We were supposed to sit in the same direction, but an administrative cock-up meant that Gina and XR’s seats faced the front while XH and I faced the back. Initially we took advantage of the fact that there were few passengers in our coach and sat in the seats next to the two. But as the train moved farther into Malaysia, passengers started filling in from the stops along the route and XH and I had to sit behind Gina and XR. We were supposed to play a card game together but in our position conversing in pairs seemed a more attractive option.
Still, we entertained ourselves by playing cards and shooting the shit. I ‘abused’ my friend in my most articulate (and colourful) Cantonese, eliciting many retarded-sounding guffaws from ourselves. XH and I also talked about atheism, how inhospitable our country is becoming, and on other topics which would have gotten us into heated arguments with nimrods, moderates and politically-correct hypocrites. Behind us, the couple was less strident. Probably were talking about science and other intellectual topics.
The slop they served was barely palatable, and the chilled drinks were almost warm. The guy who served us looked disinterested. He could not speak English and made little attempt to gesticulate to facilitate communication.
The toilet reeked of decomposition and the stink assaulted my olfactory senses and threatened to overwhelm me. I had to stand firm: to stop myself from losing consciousness; to maintain my balance from the rocking movements of the running train, and to hit the target (the hole) in the darkness. If it was this difficult for a guy, I could not imagine what it would have been like if I were a female. To sit on the toilet seat in darkness, butt wet from unidentifiable substances and with the piss from previous users. The horror!
Anyway, we survived our journey and reached our destination at two in the morning. A van drove us to our hotel, which was a stone’s throw away. We quickly settled for the night. Gina and XR shared a room, while XH and I were roommates.
They were fortunate in the sense that if they were not in a double-bed room, they might have gotten ours. Our room was a disgrace! The rooms in the cheapest flophouses in Geylang could not compare to it in terms of squalidness. The bed took up almost all the room space. Switches were missing from the light panel. On the wall pasted an unidentifiable creamy substance and patches of what looked like old blood completed the background. The headrest of the bed were torn and it did not take much imagination to speculate the disreputable deeds that had been perpetuated in our room. (If only Cutie came into our room…) Despite our misgivings and the stained pillows, XH and I quickly fell asleep, so exhausted were we.
Blood on the wall.
Cream, cum, or something else? I don't want to know...
The action must have been... energetic.Morning came and we had our breakfast in our tour office cum restaurant across the road. The slop, while acceptable, was not anything to shout about. After breakfast, our driver took us to the jetty, where we waited with a few Caucasian tourists for our boat. Gina and I explored the souvenir shops nearby. Lots of interesting items, I regretted not getting one of their skillfully crafted animal figurines and models of mechanical conveyances.
Slop!Our voyage across to the nature resort took three hours, and every minute was pleasurably idyllic. The breeze refreshed us, the sun was comfortably warm, and the movement of the boat and its purring engine was like a lullaby. As our boat cut through the waves, the beauty of the greenery on both banks stirred my soul. The lush undergrowth and trees bending so far towards the river bespoke an untamed and ferocious energy. The trees were of all shapes you could imagine; low, thick and gnarled trunks contrasted with vastly taller and thinner varieties, forming a thick canopy of every hue of green that was occasional punctuated with red, yellow, purple and many colours. We saw monkeys dangling from several low-hanging branches, their movement precise and graceful as they batted at one another playfully. At times we saw strange birds flying past us. We smelled, then saw a herd of buffaloes grazing on the river bank, blank looks on their bovine visages. Every turn we cut across the river brought us fresh sights and different greenery. The faraway hills, which stood like ageless, titanic sentinels never disappeared from our sight. ‘What mysteries might we gleam in their impressive expanses?’ I wonder.
I feel...hungry...
We reached the island at noon and after being briefed at our tour agency’s office there, we had lunch at a ‘floating’ restaurant nearby, and were then driven to a resort to unload our luggage. Thankfully, we got a decent room this time. Our beds were acceptably made, and there were plenty of space for us to move about. Our washroom was even clean and had hot water! The only beef – if you want to call it that – was that our resort was quite far from the beach. We had to walk close to half a mile across tarmac and a modern village of sorts to get to the floating restaurant (where we had most of our slop) cum jetty. Still, I don’t think any of us minded the exercise.
Lazy creature.
Slop!
Slop time entertainment: Cat in the Hat!
Coming to a slop house near you!Our first excursion was to the bat caves. To get there, we had to walk 800 metres through a particularly muddy part of the forest. We passed by an Orang Asli village, and as we trudged through the mud pools, our guide Matt told us a bit about the local culture. We were fortunate not to have arrived during the monsoon season. Last year it rained so hard that the forest was flooded and the tour had to be cancelled, We were fortunate indeed. To come here and miss the bat caves!
After an hour we reached the mouth of the bat caves. It was more a chasm in the ground than it was a cave. It was rocky, and looked deep. With excitement intermingled with a small measure of trepidation, we followed Matt down the jagged rocks. I felt like a character in a Dungeons and Dragons game.
Initially it was ‘nothing doing’, but a few metres in, the difficulty level increased. Some passages were so narrow that we had to go down on our bellies to slide our way through or duck-walked with the ceiling barely above our heads. The slippery rocks, their surfaces smoothed by the passage of time, made for treacherous passage. We ascended and descended rock faces, at times holding for dear life to some purchase and little by little, edged our way across.
A musty smell permeated its subterranean depths, and the humid air lacked oxygen. It was perennial night; only the powerful maglite our guide carried afforded us some vision. Matt pointed to us a white water snake hanging on an outcropping. If it had not been for the darkness we would have seen many creatures, for this habitat teemed with life.
As we progressed, the rocks became steeper and more slippery. We sometimes had to lower ourselves down by grabbing onto a rope that had been slung across the cavern’s length. Footing became more difficult and with my height I had to bend down and duck walk. After a time, we saw what we came for: the lair of the bats.
Oh lovely...The bats were not the big ferocious vampire bats so often seen in horror movies. They were the size of small rodents, and their wings did not add to their diminutive size. We found a nest of hundreds, possibly even a thousand hanging upside down from the ceiling. Occasionally a few would fly around us, its wings beating silently, but never did one collide with us. We did not feel threatened at all. We continued our trek in the dark, our boots alternately washed in the underground stream and dirtied by the mud. I even had my hands on a pile of guano. The rest of the journey was basically bending over, climbing, pulling and by this time we were pretty much expert navigators. We did not see another colony of bats though.
Just as we were emerging from the bat cave, XH dropped his camera. Butterfingers! With the help of Matt, he went deep down to retrieve it from the crack he dropped it into. Thankfully he succeeded in recovering it and it remained in good condition. Having concluded our subterranean adventure, we trudged through the mud on our way back again. The French couple lagged behind us. Gina told us that she thought they were sneaking a few moments of quality time. I do not know exactly, but in such matters, trust a woman’s instincts.
We returned to our hostel smelling of guano and mud. Despite repeated washings, our clothes still stank. Even from the living room we could smell the stink emanating from the bathroom. We took a long and nice hot shower. We deserved some reward for our heroic act.
By some miracle the telly had Star Movies and we switched it on to amuse ourselves while we wait for the next event. Hitch was on and it was a fucking disgrace. It was not that the film sucked – You can never go wrong with Will Smith and Eva Mendes. It was that whenever there was some suggestive action or dialogue in the film the scene would skip. This happened like for over 20 times for Hitch, and easily over a dozen times for The Hot Chick. XH and I were so fed up we cursed and swore at the monkeys that work for the Censorship Board in Malaysia. We told Gina of our frustration and she said that in the States, after midnight the Cinemax channel becomes ‘SkinnyMax’. No prizes for guessing the kind of movies this channel shows…WE SHOULD HAVE SKINNYMAX IN SINGAPORE!
Dinner interrupted our watching Hitch, and after the slop we embarked on the next part of our adventure: the night trek. Besides the four of us, there were a dozen or so Caucasians joining us. Holding his powerful torchlight, Matt led us through the forest. Unlike our previous trek, we had the benefit of walking on constructed bridge-paths and this contributed greatly to our not stumbling in the pitch darkness.
Matt stopped us at intervals to point out to us the insects he had spotted. In our very first stop, he shone his light into the undergrowth and challenged us to spot the two stick insects. It took us quite a while, but Gina was the most sharp-eyed and found one. The other our guide showed us. These creatures are truly the masters of the art of camouflage. I was also extremely impressed with Matt. The man has the eyesight of a cat.
Spot the stick insect contest.
I had to bend to give you this exclusive shot.Some time later he called for a halt again. This time we found a bird-eating spider enjoying its meal in one of the metal struts that supported the bridge. It was a furry thing, and it showed no fear of our light. We also spotted a deer from its eyeshine, before the animal bounded away. Matt found an insect which looked like a red cockroach. He said it was a herbivore, but would prove aggressive if provoked. It was an ugly bastard all right. I feel sorry for the insects that were unfortunate enough to cross its path.
We finally reached an observatory of sorts when the path ended. It overlooked a riverbank. Our guide said that sometimes animals would come to drink from the waters. Wild boars, buffaloes, leopards, even tigers and elephant (although the last two were becoming increasingly rare) could be seen, if you were lucky. XR asked him, ‘isn’t it dangerous to see a tiger? It can leap up from the ground.’ To which Matt replied, ‘Tigers will avoid big crowds. It is only when you are alone when you should be afraid.’ It was a shame we did not see a tiger and so be able to put the hypothesis to the test.
The next day saw the most strenuous activity we would take in Taman Negara. Our boat ferried us to the opposite shore. A long flight of stairs greeted us when we landed. Beyond the stairs we trekked up a man-made path. Our group, which also included several other tourists, proceeded with much vigor and determination. Our guide Matt stopped us at intervals for a brief discourse on nature and the lifestyle of the local tribals. The indigenous people, or the Orang Asli, as they are called, are nomads. They live in a constant struggle against the harsh elements, and the scarcity of food either compels them to relocate or to eat slightly poisonous fruits. Their men and women fulfill different roles. The men have to be adept at firemaking and hunting, while no man will want to marry a woman who cannot build a good roof. (Our local women are so lucky.) Taking a pitch of resin, Matt explained to us its use as an intoxicant (if I remember correctly) and the poison it will become if treated properly.
AlienThe group moved at a brisk pace. Wiping our sweat-drenched brows, we continued our trek as best as we could. Soil erosion had formed natural stairs, and these we climbed as best as we could. The leafy canopies above our heads protected us from the sun, although the thick undergrowth made the air humid. (During this trek XH would take a dump in some dilapidated toilet and boasted to us his exploits about taking a dump in some urban part of Taiwan during his army days.)
The King - Exhausted.We reached a natural landing and paused for a break. We saw a short tower a few paces from us, and connected to its second level was the beginning of a hanging bridge. Having satisfied that we were reasonably refreshed, Matt led us to the hanging bridges and wished us enjoyment as we traversed their length.
This sod makes his way across...The bridges were little more than a line of planks binded to two parallel columns of ropes, which in turn were tied to a wooden tower at both ends. As the structure was not very steady, not more than one person was allowed to cross the bridge at any one time. Indeed, I had a lot of fun my way across, my strides making the bridge sway madly from side to side. (My friends said I should not move like a bull ogre and make myself a hazard – I did not!) Each of these bridges were only around ten to fifteen metres in length, and depending on which one you were on, was three to ten metres above the ground.
Don't look at me. I didn't do it.
After our fun-filled walk across the hanging bridges, the group returned to the landing where we had gathered for a rest. Satisfied that everybody was still alive, our guide bid us follow him. Our second part of the journey was now more strenuous. In most places there were no man-made paths. We had to rely on natural stairs, and even with the rope slung by the side as for safety, progress was still progressed. If you were really short, you might have to literally climb the stairs, rather than just extending your stride. Along the way we saw a woodpecker. We heard a knocking sound at first, then everybody took turns peering through the leaves to see it. What a fascinating creature it was! Its peck was like a pick, which it hammered at the trunk with such efficiency and machine-like precision. I would not mind keeping it as a pet. Farther up we also found a tree trunk which served as a home for a nest of termites.
We never realized how high we had gone until we reached the top of the hill, or rather a plateau, for a side path led father atop. The sun now beat down on our sweat-drenched bodies relentlessly. We beheld before us great hills, resplendent in their leafy cloaks, looming in the distance like giants. The group sat down, some choosing to pose for phototaking, others content to sit down for a well-deserved rest.
This ain't the Wudang Mountains! Argh screw it!Using me as a map (the shirt I wore had a map of Taman Negara printed on its back), Matt gave us a bit of geography lesson. I don’t know how intently my peers listened, but for me, an appreciation for my surrounding took precedence. I looked down and wonder, with a mixture of horror and fascination, how long I would fall should I tumble off the precipice…But I, and everybody else survived, at least for the return trip and back for badly needed slop.
The Orang Asli are a nomadic people, never settling in an area for more than six months. Food is scarce in those parts, and quickly depleted, forcing these hardy people to migrate. They also move when there is a death in their village. To them, this is a sure sign that the area they are staying in is unlucky.
The Hilton.The Orang Asli do not believe in gods the way civilized folks do. Perhaps their primitive culture is too inadequate to develop the concept of a powerful immortal being and their language too limited to express what entail such beliefs. Instead, they appear to be pantheists. They hold the view that there is a powerful force in Nature, or that Nature is an embodiment of this quasi-divine force – who can say? They do not pray and offer sacrifices, instead giving back to the land what they take from it.
Their funeral ceremonies reflect the tenets of this philosophy perfectly. When one of the Orang Asli dies, a closed platform would be built, in which the corpse would be interred. Food and the deceased’s personal effects will be placed in separate piles next to the corpse. The Orang Asli then secure the coffin and its grisly contents high up the trees. A ‘door’ cut in the side of the coffin allows climbing animals and flying animals to scavenge the corpse and the food left beside it.
After a few years, the Orang Asli will return to retrieve the coffin. They will then bury the remains next to its tree. This is their unique way of giving back to Nature. After the corpse has provided sustenance to animals, it then fertilizes the soil.
The marriage customs of the Orang Asli are just as fascinating. A hut is built for a potential couple to stay in. Although they are unwed, they are allowed to do with each other as they please. After their first night, the parents of the couple will inquire as to how they find one another. If they are happy, they will be married. Should they be undecided, they are allowed a second night together, with the same inquires made the following morning. The maximum duration for this ‘trial’ is a week, after which they must confirm or refuse the marriage.
Matt then discussed the firemaking and the hunting practices of the Orang Asli. Bringing a piece of wood and other items, a tribesman showed us how it is done. A hole was made in the piece of wood, and a rope with both ends attached to wooden handle was slotted through the hole. He then rubbed the rope back and forth against the wood, and the resulting friction caused the wood to ignite. The process is elegantly simple. No oil, matchstick or tinderbox is required.
The pyromaniac at work.While these people are not sufficiently advanced to employ bows, they are expert in the use of blowpipes. According to him, a blowpipe can hit targets over ten yards, and the range can be increased to over forty yards by stuffing a tiny patch of vegetation into the mouth hole of the weapon. As the tiny dart is not lethal to most animals, curate is smeared onto the tip of the projectile. Depending on the amount of curate used, it could take anything from an hour to several to kill an animal the size of a wild boar. An animal so hit has a chance of survival, provided it is able to get to a river and drink from it. Apparently this neutralizes the poison.
Fun time!The tribesman then demonstrated the use of the blowpipe. A leaf was pinned to a board ten yards away, and the tribesman hit it dead centre in both of his attempts. We were allowed a go. Only a couple hit the board, although none got the leaf. It was fun though.
Matt and his star pupil.After that, the natives left us to our own devices for a while. Remembering the chicken we saw - let’s just call the bird a chicken here – we tried in vain to get it out from underneath the hut. Despite our attempts, it refused to emerge. It was really a dumb creature. It pecked at whatever we threw at it, including a metal spoon. We grew impatient and decided that drastic measures were required. XH kept a lookout while I appropriated the blowpipe and used it on the chicken. It was really impossible to miss. The creature did not realize the danger until a dart protruded from its back (although it bit it off fast enough). We did not get the chance to appraise the damage to the chicken, for our guide called us to the beach. Hastily replacing the blowpipe, we followed the rest of the group as we made our way down the shore. I trust the villagers would not find a dead chicken…
Shoot bird.We shot the rapids next. Matt told us that whenever the Orang Asli relocated, they would have to transverse seven rapids. It had the ring of a promotional pitch but heck it – with bated breath we hopped into the motorized barge.
And were left a bit disappointed. We had expected that the waters would be ferocious, but save for some splashing as the boat careened through the waves, it felt a bit mild. Still it had its funny moments. For some reason XH kept getting splashed, much to my amusement. The two French dudes sitting in front of us were having a laugh as well. I had so much fun taunting my friend. I even volunteered to change seats with him, but he still got the free showers! HAHA! The French dudes – I think they were ‘comrades’ – had their cameras on us. I would not be surprised if we found ourselves on Youtube.
Our little cruise ended fast enough. We returned to the shore from where we had come. We saw a couple of Orang Asli women washing clothes by the river. Their little ragamuffins ran about with the vigor of kittens on steroids. Someone, I cannot remember whom, said that one of them (the women, not the children) flashed a boob at him. Scandalous!
After dinner we went to the Night Safari and it was fantastic. Besides the four of us, other tourists also signed up. We made up over a dozen, and to accommodate us, two or three of us had to sit on top of either of the two jeeps that served as our conveyance. XH and I sat at the back with a British old bloke, a Swedish woman, and another European whose nationality I cannot remember. XR and Gina sat on top of the cab, each facing the road. Our guide sat with them, his powerful torchlight cutting swaths of brilliance into the darkness.
Best seats in the house.If our ride to the nature reserve was bumpy, our passage through the nature reserve was like an amusement park ride. The sign we saw as we neared the entrance of the enclosure seemed ominous. For a moment I was one of the characters in Jurassic Park, unaware I was walking headlong into danger.
Our anticipation grew the farther we went. The illumination from our conveyance combed the surrounding, and our human eyes attempted to peer through the darkness. In the initial minutes we could not see anything, and then we saw it.
The baby leopard (if it was that) was barely bigger than a house cat. It regarded us warily, and then disappeared into the undergrowth. Several minutes later, we espied a couple of night birds. In the distance we spotted herds of buffaloes and swine, our intrusive lights frightening them into flight. We would see this a few times throughout the night.
The roads became muddier and craggy. The jeep, occasionally caught in a mud pool, its engines spluttering as it huffed and struggled to pull itself free. Our guides were not concerned, their keen eyesight scanning the location for animals to show to us. A foul smell assaulted us, and we soon saw generous piles of droppings on the ground. We soon ran into a herd of cows. They moved quickly from us. I wanted to pet one, but even the nearest was too skittish to stay close enough for me to reach out.
Exploding Brahmins?The best part of the night came when our guide somehow found a baby snake in slithering along a branch. He grabbed it and asked for someone to hold it. While I was wondering how I was going to avoid being bitten – the tiny green creature was flicking its oversized orange tongue madly, so fast it resembled a spinning rotor blade – when XH took it in his hands. The rest of us stared at it in fascination. Then I took it, pinching its slim and sinuous body between thumb and finger. The baby snake felt like a rubber band. It coiled and uncoiled itself around my fingers, all the while flicking its gigantic tongue. I was amazed it did not try to bite me.
I offered it to the Europeans sitting opposite and they politely declined. Ha! The cowards! Then Gina took it and by this time our guide had managed to find us another one. He put the snake on XR’s leg, causing him to shift uncomfortably and on mine. It was some ticklish I could not stop myself from giggling. Once you got used to them, the reptiles actually looked quite cute! After we had our thrill, the guide put them back. So long, snakies! And we concluded yet another satisfying part of our adventure.
As we took the long road back to our hotel, we were struck by the magnificence of glittering blackness above us. The starry night sky humbled and elevated our spirits at the same time, reminding us of our insignificance in a cold, unfeeling yet magnificent universe. We tried to take pictures of it but our cameras were not up to the task. For that moment, Gina, XR, XH and I had to be content just to behold the sheer majesty of the black canopy above us, its countless stars forming constellations whose forms defeated our best efforts to make shape of. It is a pity that our night skies are shite. Our self-glorifying regime might have learned some humility from glazing up at the night sky once in a while.
On our second night the power failed. But for the candles lit in the village, torches carried by passerbys and the headlights from the occasional passing vehicle, it could have been so dark we could not see even see our hands. The four of us intrepid adventurers made the long walk to our rooms without incident. XH cursed the local power station for their incompetence and I agreed with him. The technicians probably did not even realize the power was out.
There goes the power.A most horrible but bewildering sight greeted us in the corridor outside our rooms. A centipede, nearly a foot in length, was scuttling about on its many legs. As we watched in rapt fascination, it went in circles in the corridor, as if searching for something. We even fed to it a cockroach we had killed, but it ignored it, and instead choosing to continue on its seemingly meaningless sojourn.
It unwittingly signed its death warrant when it went into our room. Although it moved back outside after a few seconds, I decided that I was not going to take the chance that it would take up residence in my room for the night. Being trapped in a hot and stuffy room (the air-con was down) with mosquitoes and other critters was bad enough. The last thing I wanted was to wake up in pitch black darkness with a many-legged and venomous monstrosity on my face.
The twin terrors.So I got out my combat boots, threw and slammed them on the creature. It took over a dozen hits before the centipede ceased its writhing. Its tough carapace protected it from the worst of the blows, although even it could not protect it indefinitely. Save for the fluid oozing from its ruptured body, one would never have guessed that it was dead. XH filmed the macabre deed, while Gina and XR looked on in probably a mixture of horror and fascination.
As the room was stuffy, XH and I decided to leave the front door slightly ajar. Not that it helped the airflow much, but at least we were unlikely to suffocate. Just as a precaution (in case the centipede’s siblings desired revenge), I blocked the gap between the door and the wall and floor with my combat boots and towel. I believed that the ichor on my boots should act as a repellent.
The power came back on at maybe four in the morning. The oxygen deprivation, the mosquitoes and XH’s orcish snorting had denied me of much sleep, but with the air-con on, I was more comfortable. Most importantly, my combat boots were not required for further protection.
The natives' school.
Car park we passed every time we went to the beach.
The long walk back.
Make that really long walk back.
Sometimes we had some slop here.
A decent room at last!
My only souvenir: a chipped marble I found on the beach.Our last day at Taman Negara was comparatively relaxed. In the morning we went by boat to the waterfall. Strangely, this voyage was more exciting than the ‘shoot the rapids’ we had previous day. After reaching shore, our guide told us to walk 800 metres on a winding forest path, then left us to our own devices.
While walking there, XH decided he needed a dump. Fortunately I had some tissue paper with me, for he, Gina and XR did not have any. There were two dilapidated toilets next to the abandoned shed nearby but upon inspection, my friend obviously felt neither was good enough for him to take a dump in. He finally fertilized the forest some ten metres away. I never fail to be amazed at my friend’s propensity to dump wherever he goes. He should have joined the Land Reclamation Department instead of being a teacher. He is truly, The Incredible Dumping Machine.
We found a float lying around in the shed beside the waterfall. It had a split in the center and despite being made of Styrofoam, was surprisingly durable and buoyant. We took the float along with us as we made our way down the sharp and slippery rocks on the coastline.
After taking a moment to take in the breathtaking scenery before us, we climbed from rock to rock, stopping only to dip ourselves in the cool water. XH and I particularly enjoyed the natural Jacuzzi on our first stop amongst the rocks. The strong rushing and freezing water was invigorating, and beat any man-made bath. A yellow water snake remained motionless in the small cavern next to ours, content with its rest and ignoring us completely.
Getting ready for a shower.
Queen of the Falls.The currents became stronger the farther upstream we went. The way we moved, we must have resembled a troupe of monkeys. We stopped to rest, sometimes on rocks, sometimes in the waters (in places where we could stand). We shifted location inch by inch; our hands almost never leaving a rock face, for even surrounded by rocks, the swirling currents were strong and deceptive. A misstep could spell your last. Despite the danger to ourselves, we enjoyed soaking ourselves in the cold waters. Above us, the sun was warm. Both rejuvenated us, and our intimacy with Nature empowered us.
Our playground.
Beach boys.We soon came to the end of the rocks at our level. And there, a small but vigorous waterfall acted as boundary between the upper reaches of the river and our plateau. Excited by how the fall seemed to melt seamlessly into the river, this apparent gracefulness a stark contrast to its noise, we decided to put ourselves to the Test.
We took turns doing horse stances with our backs to the waterfall. Then Gina went one better and ducked her head under the waterfall and pretty much submerged the rest of herself. We thought it was pretty cool and imitated her. I was last; I could not submerge myself deep enough the first time. But I drew upon my guts and I was inside the waterfall! Excellent! The roar of the rushing waters became muffled, and my world dwindled in magnitude and into translucence as I held and released my breath intermittently. I was inside for maybe three seconds, and I felt like I had transcended into a new realm of consciousness. Incredible.
Gina put us guys to shame with her pluck. She was the first to submerge herself under the raging waterfall and later, she jumped into the water before we thought of doing so – a courageous act, for there might be sharp rocks under the shallow water. Inspired by our female friend, XH and XR tumbled into the water soon after, with the latter executing a flying kick and landing in less than elegant fashion into the water. Still, good for a 9.500! I cursed myself that I could not swim. It was such a pity!
Our boatman ferried us to a nearby riverbank. There we saw a stand on the shore. On the stand was placed a donation box, and the inscription said that money would be used to preserve some species of local fish. I donated five Ringgit and our boatman handed us a couple of bags of fish feed. Pointing to the fishes swimming in the waters, he told us to enjoy ourselves feeding them.
And so we did. XH and I held a competition to see who could throw the heaviest rocks the farthest. Gina and XR, being more civilized, fed the fishes and took photos. XH and I also fed them too, although throwing rocks were worth a bit of fun. While we were at it, we saw a white hawk attacked the water, then flew to a high branch and perched itself there. It did not look like it got any fish. Maybe it was just waiting for us to go off so that it could fish in peace. The way we were terrorizing the fish...
Fun as it had been, it was sadly, time for us to go. Following slop and some hasty packing-up, we took the boat back to the mainland. Although our boat ride was faster this time, it was no less scenic. I shifted in and out of sleep; I could not resist the cooling breeze and the sun.
There was a French dude on a wheelchair. Seeing the rabble they employed were more interested in waiting for one another to left a hand, we blokes helped carry the guy ashore and up the stairs to where our van was waiting. His wife/mistress/nurse thanked us profusely. We could not understand how the pair were going to have much fun, considering one of them was handicapped and the other had to play nurse. But, to each his own. They should be applauded for having the pluck to live their lives.
We soon returned to our hostel and to our horror, XH and I got back the SAME ROOM! Everything that should not be there was still there, and it was literally a fucking disgrace! Seeing there was time before evening slop, XH, Gina, and I – dragging XR with us – decided to explore the neighborhood.
Our tour agency told us that it was Night Market Night, and gave us directions to it. We scouted around so that we could be there when it opened. The town was pretty much like what our town area looked like 30 years ago. The shophouses were in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint, and in some cases, a renovation. There was not much traffic, save for the occasional vehicle. We saw the railway track behind our hotel, a big canal of the likes I used to play in when I was a kid, and stalls. We found the night market, but not before treating ourselves to some ice cream along the way.
PETA will have a fit over this.
It's market day!When we passed by some shops on our way to the bazaar during the day, we saw a poor kitten by the side of the road. Its eyes were coated with pus and it was blind. Surprising it was not one bit afraid of us and rubbed itself against our legs. It was such a poor little thing. XH said that it would not survive for long, given its condition.
It was still there when we went back two hours later. It sniffed at us, recognized our scents and then followed us! More specifically, me! We could not shake it off. The kitten moved with such astounding swiftness that suggested it still retained some sight. I carried it to a nearby restaurant, hoping some soul would pity it and feed it, but the restaurant owner gestured ferociously at me. Stupid bugger. I carried it back to the shed where Gina, XH and XR were waiting for me. I thought it would be at least safe from the traffic.
May Bast protect the kitty.And guess what? The little rascal crossed the road after us! I hurriedly picked it up. We didn’t want it to become roadkill. We reached the market and there I let it go, putting it next to another kitten we saw nearby. Still, it did not give up. An old Malay woman witnessed what happened, restrained the kitten and said something in Malay to us. I did not understand what she was saying but I was relieved at her intervention. Almost. I must say the little rascal did grow on me. XH said that if it was still around when we returned from the bazaar, I should bring it back with me. I wonder how it is now.
The night bazaar reminded me of the markets that used to be such an integral part of night-life in Chinatown. When we reached the bazaar at dusk there were not many people. But as the sun descended the faraway hills, people started arriving.
The stalls sold a wide variety of goods, ranging from clothing to toys. Some stalls selling similar items were scattered, whereas others – especially the fishmongers and butchers – clustered. Most of the clothing sold either looked old or were counterfeit football jerseys. I saw only a couple of stalls selling drinks, which seemed quite strange for a bazaar of this size. Snack and other ‘finger’ foods were also sold, although in noticeably lesser quantities than what we are accustomed to. Costume jewellery, local produces and other insignificant curios were displayed on mats. We saw no game stalls. The so-called bazaar was more a wet market than it was a fair.
Unlike our local stallholders, those in the bazaar did not hawk their wares. Although business was brisk, the atmosphere was reminiscent of our local markets on a Sunday morning, slow-paced and lacking the nervous energy that so pervades our bazaars. Shoppers and merchants alike went about their business at a leisured pace.
XR got us malt candy, which we sucked on with much pleasure as we shopped. There were quite a few stalls selling all kinds of toys. They might not be the expensive designer toys and computer games that our overly pampered kids take for granted, but they were hardly inferior. The slightly matted soft toy in the corner, that big gaudy robot, the cheap unassuming car half-concealed by bigger toys, that centipede (see picture below), they will delight a child just as much as the most overpriced Transformer would, and maybe more. Sometimes the most humble things are just the best.
Real toys.In one stall, a kilogram of fish meat sold for six Ringgit. At a butcher’s, two chickens could be had for the price of one here. We saw small sharks laid out next to more common fishes. Octopus and other sea creatures were displayed in much abundance on the stalls. Despite the flies swarming over them and the blood, they actually looked appetizing. (I wondered why none of the stallholders bothered to put ice on the meat and fish. It would keep away the flies and preserve them from the humidity.) I wish we could have so much meat here at such knockdown prices. I could grow fat from stuffing myself.
Shark's fins soup, anyone?
Hungry...We went round around the bazaar a few times. XH and XR bought some local ‘coropo’. Try as we did, we could not find any souvenirs to take home. With nothing left to do, we returned to our hotel.
We were at the corridor outside room when we met the lady we saw earlier during the day. We said hi and started up a conversation. She was from the Netherlands, just left Borneo and was going to Taman Negara the following day. I was quite impressed with her. For a woman to travel to this part of the world alone took some pluck. (If only our local girls were as confident as their Western counterparts.) And the fact that she was quite pretty raised her in my estimation.
We told her about our experience. XR gave her some powder for any possible leech attack. XR advised her on what to look out for while XH and I boasted (kind of!) about braving the bat caves, handling the baby snakes, and watching the big furry spider eat. The girl was like eeeek! – She hates spiders. But I think she will get over her fear once she has seen how cute – and deadly – some species could be.
After our chat with the Dutch lady, we played cards and watched Boa Vs Python in XR and Gina’s room. Gina and I, being novices at Bridge, were more often than not distracted by the B-grade movie on the telly. I quite enjoyed the female lead’s nice rack and her references to ‘implants’ and ‘equipment’ when she talked about the giant killer snakes amused us to no end. I just love these B-grade movies. The next film, Furnace, put us to sleep almost immediately. When we woke an hour later, it was time to go.
Its railway system was another sorry example of Malaysia’s inefficiency. We arrived at the railway station on time, only to find out that the train would only arrive an hour later. With nothing to do, we had some slop at the coffee-shop in the station. This unremarkable establishment, with its bland slop and poor service would have been out of business in a more competitive country, but as it stands, continues to offer what passes for refreshment to weary travelers.
However, it has one mitigating factor in that it also houses cats. The four of us enjoyed watching the felines fight among themselves over scraps of food. They ate whatever was thrown to them, but seemed to have a fondness for Twisties. They are a mixed bunch in terms of character. The kitten and its mother were bolder, while their fellows ranged from simply being indifferent to antisocial. They took turns patrolling our table, meowing plaintively for food, which they would either eat on the spot, or consume at a distance away. Such delightful creatures!
Twisties lovers. What are you looking at? Gimme Twisties!
Where's the slop?
Here's some slop for you.The train finally arrived and we went straight to our coach. In place of seats were double-decked beds lined up on both sides of the aisle. They reminded me of the hospital beds you see in WWII movies. Fortunately there was air-con. And in spite of the appearance, our sleep was not so bad. When I woke up and went for a leak, the toilet was actually not disgusting! I returned to shoot the shit with XH until we arrived back at this tiny and dreary piece of land. (We did not see Cutie though.)
Having being deprived of quality slop during our stay in Taman Negara, XH and I suggested that we go for slop. It happened that XR had a few vouchers so the four of us went to the Woodlands Library to print them out. The slop at Seoul Gardens was quite satisfying, despite the fact that they do not serve pork. (One day I might just open up a slop hole and sell all kinds of forbidden meat – Long live the infidels!) While enjoying the slop, the two brothers entertained Gina and I by telling racist and religious jokes. XH and I also ‘washed our laundry’, telling Gina of hoe terrible our flophouse of a university is, how difficult it is to find people with sufficient intelligence to have an intelligent conversation with, and how fortunate we were in getting to know her. (I thought she looked a bit shocked at our vehemence.)
Greedy buggers.We watched Storm Warriors next. For this movie, kindly leave your brain at the door. Its linear plot does not require intelligence. It has more special effects than The Matrix, Star Wars and Independence Day combined. Storm Warriors makes up for its illogical plot with the kind of hack and slash that any fan of Diablo II would recognize. I do not know what Gina thought. These Chinese are crazy, maybe?
So this concludes the end of our little excursion. Maybe we will climb Mount Everest next.
