Diving the Rewards

Abyss to Asia...

The beautiful thai air stewardesses didn't assuage my initial shock of Bangkok at all; however, copious beers with my decent air meals helped blur the chasm that I would be crossing from First World New Zealand to the congested cacophonous crunch of the city of my asian arrival, Bangkok. I quickly realized that Thailand has got it down; I mean they are a tourist machine, bringin' em in and assisting them out without making them--tourists--feel rushed or bothered for the most part. I suppose they've done this for so long that they just know the best way to get massive numbers through tiny portals and squeeze the wallets as best they can without offending so much as to deter people from returning...everyone loves the land of Thai.

But first, it started with the airport in Auckland where I grabbed some great reading material for the 13 hour journey--love that Economist--and headed for the departure gate. My journey of such an unlucky number of hours was occupied primarily by Australia; what an enormous country! I really felt as though I was cruising above Indonesia when really it was the land downunder, true outback, of the west coast that held my attention for so long. The colours that radiated from my window seat were unimagineable to anyone not looking out the window I blocked.

Imagine, if you will...crimson earth; a dusted red, soft but real and rising to a darker red and into the red-orange that holds the periphery of a flame. Continue into the yellow with no boundary sunken beneath the glowing green pushing to the remaining blue that fades up towards a deep, dark navy that dropped into darker shades, and so aptly at the top of it all I found the end of our aircraft's wing...with a purple tip. This was an arcless rainbow, 180 degrees like an arrow encompassing every color that flew across the horizon, freezing time, as we chased the sun so it wouldn't descend and erase our radiant vista...oh it was amazing and everlasting.

I did finally arrive and managed my way through the airport without any hesitation. Not having a guide book, completely winging it, yet it seemed so easy. It helped that I had run into several people (as ya do) that told me some key details of gettin' from the airport. Most of their advice was, "just stay in the expensive hotel outside the city...you get their too late and it's worth it." Bullocks, I said to that!

At midnight, I caught a bus towards Khao San Road and with my heavy green pack and lil' (more precious) black ruck I was tossed onto the street and walked towards numerous shoddy guesthouses. The ones recommended by random travellers were all booked up and offered no comfort at that hour. I actually wasn't hassled too much by the tuk-tuk drivers, especially when they saw me wandering around at around 1am with a full pack. I was to think that my assertive and confident disposition had fooled them, but I think in hindsight it's much simpler and less me; they have seen so many people like me getting in around that time that it's no anomoly. Found a joint, and although it was soooo far from the standard I was used to in NZ (which I expected) it made do. For the first time in 3 months, I spread myself across the solid hard bed without my sleeping bag...first mission accomplished.

Bangkok has 424 temples within the city alone, which I found to be quite impressive. Walking the streets was unbearably hot; I cannot remember a time when I was healthy and didn't have an appetite...in this heat, the only thing I wanted to consume was water and/or fruit juice. I went from drinking a liter a day to about 5 or 6 with fewer bathroom breaks and still waking up thirsty. To drink yourself stupid is exactly that in this climate because dehydration is fatal as it is...there's no need to "challenge" oneself.

I met a lot of thais roaming the streets of Bang and not one backpacker...they seem to keep to themselves here. There are several distinct changes I've encountered; hostels don't really exist in Thailand, rather guesthouses that provide one his/her own room, so it's less social. Beer is expensive, food cheap and yummy, movies in every bar/cafe, and the classic thai backpacker taxi called a tuk-tuk. It's a 3 wheel vehicle that zooms about on what appears to be a lawnmower engine, and obviously no "meter"...HA!!!

Most bpackers I find avoid the thai locals...I think it's cuz they (in general) fear that they're just communicating so they can find a way to take their money...I found this to be very presumptuous. Of course, there are those who see you as a foldable unit that they can place in their wallet, but I encountered some real genuine people...ya just need to face them, answer their immediate question, and if they can't offer their services, they'd rather talk to ya. "Where coming from?" "How long in Thailand?" "Where U go?" Basically, "just wanna practise me Engly man...don't run away."

I met this real nice guy Pan who told me the better temples to visit (less touristy) and some faux pas regarding entrance (very significant details like don't wear shorts...yeah right, in this heat). Then he told me how to hand tuk-tuks, gave me my first lesson in thai--basic words that would help me on my lil' adventure--called a tuk-tuk, and threw me into the lingo ushering me along with the vocab and made sure the driver understood what I'd be doing. Most foreigners jump in and pay the tuk-tuk to take them to one location and then "bye-bye". I was informed that that is "very silly". I had this tuk-tuk drive me from temple to temple and wait while I did my thing inside. At the end (some 3 hours) I paid him a very minimal fee and said thank you and good bye. Pan RULZ! I further sought out some Thai language from the girl at the front desk and went up to my room and studied a bit before the heat exhausted me into a coma.

I got out of Kok as soon as I could cuz it was just too hot, contaminated, and wasteful of money. I bussed it Chumpon where I caught a boat to Koh Tao a beautiful tiny island near the more famous Koh Phagnan and Samui. Every time I travel, I try to drop myself into something that could be a profession for life...I guess trying to find my passion; that was the whole teachin' thang in Seoul, the animal refuge in bolivia, the service in Atlanta. My first dip here would be in Koh Tao obtaining my Open Water Diver certificate. I discovered very quickly that this hobby is extremely expensive and removes a large chunk o' cash from your travel budget...I also found it to be extremely fresh, unique, lively, and appealing on so many levels. The 2 pics below are in Tao and the one that followed was on my way to Rendang in Malaysia where I got my "Deep Diver" cert.

I ran into an argentine and an aussie in the dive center and talked them into going to Kho Phagnan with me to chill on the beach. It ended up being a good move on my part for the simple fact that you pay for a double room regardless if you have another person or not. Andreas (oz) disembarked with me and would leave to go to Perth just 2 days after, while Jose Maria came later and would accompany me to the Half Moon Party where I indulged in a jungle fiesta...I won't incriminate myself online with details, but it was fantastic to soak up some alcohol for the first time in a good while.

I jumped off the island before I talked myself into another night, saturday on the Sin Island. I booked what looked like a package on paper, but what ended up being very, "we'll sort it out when you arrive" sort of deal. Fortunately, T-land has done this so often that there are people waiting to be called. The night bus was much cheaper--now I know why--in that it took 6 hours instead of 2 and was nothing but a haggard looking piece of wood that had mattresses on 2 floors. I chose the upper to give me a bit more time b4 I had to start treading, and found myself next to an old Thai women who smiled that I was doin' it like her...yeah, babe, I'm smilin' too. There was also this crazy (I mean this in the best sense) woman that must have been from the west somewhere; she was white, 'bout 65, and could party like she must have in the 60s...this lady was mad 4 it! She would shake--though it might have been a seizure--all night to house, Dn'B. She was fascinating and had I spent another night there, I think I would have been so bold as to have interviewed her. So I sat back with my latest Economist and read with ease as the other foreigners either laughed or complained with the same source for their emotions...I tried to ignore them and quickly fell asleep only to wake with a cramped back as I was kicked to get off the boat...now I was laughing.

Around 5am, dark and yet it felt quite safe. I was ushered to several places in the early hours without a clue as to where I was going (and I don't know if my chauffer knew much more than I did) and finally ended up in a joint where 20 other foreigners were; they donned the same curious, incredulous face as I did. Most people were heading towards the other side of the isthums (Koh Lanta and Phi Phi)where there were beautiful, expensive islands. I felt good to leave these 20 people behind as they jumped on a different truck and I went with just 2 guys, slovenian, who accompanied me to the border.

It was funny to find along the way this woman who was just one of the dozens of people who were passing our ticket along to the next so as to help us arrive; I swear there were so many people that got a piece of that lil' nugget. What was funny about this one though was that she started telling the 2 slovs that it was dangerous to go to southern thailand. She said it with such a tone that made us sound stupid to be going, but at the same time..."the bus will be here shortly". They asked me if I had heard about that. I told them that it was wildly known that S. Thailand was primarily Muslim and often clashed with the free Thai lifestyle and seemed to take it out on foreigners, yada yada. We asked some more questions to this lady and she tersely responded leaving us to looked at each other and say, "it's a bit too late to do anything about it now". When we asked more she said, "I don't wanna talk anymore. You ask your embassy, I only pose to tell you it not safe. I tell you, now you do what want you." I busted out laughing...fair enough lady.

Several long hours later, waiting for longer than we'd been promised, our van decided it would throw us into the mix by fracturing it's drive/gear shaft. We started walking a bit towards where it looked like there might be food/drink. I have always welcomed the experience of being looked at like I was the only foreigner a group of people have seen...I really like the idea that just entering a community, you can bring them to wonder and think outside their normal capacity (we all need that now and again); however, I did not like how I was being looked at in this region. I looked up at several of the signs and saw we were near, south of actually, Hat Yai; a very muslim town that is the break off point for most travellers. So we were south and it was obvious that these people hadn't seen many foreigners around...I have a feeling most of the foreigners weren't seen after either. I made my quick purchase and got the hell outta dodge while the 2 slovs (who looked more yankee than I due to their Nike gear, blonde hair, and oblivious postures) just played with their exp. cameras and other toys.

We made our way back to the van, it was about fixed so the 3 of us--the 3 blokes with the longest legs, biggest bodies--crammed in back to the smallest seats for another long journey.

Finally, we got to the border 11pm and being dropped off at a bridge by the driver, found 2 others who had also been courteously ditched by the road side; they asked if we knew of a place to stay on the other side (malaysia)...no idea, we offered.

As we all huddled around our huge rucksacks, filling out the paperwork to enter the country, I heard them speaking a dialect of spanish that wasn't unfamiliar. The immigration officer hassled them a bit and I thought it perfect time to try for the, unknown in those parts, language with a few questions. They passed, we passed, and were warmly welcomed by a taxi driver who had been at the border for more than 14 hours...he was the only one remaining.

I said goodbye to the slovs as they would end up going a different way, and said vamos 2 the 2 barcelonians. We had a good taxi ride to the town of Kuala Besut that was the push off for Pehentian Island. This island is incredibly beautiful; just as you close your eyes and imagine the most tropical, pure, fresh piece of beach on turqoise waters, then open them and you see the very thing.

I was told by several people along my journey that I should go...so I did. I can't believe that more people don't go here. Of course, there are loads of travelers, but it really is sooooo much more amazing than the thai islands, and doesn't have near the crowd. I saw several diving companies on Long Beach where I stayed and a smile came over me. I'd just got my OWD and wanted to stay on top of it rather than forgetting, so why not dive one of the most beautiful places in the world; as it turned out I was quite lucky to walk in the day I did. They had set up a dive 2 hours off Pehentian on Rendang that had great visability, where we'd do 3 dives. I got my Deep Water Cert where I can dive up to the limit of 40 meters and was stunned at the encounter I logged into my dive book.

Visability was 15-20 meters--which if you don't know, is unheard of in open water--and though the first dive didn't have much more than what I had already seen in Tao, the second and third would be unsurpassable. The first of (3 I would eventually see), black tip reef sharks swam just 10 meters away demonstrating the mass of muscle he was with turns so quick and precise. Then there was the green turtle that had a shell with a diameter of 6+ feet, just chillin' and feedin'. When he set off to swim above it was miraculous...something so massively round could manoeuver so well. Beyond that, barracuda, tuna, grouper, enormous blowfish, porcupine fish, 2 yellow boxed fish, 1 very ugly moray eel, sting ray, and an array of fantastic coral swim throughs. We pulled up our gear and returned to Pehentian while just pondering the greatness we just witnessed, the luck we had, and there lying on the roof of our boat, soaking up the sun in paradise...I left the next day because I knew it wouldn't get better than that.

Kota Bharu is a town very near the Thai border, where I returned to for a few days. I was extremely lucky to jump into a taxi with an englishman who was headed back to a manaical trip to France to see the european championship. He was crazy...and unfortunately for him, barcelona took arsenal 2-1...exactly the ratio of respective countrymen I met in Pehentian. I paid stuff-all for my hour journey and was dropped in front of a parking lot. A girl, who I later came to know better, asked my taxi driver where the thai embassy was...he wasn't very helpful. I ran around looking for a bus to the National Park Taman Negara so I could do some jungle trekking. Luck would find me by not allowing me to get onto a bus. I found a hostel that was dirt cheap--dirt being a very appropriate word--that was run by a couple guys who were extremely friendly and helpful. Bob was an official tour guide for many areas...he told me of Jelawa Jungle and how great it was. I listened as I always do for things that interest me, but knowing that he's tryin' to pull the tourist. Then he said the magic words, "no tourist ever goes there"...sheeeyaight; I reevaluated the $50US it would cost to do an org. trip...I told him it wasn't right...he then sealed the deal and told me I could get there on my own. I immediately scrapped all my plans to visit Taman Negara and Cameron Highlands that were regularly visited by tourists and backpackers and would leave when time requested.

The girl who asked where the Thai embassy was, had an interesting story. First of all, she was Israeli, traveling alone. If you don't know...you should, Israelis are not allowed into Malaysia (95% Muslim) or Indonesia for the same reason; however, she had a hungarian passport and pulled it over on them. To her discomfort, and possilby due to her disregard, she had been robbed of everything but Passport, some US cash and her bank card in Indonesia. She quickly crossed to Malaysia to find that Banks of Islam wouldn't accept/read her Israeli bank card ...go figure babe! She tried to cross back into Thailand but was refused because her stamps didn't match up; thus, problems using 2 passports. She did manage with daddy's help and a convenient wire transfer. I remember her well, which I can't say about most of the israelis I've met, in that she offered some great secretive advice in traveling in India, helped me see some of the walls that had been encumbering me, and as we sat in the common area at 2am singing songs ad lib whilst I twanged her guitar, I realized that I still had the love of life in me.

On to Jelawa en route as Bob had described. I was quickly cut off my intended route when I was told that there was no boat up the river...bugger! Fortunately, I had been practising up on my malay and could communicate a bit with the people who looked at me cross their makeshift cafeteria..."what the hell are you doing here mate?" I offered a friendly "good morning" in malay and they were set at ease...I dramatically was not, when 4 of them started babbling about as though I would understand any one of them, let alone 4 simultaneously. I was stuck in a tiny town that had seen very few white people if any for some 7 hours. It gave me a chance to practise a bit, read some, and I came across a guy who would take me to his friends up at the same camp...it was good luck in disguise.

That is until 20, I shit you not...20+ kids came up to me with one in the forefront stuck out his hand and said, "friend, friend". They went about to occupy an hour and a half of my precious reading time by asking questions about punk/grunge rock; primarily Kurt Cobaine's history. He actually had me write down what I knew of it and sign my name to it...I was tempted to write some bizarre unrelated details, but this guy was genuine and very into his nirvana. He was also quite into his drugs and alcohol as were the other kids that couldn't have held more than 13 years each. In malaysia, drinking is very uncommon due to the Muslim devoutness. This is painful for people like me, though moreso for people from the UK, who want to drink when we please because it's so expensive and quite difficult to get. Funny enough, only at chinese restaurants can you score a beer...cheeky chinese, gotta luv 'em for this.

Finally, I made it up there and though I haven't trekked in a long while, Yu was struggling with my pace...just an hour 20 minutes up. I got on top and saw that there was a group of 20 kids on the lookout over Dabong (town below) and they all were eager to speak to me...the only freagin' foreigner up there; I loved it. I was introduced to the guides of the camp and I can honestly say I haven't met a group of guys so committed to something so honorable in a long time. They were so welcoming to my person. They all wanted to talk to me, offered me tea, dinner, and tried to get me to break the record; that being 6 months, the time of stay set by a German guy. I seriously considered this, because this was exactly where I wanted to be, a waterfall that fell down granite rock for more than half a kilometer, special springs everywhere, 10 mtn. peaks in the jungle, the possibility to see tigers, elephants, hornbills, etc. Of course, it's not common; in fact, if you see an elephant in the wild, much less a tiger, you are considered to be of enormous spiritual wealth. I was gutted when I looked at the sunset and recalled that I had just purchased a flight to Borneo...I couldn't stay for the length of time I wanted; however, I very well might go back, if only to be around those people again.

The stink that was coming off of me as I descended the mountain some 4 days later was unfathomable...I seriously considered throwing my lucky shirt away--the red shirt a guide gave me in Mendoza, Arg that you see me often in NZ--but just couldn't bring myself to do it. The train came quite late and I paid half the fare to stay in the main cabin instead of sleeping...somehow I got comfort in the masochistic practise I often employ.

Kuala Lumpur is a very modern city that has the highest twin-towers in the world...now...and although there are plenty of towering buildings, you still have a grand sense of space about you. There is also a lot of greenery so you find amidst the precision of man's construct, you are embraced by nature as well...it's a nice city. In my "Malaysia" folder there are pics of the Petronas Towers lit up at night, blue and heavenly. I was so confounded to find that it costs nothing to go up to the bridge that connects the towers...my country would never allow that...FREE!!!

So...those keeping track, I'm in Johor Bahru (southern peninsular malay) and flying out tomorrow to Borneo where I'll get my jungle trekking that I missed several times before.

Riding in buses/trains in between cities is one of the most important elements of one's actual travel. This may be strange to hear, but it's the only time that you have to just peer out your window and reflect on the things you've seen/experienced. This last bus ride was well-needed and brought me to realize that I'm on the brink. I've been stacking dynamite and twisting fuse for some time now...I'm just looking for the flippin' flint. There is an experience near, maybe borneo, maybe further down the timeline in India, but it's in my grasp, mentally and spiritually anyway, and I'm gonna jump off the ocean liner when I see it, I'm gonna cast the spark onto the wire that leads to my detonation. Trite packer chatter has bored me to a boil, same questions and plans, and I'm ready to rid myself of the empty heaviness that spoils the very thing I seek. Although I'm quite ill at the moment, I'm spiritually hungrier than I've been, a new sponge acquired to be wired into my receptor to find the only vessel that can cross that ebony of ice--it's the abyss that I will not miss.