The Strip

Langkowi is one of the many gorgeous tropical islands which adorn the coastlines of Malaysia. What sets it apart is that it offers pristine beaches with an established infrastructure in place to support tourists. Part of the island is a declared duty free zone which means you can purchase chocolate, perfume and alcohol and extraordinarily cheap prices and consume them during your stay. That later is particularly attractive for some visitors to the strip of beach known as Pantai Cenang. This strip is the most densely occupied region of the island due to the fantastic beach with aquamarine water and fine white sand as sand as soft as flour (unlike most Malaysian beaches which have much courser sand) . . . AND it is the location of the duty free zone. The area caters mostly to mid and low range travellers seeking time on a beach and an assortment of restaurants and bars to sample of an evening. Unlike at Batu Ferringhi where the beach front property is almost exclusively controlled by the hotels and resorts, the Strip offers many beachside venues where you can eat freshly cooked seafood or suck on a beer as the sun sets over the ocean. The cuisine of Langkowi was more mild than that of Penang and also cater more strongly to westerners with several Mexican and Italian restaurants lining the Strip.

My hotel was absolute beach front – it was so close to the water that I stepped straight out of the front door of my room onto sand. The only problem with that is you tend to drag sand back into your room no matter how hard you try to avoid it. Still, it is a nice problem to have!

Stowaways: Part 6

While soaking up rays of sunshine and mugs of rum in equal measure, I happened to notice my friends, the turtles, crawl out of the water and up the beach towards the Strip. I was in no condition by that stage for a chase and I need not have bothered because the later that day they appeared at the door to my hotel room, tails between their legs, hoping to hitch a ride with me back to Kuala Lumpur.  It wasn’t long before I had them spilling the beans on their treasure hunt and what a strange story it was . . .

A Prohart Inspired Diaspora

If you shot many differently-coloured paintball pellets at a canvas it would be somewhat reflective of the cultural mix of Georgetown, Penang. You have splatters of traditional Chinese, Indian and colonial British culture through the city with modern Malaysia exploding up through the very fabric of the canvas of Georgetown. Georgetown is not simply transitioning from old orient to new Asia; both new and old are thriving side by side. Winding lanes feature a host of stalls, stores and restaurants. Old colonial buildings, such as the 130 year old town hall, are still on active duty. And yet the skyline is dominated by the high-rise hotels and enormous shopping centres including Komtar and the Prangin Mall.

Icon of A Nation

Before the Patronas Towers, Malaysia’s most recognisable structure was the Ten Thousand Buddas Pagoda (Ban Po Thar) at the Kek Lok Si Temple. It stands 30m high amid a community of temples, walkways, stair cases and gardens. High on the hill overlooking the complex stands a 36.5 m bronze statue of Kuan Yin, the goddess of mercy. For 30 rm ($10 AU) you can have your name written on a tile which will be used to complete the roof over the giant goddess. Visitors come to pray or appreciate the aesthetics and tangible serenity of the temple (the largest Buddhist temple in Malaysia). The temple is rich in colour with lanterns hanging from almost every available space. Small flowering and fruit-baring plants fill the gardens and rows of candles, braziers burning incense, and the presence of monks attending to the items of prayer and faith set the mood of the temple as a true place of worship and reflection.

Food Glorious Food

The food in Malaysia has been delicious, of a high standard and dirt cheap. Penang provides an overwhelming array of hawker stalls, food courts, cafes, restaurants with a diversity of cuisines seen nowhere else in the world. Chinese, traditional Malayan, Indian, Thai, Nonya (traditional Chinese cuisine combined with Malaysian and a pinch of Thai) and a host of western cuisines (including the omnipresent KFC) make deciding what to have for lunch or dinner almost impossible!! The best approach is to try as many places as possible which means you want to try and cram in a couple of extra meals per day whenever you visit Penang!!

A Slice of India

It seems almost every city in Malaysia has some variation of a Chinatown. But of the places I have been, only KL and Georgetown have a large enough Indian presence to comprise a Little India. A visit to Little India, Georgetown, is a step into tradition, tourist-centric souvenir markets and an amazing sensory experience all at the same time. While all stores and restaurants are on the ground level, the signs, flags and decorations extend up one or two levels throughout the district. The colours are bright and almost exclusively primary and secondary colours with rich blues, reds and yellows being the most prominent. Every other store blares its own music which adds a colourful sound track to your explorations. Cars and mopeds shuffle along as they snake their way through the throng of people. Richly decorative Sarees hang from one store while the cardboard cut-out of an unnamed Bollywood star directs you into another. And all throughout Little India you are greeted by bouquets and aromas: cinnamon, sandalwood, ginger, onion, garlic, coriander, chilli and a rack of mysterious spices all enliven and entice you into sampling the traditional India fare. Whether it be Samosas from the stall by the roadside or a complete meal from one of the many café’s and restaurants vying for your patronage, you can’t help but indulge! I had chicken biryani – you have it served on a plate with spoon and fork or more exotically on a banana leaf and eat with your hands!!

Stowaways: Part 5

The turtles had still not reappeared but I knew they were in Penang. I heard a taxi driver mention them to a colleague but when questioned he demanded money for information. I doubted anything he could tell me would lead to their whereabouts so declined to entertain his extortion attempt. Here and there I picked up signs of the turtles but nothing concrete until I saw them in Little India. They were talking to a man in front of a small café and pointing to something I could not see through the crowded streets. By the time I had pushed myself through the herd of tourists both the turtles and the man were gone. I knew they were looking for treasure but what possible set of clues could lead them both to Borneo and Penang? And what kind of treasure were the turtles looking for? Only time, and a bunch of rum, would reveal the answers . . .

I Want to Stay at the Hard Rock Hotel (sung to the tune of YMCA)

By any comparison, the Hard Rock Hotel is a nice hotel, with excellent facilities catering to those who wish to lay next to the pool, soak up the rays of the sun while sampling from the list of classic and contemporary cocktails on the pool bar’s menu. It is situated on a stretch of beach known as Batu Ferringhi which is famous for its idyllic coastline and gentle waters which make it a very popular holiday destination. By day the area is almost deserted as visitors to Batu Ferringhi remain within crawling distance of either the beach or their hotel’s pool. However, at night the hotels empty onto the streets as tourists hunt for bargains and souvenirs among the many stalls of the suburb-long street market. I visited Batu Ferringhi 9 years ago. At that time a handful of sellers spruiked watches, sunglasses and some basic unframed prints. Today the market rivals those of KL for diversity, quality and quantity of products. I recalled eating freshly caught and lightly spiced Tiger Prawns at an open-air restaurant on the main street. I returned to the same location hoping to re-experience the same delicacy again but to my disappointment all that remained of the restaurant was a set of tiles. The adjacent buildings were similarly demolished and the block lay vacant behind a blue, aluminium fence no doubt awaiting the development of yet another resort along the already crowded famous beach.

The Plot Thickens

Turtle Island

There is a very special group of islands off the coast of Borneo which are home to two species of turtles; the green and hawksbill turtles. These two species nest year round on these islands (approximately 6 months of nesting each) and the islands are particularly famous for having turtle hatchlings rise up through the sand 365 days a year. That is a lot of adorable but awkward first steps in anyone’s book! Turtle numbers have being reducing in the area due mostly to anthropogenic causes – in particular, the harvesting of turtle eggs by local fishermen for sale in markets as a delicacy. A research station has been established on two of the islands in the group to help preserve these two species of turtles in the region. We booked directly with the research centre months in advance in order to secure passage and accommodation on the island. Visitors are restricted mostly by accommodation availability with visitor numbers of approximately 14,000 each year.

You arrive early in the morning and settle into comfortable chalet’s before lunch in the cafeteria. The climate is much less humid on the island than the mainland and is the perfect antidote to the oppressive heat and humidity of Sandakan. There is a sandy beach from which swimming and snorkelling are indulged in by the visitors. It is a relaxing environment precisely because there is nothing much to do during the day time. I walked around the island in about an hour and came across the tracks of what I later learned were monitor lizards. Monitors are natural predators to turtle eggs. I managed to snap a few shots of one of these giant lizards before it scuttled in the adjacent low lying forest. At 6:30 guests are encouraged to visit the island’s turtle museum which traces the history of turtle conservation in the area and the lifecycle of the island’s two species. A movie is show at 7 pm which makes much of the content of the museum more accessible for those not on a guided tour (like us!). With the completion of the movie, dinner is served and then the waiting begins. Turtles lay their eggs at night. Turtle arrivals can begin anywhere from dusk onwards and finish just before dawn. But Turtles do no always lay eggs immediately upon arrival – if, indeed, they lay eggs at all! The female turtle will pull herself along the beach up towards the beginning of the vegetated areas of the island. She will then only lay eggs once she is comfortable with the location. This means, if she is not comfortable she will search for another location or simply pull herself back into the water and come back on another night. Once eggs are laid, the rangers take measurements of the turtles, make sure they are tagged, and then recover the eggs to rebury them in a hatchery where they are free from predators and accidental exposure. This is done to maximise the surviving offspring from each clutch. The night we spent on Turtle Island, the female turtles were not very comfortable with any spot on the beach.  And so we waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. The research centre decided to release some of the new hatchlings for us (as was part of the normal program) so we at least were able to experience some of the process. The hatchlings were taken to the shoreline in a basket and, after the visitors to the island had taken a few snap shots (without the aid of a flash), the turtles were released. The ranger present signalled the direction of the water by standing in the shallows and shinning his torch towards the water. The hatchlings use moon and starlight to identify the direction to the water. Under normal conditions, if they turn inland all they will see is the dark shapes of sand and trees where if they turn towards the sea, the starlight on the horizon will direct them safely towards the water. However, with many visitors holding cameras emitting small lights through view screens etc., and the occasional torch being turned on, some of the turtles were confused on where to go and began making their way back up the beach towards the visitors. This is not to say the presence of the visitors is hugely disruptive to the natural process, but is demonstrative of the fragility of the natural process and why, given the low numbers of turtles in the area, human intervention is required to ensure the survival of these beautiful creatures. Eventually we were able to witness a female laying eggs and a ranger collecting valuable data and reburying the eggs in the safety of the hatchery. That such drastic measures are needed to preserve an animal which pre-existed the dinosaurs is a sober reminder of effect on the world around us.

Hey, hey we’re the Monkeys!

Sabah (a state of Borneo Malaysia) is truly an amazing place to visit if you are interested in getting up close to wild animals. Having already been blown away by experiences with the orang-utans and turtles, my expectations for the proboscis monkey sanctuary and Labuk Bay were lessened believing that as there was little hype surrounding this particular sanctuary, it must surely be a lessor experience. The Proboscis Monkey Sanctuary was established by a wealthy property owner who reserved a large track of land for the monkeys after encountering them in the wild. Like the Oran-utans, the habit of the proboscis monkey is been cleared and developed into palm plantation for harvesting palm oil. This sanctuary – not an official national park – offers approximately 300 monkeys 600 hectares of mangrove forest in which to live freely. There are two scheduled feeding times at which visitors to the sanctuary can get a close up view of these strange monkeys. I knew all this before entering the park however I could not have hoped to get as close to the monkeys as eventuated.

On arrival at the feeding zone, I walked several hundred meters along a wooden walkway suspended a short height above the puddled floor of the mangrove forest.  The pod of monkeys awaited our arrival nested on the hand rails of the observation platform, every eye turned toward us. A silence hung in the air which seemed to mute the ambient noises of the forest. I didn’t know whether or not to move but the photographer in me took hold and I slowly moved my camera into position and began snapping shots. The minivan driver who had shuttled us out to the sanctuary (and who spoke little English) strode out onto the platform saying, “friendly. See?”. And so I followed him out – somewhat less brazenly – onto the platform never putting the camera down for long lest I miss something. To say we were close to the monkeys was an understatement; I could have reached out and touched them had I not been fearful of a monkey bite! Throughout the course of the feeding session I witnessed monkeys feeding, mothers caring for their children, males posturing, snarling and even yawning. I saw juvenile males play wrestling – one so brazen he performed a victory dance after defeating his opponent only for another to leap on him and drag him to the ground. Most poignantly, the alpha male charge around the observation deck (in and around the observers!) and chased potential rivals away from the females. In the proboscis monkey world, the alpha male is the only one who mates with the females. Occasionally a cheeky monkey may service a female while the alpha male is not looking but otherwise the life of a male proboscis monkey is filled with unrealised sexual desire hanging out with large groups of bachelors . . . kind of reminds me of my junior footy days!

Palm Oil

You may have heard of palm oil. You may have even seen campaigns by Greenpeace and/or the World Wildlife Fund on TV. But coming to Malaysia it is impossible to avoid noticing the enormous investment in palm plantations all over Malaysia but most worryingly, for the unique wildlife of Sabah, the investment in Borneo seems to be absolute. Driving into and out of Sandakan, and to each of the sanctuaries I visited, it appeared the landscape was simply alternating palm plantations and palm oil refineries. Palm oil nets refinery owners approximately 700 RM per ton (of unrefined palm fronds). It is clear from speaking to locals and seeing the pride Malaysians take in the success of their wildlife protection measures that Malaysians have a deep concern for the survival of these species but you cannot help but feel that ultimately they are losing the battle to provide enough untouched habitat for these species to persist without the continued involvement of human beings.

Stowaways: Part 4

With my adventures in Sandkan complete, I had to fly back to Kota Kinabalu to catch a second plane to Penang. This gave me a 5 hour window to continue tracking the turtles. I made enquiries and discovered that Paul Nair liked to spend his down time in a bar called Hunter. Hunter was easy enough to find – it was down near the harbour and had a large yellow neon sign that still had all the letters of Hunter intact. The bar was L-shaped, wooden and covered in water marks from patrons who placed their condensation-covered glasses directly onto the wood instead of the paper coasters provided. I sat at the bar and order a glass of Tiger. A local overheard me and laughed. I asked him what was so funny and he smiled at me and explained, in this part of the world if you ask for a tiger, you might get one! I chuckled to humour the man then turned to my freshly poured beer and took a sip. I turned back to the man to appraise him properly. He wore a white collared shirt – a light cotton weave which was perfect for the climate – tan trousers and a pair of black boots which looked well worn but were clean and polished. I told him I was looking for a man named Paul Nair and asked if he knew him. He told me that Nair could often be found at Hunter but was presently working out of town but if it was a guide I was after maybe he could assist. I looked into the man’s eyes. I had seen something in them. The man noticeably stiffened for a moment then relaxed again. It was a moment so brief an untrained eye would not have noticed. But I had sailed with cut throats and thieves and I knew a liar when I saw one. I turned back to my beer and drank it to the bottom of the glass. The man looked at me and his eyes asked why even though his voice failed. I told him I never like to let fighting interrupt me while I am drinking a cold beer. Now that I was out of beer . . . I left possibility of conflict hanging in the air until I noticed the muscles in his neck tense and then I jumped to me feet, knocking over my stool. I stared at the man, locking eyes giving him no room from his seated position. You’re Paul Nair, I told him. He nodded. He said he didn’t want any trouble. If it was a guide or . . . information I needed, he was a man who provided such services. Good, I said. I told him about the turtles and asked if he had seen them. Nair became very forthcoming and told me how they had come to him asking about treasure and when he told them there was no treasure in Sabah the described a location to him in great deal and asked him if he could take them there. Nair admitted at first he thought them fools but there description was precise and familiar. In fact, he said, the location was not very far away at all. He said he could even take me there now. I told him I had a plane to catch but he said we could be there in an hour as most of the territory could be covered by motor vehicle. I had just enough time to make it there and back. MY curiosity was peaked. The turtles were after treasure as I had suspected. But what treasure were they looking for in the jungles of Borneo? I walked Nair to his Jeep and we drove out of town on the main road before making a turn onto a bumpy access road which lead north into the jungle. However after 45 mins or so I could tell we were heading back towards the coast and I began to get suspicious. Nair pulled the Jeep over and told me the rest we must walk. I was on high alert. The location felt wrong. No treasure could remain hidden so close to civilisation whilst still having enough clues survive to lead the turtles here  . . . I made Nair lead, not trusting him at my back. The jungle was hot and I was sweating badly. That beer was trying to leave my body as urine but I dared not expose myself here. This was Nair’s territory and he could quickly lose me in the dense jungle which even now had me doubting the direction back to the Jeep. The hour Nair promised had turned into an hour and a half. I asked him if it was much further and he told me that it was only a few minutes away. I was beginning to suffer badly in the heat. Leaches were clinging to my neck and mosquitoes constantly buzzed around me, sampling my blood and causing welts to appear on my arms but I dared not remove them. Without announcement we arrived at a clearing and Nair turned to me and said, we are here. My eyes scanned the clearing looking for signs of a lost culture or temple or anything . . . but there was nothing. The clearing was large. In fact, it was too large to be natural in a jungle this dense. I picked up a rock and began digging. After only a few strokes I hit something hard. I quickly cleared away the sandy soil to discover a large flat stone. The whole area was stone just beneath the surface. This was man made. I turned to Nair and asked him what the turtles did once he had delivered them here. He told me the scratched around as I had done then asked him and apparently decided whatever they were looking for was long gone and asked to be taken back to Kota Kinabalu. I was shocked. What could any of this mean? I was completely dumb founded and with little interest in the answer I absent mindedly asked Nair what was this place. He said, you are standing on the last remains of the original British settlement of Jesselton which was destroyed in World War II by Japanese invaders. If he was not mistaken, this sight was probably the town square where markets sold produce during the day and fresh seafood cooked by the fisherman to a local recipe in the evening. All I could do was stare at Nair in disbelief.

Big and Little Paradise

I don’t know what Manukan and Manukit mean but if someone told me they meant Big Paradise and Little Paradise, I would believe them. We woke early and purchased croissants at the supermarket next door – the supermarket, incidentally, is awesome! It even has bacon!! If only I had a way to cook it!! Afterwards we ventured down to the jetty where we booked a seat on a boat out to Manukit Island (Little Paradise). Manukit is approximately 300 meters long and is all of one small stretch of beach where visitors can swim and snorkel out to the edge of a small coral reef. Fish swam up to me to say hello and one cleaner fish did me the kindness of clipping my leg hairs! I found a pair of clown fish nestled in the tentacles of an anemone. I watched them for a while. One fish stayed predominately near or within the safety of the anemone while the other ventured further out to intercept potential enemies from getting close to their territory. There were a pair of smaller brown fish which were routinely chased away by the clown fish. Interestingly, when I reached in with my camera to take a photo the brown fish attacked me (much to my surprise the first time!). But if the brown fish ever got to close to the anemone, one of the clown fish would chase the brown fish away. There is no fixed accommodation on the island but it is possible to camp

A short boat trip away is Manukan Island. Manukan is a slightly larger island with similar characteristics to Manukit except it is also harbours a resort and expanded facilities for visitors. The hillside chalets are hidden by the blanket forest over. While there are many visitors on Manukan, there are more secluded corners of the beach in which to relax. Throughout the afternoon I lay on white sand and swam in the clear water. The water is almost perfectly flat except for the fading ripples caused by the boats transporting visitors to and from the island. If you lay on your back in the water with your eyes closed, the sound of swimmers is drowned out so all you can sense is the warm caress of the sun on your face and the soothing cool of the ocean around you. A mask and snorkel reveals the plenty of fish darting in and around the coral in search of food or avoiding predators. I could have almost spent the rest of my trip on Manukan if not for my desire to see Monkeys and the Man of the Forest.

Stoways: Part 3

The turtles disappeared shortly after we arrived in Kota Kinabalu. They said they were going down to the bottle shop to get some rum but they never came back to the hotel. After their behaviour in Kuala Lumpur I was not surprised by this turn of events. I made some enquiries around town in between trips to the jungle to observe the natural wonders of Borneo. There were a few sightings here and there but no concrete leads. Finally, I tracked them through a local who informed me the turtles had been in contact with a renowned guide and explorer, Paul Nair. But that information came to me too late and  so I departed Kota Kinabalu not knowing where the turtles had gone but somehow sure I would see them again . . . if only when they needed something again.

Reflections on Sandakan

Sandakan is a city you can drive through for 20 mins before realising you are in it. It is a sprawling assortment of small strip shops and spaciously arranged housing until you reach the “city centre” along the Eastern Coast of Sabah. It is hot in Sandakan. Even the city sweats in the salty, tropical heat making everything sticky. Here you will find a collection of grimy buildings with small retail outlets on the ground floor and tiny apartments on the upper levels. You can find some respite along the water’s edge but mostly you have to retreat to an air-conditioned building. There are no great shopping malls or districts in Sandkan as there was in Kota Kinabalu. The markets here are filled with fresh produce and seafood so fresh it is still flipping in the fisherman’s basket when it is sold to you. But the locals are accustomed to tourists none the less and are friendly and accommodating in a way which makes experiencing Sandakan a real highlight of my trip.

Man of the Forest

The word Orang-Utan literally means man of the forest. The brochures tell you the gentle creatures are thus named due to their human –like qualities and behaviour. But what does that really mean? They peal their bananas and slice them up to put in their cereal? I don’t think so. The Orang-Utan sanctuary in Sepilok rescues Orang-Utans from human-settled areas and rehabilitates them for re-introduction into the wild. Visitors to the sanctuary are able to watch scheduled feeding events for Orang-Utans in the first stage of rehabilitation. Tourists crowd the observation deck pointing their zoom lenses at the feeding platforms in ravenous anticipation of a wild encounter. I can only imagine that the view from the feeding platforms would be akin to that of standing in front of a firing squad! However, this does not appear to concern the Orang-Utans who gracefully swing their way down from tree top to platform as easily as you or I would walk from the living room to the kitchen. The first to arrive was a female Orang-Utan with a small baby cupped under her arm pit. The baby was playful and climbed over and around its mother like she was a hairy jungle gym. It was clear in viewing the two together that the mother took genuine joy in playing with her child. She sometimes pulled the baby in and cuddled it to her chest or face. Shortly after the first arrival, a male Orang-Utan joined the mother and baby on the platform. Although the male was larger than the female, there was no display of dominance, nor was there competitive appropriation off food. There was simply harmony. The female lay on her back, the baby climbed over her body and onto her legs and the male joined them on the platform and stroked the female and played with the baby. The male cupped the baby’s head in his hand just in the way a father would his child. He then lifted the baby up by its hands and let the baby swing back and forth before climbing up onto his arm. Watching the three together was just like watching a human family. This was a family which was bound together by love.

Borneo: The Land of the Hilux

Travellers,

Departing KL for Borneo was exciting because it felt like this is where the adventure would really begin. We arrived early evening to find a quiet seaside town which belied the true size of the city. Kota Kinabalu is the capital of Sabah, the Northern state of Borneo Malaysia. Sabah is considered a natural wonderland due to its rainforests, mountains and spectacular coral reefs and KK is without doubt the gateway. Its population is 600,000 which is roughly equivalent to that of the Gold Coast. But you would never know this by the city’s outward appearance. The visible KK is a seaside town with four main roads running parallel with the shoreline of the South China Sea. At one end is the Jetty from which you can book passage on one of the many shallow, canopied boats to take you to the nearby tropical islands. The numerous hotels, tour agencies on every corner, two 24 hour KFCs, a Starbucks, an Irish Pub and a supermarket which sells Tim Tams is indicative of an economy suckled on the fat dollar of tourism. But this is not to say KK is without its indigenous charm. You only need cast your eyes away from the neon-lit promenade along the water’s edge to see tightly packed streets with concrete-floored, roller door cafés. At night, markets literally rise up from the pavement to occupy the available floor space. An empty lot becomes a hive of hawker stalls where you can choose from a fisherman’s daily catch and have it cooked right before your eyes!

Departure lounge Dynamics

No announcement was made, nor signals employed on the monitor – indeed, the monitor was broken! – yet  the 300 passengers on flight AK5108 moved in unison towards the gate like a flock of birds changing direction, a school of fish evading a predator, or maybe a head of cattle arriving at the dairy of their own accord to be milked.

The Travel Bug

Have you ever met someone who was obsessed with travelling? So much so that they re-arrange their life in order to accommodate more travel? We met a Frenchman at the airport who was looking to split a taxi with us into town. He was a (former) software engineer in his late 30s who apparently had a “crisis of faith” and took to the world. He spends between two and six months of every year travelling the globe (mostly cheaper continents such as Asia). To satisfy his addiction to travel, he quit his job as a software engineer and became a tour guide in his home town in the South-West of France. Part of me was inspired to follow him on his adventures but the greater part of my being was pretty happy I will return to my job and, more importantly, my beautiful girlfriend.

Stowaways: Part 2

Citing jetlag, food poisoning and a host of other imaginary ailments, the turtles remained in the hotel in KL. I occasionally caught them sifting through my guide book of Malaysia but when questioned they denied reading the book. I am beginning to get very suspicious . . .

Now that we are in Borneo the pair have begun venturing away from the hotel. I saw them at the jetty talking to local boatman. I asked around and there are legends of a sunken trading vessel in the region but I am doubtful even Oscar and Mr T. would be foolish enough to believe there is any lost treasure to find. The local pearl industry is quite lucrative but so is the counterfeit pearl industry which preys on the ignorance or tourists.

VIP

KK has a host of VIP services of which two stand out. The supermarket next door ot our hotel has valet parking for a mere 10 rm ($3AUD) per hour. The second is a little more vague but it appears MacDonald’s has some sort of VIP Drive-Thru service. I have seen several cars with stickers identifying them as MacDonald’s VIP Customers!

Suria Sabah

Just south of the Jetty, occupying a crop of land along the shoreline is Suria Sabah. Suria Sabah is an eight story shopping centre complete with designer clothing stores, cinema and food court which offers spectacular views of the South China Sea and nearby islands. Nothing could be more out of place in KK than this megalithic colossus. In a community which has few buildings more than two stories high (save for the hotels) and whose residents are accustomed to shopping in street stalls, markets and small retail outlets, I can’t fathom that a single local person would shop there. This is not to say the City is a poor one – every other car on the road is a Hilux or Hilux equivalent car!! But it doesn’t feel like the rest of the city. To walk the shopping centre is to walk a ghost town. There are few open stores. So few in fact that the unoccupied stores outnumber the occupied by a ratio of 3:1. Clearly the building is brand new but you can’t help wonder if this is a sign of rejection by the residents of KK. Maybe the glittering home wares and genuine designer clothes (as opposed to imitations) do not possess sufficient allure for a community spoiled by the rich natural beauty that surrounds them.

Departing and Arrival

Travellers,

My adventures take me this time to Malaysia for a 3.5 week odyssey from the peninsula to Sabah, Penang, Langkowi before an extended stay in KL. I visited Malaysia 9 years ago and I remember how the hot and humid air hit me like a blast furnace when I first left the airport, how decadence was juxtaposed with poverty and how no matter how much I wanted it, I couldn't get bacon anywhere. But on that trip I never really found Malaysia - not the Malaysia I was hoping to find anyway . . . So I return now in search of Malaysia's elusive character; to learn its smells and tastes; to sense its history and explore its culture.

Armed to the Teeth

I am carrying a Pentax DSLR, Panasonic Water Proof Camera, Gorilla Pod, iPhone 4, Kindle, a HP Netbook and a logitech wireless mouse all to make recording and transmitting content easier. Now all I need is a net connection . . .

Departing

The time before departing on an overseas trip is ruled by anticipation. You live in a state of transition, imagining the completion of one life and the beginning of another. There will soon be a time where your work tasks are complete or handed over; where your bed will remain unslept in; and, in my case, where you will no longer be able to share the embrace of your partner. The anticipation of adventure prevents you lamenting the loss of those things and people you leave behind but they cannot share your excitement. So for those closest to you, departing is anticipating your absence.

Stowaways: Part 1

I opened my pack searching for my netbook and noticed movement among the clutter of the contents of my bag. Surprised and curious, I sifted through my assortment of cameras, books, cables and lollies to find a pair of stowaways hiding near the bottom of the bag.  The stowaways were a pair of turtles named Oscar (green) and Mr T. (yellow). I knew the turtles. I suppose you would call them friends of mine. They were fellow crew members back in my piracy days. We sailed under a jolly roger in search of lost treasure, laying anchor where and when we pleased. The last I had seen them, the pair had jumped ship while our boat had been at port awaiting repairs.

I grabbed the two turtles by the scruff of their necks and pulled them from my bag. I cursed their wretched souls and demanded an explanation. Oscar said nothing but complain - as usual - about my rough handling while Mr T. tried to calm me with platitudes to little avail. I repeatedly gave the turtles a vigorous shake and demanded an explanation until  Mr T. finally relented.

"We heard you were plotting a course for Asia and we figured you could use a pair of travelling companions", said Mr T.

"And this has nothing to do with treasure?" I asked.

"Treasure? Are you searching for treasure? The thought had never crossed our minds. We are no longer the slaves to treasure we once were", claimed Mr T. I laughed a hearty pirate laugh - for these turtles it was always about treasure.

After some begging and pleading, I consented to their company. They thanked me and promised not to be a burden. They told me I would never know when I would need a pair of turtles to get me out of a sticky situation.

Texis

Catching Taxis (Texis in Malaysian) in Asia is always a danger in that the roads are often poorly maintained, the drivers speed excessively and the traffic is chaotic. In Malaysia the traffic is comparitively low and the roads are well maintained however the Texis still hurtle around town at crazy speeds. The guide book says to keep an eye out for older texis and texi drivers . . . if they have got to an old age, they must be doing something right!!

KFC

Jorgo, I checked it out and KFC is open 24 hours a day here. Asia, it is so advanced!!

The Flood

The most notable aspect of the Queensland floods is that everyone was affected. Everyone you talk to has stories about family members, friends and colleagues who have lost possessions, their livelihood and even their homes. I know a friend who was forced to swim from the balcony of his second-floor unit for fear of being trapped. Another friend spent a night sleeping on top of a pool table as the water rose up through the floor boards. And my girl friend's family woke to find knee-deep water surrounding their house. They evacuated her grandmother and the children before returning a few hours later to find their house almost completely submerged. They lost everything they own.

I counted myself among the lucky ones to live in a suburb far enough removed from the river to avoid flooding. I didn't even lose power throughout the week. As I worked from home, news reports of rising water levels in the Brisbane and Ipswich areas flowed in through the TV. First the banks of rivers broke in one suburb and then another. The rain kept falling and Anna Bligh appeared almost continually on television providing honest assessments of the danger and losses expected as a result of the floods. For most of us, it was a time of anxious waiting. Thousands of Brisbane residents flocked to social networking sites to share their stories and find word of their friends and loved ones. I found myself searching for status updates from those I knew to be in flood affected areas. As the flood waters rose and power to streets and suburbs was turned off, the updates from my friends transitioned from their PCs to mobile devices before they stopped altogether. When contact with friends and family was lost, I found myself hoping for the best and fearing the worst.

Eventually the rain stopped and the flood began receding. As the water flowed out of affected suburbs, volunteers armed with shovels, buckets and brooms flowed in. Two days after the flood peak, water still pooled in low points. The road and foot paths were covered in mud caked dry in one street while in another they were lost in a mire of septic sludge.  Cars packed the streets parked in drive ways, on the nature strip and tightly up against the curb. Those cars on the road fought for the limited space with pedestrians, trucks, buses, and earth moving machines transforming normally sleepy suburban byways into choked up arteries. The traffic made it impossible for trucks and bobcats to remove many of the great heaps of debris which sat in front of every house. I helped clear a home of its contents. We moved furniture, kitchen utensils, electronic equipment, books and DVDs. Others ripped warped plaster and insulation from the walls. It was disturbing how little could be saved. We were a group of 15 helping the home owners clean up the aftermath. We took to the walls and floors with gurneys and brooms, blasting and sweeping the mud literally out the front door. With almost all the taps in the suburb turned on, the water pressure was so low (without a gurney) it took several minutes to fill a small bucket. The volume of mud and debris made the house a dangerous place. The threat of infection was so high that even the slightest scratch must be cleaned and covered immediately. Truly, after seeing the state of the suburb of Yeronga I will never use the word disaster lightly again.

Amid all the loss you might expect a sober mood among the home owners and volunteers. As a credit to the resilience of the Queensland spirit, everyone assisting in the clean up was bound by a determined and efficacious mindset. Those not sweeping, shovelling or carrying debris walked the streets offering sandwiches and water. Others set up rest stops where a worker could clean his hands and enjoy a sausage sizzle and a cup of tea. The generosity was overwhelming. The sense of community was incredible. Though the reconstruction of Brisbane, Ipswich, Toowoomba and surrounding towns will take many months, there is no doubt that it will be rebuilt better than ever on the back of a community united and a spirit unbroken.