Busy in Sleepy Kuching

Just a few days before Tiger ended its service to Kuching, I finally made it there. But as it turns out, there aren't many cats. Just, for some reason, cat monuments.

The city looks, feels and operates pretty much like just another Malaysian city, despite the distance between East and West. Even though it was primarily a hiking trip, which I thought would leave quite a bit of time to go poking around, things didn't turn out as planned. In fact, by the fourth day, the 6.30am alarm every morning schedule was beginning to remind me of the kind of packed Chan Brothers tour that the old folks used to sign up for.

It's fabulous, though, to have people to go hiking with on a multi-day excursion in a foreign land. It's fabulous to be able to go to places in a rented vehicle but not have to be the one to drive. It's also fabulous to be able to go for a meal and eat a whole bunch of different food in one sitting.

Not so great - group photos. Countless group photos. And people who, for whatever reason, feel the need to compel everyone in the group to pose for them. Of course, no one else minds except me. Which, of course, makes me the person who always spoils the photos. Which of course, leads to some sort of nickname, some labelling. Group dynamics. Democracy. Let's all be lemmings.

Not so great - finding out the map provided to your lodgings is wrong. Lugging luggage up and down the same street in the rain for an hour in the night time in search of the right location. Finally getting there and the fat lady at the counter smiles and says, 'I was just about to give your room to someone else.' Keeps her plastered smile when you complain that the map provided to her place was WRONG. Total apathy. And that no one even picks up the telephone at the number provided. 'Oh, prob'ly because we were all downstairs.' Fake smile, 100% apathy. Then you get the feeling it'll be a different attitude if you were an ang moh, so you decide not to waste your time with this woman. Then she shows you to the room, which is not so much a room as a cubicle. The answer to why there was no picture online of the purported 'single room'.

And the final not-so-great - one fellow in the group starts to get touchy. I begin to wonder if I need to adopt a more icy demeanor generally so I don't give off any touchy-feely vibe or ask-me-out vibe that I'm not aware of. I thought I was already unapproachable to begin with. Apparently not. Or maybe I've got the clueless vibe so people think they can just do what they want. Perplexing.

Rants aside, a productive trip, including picture generation with both mountains and Bako National Park offering fab views to rival even shiny Tasmania. Still can't really get the auto macro under control but still too lazy to learn how to do it the manual way. Or should I say I prob'ly learnt it in class in university and promptly forgot? I forget, it was too long ago. Oh, and I just got older too. Boo.

Chicken Little

The trouble with going on turtle patrol alone in the middle of the night is that for people afraid of the dark, it's a horror flick where the never-ending music is on the screeching violins. And the trouble with being afraid of the dark is that it sounds ridiculous as a reason for refusing anything.

So, on turtle patrols I went.

Out there with a little headlamp where only the infrared bulb was allowed (white light scares away turtles), paranoia. The wind is high. I will myself not to run away screaming with every rustle of a leaf. Still, chagrin, as it gets hard to walk doubly fast in the fine sand. Easier on the firm sand along the waterline. But the waves are deafening and in the limited light, look dangerously like they're rushing in to devour everyone, anyone on the beach. I don't walk anywhere near the waterline.

The sky is invariably black and heavy with stars. Is it sucking me into space, or is it coming crashing down me on earth? Am I breathless from the expansive sight, or suffocating because I'm too small to bear the weight? I have to look away, focus on the sand. But I dwell on Chicken Little, I might know him.

It's always a relief when patrol ends, when I throw down the headlamp and flee to bed.

But then, a new perspective presents itself unexpectedly - in a motorcycle sidecar.

If you look up into the laden night sky as you hurtle along the narrow path snaking through the forest, it's almost as if you're travelling through space. What a rush.

The New Tioman Episode

I've been going around telling people that I stayed with a conservationist in Tioman, so I'll stick with that, although I can't be sure if the term "conservationist" needs to come with special qualifications. Let's just peg that at moving to Tioman from the US 6 years ago, living on a sometimes inaccessible island to build a compound from scratch, all for the sake of protecting turtles.

A nondescript entry on Wikitravel and 8 days of leave to clear conspired to bring me to Tioman. It's funny though, that most still think a "volunteer" gets free board and lodging. I'll admit I was one of them, until I started to look into it more seriously.

When I arrived around mid-afternoon, there were two other people there, besides the conservationist (male). One, a German female, in her 20s. Subsists mainly on cheap cigarettes. Long stayer - will live there till September. The other, Australian female, in her 50s or 60s. Like me, just a temp - 10 days. Loves to chat about herself and her lifetime of substantial travels - Africa, America, Europe, she's done it all. I am bunking with the German.

On the tour of the place, the conservationist remarks that I am funny, because I refused to do any research about turtles prior to arrival, opting instead for "physical labour". He decides to start work on the little pool that his blind turtle is housed in, the day I arrive. The plan is to tile the inside of the pool (outside already tiled when pool was built). So the turtle, measuring perhaps 70cm in diameter, is moved into a giant black plastic tub. Then we try to scrub away the algae that coat the cement walls of the pool. Somewhat futile, but work is work.

In the subsequent days, I am roped into tiling the pool, hammering together the frame of a big picture someone has painted (I proceed to hammer it into the wooden floorboards), digging a giant hole (to house the septic tank for a couple of new chalets being built), chopping up dead trees (subsequently burnt), chopping bamboo at a bamboo grove (even though I knew bamboo groves are mosquito hothouses, I still ended up with over 20 new bites just from that outing) and general cleaning (I actually elect to clean the kitchen floor on my hands and knees).

The bamboo poles are eventually used to build a turtle hatchery, which, with the participation of 5 new volunteers who arrive on day 3, I am able to not really do any work for. Did I mention it was under the beating mid-day sun? Getting a beautiful satay-hued tan is not for me. But hey, they did a great job!

That was on day 6, the day I have 2 sausages for breakfast. The conservationist saw me getting a new packet of them from the fridge. At lunch, he asked me how many sausages I had. Upon examination of the package, he had appeared to conclude that I had 5 sausages. In fact, I had cooked 4 and gave the German girl 2.

Later, of course, I had to ask. 'What's wrong with eating 5 sausages?'

He said, 'It's not economical.' And proceeded into a spiel about the difference between how Americans and Asians eat. 'An Asian would eat rice with 2 ... no, ONE sausage.'

No wonder he'd been looking so keenly into my bowl of instant noodles on previous days. For want of some fibre, I had thrown in some remnants of bean sprouts and cauliflower I found in the fridge. I wonder if he gave the same lecture to the Australian, whom I saw eating two eggs for breakfast (despite claims that she needed to watch her cholesterol). Probably not. No one wants to bully old ladies.

On day 7, I handed in my RM960 volunteer fee. Took no food from the kitchen except 2 slices of bread. Trekked to a nearby waterfall and did no work. Walked to the nearest village (about 20 minutes on foot) to pack dinner.

On day 8, I left, even though I wasn't due back home until day 9. I stayed the extra night in a clean inn in Mersing and treated myself to Kentucky Fried Chicken and Marrybrown. Between bites of fried chicken~ I reckon there must be a line one crosses from being a reasonable human being to becoming a wildlife champion looking for the next donation. The turtle gets squid and fish twice a day, while the humans get random vegetable scraps.

Is it me or does something funny always happen in Tioman? The last time I was there, someone fell off the seabus into the sea - but not before trying for an impossible split between the boat and the jetty. Must be something in the Tioman water (100% potable)~

Cold, cold Cameron

Prologing a trek by overnighting on the road is at best a hit-and-miss. The previous two to Gunung Datuk and Gunung Bunga Buah didn't turn out too badly, despite squeezing 15 to a minibus. It's pretty much a hit when a light sleeper like me manages to catch 40 winks in the bus despite the cramped conditions.

So one'd have thought that given a luxury coach this time around, especially with 18 people spread on a 36-seater, I would've fared much better. But me and the sleeping bag didn't fare well at all, and it was the tireless air-conditioning that triumphed.

And so it was that I was in a sour frame of mind on our first day of trekking to Gunung Brinchang (trail 1). No doubt it was compounded first, by lots of waiting around trying to check in to our lodgings (two 3-bedroom residential units in a building on a very steep hillside), then having to break out the rain gear sometime in the afternoon, and to top it all off, a very cold, damp, tedious and nauseating 9-km road walk back after summitting Gunung Brinchang. Therefore, I don't have any pictures to show for my efforts on Day 1, even though we passed by the lovely Boh tea plantations and even a strawberry farm featuring a very wet baby goat.

But here are efforts from Day 2, which saw the summit of Mount Beremban, crossing a couple of streams, people tumbling into mud, slipping in the undergrowth, stealing strawberries, and other muddy hijinks. At nights, I heard, there were even parties involving beer, durians and raw jagong. But I was too busy getting into bed.

In the end, happiness was finding a Ramly burger stand on the way down, when we stopped at the Iskandar Falls, even if it wasn't the 'special' due to a lack of eggs. It's still a Ramly burger.

Strange encounters

-- race issues --

'Are you Malay?' one of them suddenly asks.

I couldn't help but laugh. One minute there're people asking if I'm from China and the next there're those asking if I'm Malay.

'Because I heard them calling your name,' he quickly added. 'Sounds like a Malay name. I know some Indonesians with the same name.'

So I said my name properly in Chinese. It felt kind of alien, saying my own name in front of an audience at the foot of the Batu Caves limestone cliffs. They all laughed.

'That means he's been saying your name wrongly!' the girl exclaimed. 'I heard him calling you that, so I just followed.'

I ended up explaining my name right down to how the characters are written.

But they still didn't remember it in the end.

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-- taking ears hostage --

Someone was playing the piano, the sound of which I haven't heard in years. The playing was sounding constipated, seeing as he hasn't played in years either.

I went into the room armed with a KitKat. 'I'll give you a chocolate to stop playing,' I said. The girl in the room giggled.

He refused, so I upped the stakes - 'I'll give you two chocolates to stop playing!', while waving the KitKat under his nose invitingly. 'Take it, take it,' I egged.

He demanded an entire bag of chocolates instead, the greedy bugger.

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-- charity for your pleasure --

He was sitting beside me in the backseat of an old Proton with no suspension, cruising KL.

On second thought, that actually wasn't when he popped the question -

'If I donate a million dollars to charity, will you shave your head?'

We were in a teksi, racing towards the KL International Airport. As fast as RM75 will get us from 1Utama, anyway.

As I considered the question, he continued, 'I mean shave it bald, with a razor - in fact, I want to do the shaving. I'll feel bad, but I think I will also derive a lot of pleasure from it.'

Eschewing my standard 'Sure, why not?' (previously often criticised as lacking enthusiasm), I said, 'Yes, I will - is that positive enough for you?'

Ignoring the gibe, he mused, 'This will give me more motivation to make my first million.'

'It's only hair,' I retorted.

I wonder if he thought this up after taking a knock in the old Proton the day before when the bottom of the car hit the tarmac as it rolled over a speed bump. Maybe his head hit the car ceiling.

But I'm looking forward to it too, even if only to remind you that you forgot.

July Q&A

Q: When's your birthday?

A. It was the day friends treated me to a Japanese buffet and my stomach went on strike the following two days. Prob'ly not such a great idea to have raw fish and deep fried food first thing in the day.

B. It was the day we went to the Chinatown hawker centre and I sat on something that left brown stains on my light blue shorts. Does it smell? - No? - Then it's not shit. Hahaha!

C. It was the day the waiter tipped a strawberry mocktail down my back. I don't blame him since he's just a trainee and the glasses they used were awful - heavy and wide on the top, only supported by a small base. However, minus points for assuming my clothes weren't wet since there's no apparent stain. Where did they think the entire mocktail went? Most of those polled felt my bill should have been waived. But it wasn't me who picked up the bill in the end.

(Thanks to my loverly friends for the treats!)

Q: So how come you decided not to go to Krabi?

A. I had work, which is true, I did go to work, sometime during the duration of the 4-day outing. (But notice I didn't say 'had to'.)

B. I'm the extra limb. It seemed most in the group knew one another, except me. When I said I can't sleep if someone in the dorm snores, the organiser says, 'We'll just get you drunk so you sleep all the way.' I politely declined.

C: Initial reluctance towards getting wet and sunned festered. Haven't been climbing much lately and so will just be an embarrassment in Krabi. On top of that, hadn't bought my air ticket and the airfare had increased substantially. Then, a 2-day trip to Malaysia's Gunung Bunga Buah on the same weekend surfaced and I was sold!

Q: How was your trekking trip?

A. Ironic. Didn't want to get wet in Krabi but it started to rain heavily just 2 hours into the trek. Trails turned into gushing streams of mud, got all wet and cold. And if you thought I could at least enjoy the fresh air - a few members of the group smoked during the trek - The air is so fresh I have to pollute it a bit. I'd rather get bitten by a leech than inhale second-hand smoke in the middle of the jungle. Guess that's why the leeches gave me a break.

B. Hard. The gradient wasn't bad, but I didn't realise it was an energy-sapping 10-hour affair. Read the fine print carefully next time!

C. Hassle-free. The organiser had hired a comfortable 12-seater mini-van that picked us up, dropped us off, waited for us, basically at our disposal for the entire 2 days. Thumbs up! Unfortunately, I think I lost mother's camera in the van. More online shopping, August!

The Pangkor party

I'll admit it. I thought it was just another resort-island type place. Y'know, beaches, beaches, people trying to sell you boat rides, beaches, and very little else.

But that's not really the case. Hornbills live on Pulau Pangkor. Not sure why this isn't a more heralded fact about the island, but it isn't. It's so not heralded, even me, the conscientious planner, missed it. Maybe that says something unflattering about my planning skills.

Back to the hornbills. They are the Lesser Hornbill, the smaller cousin of Sarawak's Giant Hornbill (apparently you can find those on Pangkor too, but we didn't see any). Apparently, they nest at three locations on the island, and one is Nipah Bay, where our lodgings are conveniently located. What a stroke of luck that we can even see the big tree they nest in from our room windows!

These birds, all dressed up in their black jackets and white trousers, appear to be curious birds, unafraid of getting close to humans. That's perhaps because where humans are, food's aplenty. In the mornings, you'll find them shovelling up thrown-away rice behind the seafood stall with their big yellow beaks, while a cat watches from behind some foliage.

Something else we saw while hanging out the window - the white bellied sea eagle (according to our resident nature guide). We first spotted it gliding around the bay area, but later, in the evening, it was perched on a very tall and very bare tree - save for what looked like a large messy nest. Binoculars - that's what you forgot!

The King of our tribe says when he came to the island decades ago, they used to see turtles nesting. We didn't see any, prob'ly because we were at the wrong beach. Apparently, 4 of the 7 known species of marine turtles that breed in Malaysia breed on Pangkor island. There's even a turtle breeding station, which we didn't visit since we didn't know of its existence.

We did venture out to an uninhabited island, though. The 10 minute ride cost us RM10 per person in a little speedboat. At Coral Island, just opposite Nipah Bay, schools of colourful fishes frolic among soft corals. Boats regularly ferry beach-goers to swim there. Our drop-off point was a small white beach from where you could hike across the island to get to the rocky outcrop where the colourful fishes swim. Along the way, you'll meet new friends from mosquitoes swarms and giant red ants lines. Corals are all around the island, so the sea bed is not particularly pleasant to step on. The worse were the soft squishy stuff. Let's just assume they were sea cucumbers, for peace of mind.

Pangkor is surprisingly hilly and prob'ly quite painful to cycle. We did see one brave caucasian couple attempting it, though. It's also got a bustling fishing industry, away from the tourist spots. Countless fishing wharves sprout from the shore, and on them, thousands of captured sea creatures are left to dry in the sun - the smell is over-whelming but you soon get used to it. Then, there're also ship builders, where it's entirely possible to while the day away observing the proceedings.

For sustenance, you'd think we'd be having seafood feasts. But no, with more than half the food stalls closed on weekdays, it's hard to be impressed with the offerings. What little seafood we had was pretty run-of-the-mill. The food stand at the end of Nipah Bay doles out greatly delicious Ramly burgers, though!

After three days, we leave Pangkor for Ipoh, where the Queen of the tribe purchases a large array of fruits and vegetables, and even a tray of free-range chicken eggs. Can't tell you how those eggs taste since they did not make it past Singapore customs. But it didn't seem so bad compared to the car beside us - it was being relieved of all the pots of beautiful orchids that filled its boot.

In the KL oven

Kuala Lumpur is as hot and muggy as ever, if not hotter. I'm only reminded of that when I get there, though. There isn't that much time for non-essential considerations when it's a last-minute decision.

But it's not the kind of heat we've usually got. It's the kind where, if you're lounging in a fifth-storey spa in the Ampang district after a 1-hour shiatsu, taking in the KL sunset through the floor to ceiling windows, the sun is a fiery circle with no clear edge. It's like being separated from your sunset by a veil. Or maybe those windows are dirty.

Later, when you've had enough of lounging around in an over-sized bathrobe, night has fallen and the moon makes its appearance. Again, looking up into the starless sky out on the street, it's the kind of roundish light you see without your spectacles.

I believe it's the result of smog over the city.

Plans to go hiking are abandoned, but not because of that. Bukit Tabur just seemed unsafe to hike alone. Prior research showed that the trails didn't seem to be marked and some sections involve climbing up rocks. More significantly, the area isn't accessible by public transport, which is to say, how will I return to the city after getting there in a teksi?

So I spend 3 days pretty much indoors. Specifically, inside several of the city's expansive malls, including Times Square (I'm not even sure how many levels of shops it actually has) and 1 Utama. The latter, located out in the Bangsar suburbs, is so big it has 2 different and separate cinemas (I find that out the hard way).

It also houses Camp 5, an indoor sport climbing centre. Even though I'd forgotten my gear back home, I go there to see in the flesh their automatic belay system. It's drool-worthy indeed. The centre even organises monthly trips out to the Batu Caves for some real climbing. Wahay, the itinerary for the next time I'm in KL has planned itself!

But for now, I'll just have to be content with a RM9 movie, several cheap tops and a pair of sandals, and several meals of chicken hor fun and Ramly burgers.

Next stop, next month, India.