Once again, we’re awake too early than is reasonable for a non-nocturnal being. After piling into a van, we make our way down the windy mountain side at a much quicker speed than our bus two days earlier. I can’t sleep. The constant twisting along the mountain might turn my stomach into a curdling mush.
The ferry is our next mode of transportation. Below the deck, rows of chairs are nearly stacked one on top of the other. Airplanes are sometimes jokingly called airbuses because of the tight quarters. They might as well vacuum seal us into the ferry we’re so tightly squeezed.
Our taxi pulls into the parking lot of a coral pink grandiose hotel with white columns. Gaudy only begins to scratch the surface. If “white trash” married into money, this hotel would be its equivalent in buildings; over the top and missing the mark in fashion. This hotel was a gift to ourselves. Because we’re traveling in a group of four, we’ve figured out that booking a double room will cost us each under $20 a night. It’s a bit of a fortune to backpackers like us, but it’s the one “nice” place we’ve allowed ourselves. The website promises not only a pool, but the equivalent to a water-park with a wave pool, three water slides, and multiple pools.
|My mosquito bite which expanded across my thigh about six inches across.|
Jan 9 Langkawi
The hotel is run by monkeys. No, I’m not calling the Malaysian workers that are employed here monkeys; lazy and clueless yes, but they are people non-the-less. No, we say this hotel is run by the monkeys who habitat outside the hotel, sneaking into guests rooms to thieve when they can, because no one seems to be in charge. Everything in this place is either falling apart or on the verge. It’s long overdue for a paint job; the wave pool ripples pathetically, and no one seems to know whats going on. When we arrived to the hotel one of our first questions was, how can we get back to Kuala Lumpur from here? “Uhhhh… there is an airport…” Was her answer. There are trains, ferries and buses. How can they not know? Many other questions were asked with similar answers. The monkeys, they are in charge, I know it.
I like Malaysians for the most part. They seem to be a kind people, not pushy in the least. If I smile at someone, I don’t feel that they will take it as an invitation to sell me something, but instead, they offer a genuine smile in return. But I have to say, as a people, they aren’t very ambitious. In fact, I might even call them ambivalent, and the opposite of hard-working.
“Do you have happy hour?” I asked one waiter at a restaurant.
“I don’t know.” He answered, and then smiled obviously not intending to find out the answer.
Jan 10 Langkawi
We’ve spent the past few days lounging; Lounging at the pool, lounging on the beach. I haven’t read this much in I don’t know how long. I’m actually almost finished with a book I only started this week. It’s amazing. This morning we’re going on a tour. Last night, we arrived too late to book at the designated booking desk, so the front desk made a booking for us. This morning, however, no one seems to know anything about it, or what we should do.
“We put a deposit down, should we pay you the rest?”
“You put a deposit down?”
“Oh” Frantic looking around
“Just wait in front.”
“Okay so who do we pay?”
“Why does everyone else have stickers? Do we need stickers?”
“Stickers?” More frantic looking, “No, don’t worry”
Monkeys run this hotel I’m telling you. Monkeys.
Van after van drive by picking up properly stickered passengers. After thirty minutes of waiting, we start to get worried.
A beat up jeep drives up and I joke, “That’s going to be our ride.”
Turns out, it was our ride.
We’re taken to a dock, board a small speed boat with three Indian looking fellows and away we go. At first I think the speed is exhilarating, but as our boat begins to break the sound barrio, flying through the air like a wingless eagle, crashing into the waves hard enough to split the boat in half, our laughter turns maniacal. We sound like cackling witches brewing over a caldron. There’s nothing to do but laugh insanely, pray, and hold on for dear life. Our tour has three destinations: A monkey island, Eagle feeding, and an island beach.
Monkey Island: Our tour guide doesn’t speak English so when we arrive, we don’t know where we are. The first thing we see is a monkey sitting on a trashcan. Beside him is a monkey attempting to open a beer can. Signs inform the tourists not to take out food. We soon learn why. The large man walking behind us is being chased by a monkey who see his food. Sling shots are sold to use in defense if necessary. Down the stairs we come to an inland lake. It’s called the Pregnant Maiden’s Lake and comes with an entire folk story.
Eagle feeding was disappointing. I guess because we got the CHEAP tour, we just watch the other boats feed. I dread the start of the speed boat. It doesn’t get easier with time.
Beach Island: It’s a lovely little beach. We lie in the sun, splash in the water, and relish this freedom.
When we arrive back to the dock, I’m just happy to be alive, and glad that I didn’t sever Kyle’s arm off with my nails as we drove purposely into someone else’s wake and actually nearly capsized.
|after the terrifying boat ride|
|the inland lake on the island|
|running away from a growling monkey|
|dinner on the beach|