Hanging with the locals

By my third night in Cherating, I had finally started to get accustomed to "Cherating time". At home, I usually go to bed around 10 PM. That's when Cherating starts to really wake up. So around 9:30, I headed over to the beach bar only to find that it was pretty dead. I guess I was still ahead of Cherating time. At the beach bar, I found the owner and about 5 local men sitting around a table. The owner, Pablo, got up and gave me his seat. I had a fun conversation with them. One of the guys was the flame-twirler from the night before, one was Dean who I had met the night before, and then there was an old man with a young kid and a guy about my age who I didn't know. The night before, Dean had told me that a bridge had collapsed in the US, but he didn't know which one or the cause. I had of course immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was the Bay Bridge but then realized my phone would have been ringing incessantly with my mother eagerly pacing on the other end so she could be the first to tell me. Since my phone had not made a peep, I knew it wasn't the Bay Bridge at least. Back to Minum and my companions... Dean said he had seen the bridge collapse on the news again, but the power went out before they said where it was. Oh, I forgot to mention that the power in half of the town had gone out during dinner. The whole restaurant ate by candlelight. Citronella candles, of course.

Then the conversation really got going. Dean asked me what I was thinking when I decided to come to a Muslim country, and "what your daddy say when you say you go to Muslim country?"

I laughed at his questions. He didn't mean it the way it came out which he explained to me. He was just curious about my feelings about going there and being there as an American. This, of course, led to a profoundly deep conversation about religion, extremists, acceptance, and ignorance. We discovered, not surprisingly, that we agreed on and understood the difference between religion and extremism.

This conversation led to Dean jokingly telling me his insane theory of 9/11. At this point Dean was a little buzzed and my retelling of his story may sound as though he did not understand or respect the seriousness of 9/11. He did understand the tragedy of the attacks. And I must admit, I had to laugh at his crazy tale. He told me that Osama's daddy and Bush's daddy were friends and did business together so Osama and Bush grew up together. Then he tells me that one day Osama and Bush were sitting around getting drunk, and Bush said things were just too damn boring in the world. So his crazy buddy, bin Laden, thought of this plan to bring more "excitement" to the world, but Bush didn't know about it. The whole time he was laughing like it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Needless to say, he was a little drunk.
While I was enjoying the conversation, I really wanted to sit at the low table closest to the water, taking full advantage of the breeze off the water. Pablo rolled a mat out for me, and I moved over to the table. My river guide and friend, Nazri, came over to keep me company, but had to leave shortly afterward.  I sat alone at the table enjoying the weather and tranquility and flame twirler while people watching, listening to the 80\s music, and petting the stray cat who had befriended me.
Sitting alone at my table on the edge, that table was like my life.  On the edge of peace and tranquility on the side of the sea, and on the edge of partying locals and tourists on the other side.  Always on the edge of two opposites, wanting to belong completely to one side, but never being able to decide which.  That's the Gemini in me!
On this night, I chose the partying locals and tourists.  Behind me sat a large group of local guys.  You never saw local women out at night. Next to me was a tourist couple named Ruth and Callum from London.  This was their first night in Cherating, and they were great fun to chat with.  Ruth's first words to me were "Isn't this fab?"  She had won my heart with the word "fab"!  It was also fun to hear about their adventures. At one point, my buddy Dean brought me a big drink.  Now, this bar only served beer, soda, water, and juice.  This drink was not just soda as was evident from the pungent odor of liquor wafting from the cup across the table.  Simultaneously, Callum said he would kill for some whiskey.  Obviously, Callum had a magic genie with him and wasted one of his wishes on whiskey.  I handed my drink to my lucky friend who tasted it and proclaimed it to be whiskey and that somebody was trying to get me drunk.  I was happy to let Callum keep the drink.  But the source of the liquor interested us greatly.  Curiously, we looked over at the table chock full of local men, and they had a liquor store at their table!  You can apparently buy liquor at one of the islands and a bunch of guys had made a run to the island and brought back a party.  They aren't even supposed to be drinking!
Upon closer inspection, I notice two young boys, probably around 14, at the table.  One is passed out with his head on the table.  I found out later that he was the grandson of the owner of the Ranting Beach Resort where I had stayed my first two nights in town.  It was indeed, a small town.
Ruth and I joined the locals' table and chatted with them.  Ruth asked about what the Muslim women wear in Malaysia.  She mentioned she had seen a woman in Kuala Lumpur dressed in the full head-to-toe black and admitted she was rather intimidated.  Well, this caused our tipsy friend, Dean, to get sputter "That's Saudis.  It's not fair Saudis come here and scare people!"  He was not upset with Ruth, but he seemed quite unhappy with Saudi Arabians.  Then, Ruth asked if he was allowed to be drinking (I loved Ruth!  She asked all of the questions I was too afraid to ask).  At this, Dean sputtered something to the effect of "who's going to stop me?!  Ruth and I looked at each other and together said "Not us".
The conversation then turned towards me and the river cruise I had taken that day.  When asked if I enjoyed it, I responded that it was lovely and that I was slightly disappointed but greatly relieved that we did not see any anaconda.  This response was met with the entire table going silent as I stared at about ten confused faces.  Then one of those confused faces started to laugh as it told me there were no anaconda in the river.  Then ten confused faces turned into laughing faces as I'm sure mine turned a nice shade of cherry tomato red.  I was so embarrassed for falling for my river guide's horror story of man eating snakes, but in gauging this embarrassment with some of my other experiences on the trip, this was nothing.  I did feel bad for the poor German tourists though who I was sure would relate the harrowing tale of forging through the river in search of anaconda to someone in Germany who would in turn stare at them dumfounded while informing them that they are daft idiots because there are no anaconda in Malaysia!
And so the evening went late into the night.  The Dutch girls staying next to me showed up.  The guy from Santa Barbara staying across from me was there.  The turtle guide from a couple of nights before was there.  It was fun.  As the tipsy locals became the drunk locals, I became the most popular girl there.  The single American girl.  Everybody's got to be the belle of some ball...
Nazri, my lying river guide, insisted on walking me back to my hut which I appreciated.  He may have been a liar, but I knew he would get me back safely.  First, we walked over to the other bar, Care For Café, so I could see the puppies.  This time, instead of standing back and barking, the puppies came running up to me.  It was my heaven!  After playing with them for a few minutes, I said goodbye for good-knowing I would be leaving the next day.  It was kind of sad.
As promised, Nazri walked me back to my guest house, making certain I got back safely.  It had been a long, full day.  It had easily been one of the best days I had ever had.  I saw so many new things and made so many new friends.  I fell asleep feeling full.  My spirit was full.  And happy.

Three Unique Women

After my river tour, I decided to take a towel and book down to the beach and read while enjoying the sounds of the water and the breeze off the sea. On my way, I passed a girl who stopped me and mentioned she had seen me come off of the river trip. She asked me, in a British accent, how it was. I think her name was Tor, short for Victoria. She was a young woman, early 20's I would guess, with spiked hair, and an obvious proud independence. I was surprised by her forwardness in stopping me and shocked when she asked if I wanted to grab some dinner. I'm just not used to strangers being so open and friendly. I don't know if it's a countrywide cultural thing or just a result of my own sphere of influence, but that's not what I know. It was interesting to me, and I was fascinated by it. I would never walk up to a stranger, ask them a question about something I saw them doing an hour before, and then ask if they wanted to get dinner. I was a bit flabbergasted. I told her I was going to the beach at that time to read, but I would be happy to meet her later for dinner. We agreed to meet outside where she was staying at 7:30.

Sometime between the river trip and dinner, I had fallen into Cherating time, which is to say I stopped paying attention to time. Therefore, I really had no idea what time it actually was when I reached Tor's guesthouse. I waited a few minutes, but when she didn't come out, I decided to walk down the street and come back. Still no Tor. So I walked down the street back towards my guesthouse. As I passed The Bistro, I heard someone call my name. I turned and saw Tor at a table with two young Malaysian women. Apparently, I had been late so Jo had joined these women, PeiLee & Yo, for dinner. I joined the threesome. They were beginning to know me at this restaurant.

PeiLee & Yo were students from Kuala Lumpur. The four of us had a delightful conversation and all three girls were fascinating in their own right. Tor was a brave, adventurous girl in her 20's. She had driven on her own from England to Katmandu. I thought Katmandu was just a restaurant in Linthicum! She had been throug Turkey and raved about the interior of the country, commenting that the coast is just a bunch of embarrassingly drunk Brits on holiday. She had travelled through Pakistan in 115 degree heat in a bus with no air conditioning. She had had her tennis shoes stolen in India. After Malaysia, she was going to Australia where her car had been shipped. Truely amazing.

PeiLee had been to New Zealand and Switzerland. Yo had finished school for optometry in Kuala Lumpur. PeiLee was still in school in Kuala Lumpur for psychology. She pointed out that Malaysians do not seek out psychologists and therapists for help like Americans and Europeans do. Only people considered "crazy" see psychologists in Malaysia. Tor was interesting becasue she was a young, British woman who was thriving on travelling the world on her own. She, like me, thoroughly enjoyed travelling alone, not worrying about an agenda, timetable, or what anyone else wanted to do. I am so happy I had the opportunity to meet PeiLee and Yo. They were really the first Malaysian women with whom I was able to have a good conversation. While I saw that Malaysia was a diverse and culturally accepting country, I had wondered about women's roles. I had seen plenty of working women in KL, but I had seen few local women in Cherating. While I didn't get into the gender roles in Malaysia with PeiLee and Yom, the fact that they were two educated, young, single women travelling on their own demonstrated an independence and self confidence. It was enlightening and satisfying to see. They also spoke perfect English which make me feel very stupid for only be able to say, "I like dogs" in Malay. Seriously though, those three young women were inspirational, and they were all on a path for greatness. I felt richer for having met them.

We finished our delicious dinner and prepared to part ways. They asked me if I had a "facebook or facepage" or something. I suddenly felt like my mother. I had no idea what they were talking about. It was apparently the new "myspace". Of course I didn't have a facebook page (I do now, thank you very much. And I even visit it once a month!). I did give them my blog address. I got a comment on a previous post from PeiLee! I was so excited. I have a friend in Malaysia! At least I did a year and a half ago when I was blogging in a timely matter. Like all of my friends who have come and gone from my life, I still consider her my friend in my heart. Even if we only met for an hour or so. She, along with Yo and Tor, taught me about myself and about the world. I think that makes them my friends. Thank you, my friends.

Cherating River Tour

As I mentioned in the last post, my snorkeling party had generously agreed to let me tag along on their river tour at the request of my new Malaysian friend and local "used car salesman", Nazri. I was told to meet down at the river at 4:00 so I left my chalet promptly at 4 since it was only a few buildings down from the walkway to the river dock. As I waited, I entertained myself by watching the all of the monkies. At 4:15, there was no sign of anyone else which reminded me yet again that Cherating did not run on time. I walked across the street to the little market and bought a Coke. As I was walking back, the rest of the party pulled up. We all piled into the little boat. It was a little bit bigger than the boat we used to go to Snake Island. We were joined by a German family of four who looked like they were on a mission rather than a vacation.

The tour started with Nazri telling us what kind of animals we would see. There were black and yellow snakes he called a Mamba or something like that. There were iguanas, red-faced monkeys, king-fisher birds which were apparently rare to see, and there was a monster. Yes, a monster. Nazri told us they have a snake that is 20 feet long with a head "this big" as his hand show a basketball sized head, and it is called an Anaconda. Well, I am quite familiar with the word "Anaconda" so I almost jumped off the boat and swam for shore (which was way to swampy for my taste). I decided that I was brave enough to continue on since the alternative was swimming through murky, slimy water. So onward we went. During the tour, I asked Nazri what the anaconda ate. The man from KL told me they ate wild boar. Nazri told me they ate people. The look on my face and my response of "saya tidak sukah" made this a popular joke between Nazri and the man from KL throughout the tour. I was so glad I could entertain them.

The river was lined with beautiful mangrove trees. Apparently, the oil from mangrove trees is used for charcoal. We saw some of the red-faced monkeys but they stayed high up in the trees so I couldn't get a good picture. We saw several of the poisonous black and yellow Mamba snakes. They were all curled up in the trees, sleeping. Nazri would slowly guide the boat directly under the sleeping snake so we could get pictures. I really did not need a picture that close up and did not relish the experience of being directly underneath a sleeping poisonous snake. It didn't help the Nazri would say "You touch tree. Snake fall in boat. We jump in water."

We turned down a small river where Nazri said the anaconda lived. All ten of us were eagerly searching for the monster. Some for the excitement, others for self-preservation. I, of course, fell into the latter category. Alas, we left the small river tributary without seeing any creatures larger than the 1 inch river crabs. No anaconda. I was able to breathe again. I could tell that the intense German father and mother were disappointed. I was able to convert their disappointment to annoyance though so I felt pretty good about my philanthropic contribution to their vacation. As we were trolling back to the dock, Nazri thought he saw something and slowed down, pointing to the edge of the river where he said there was an "iguana". His definition of an iguana is quite different from mine. An iguana in my mind is dry looking, sort of scaley, sometimes are pets, don't live in the water, and kind of spikey. His definition is the very long, slimy thing that I had followed down the road on my first day in Cherating. I was the first to see it in the river and just it's snake-like head was above the water and its giant tongue was flicking out of its creepy head. Although it was creepy looking, I wasn't scared. I was excited that I saw it, but I'm a bit of a spaz so when I saw it, I kind-of yelled or screamed involuntarily. Well, the "iguana" quickly went underwater and nobody else got to see it. Hence, the disappointment to annoyance. You are welcome, German family.

In total, the river trip was about 2 hours. It was fun and interesting, but it could have been one hour. The air in the river area was so thick that I was having alot of problems with my asthma by the time we docked. It continued to amaze me how different the two sides of the village were. We docked. I bid farewell to my fellow snorkellers and river trippers, and I went back to the chalet and took yet another refreshingly cold shower.

Cherating Lessons

After my refreshing snorkeling adventure, I was cool and comfortable. After 15 minutes at Muda's eating my banana sandwich, I was soaked with sweat. The scary thing is I was getting accustomed to the "I am so hot and sweaty I think I am going to turn into a steaming puddle" feeling. To this day, two and a half years later, I don't have air conditioning in my car or in my apartment. A week or two of the summer can get pretty uncomfortable, but the rest of the time, I just accept the fact that I am really hot. It's as though my body reached a point in Malaysia where it broke through some heat barrier, and it never went back. That's not to say I don't get hot and sweaty. It just doesn't seem to bother me like it did prior to Malaysia.

So, after my banana sandwich, I walked back to my chalet to take a cold shower and decompress. I was a little worried because I had told the manager that I would only be there for one night. Since checkouts are normally at noon and it was now well past 1:00, I was worried they may have rented out my chalet. I should have known I was worrying for nothing. I was in Cherating on Cherating time! Upon my return, I found a sign on the manager's door saying he would be back around 3:00. As I carefully walked around the chickens in front of his chalet, I made a mental note to stop by at 3 or 3:30 to pay my 25 ringgits for the night.

I stopped to pet two of the guesthouse cats who were lounging in the walkway on the way to my hut. Sitting on the steps of the chalet across from mine was an older, white woman with red hair who I had seen come from the main house at the back of the property earlier. I said hello and asked if she was the owner, knowing that the placed was owned by an Edinburgh woman (just like my Gammy was). The red-headed woman was not the owner, but was good friends with her. Apparently, the owner and her husband had moved back to Scotland a year and a half before when she got pregnant. The red-headed woman (whose name I also forget so I will call her Red) was quite fascinating. Red was French. Her husband, whose nationality I do not know, worked in Russia so he only came back on the weekend. Red had lived in Cherating for 13 years. She had just bought a place in Kuala Lumpur because she said that "13 years was a long time to live like you are on a constant holiday". Her son, who was originally from Santa Barbara but now lived in Japan with his Japanese wife and their children, was visiting and staying at the guest house. Talk about world travellers! Umm, yeah, I'm from Maryland...The end. It was neat though. It kind of shrunk the world for me. Just a bit though.

When I went into my chalet to take a long overdue cold shower, I heard a rustling noise in the bathroom. I peered in with a tiny bit of apprehension. The bathroom looked darker than before since it received a lot of natural light from the plexiglass middle section of the ceiling. I heard some more rustling and looked up at the ceiling. Much to my surprise, I came face to scaley foot with a very large lizard that was lying across the entire length of the bathroom ceiling on the plexiglass section. After jumping back and letting out an almost inaudible gurgle of terror, I realized that the lizard was on the other side of the plexiglass and not floating in mid air. Then it just became cool. I stuck my head out the window to tell the two Dutch girls next door about it. They had seen it earlier on the main part of my roof. As I was heading back to the bathroom to take a picture of my lizard friend, there was a big clatter and a thud. The lizard had fallen off and run away. I really felt like I was in the jungle.

That was part of the charm of Cherating. On one side of the street, there was the South China Sea. There were horseshoe crabs, jelly fish, coral reefs, and sand crabs. On the other side of the street, there were the mangrove rivers with big four foot lizards, poisonous snakes, monkeys, and river crabs. On the sea side, the air was thin, fresh, and rejuvenating. On the river side, the air was thick, dank, and seeped with stagnant life. Maybe that is why I liked Cherating so much. It spoke to the Gemini in me. The two distinct sides of my personality. I spent an equal amount of time on each side of the street, and I loved them both. Just as I have learned to love both sides of me. Thanks for the lesson, Cherating.

Snake Island Snorkelling-Cherating Day 4 August 3, 2007

That's right. Day four. Wasn't I only going to stay a couple of days and move on to experience other unknown adventures? I just couldn't seem to leave this place so I continue to experience unknown adventures in Cherating instead. Today's adventure started with Snake Island.


This was the first day in almost four weeks that I had actually set an alarm. I didn't want to miss snorkelling, and it had sounded as though they would wait for me if I didn't show up at 9 AM. That was worse then them leaving without me. I would rather feel abandoned then guilty. So I was determined to be there at 9, and I was there at 9. The rest of the village was sound asleep, but I was at the beach and ready to go on time. As I walked up towards the beach, I heard someone say hello. It was Nazri, our snorkel guide, sitting alone on the patio of a restaurant on the beach which turned out to be his sister's (I think everyone in this little village is related to each other somehow). I don't know why I was so stressed out about arriving on time. I had forgotten that Malaysian time is different than US time. In Malaysia, 9:00 means sometime before 10:00.



We were sitting on the patio for a while waiting for the rest of the party. Finally, Nazri's phone rang. Two of the four people were not coming. After a while longer, the other two hadn't shown up. I told Nazri he did not have to take me if they didn't show up because I was just tagging along. He said he would take me anyway because he had promised. I was struck by the ease of that rule. He didn't seem to wrestle with it, even knowing he would not make any money. It was his rule. If he promised to do something, he would do it. When I commented on this, he said that is how it was in the village. You give your word, you keep it. I haven't always been very good at that. I often try to figure out how to get out of doing something I said I would do. I thought, if I just accepted Cherating's rule "you give your word, you keep it", I would save so much energy. I decided to try that. I think I lasted 3 days, 9 hours, and 17 minutes after I got home. At least I tried...

Nazri went to gather the snorkelling party who were staying at my former chalet, Ranting. Of course, Nazri knew where they were staying because everyone in Cherating seemed to know everything that goes on in their little village. At least Nazri did. When I showed up at 9, he had said that he didn't think I was coming because someone had checkout of the Payung Guesthouse at 6 AM that morning. So either everyone know everything or I had a stalker. I really think it was the former. It reminded me of Mom back in St. Michaels. Nothing happens there that she doesn't know about. Anyway, back to the beach. Nazri came back from Ranting with all four people of the party. It was one man from Kuala Lumpur and three women, who I believe were his cousins, from Sabah. Sabah is part of the island half of Malaysia. Unfortunately, I can't remember their names, but the people were all very nice.



It was about a 5-10 minute boat ride to Snake Island. We were in one of those small fiberglass boats with an outboard motor, but it went fast and floated high on the wake. It had been a really long time since I had been on a small, fast boat like that. I loved it. It was so loud I could barely hear Nazri screaming touristy things behind me. The wind blew so strongly against my face that, if I hadn't had a natural smile on my face, the wind would would have forced one. I tried to take video and pictures but we were going too fast and jumping too much. I loved every second of it.

As we approached Snake Island, we saw that there was another group of snorkellers there from Club Med. We sputtered past their beautiful yacht in our little "ghetto boat". I know those Club Medders were jealous. We docked the boat on the beach (the yacht had to be anchored out farther from the island-hah!) and unloaded our gear. The island was lovely. It had just a small beachy area, but it had these huge rocks that were all worn smooth by the tides. They were each an abstract sculpture on their own. Together, they were a song. A silent symphony of the waves of water washing over them day after day, washing away their jagged edges and softening them for the world. Looking at them, I could hear it. I loved those rocks.

Once on shore, we walked to the top of the island (which is not high) and came down into another cove where no one else was. It was beautiful. The water there was also not crystal clear, but it was clearer than on Cherating Beach. We put our stuff down on a little ledge above the cove. I lingered on the ledge taking in the beautiful scenery while the rest of the party went down to the water to start snorkeling. When I looked down at them, I noticed that they were all snorkelling fully clothed. I figured this was a cultural thing so I wasn't sure what the appropriate thing to do was. Do I swim fully clothed as well so as not to offend anyone or is it ok for me to swim in my bathing suit? For guidance, I turned to my trusty guide who I am now beginning to consider a friend. Nazri said it was fine for me to swim in my bathing suit and pointed out that most of the Club Med swimmers were in swimsuits. He explained that the rest of our party "just weren't international". This meant that I was "international". Me! International! I swam in my "international" bathing suit.

As I have mentioned in a previous post, I am terrified of sharks. Prior to the trip and even in the boat, I had repeatedly asked about sharks. I was repeatedly told there were no sharks. Muda had told me the day before that there were no sharks in the sea also so I was fairly confident that there were no sharks. I say only "fairly confident" because we are talking about the girl who is convinced that there are sharks as far up the Chesapeake Bay as the Bay Bridge. Lacking a significant fear of sharks made snorkelling much more enjoyable. I swam around looking at pretty fish, diving down to look at coral, and just generally pretending I was a mermaid. It was pretty and water is my element. I swam back to shore when I heard Nazri calling me back. He told me he didn't want me to swim out too far. I told him I wouldn't, but either way, I was a good swimmer so I would be fine. Then he pulled the shark card. That's right. Shark card. He tells me there are sharks further out from shore. I thought he was joking with me, but he said he wasn't. I said "Saya tidak suka" which translates into "I no like". Well, the other four people thought that was hilarious. While I was so happy that I could amuse them with my vast knowledge of their language, I was extremely distraught by the new turn of shark events. After a short interrogation, Nazri promised he was not just saying that to keep me from swimming out too far. Instead of swimming out, I decided to swim around to the other cove and snorkel around the reef instead. Stupid sharks.

When I came back to our cove, Nazri said he would swim around the island with me, but we needed to stay close to the rocks because there were sharks in the water bigger than me. He told me not to be afraid. Little did he know that I had already formulated a plan to drag his little body between me and any toothy shark I saw. We made it around the island without any shark encounters. It was a small island so it wasn't nearly as difficult as it sounds. It was pretty though. Upon our return to our cove, we found the rest of the party sitting in the shallow water. I sat with them and talked a little bit. The man spoke very good English. Two of the women spoke English fairly well, and the third woman didn't speak much at all. They gave me a few tips on my Malay, and the man suggested I visit the island of Pulau Kapas. He said he would give me a name of a man who would give me good deals on everything. I couldn't believe I was networking in Malaysia when the idea of doing it in the US makes me break out into hives. I never made it to Pulau Kapas, but it was generous of the man to recommend it.

Nazri was taking the same group on a river tour that afternoon. He asked them if I could tag along, and they graciously agreed. We climbed on our little boat to head back to Cherating. Once on shore, we parted ways, agreeing to meet at 4:00 at the river dock. I walked over to Muda's for a banana sandwich and a Coke where I met another local who gave me another Malay lesson. It had been a fulfilling morning, and I was looking forward to my afternoon river adventure.

Night out in Cherating August 2, 2007

I am determined to finish chronicling my journey in Malaysia so, even though it is now January 26, 2009, almost a year and half since my trip, I will continue to blog my adventures and observations until the end. Fortunately, I had written it all down at the time, so it's just a matter of putting it in the blog now. The problem is that my laptop crashed, and I lost all of the data on the hard drive, including all of my pictures from my trip. I have searched, and I can't find my back up of pictures. I can't even remember if I had them on a flash drive or a CD. I know it will show up eventually, but I hope eventually comes sooner than later. For that reason, these next blogs will be without pictures for now. (It showed up! In January 2010!) So, back to Cherating...

My last blog left off with my determination to experience a little of the night life in Cherating. There are two bars on the beach. The one with the puppies is called Care For Cafe. The other one is right next to Muda's, but I have no idea what its name is. I never saw a sign, and later in my stay, when someone would ask me if I was going there, I couldn't for the life of me figure out what they were calling it. I will call it "Minum" (pronounced "me-NOOM") which is a toast in Malaysia like "Cheers" is in the US. Minum was my Cheers for a couple of extraordinary days of my life. The theme song for the TV show Cheers rings true for me when I think of Minum. Simple, safe, friendly, fun. They may not have been able to pronounce my name, but they new who I was and always seemed happy to see me.

I decide to go to Minum first because it sounds like a livelier place. I walk the short way to the beach and then down to the bar where the owner, Pablo, greeted me. Minum is what you typically expect of a beach bar. Under an awning is the bar and bar stools. The bar is just outside a small building where I assumed the beverages were stored, and the food was prepared. I heard they had the best banana pancakes, but I never got to try them. Besides the bar, there were maybe 10 little picnic tables and benches, and when I say little I mean "kid's table" little, in the sand. The bar area was lit with tiki torches. Pablo got me a Tiger beer, and I walked over to the tiny table and bench nearest the water which was still a good 10-15 yards away.

Just a little side note about beer...I mentioned that I ordered a Tiger beer. Tiger and Carlsberg are the most popular brands of beer in Malaysia. While almost everything in Malaysia is dirt cheap in comparison to the US, beer is not. To put it in perspective, the place where I was staying was 25 ringgits a night: the equivalent of less than $8. A can of beer was 9 ringgits: the equivalent of about $2.50. Imagine staying in a motel in the US for just 3x the cost of a can of beer. Since Malaysia is a Muslim country, their religious rules are intertwined with their secular laws. Muslims are not supposed to drink alcohol as part of their faith; therefore, in Malaysia, it is illegal for a muslim to drink alcohol. This means that most people who are drinking are the tourists so they jack up the prices. At least, that's my theory on why beer is so expensive in Malaysia.

As I was saying, I chose to sit at a table close to the water which was safely on the outskirts of everything else, minimizing my chances of being noticed. A goal for which I often strive. I know many people who know me superficially think that I am a pretty outgoing person, and I have no doubt that most of the people I work with think that I never shut up. These things can be true, but only after I have met someone. I am actually very shy when I don't know anyone and would never have the courage to start up conversations with strangers, especially in a foreign country. Fortunately for me, the two Dutch women and the one Dutch man at a table I had passed did not share my inhibitions.

As soon as I had sat down at my table, they came over and asked if they could join me. While I have no problem being alone, I welcomed the company. We decided to move to the next table which was larger and low to the ground so you were to sit on the ground. Pablo brought us straw mats on which to sit, and one of the bar cats (an actual feline) came over to be my friend. The cats in Malaysia do not look healthy. They are all thin and have sores and patches of fur loss. Most tourists wouldn't touch them, but I can't help myself so I had another new friend. The Dutch women, Jo(the J sounds almost like a Y and was short for something like Johanna) and Analisia (I think that was her name) had apparently been sitting next to me at dinner at the Bistro that night and were staying in the chalet next to mine. With my typical acute powers of observation, I didn't notice them at all. I tend to look more at places and things than people. In the same vein, the Dutch man named Sander had been turtle watching the night before, and we had ridden in the same van. Sander was also staying at the Payung guesthouse in the chalet across from Jo and Analisia. I had noticed none of these things. Let's just hope I never witness a crime because I'd probably describe every animal or building in a three block radius but be unable to tell whether the criminal was a man or a woman.

Incidently, Sander validated my paranoia and admitted that he also got concerned when we turned on that muddy, dark road during the turtle excursion. I just wanted to throw that out there.

We were all enjoying ourselves, Jo, Analisia, Sander, and I, talking about where we had been in Malaysia and what we had seen. Fortunately, they all spoke English since I don't speak a word of Dutch. All three of them had gone on the firefly trip that evening. They said it was pretty neat; although, it was impossible to get pictures. Sander showed me one of his pictures which was simply all black with orange dots all over. They also said that the mosquitoes were a nightmare so I was glad I had decided not to go. Jo, Analisia, and Sander were fascinating people. Sander was originally from England but had lived in Holland for over 10 years. He had been on "holiday" for 6 weeks. He had gone to Australia and was making his way, stop by stop, back to Holland from where he was moving to Scotland. I was so jealous. Jo and Analisia were born and raised in Holland, but as most Europeans seem to do, they had travelled quite a bit. They were on a three week holiday. They had just come from the Taman Negara which is a national park in Malaysia and the oldest rainforest in the world. They said it was amazing and they they had seen so many cool animals. An interesting little tidbit that they told me was that it cost 5 ringgits for a ticket to go into the Taman Negara and 1 ringgit to take a camera with you. That's nothing. In US dollars, it's less than $2. However, if you do not purchase the 1 ringgit ticket for your camera, you are fined 10,000 ringgits! And unlike in the US, it is not up to 10,000, it is 10,000 no exceptions. That would totally suck having to pay RM10,000 because you thought you would be slick and not pay the RM1 (30 cents) to take pictures. Before Taman Negara, they had gone to Pulau Redang (Redang Island) which they said was beautiful. It was much more crowded, but it was your typical tropical island with white sand, clear water, and great snorkeling.

We were joined later by their firefly tour guide, Iwan, and another local man named Dean. Dean was also interesting having lived all over the place, including New Orleans for a couple of years. Analisia commented on how nice the whole situation was. She said it was "keselecht" or something like that (it's actually spelled "gezellig" but it sounds like "keselecht) with the cht at the end sounding like you are hawking up a lugie (unpleasant, I know). They were impressed with my ability to make the sound, commenting that usually only Germans and Israelis can do it. Jo and Analisia said they could not think of an English word with the same meaning. Sander, who had a more extensive English vocabulary said there was no real translation. It kind of means "emotional coziness". That's what it was that night. Six strangers and a mangy cat sitting on straw mats steps away from the South China Sea, listening to Bananarama, drinking Tiger beers, watching Malaysian flame-twirlers, and sharing our stories. Emotional coziness.

Although I was enjoying the emotional coziness and relishing every moment, I decided it was time to leave my new friends and walk down the beach about 100 yards to the Care For Cafe to see the puppies. The difference in the atmosphere in the two bars was amazing. Minum had more people with a lively, festive feel. Since it seems that the late 80's have just made it to Malaysia, Minum played a lot of the fun 80's music like Culture Club and the Go-Go's. In contrast, Care For Cafe had three people there, 2 of whom worked there and oddly enough, one of them was a flame-twirler at Minum. It's a very small beach village. Their music was more rock n roll with Pearl Jam and Nirvana. But I didn't care how many people were there. I had come for a dose of puppy love. Three dogs belonged to the guys who worked there. One was an adult female, and the other two were puppies from different mothers. That alone should give you an idea of the lack of animal population control in Malaysia. The dogs were like the bell over a door when it opens. Since the bar was outside with no door, they were the bell. Even though I had played with them earlier in the day when I saw them at the beach, they still barked when they first saw me. But then they remembered me and the brown one, Baik, who wouldn't come near me the day before, hesitantly approached me and let me pet him. We were making progress.

One of the guys got me a beer and the four of us sat around a big fire they had going. They didn't have a fire because it was cold. Trust me, it wasn't. They burn a lot of their trash at the end of the day. The fire was beautiful even though it was blazing HOT. The one customer who was there besides me turned out to be Canadian, complete with Canadian accent and all. He had moved to Cherating several years before. He had been a journalist, travelling through Asia for 16 years on assignments. He spoke three Asian languages: Malay, Mandarin, and one I can't remember. He went back to Canada for a few years and decided to move to Asia permanently. Cherating was his favorite place. He loved the personality of the village and, most of all, he loved the people he met who became his best friends.

After a little while, we heard a scooter coming up on the trail behind us. Nazri, who I had met at Muda's that morning, joined us making it a party of 5. Nazri asked me if I was leaving tomorrow, half laughing. He laughed because he was there in the morning when I was debating whether or not to leave. Apparently, it is not uncommon for people to come for a night and end up there for a week. I told him I was leaving, but admittedly, it was said with little conviction. He told me he was taking a group over to Snake Island to do some snorkeling in the morning and that he would give me a "good deal" if I wanted to go with them. Nazri was a bit like a used car dealer. His "good deal" was something like 30 ringgits instead of 35. I laughed at him. I ended up agreeing to 20, thus making my decision about whether or not I would leave the next morning. No. Our snorkeling trip would leave around 9am, and we wouldn't get back until noon or 1 pm. Of course, before I agreed, I did verify that Snake Island was not named for its large population of snakes. I was assured there were no snakes on the island; although, I still had my doubts. So with the knowledge that I would be staying at least another day in Cherating and that I would be snorkeling in the morning, I hugged the puppies goodbye and promised to be at the beach at 9am. I walked back to my chalet under the clear starlit sky enjoying the nighttime breeze off the sea. Emotional coziness.

Batiks & Payung Guesthouse

It may be January 13th now, but this blog picks up where the last one left off. It is my third day in Cherating, and I had just finished playing the part of the trapeze to a crazy baby monkey acrobat. The next stop on my Cherating shopping spree (all three shops) was back to the batik art shop where I browsed throught the wide array of artwork and bought a few more souvenirs.

Even though my utter exhaustion from my extremely taxing morning of reading by the beach, chilling at Muda's, and meandering through Cherating's plethora of shops may have deterred me from packing up and walking up to the highway to catch the bus, my attachment to this little beach village had already convinced me to stay another night. I had read about the Payung Guesthouse in my tour book. It is owned by a Scottish woman from Edinburgh which attracted me since my gammy (my mom's mom) was from Edinburgh (a fact which my mother has never failed to remind me of at every possible opportunity). I think that if my mom was the type to get tattooed, she would get "I AM SCOTTISH" tattooed across her forehead. I packed up and moved out of Ranting Resort, forlornly kissing my view of the beach goodbye but excited to stay on the river side of town. I walked over to Payung. The doorway opening through a stone wall was surrounded by trees with leafy limbs bending down as if pointing to the entrance, welcoming me to their hidden home. The guest house was adorable. It was not a guesthouse at all. It had a main walkway with about 8 chalets nestled among the beautiful foliage. Not completely hidden, but not totally open either. The chalet was about half the size of the one at Ranting with gaps in the wall planks and no glass in the window openings, just wooden shutters. When the shutters were closed, the chalet was very dark. Perfect for napping. There was a table fan facing the bed which had a mosquito net hanging above it. The bathroom was small. The shower was the bathroom, meaning there was no separate shower stall or tub. The drain was in the bathroom floor. There was a large piece of plexiglass along the center of the roof which was covered with vines and branches, giving the room a very organic feel. Overall, the place was minimal. It was perfect. Best of all, it was only 25 ringgits which is about $8. Payung also had a small collection of chickens and cats who lived there. They had 3 cats who would come up and sit on your porch with you. I've always found the rhythmic purring of a cat to be comforting so I was happy to have the visitors.

After I settled in, I walked back down to the beach for a few hours to soak up some energy. I came back to my chalet, took a refreshingly cold shower (there was no hot water at Payung which was fine because I was always so hot), and settled down on the porch to read. A guy came around asking if anyone wanted to go on a Firefly tour. Apparently, there are thousands of 2-3 inch large fireflies, called "kelip-kelip", living in the trees by the river. At night, they all light up in unison and create a unique light show. This had been one of the things I had read about before my trip and had wanted to do, but I decided to pass on this excursion. I decided I didn't need to experience every adventure. It was okay to just enjoy my peaceful contentment for a while. After relaxing in my chalet, I walked down the street to "The Bistro" where I enjoyed some delicious authentic Malaysian chicken satay. After digesting my meal as I sat on the beach, I returned to my chalet where I decided I would break out of my introverted, "stay at home after the sun goes down" mentality and visit the beach bar that night. I am so happy I decided to tip-toe out of my comfort zone because it turned out to be a fascinating cultural experience for me as well as an opportunity to make new friends.

Baby monkeys-Cherating Day Three-August 2,2007

This was the day I was supposed to leave Cherating. Check out was at noon. I was wrestling with myself about whether or not to stay another day. I woke up and read on my porch for a little while. I went to the beach which was empty. I lay out on the beach, read my book, and went for a swim. It was just so peaceful and relaxing. I had the whole beach to myself. A gentle breeze was blowing. It just filled my soul with contentment.

After an hour or so, I walked over to Muda's cafe for a banana sandwich. I chatted with Muda for a little while and met another local guy named Nazri. Apparently, Muda had a little crush on me and didn't want me to leave that day. Of course, he couldn't remember my name, but that didn't matter. I'm pretty sure that Muda had shared his feelings with all of the locals because Nazri seemed to be aware of it. We laughed about it, and I told them I was thinking about staying anyways. I asked them if I could get back to the road from Muda's or if I had to walk back along the beach. Nazri pointed to a trail through the trees. I walked along the trail. When I approached the road, I saw some construction workers installing storm drains so I veered off the path thinking I couldn't pass them. This took me into some majorly overgrown grasses which I was sure was filled with snakes and those scary lizards. Then Nazri rode past on his scooter and told me I was going the wrong way, and I watched him take the path around the construction workers. I'm such a dingbat sometimes.

The next thing on my agenda was shopping. I had scoped out the shops the day before and had decided what I wanted to buy. During the 1 block walk from the beach to the main road, I had already 90% decided to stay another night. I bought a couple of t-shirts and little knick-knacks. I returned to the batik art shop and purchased a some beautiful, small batiks. Then, I went back to the art shop with the exquisite wood carvings. They had these Harley Davidson motorcycles which were made with a combination of wood and palm or banana tree leaves and then painted with very cool designs. I almost bought one for my Harley Davidson-loving uncle because it said "Harlay" instead of "Harley". But I didn't. The problem with going on a pseudo-backpacking trip is having to carry around all of your souvenirs, and I didn't think the Harlay would hold up well. Sorry, Frank.

As I said before, they had two baby monkeys in the shop. They were in the process of getting bathed. A little girl had come into the shop with her parents, and the owner brought over one of the freshly bathed monkeys for her to hold. I stood there sulking; forlorn that I wasn't holding a baby monkey too. OK. So she was 6 and I was 34. So what? I wanted a baby monkey too! I asked the owner if I could hold one. He said sure, but I would have to wait for the little girl to finish because the other one was a bit too agressive for strangers. I could live with waiting for a little while. Well the little while turned into forever. Her monkey was so cute. She was holding it while sitting down, cradling it in her arm. Its head was resting on her chest, and its little arm was resting on her belly. Since she was showing no signs of ever moving, the owner gave me the spaz monkey to hold. It was crazy. It kept trying to climb all over me, up my arm to the top of my head, jumping to my lap. The only reason it didn't get away was because I was holding it with a death grip in my other hand. I held psycho baby monkey for about 2 minutes and that was enough. I handed the monkey back to the owner and looked enviously at the little girl still sitting there with the sweet monkey sitting on her lap. Typical. I always get the crazy ones! But honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Turtle Watching

Turtle watching began at 9:30 PM which is usually about the time I am crawling into bed, party animal that I am. I went across the street to the Travelpost who had organized the trip. There was a large group of about fifteen of us going. They took us in two vans. My van held me, three young Dutch women, a solo Dutch man, and a Dutch family of 5 plus our driver. You can see that the Dutch like going to Malaysia on holiday.

Generally speaking, I am not a scaredy person. I'm jumpy when people sneak up behind me in my cubicle at work, but I am rarely scared of other people or of going places alone. I am, however, very suspicious. I sometimes wonder if I'm being "taken" or conned by people. Even though I create these elaborate schemes in my mind which these people may be guilty of, I am usually not assertive, brave, or stupid enough to say anything. That said, as we piled into the bus and started driving, I had a fleeting thought that this was indeed an elaborate scheme to kidnap me, an American, and a lot of Dutch people, to give us to terrorists. I was under the impression that we were going to the Turtle Sanctuary at Club Med which is less than 5 minutes from the Travelpost. After driving for 20 minutes, my fleeting notion of nefarious activities had been upgraded to "maybe they are..." As we turned down a small street and then onto a dark, dirt road, it was all I could do not to yell "The government won't do anything for one silly girl!" and "My family is poor!" to deter the "tour guides" from turning me over to terrorists. I was still not completely convinced of my safety when we piled out of the van onto a very dark beach. But as I followed the one person with a flashlight to some activity on the beach and spied the massive sea turtle in a deep hole, all of my worries were cast out into the sea.

The turtle was probably about four feet long and three feet wide. She had already laid her eggs and was in the process of burying them. Our group had been joined by another group so there were now close to 40 people standing in a circle around the poor girl, snapping photos with flashes the whole time. The tour guide told us not to take pictures from the front because the flashes would bother the turtle, but no one listened to him. Nobody but me, that is. I always do as I'm told. :)

The turtle certainly worked hard. She would fling dirt using her huge flipper/legs. She would stop to rest, and her entire massive body would lift a few inches as she took a couple of deep breaths. Then she would do it all over again. We watched her do this for about half an hour. To some, it may sound like 29 minutes too long, but I loved every minute of it. I enjoyed sitting on the beach just appreciating the beauty of nature. Once she had buried her eggs, she seemed to be having difficulty getting out of her hole so the tour guide gave her a little boost from behind. She slowly waddled her way back to the sea. It was wonderful to watch this 100 year old creature crawl into the water and glide smoothly into the water as the waves crashed against her enormous shell. And then she was gone.

The tour guide's helpers dug up the eggs, and they passd one around for everyone to feel. They were a little bit bigger than a golf ball and smooth and fragile feeling like a ping pong. Again, in my slightly paranoid, suspicious way, I wondered what they were going to do with all of the eggs. I wondered if there was some sort of black market for turtle eggs, and we were not only taking part in the ghastly machinations of obtaining the merchandise but were also giving them money! What a racquet! Trying to keep my "outraged crusader" instincts in check, I calmly and curiously asked the tour guide what they did with the eggs. He told me that they take them back to the hatchery. This somewhat satisfied me, but I still was a little leary of the whole thing. By the way, our turtle laid a total of 102 eggs.

From the beach, we again piled into the van and proceeded to drive down another dirt road and turn into a muddy parking area. I was sure that this was where the kidnapping would take place. By the expressions on the faces of the other passengers, I could tell that I was not the only crazy paranoid in the van. We climbed out of the van and walked toward a light where we found a bunch of local guys and 5 coolers filled with baby turtles. They were so cute. They were crawling all over each other, rolling over each other, and flipping onto their little backs. I picked up some of the ones on their backs and turned them over. They felt soft and rubbery.

My nosiness and irrational concern for the turtles caused me to wonder what these men were planning on doing with all of these baby turtles. Since our tour guide had not yet arrived, I questioned the random, confused Malaysian men who were there. They just looked at me like I had three heads. So I gave up.

When our tour guide arrived, he explained that these baby turtles had just hatched that day. The innocent men who I had accosted with my incomprehensible, accusatory interrogation brought the coolers of turtles down to the sea. Each tourist took a baby turtle and carried it down to the sea also. At the same time, we all let our baby turtles go and watched them waddle into the sea. It was fantastic watching over a hundred baby turtles go off to sea, to their home, to life. I named my baby turtle Odyseuss, after the main character in Homer's The Odyssey. In the story, Odyseuss encounters adventures and obstacles as he travels by sea to his home after the Trojan War. I hoped my baby turtle would have her own adventures and obstacles at sea and maybe one day return to the same beach safely. After setting the turtles free, we got into our vans and went back to the Travelpost. I returned to my chalet, content with the knowledge that I had rescued the baby turtles from Black Market Turtle Soup and relieved by my narrow escape from the radical extemist terrorists which do not exist in Malaysia.

Despite being preoccupied with my double mission of saving myself from terrorists and saving the turtles from the black market, I was able to learn a bit about sea turtles. Our turtle was a Green Turtle. Turtles lay 80-110 eggs each time. The same turtle will lay eggs 8-12 times in a season, laying a total of over 1000 eggs season. Turtles return to the same beach where they were born to lay eggs. The incubation period for the turtle eggs is 6 weeks. That's it! Thanks.

Cherating Day Two

I woke up my first morning in Cherating and went outside to sit on my little porch and watch the sea. Watch it. Smell it. Listen to it. Feel the breeze from it. It was invigorating and calming at the same time. I took me about 30 seconds to decide to stay in the same place another night.

After my swim (see South China Sea Swim post), I returned to my chalet and relaxed. Then I walked over to Muda's Cafe for a banana and honey sandwich and a fresh pineapple juice. My original intention was to go to the bar next to Muda's for lime & pineapple pancakes that I had seen on the chalkboard menu the day before. However, the bar was empty except for a couple of guys sleeping in hammocks. I also felt somewhat obligated to Muda since he had made me a palm-tree leaf grasshopper the day before. So I sat at Muda's and ate my delicious warm banana sandwich and read my book. Then Muda came over and sat with me. He did not speak very much English but enough to teach me some Malay. Saya suka anjing-anjing. That means "I like dogs". I told him where I had swam that morning. He pointed to the big house on the point that I swam around and said it was the King's. Apparently, my private cove was actually the private cove of the King of Malaysia. According to Muda, he never goes there. Thank God. International scandal averted. I could just see the headlines: "Crazy American Girl Storms Private Beach of Malaysian King".

I headed back to the chalet to get my video camera. When I got back, I noticed a couple of dogs laying under a picnic table at the "resort". Of course, I went over to visit them. One of them was so excited to get attention it kept crying. He was a big puppy with enormous paws. He looked a little bit like Lizzie but with a wider face and thicker build. I named him Fred. The other dog was a female who had had a litter. She was dark brown with light brown markings like Athena. I named her Penelope. I sat there for a while petting my new friends. They followed me to my chalet where I sat on the steps and pet them for a while longer. A third dog showed up. I named him Cal. He was very shy and would not come close enough for me to pet him, but he lurked. The three were a pack. They were so sweet. Even though they were strays, they were pretty healthy looking. I could tell that people fed them.

I grabbed my camera and walked down the main street. I stopped into the Travelpost and signed up for turtle watching that night. I then walked down the road videotaping and stopping at shops. Again, I was unabashedly the quintessential tourist. I was so busy looking through the camcorder that I would trip over sidewalks. Or I would start talking to someone and forget I was filming. I watched the video and half of it is pointed at the ground while I'm talking to someone or staring at something and talking to myself.

I went into a great art shop with an incredible collection of hand-carved items. Sorry, but I wasn't allowed to take photos. They had two baby monkeys wearing diapers in a cage. They were so cute. One of them kept sucking his big toe. As I was walking down the road, I looked down a narrow side street/path and saw a big, creepy lizard just out for a stroll. It was probably between 4 and 5 feet long. It had huge webbed feet which forced it to have a strange waddle/walk. It was fascinating to watch. It had a smooth head and a long snakelike tongue. It totally freaked me out, but I couldn't stop following it. Again though, the video I took of it is 50% just the ground because I was so fascinated by the creature that I would stop filming it and just watch it. When it went into the tall grass towards the river, I decided it may have friends and decided to hightail it out of there.

Then I walked down to the beach and filmed the beach, sea, Muda's, and other interesting sights along the coast. By this time, the tide had come in and the waves were looking pretty fun. Small but fun. It was time for me to hit the beach and relax on the seashore. After all, I hadn't had any relaxation time in the last hour. I was long overdue. It was tough finding a spot on the beach because there were about 7 other people there. I loved it! It was nothing like the crowded beaches of Ocean City. The breeze was soft and refreshing after the walk through the village. The water was also refreshing but not cold. Actually, it was warmer to be in the water than out of it because of the cool breeze. I swam out to a sandbar. It was wild. The water was ankle deep at the sandbar, and the sandbar was probably 75-100 yard out from shore so it looked like I was standing in the middle of the South China Sea. Moses had nothing on me! I lay on the sandbar for a while. The water was only a couple of inches high. My body was held firmly in place by the sand, but I could feel the water flowing around my head and the current tug at my body as the waves washed back out to sea. It felt like a dream. Reluctantly, I headed back for shore knowing my skin could not take much more of the sun. Even still, it was probably another hour before I tore myself away from the beach.

I went to a Batik Art Gallery and was overwhelmed by the selection and beauty of the craft. I succumbed to my shop-a-holic tendencies and purchased a couple of batiks for my house. One is a big purple fish on a bright orange background. I know you are all jealous! As I was walking back, the sky became rather dark and the wind started whipping. A strong storm was definitely on the way. I walked past a run-down place on the beach called the Care For Cafe and saw a guy sitting there drinking a beer. This made me want to sit by the beach and watch the storm roll in too. I sat at a table and had a Tiger beer. Then I saw the best thing ever...puppies! There were two puppies and an adult female dog. The puppies were about 3 months old and so hyper and cute. They were the first animals I had seen who actually belonged to someone. They belonged to the two guys (I think they were brothers) who worked at the bar. I asked them if I could pet their puppy, but he wouldn't come to me. He just kept barking at me, the little monster. One of the guys picked up the puppy and handed him to me. I was so happy. The puppy's name was "Baik" which is pronounced "buy" and means "good" in Malay. It was the perfect end to a great afternoon: sitting in a deserted bar on a Malaysian beach, the wind on the edge of being fierce, dark clouds rolling in, puppies playing at my feet, and a nice cold beer. If only every afternoon could end that way...

South China Sea Swim

I woke up my first morning at Cherating and decided to go for a long swim in the South China Sea. Swimming is my therapy. The challenge of good technique, combined with the rythmic motion of the stroke, and the comfort of the water all combine to give me an inner peace and contentment I have never been able to achieve through any other means. Ask any swimmer, and they will tell you the same thing. Once you get bit by the swimming bug, it is with you for life. Even though I hadn't been swimming for several months before this trip, I was still confident of my abilities. I may not be a fast swimmer, but I can swim for a really long time. I was really looking forward to this swim so I grabbed my cap and goggles and headed for the beach. It was probably around 9:30, and I had the entire beach to myself. As I may have said before, the water was not as clear as I had imagined it would be, but it wasn't as dark as Ocean City either. It was a light murky green. The temperature was cool and refreshing but not cold. Perfect swimming conditions.


My plan was to swim straight out from the shore and then turn north and swim around a point at the end of the beach. Unfortunately, I am terrified of sharks. It is a completely irrational fear. When I swim in any water that is not pool water, I hear the "Jaws" theme in my head. This being said, the first few minutes of my swim I kept telling myself "Face your fears. Face your fears" over and over. Then I reminded myself to punch the shark in the face if one comes towards me. As I swam, I would swim into cold pockets which would remind me of Dementors from Harry Potter (sorry to those of you who don't understand the reference--read Harry Potter). The cold water was like fear, loss of hope, despair. I was certain I was just going to swim right into a shark's mouth. I would follow my instructions to "face my fear" and swim through the cold, the despair, until I would hit a patch of warmth where hope and contentness returned. It was a lot like life. Sorry. I don't mean to get too deep on you. Get it? Deep? Deep water? Anyway, while my mantra did help, I also tried to just concentrate on the scenery and the coolness factor of swimming a long distance in the South China Sea. This method of distraction helped immensely.

The current was pretty mild until I got near the rocky point. In that area, the water was crashing against the rocks and the current was fairly strong. I liked this though. I felt like I was really getting a challenge, and the scenery was beautiful with the water crashing against the rocks. After getting around the rocky point, the small cliff receded into an isolated, private cove. The surf was rough as the waves crashed along the rock walls funneling into the small cove. There were also slarge rocks dispersed throughut the waters of the cove making it a little treacherous when swimming. I wouldn't realized their was a boulder lurking under the surface until I had almost swam right into it. I reached the isolaed beach and stood there for a few minutes, taking in the beauty as well as a small ownership of this cove knowing that few tourists had probably stumbled upon it. I put a seashell from the cove in my swim cap to remind me of my private cove, my accomplishment, my courage to explore, and facing my fears. Then I dove back in the water and swam back.

Now for the life changing moral of the story. As good a swimmer as I am and as confident in my swimming abilities as I am, there were periodic moments of terror that shivered through me when I was far from shore. I would stop to check things out and realize my feet didn't touch the bottom. I realized that my life actually depended on my own abiities. I was a tiny organism in this huge sea. I was driftwood unless I took charge and fought the current. Only I could prevent myself from becoming lost at sea, crashing into the rocks, or just sinking beneath the surface. I was the master of my destiny and neither of my parents nor any other member of my family or friends could save me. No kayakers or lifeguards were there to save me. It was frightening. It was empowering. It was wonderful. If I can take control of my destiny in the water, I can do it in life.

Cherating Day One

It's August 14th, and I'm back home in Maryland now. Even though my vacation is over, I still have to finish blogging about the trip. The blog is as much for me as it is for you. Actually, it's probably more for me than for you. I never claimed to be selfless, people.

This blog is from July 31st when I went to the small beach village of Cherating. I took the train from Shah Alam to KL where I got on a bus to Kuantan on the east coast The bus was very comfortable which is a good thing since the trip to Kuantan was four hours. The scenic trip was beautiful, albeit a tad bit frightening. They drive like crazy monkeys in Malaysia and much of the trip was through the mountains. Let's just say the sound of squealing brakes is not a comforting sound when careening around curves which drop off the side of a mountain in a huge bus. Needless to say, we survived, and it was beautiful.

We reached Kuantan, and my tour book told me to take a local bus to the Cherating stop which was another hour away. I knew I had to get to the second floor of the bus station, but I was walking around in circles trying to figure out how to get up there. One of the taxi drivers asked me where I was going. My bus driver from KL heard me say Cherating and said he would drop me off since it was on his route. It was so nice. And free!

The bus stop was on the highway in front of the police station. When I say "highway", it is not. It is one lane in each direction. Anyway, I went into the police station to ask him how to get to Cherating. I made a major faux pas and didn't take my shoes off (woops). Anyway, he pointed behind the police station which was not a road. So I walked through a few people's yards, tripping over chickens, until I stumbled on a dirt path which lead me to a narrow paved road which lead me to a wider road which was the laid-back, quiet beach village of Cherating. Cherating, which is on the South China Sea, is nothing like your typical beach town in the US. It is also one of the less frequented beaches in Malaysia. The water is not crystal clear like it is on the surrounding islands so most tourists opt to go to islands such as Pulau Redang, Pulau Tiomann, and The Perhentians. I personally loved Cherating.

I got a little chalet at Ranting Beach Resort. It was the high end accommodations in Cherating (aside from the Club Med a bit down the road). It was just a room with a bathroom. It had a ceiling fan. It had TV but no cable. (I actually watched Spongebob Squarepants in Malay-I didn't understand a thing.) It was right on the beach with a little porch facing the sea. I would sit on the porch and get the breeze from the sea which was so invigorating. The only drawback was that they were building a chalet right next to mine so I was lulled by the tranquil sounds of hammering, sawing, and drilling instead of birds and waves. After some investigation, it seemed that all of the places on the beach were doing the same thing so quiet would be impossible. This was fine since they worked during the day, and I planned to be exploring the town(all 3 square miles of it) and chilling on the beach. As I said, this was the high end. It cost 100 ringgits which is less than $30. It was awesome. Unfortunately, I didn't get any still photos of the place. I only

filmed it with my camcorder.

I walked all 0.3 miles of the main road and saw many goats and monkeys as well as a cat and dog here and there. I think the SPCA should open a center in Malaysia. They should take all of the stray cats & dogs and spay or neuter them. I think they should hire me to take care of all of them. But I digress. Then I walked backed up the beach and stopped at a beach cafe for a fresh pineapple juice. The owner of the cafe next door, Muda's Cafe, brought me a grasshopper made out of palm tree leaves. It was very cool. They were all very nice, and I promised to come back the next day.

I went to a restaurant on the beach for dinner and had some delicious chicken curry. Just as I was getting back to my chalet, a storm rolled in. I love storms at the beach, and this beach was just sprawling and open so I could see the storm clouds moving closer and closer and the breeze got stronger and stronger. It was lovely. It rained the rest of the night which ended my plans to go turtle watching. I didn't mind though because I was rather tired. I sat on my porch,

listened to the rain, and read. Content, I fell

soundly to sleep by the steady hum of the ceiling fan.