on the other side of the island and discovered a snorkeling paradise. Peter, Paul and I snorkeled out over the field of coral into the deep waters, filled with coral heads of unusual shapes—mushrooms, fan, and giant tubes—and in and around these caverns were fish of all shapes and colors—rainbow fish, angel fish, rock fish—as well as giant clams, anemones, and other unusual reef dwellers swaying in the rocking sea. My little snorkeling ducklings followed me into the very deep blue-grey water all the way out to a raft at the farthest reaches of the cove. We scrambled on top and waved triumphantly to Grandma Carrol and Steve on shore. Peter practiced his diving before we plunged in for our return trip, pausing to linger around our favorite coral heads. When we got to shore, we met Pierre, a French Canadian. We filled him in on our recommended snorkeling circuit, and he and Steve took off to explore the underworld of Coral Bay. When we headed back to Long Beach for lunch, we could see Pierre only as a dot way out on the far side of the reef, entranced in his explorations!

The guide books had warned to watch out for monitor lizards (very large lizards) all around the island and especially on the hike to Coral Bay and sure enough just as we started out, there was a very large monitor lizard skulking around a swampy area. But, despite their dinosaur-like qualities, these monstrous reptiles are really very shy and, with a couple flicks of their long tongues, usually turn their terrible heads and disappear into the vegetation when spotted by a human. Which is just what the lizard we saw did. By the time Steve had taken out his camera, the only view we caught was his long tail slithering into the jungle! We had a few other monitor lizard sightings over the course of our visit, including several at a dump site (they’re scavengers). One afternoon, when I turned on our bathroom light, I heard loud scrambling on the corrugated tin roof of our bathroom and darted back into the safety of our bungalow before carefully investigating for any intruders. After determining that the bathroom looked clear of predators, I proceeded with my shower though the loud scratching persisted. The next morning on our way to breakfast, I caught a view of the roof of the bathroom and there sat a monitor lizard, the culprit of all the racket the afternoon before (they’re rather slow animals). Then on the last morning on the island, I was meditating at the rocks when I heard something behind me. There on an upper ledge was a small monitor lizard. The smaller lizards were prettier, green with brown patterns, and I quietly scurried back to get Steve for the photo opportunity. Of course by the time we returned, he was long gone. 

That afternoon, Peter and Paul rented boogie boards and Steve and the boys bounded out to meet the surf and catch some waves. As I headed to the Internet Café, I stopped to watch them. Steve was giving them an added booster, pushing them as they caught a wave. As they shot out across the length of the wave with amazing acceleration, they were both beaming with excitement, high from the adrenaline of the rush of wave!

That evening, we all convened at the rocks on the far end of the beach for a prayer service for our Sunday worship. With the glistening sea as our altar and the gentle crashing of the waves lulling us into meditative prayer, we read and reflected on the scripture for that Sunday, a familiar and favorite verse, Matthew 22:37-39, ‘You shall the love the Lord, your God, with all your heart and soul and mind and love your neighbor as yourself.” In this spectacular setting, how could we not revel in the awesomeness of our God and the blessing of each other and this grand venture of ours?!

Steve and I hurried to catch the sunset at Coral Bay. While scrambling over the rocks along the shore, I got my leg wedged between two boulders. Thankfully I was able to extricate it and we found a perch on an observation deck overlooking the ocean. As the sunset deepened, we were joined by two other couples who had taken the same snorkeling trip that day. After hearing about their encounters with turtles, an amazing abundance of fish and the pristine beaches of the big island, we decided to sign-up for a snorkeling tour the next day. While waiting for the sun to lower in the sky, I saw a head break the surface and then part of a shell—a turtle was swimming just off shore! We waited until the last vestiges of light faded in a hue of rich magenta.