Island-hopping
[Going to KL] At least it means that I can get the glasses fixed which the monkey broke (yes, I have a spare pair).
My attempts at studying Bahasa (in one ear—out the other!) have kept me from writing. But I am glad that I did the island-hopping trip yesterday. Being part of an organised tour was actually fun (I may do this again, especially in the national parks). It’s also the best way to get up close to the dramatic, jungle-fringed limestone cliffs that rise from the turqoise water. Unless you can afford to hire a yacht, of course.
The first island, Pulau Dayang Bunting—the second largest in the group—held two surprises: a troupe of semi-tame monkeys and a serene freshwater lake, Tasik Dayang Bunting (the ‘Lake of the Pregnant Maiden’; bathing in it alledgedly helps fertility) in a hidden valley fringed by dramatic green slopes. A freshwater lake just metres from the sea is a bit of a miracle for people from insular Malaysia and unsurprisingly it is a popular spot to visit. Luckily, the speed boats remained on shore and we enjoyed the peace broken only by the shouts of the swimmers echoing from the cliffs.
The boat did not stop at the next island—Pulau Singa Besar—but the skipper cut the engines in a bay in front of a jetty piled high with fishing nets and threw a bucket full of stinking chicken pieces overboard. From high above us, Brahimi Kites wheeled closer, then stooped into the water just metres away.
From the island of the monkeys and the lake, via the island of the eagles to the island of the fishes. The final stop was a nearly deserted beach resort on Pulau Beras Besar (which my borrowed phrasebook translates as island of the big rice (corn), but I may be getting too fancyful in my attempts to translate everything).
From the jetty we could see multi-coloured, striped fishes shoaling in the clear water right beneath us. I practically ran onto the beach, grabbed my mask, stripped to my underwear and jumped into the sea, but all the fish darted away and the visibility was bad. I tried again at another spot further up the beach—paddling out until I was past the sand and over coral— only to practically skewer myself on a sea urchin with its spines extendig almost enough to tickle my belly in the shallow water. I gingerly paddled around only to find that I was now surrounded by sea urchins. My appetite for snorkling diminished, I returned to shore, somewhat surprised that I avoided actually getting stung. The sting of the big black sea urchin is extremely painful (lemon juice is required to denature the toxin) and almost certain to become infected.
That island had monkeys too, a troupe of over 25 animals which ran riot in the resort. I’m glad I’m not staying there. In fact I’m beginning to get fed up with monkeys, but that’s another story.
Denni