Big Update
Saturday, March 18th, 2006
Jen and I decided to take a trip off the island today and head to Mersing for the night, the nearest and largest east coast town in peninsular Malaysia. We found and enjoyed some KFC, got a hotel room for a whopping $8US and are now in an internet cafe paying $0.57/hour for a decent high speed connection. Over the past few days I’ve been trying to keep a daily journal on my laptop for uploading later and later has come. The following has been typed in the past and is being put up today. In the future, aka when we’re off of tioman these updates will occur more frequently as internet cafe’s are a sprawling commodity in South East Asia. So for now enjoy!
Sunday March 5th, 2006 6:09am
It is 6:09am local time on Sunday the 5th of March. It is still dark outside. The crickets are chirping and the birds, all 150+ species of them, are not yet awake. The air is thick with moisture yet cool, as a gentle breeze blows through our screen-less windows, aided by a rather efficient ceiling fan. In about 20 minutes the bells in the mosque will ring and morning prayers will begin. The echoing of the voices reciting the Koran will waft up the hill and into our windows filling the air with a most beautiful sound. In the city of Kuala Lumpur these voices travel above the din of traffic. Here in Kampung Genting there is no traffic. No sirens. No motorbikes. No noise. Idyllic conditions for sitting down to write about the past five days; Or rather the parts of the past five days which I can remember. We shall start in New York City.
After making a few last phone calls to calm the nerves of those at home we got in line to board the plane along with the other 300 or so people flying with us that night. Had we have known that the mass of people, ignoring the calls to be seated until they’re boarding class was called, children screaming, was any indication of what our flight would have been like we may have decided to wait until the next one. In retrospect, we’re thankful that we didn’t. To add to the surreal atmosphere of the situation (preparing to fly around the world) one of the airport restaurants was playing reggae, reminding us of how we got to where we are today. As it turns out that crying, laughing, noisy hoard of people kept on crying, laughing, and being noisy all the way to Anchorage, Alaska. While we both managed to close our eyes for periods of time, I wouldn’t quite call it sleep. From this point up until a few hours ago today this is what we knew of sleep. No deep REM cycled dreams, no cozy blankets, and definitely not energy restoring circadian rhythms.
Anchorage was a small little airport and looking back on it now I understand better how exhaustion can cause you to view your surroundings differently than if you were fully awake. After an unsuccessful attempt to get online we boarded the plane again for a 10 hour and 50 minute flight across the Arctic and Pacific Oceans and down the Far East Coast to Taiwan, 3 hours longer than the first flight. This flight was no different from the first. On the bright side China Airlines was a rather pleasant experience in terms of the airline itself. The food was amazing for an airplane, snacks consisted of noodle soup, wine and beer were free, stewards and stewardesses were kind and helpful, and everything ran on time.
The Taipei airport seemed smaller than I had expected, but no crowds, and a very easy system of transferring to other flights. I had cell phone service there so we made some phone calls home, stopped in the only café that would accept the US Dollar for some water than made our way to our next flight. The little Asian boy, about three years old, from the previous two flights found us in the terminal and decided he’d rather stay with us than go on to Hong Kong with his parents. After some coercing they got him back. The flight to Kuala Lumpur took about 5 hours and was rather uneventful and full of fitful sleeps. It is now March 2nd around 9am Taipei time, 11 hours ahead of EST and to this point I figure I had probably slept a total of 4 hours.
Flying into Kuala Lumpur International we were greeted to the sight of lush green palm plantations; Fields of huge palm trees planted in rows much like the corn you find in Lancaster County or the peach orchards of Glassboro, waiting to be farmed for their palm oil. KLIA was a gorgeous airport. Clean, modern, artistic architecture, and quiet. Our first introduction to the soft speaking Muslims of the country for which this airport is a gateway into. Customs went smoothly, both of our bags arrived safe, and the squat toilets were clean. A rarity we would later learn. The $200 I handed to the money changer in the airport was returned to me as $736 RM (Malaysian Ringgits), not a bad deal at all. It took me a while to figure out the digital payphones, but I finally got a hold of Serina who was still waiting for us at Starbucks, an hour later than we had planned to arrive. We were helped out by two very nice Malay airport workers who got us our tickets onto the KLIA Express train which would take us from the airport to KL Sentral in 28 minutes in one of the nicest “tram” cars I’d ever seen.
Everything is in English: Signs, billboards, the TV programs in the express train, radio, the people speaking around us, everything. It seems that everyone speaks moderate to fluent English in KL and doesn’t look at you funny when they know that that’s all you can speak. The train dropped us off at KL Sentral and we met up with Serina and Effendy. After commenting on how young we were they gave us a hand with our bags, asked how our trip was and if we were hungry. At the moment we both just wanted to sleep, seeing how I myself was now going on about 6 hours of it. We crammed our overstuffed bags into their Suzuki Sidekick like jeep and headed off. Our first introduction to KL… motorbikes. Thousands of little Vespa sized motorbikes smaller than a moped but a lot faster. Men. Women. Men, women, and children all riding through traffic making the daredevil “crotch rocket” rider of the states look like a kid on a tricycle. All of the cars in KL are relatively new and small. No Fords, Chevy’s, Dodges here. Everything is small and what we would call foreign. BMW, Mercedes, KIA, Suzuki, Toyota, Alfa Romeo; You name they have it, unless it was made in the US. However the lack of American corporate giants stops there. McDonalds and KFC are just two of the big name companies that haven taken hold in Malaysia and even companies that you thought were more local to your home state such as Auntie Ann’s and Ace Hardware are here. In fact the more time we spent in KL the larger the American footprint. But I’m getting off track as I usually do.
We went back to Serina and Effendy’s condo, a building that matched the run-down look of all but the newest of towers in the city. Effendy claimed that the state bird is the crane, and that Malaysians love to build new buildings but hate to maintain the older ones. Their condo was very nice. White tiled floors, two bedrooms decked out in can you guess… Ikea, two decks with nice views of the city and a nice breeze to cool things off. We dropped our bags and breathed for what seemed like the first time in days. Jen laid down to take a nap and ended up sleeping until the next morning. Unluckily for me I was experiencing the first wave of jet lag that came in the form of it feeling like 4am instead of 4pm and resulting in me being unable to sleep. This is when I sat down and started to write the first of many emails.
It is now about 7:15am, the sun is up, prayers weren’t heard this morning which makes us think that maybe they get up early to do it during the week and not on Saturday. The sun rises behind the 700m (2,xxx ft) mountain range that runs the length of the island, bathing the 577 different varieties of seeded plants with a cool morning light. The bats and cats, both of which the island has many of are going to sleep and waking up, respectively and the sound of what we hope is breakfast cooking can be heard from the resort about 200 feet below us. I’m going to stop here for now and go enjoy some Roti Canai (pronounced Cha-nye), a thin griddled bread with a curry dipping sauce.
3/5/06 3:53pm
It is now about 3:53 local time and I have just had one of the best days of my life. I’m sitting out on the porch looking in front of me at the South China Sea about 75 yards away and behind me at the rain forest. It’s probably around 90 degrees with a steady cool breeze and an array of sounds from boats to palm leaves to birds. Jen and I had breakfast for free at the resort with about 15 other people, mainly tourists. They had thin fried noodles or Mee, scrambled eggs (which is a rarity and are usually only found at resorts. The locals prefer half boiled eggs, not for me.), Sausage (of what meat variety I did not ask), toast or roti which is the Malay word for bread, and an assortment of tropical jams, copi (coffee) and tea. The events of the rest of today you will have to wait for, but it’s worth it.
Back to our first evening in KL. Jen slept the entire night through but I could not sleep. However, jet lag hadn’t yet set in. My inability to sleep was due largely in part of the amount or lack of sleep at random times I had gotten over the past 24 hours. Effendy went out to play golf under the lights with his professor, as both Serina and Effendy are golf lovers. Serina and I sat and talked while we both were online; I emailing all of you and Serina writing an article that was due the next day. When Effendy got home we went out to dinner and left Jen to sleep. We went out around 11pm and drove about three to four blocks away to a sidewalk café, here came my first experience with food from this part of the world. I later learned that it was Indian food. The man behind the counter filled a plate with rice and added the curry sauce from about 5 different pans of curried meats and seafood, then you were able to choose which kind of meat or vegetables you wanted. Without pointing a finger (Muslim no-no) I picked chicken, squid, and cabbage. It was amazing. Spicy but not too hot to eat and oh so filling. Effendy paid for the meal claiming that it was customary, which I later learned was his way of saying “I’m paying and there won’t be an argument” since he paid for every meal thereafter. We got back home and I was finally able to lay down. Sleep didn’t come quick and when it came it didn’t stay long as I found myself awake at 6am to the calling of a bird so much less annoying than a rooster.
Serina and Effendy are both from Singapore. They knew each other during “high school” and married about 7 years ago. They moved to KL about 2 years ago so they could go to university for their upper level degrees. They both speak English well enough to tell someone they were from California. They also speak Indonesian, their native language, which allows them to communicate in Malaysia being that the two languages are so very similar. They are extremely kind people as you will decipher if you continue to read. The transition from US to Asia was as smooth as it was because of them. Hopefully we will have the opportunity to show them the US one day and be as good to them as they were to us.
After trying to go back to sleep we finally got up around 8:00am, showered, and had breakfast of toast with a coconut spread, and cappuccino. We all drove into KLCC which is the business center and made a loop around the city. We dropped Effendy off at work and finished the loop of the city. KL is a busy place. The streets are dominated by motorbikes and the crazy people that drive them while the skyline is dominated by the Petronas Towers (tallest in the world) and other magnificent edifices side-by-side with buildings that once held that title but have fallen into what we would call disrepair. The buildings in KL reminded me of those in St Thomas and I’m sure any buildings in this climate. The heat and humidity must do a number on the outside but the insides remain just as plush and comfortable as the day they were built. Serina needed to go interview a professor for an article and she dropped us off at the national museum which was the beginning of the Lake Gardens, a swath of the city that puts Central Park to shame. The pictures will do a better job of describing this area so hopefully you can refer to them. To sum it up: Gardens, 4 block bird sanctuary, butterfly sanctuary, Orchid garden (which was closed), and monkeys, yes monkeys, right there on the side of the road. Seeing monkeys in the wild has been a life long “dream” for Jen and to some degree myself. It was unbelievable. Little did we know that they would become a commonplace sight just a short walk from our Kampung (village). Well we need to go finish our lesson plans for this evening’s class.
March 8th 7:18am
It is now 7:18am on March 8th. The events of the past two days have not allowed me to continue on with this day-by-day journal nor have they allowed me to do much of anything. I had gone from feeling like the man who just found out he won the lottery to feeling like the man whose numbers came up but he didn’t play. Possibly worse. For the sake of time this all will be explained later, but right now as I type I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I will be able to sit for more than 10 minutes.
I forgot to mention that prior to dropping us off at the gardens Serina, Jen, and myself went to a book sale where we all picked up some titles, one of which was a picture Malay/English dictionary that has come in handy in class. We then went to lunch at another sidewalk Indian place, again me trying things I probably should have known better not to try. Then we went to a electronics store for a plug adaptor ($3US) and then we went to the gardens. After we walked through the gardens Serina picked us up and we went back to her place, but the stay was so short we didn’t have time to shower, rest, or check our email because we had a dinner date with Saras, a marine biologist who was the figure head for the project we are involved in. Up until dinner we were under the impression that Saras was a man, she was not. Saras is a British Indian that makes for a pleasing combination of skin color and accent. She is very knowledgeable about the marine world and, like the rest of the people we have met thus far, very welcoming. The Indian food tasted great, but I am going to refrain from talking about it now seeing how my stomach turns at the slightest thought of any food but salad, which, conveniently enough is not available here on Tioman or anywhere in Malaysia it seems. –1 point for Malaysia.
After dinner we went back to pack our bags, write one last email, which I hope you all got, but ran out of time to post to the journal, leaving all of you at home probably wondering, “what the heck is going on?”. We headed to the bus station around 10:45pm amidst all the street racing motorcycles and Friday night traffic. The next leg of our trip was to be spent with Julian and Yeen. Julian being a 30 something Brit that received his degree in Bio-Chemical Engineering and now runs a dive shop on Tioman with his Malaysian wife Yeen, whose degree I can’t recall. They have lived on Tioman for 5 years, but now they reside in KL where they run a program that sends Malaysian students to the United States and make their way to Tioman to check on their dive center which is now run by a German and an Irishman, I think.
We pull up to the bus station, a tumultuous mass of people, cars, bikes, and noise, aiming for the lanky white man waving us into a spot. Julian’s fast paced, gritty English humor combined with the need to not miss the bus was enough to rip us out of the car, grab our over-stuffed bags, and make the following choice as asked by Julian: The overhead crosswalk or your life, meaning crossing the street. Without hesitation we answered, “Life”. He then figured out that we must have been from New York. The bus station is a place where you need to watch your back even though everyone else is as well. Our tickets, which we were told were supposed to be bought by us, were already paid for and me in my sleepless state began to argue that we would pay for them. Like everything else that needed to be paid for up till now, we didn’t shell out a Sen (Malaysian Cent). The bus was nice and large, save for the plastic and cloth seats that allowed you to find a comfortable position and lose it just as fast as you found it. We pulled out at about 11:15pm.
After leaving the city I fell asleep. Thank god. Then we stopped about an hour in to the ride for a bathroom break. For the remainder of the ride I slept not a wink. The bus ride takes you from KL in the west of peninsular Malaysia to Mersing on the East coast. In between the two is the “spine” of Malaysia, a mountain range whose height I could not tell you but whose roads were not made for a bus or a driver as akin to them as ours. When we started to enter this section Julian leaned over and switched off the reading light that he had given me, as a little hint-hint that it was time to try to sleep because most don’t like to be awake for it. But still, no sleep. Our next stop was somewhat surreal. It is 2:30 in the morning, we’re in the middle of the peninsula, and we’re stopped at a roadside “restaurant”. I get out of the bus as does Jen, Julian, and Yeen. Julian bought us coffee (copi) which was some of the thickest, darkest stuff I’d ever seen. I debated drinking it, but like I said before I was really in the right state of mind. Back on the bus until we reached Mersing at 3:45am or so. No sleep. We have to wait until 7:30am for the ferry to take us to Tioman, which doesn’t end up leaving until 8ish. More coffee, and more eating without thinking. The food is good, don’t get me wrong. Roti is the Malay word for bread but is also a breakfast, lunch, and dinner, dish. It is spun like a pizza to a very thin dough then grilled and served with a spicy dipping sauce. We buy our tickets for the speed boat, a 550 horsepower, 20+ seat, enclosed vessel. Again with Julian as our guide we grabbed the backmost row and none of us got seasick.
At this point it finally became clear to me and I think Jen as well just how far we were from home. We had been traveling for nearly 4 days, by every means of transportation known to man: Car, Plane, Train, Boat. The boat ride took about an hour and a half because of choppy seas. On the way out we passed large, lifeless islands protruding out of the South China Sea, a fierce little sea that made the Caribbean (or Car-a-bee-an, as Julian says is its rightful name given by the Brits) look like a bathtub. To our surprise people, Yeen being one of them, were actually sleeping on this boat ride while others were getting sea sick. I almost lost it when someone lit up a cigarette.
What we saw next words will not do justice in describing. In the distance over the bow of the boat, rose out of the water like a dragon was Tioman. Over 300 square miles of rock, jungle, and beach. Up until this point I had thought that the island was similar in size to St Thomas when in reality this island makes St Thomas look like a cay. Please excuse my lack of poetic description of this magnificent place as I am feeling rather under the weather at the moment. Approaching the island from peninsular Malaysia we run into the “populated” West coast of Tioman. We head south to a Kampung whose name I cannot recall. Staring us in the face are the dragons horns, twin 700m (approx. 2,000ft) peaks that dominate the southern tip of the island. The water is crystal blue, the beach looks bleach white against the lush green of the jungle. Little houses that you may consider to be shacks on stilts dot the beach and the remaining shoreline, smoke rising from different places throughout the kampung. It is at this point that we realize that all the jet lag, lack of sleep, crazy bus rides were worth it. The color green that bathes this island is somewhat indescribable. Its dark and thick yet alive and moist. The only ground that can be seen is that of the beach and the rock faces that are strewn with white streaks against their dark brown faces from thousands of years of water running over them. Everything else is green, thick, and leafy. Clouds hang around the top of the island giving it a somewhat mystical look and one that definitely makes you think “rain forest”.
After a quick stop at this southern kampung (village) we head to Genting, our village which is about 5 minutes away. Once we start pulling into the dock Julian and I make our way through the crowd of people on the boat up to the bow to retrieve our now wet bags. Carrying the bags back through the crowd of people garnered some pretty ugly looks but that was ok, we were getting off and that was fine with us. Julian stayed on the boat to head to his village of Tekek where Yeen and himself own a dive shop. Yeen stayed with us in order to introduce us to Azman and see that we found our room ok. As we were walking down the dock/jetty towards the island a guy with a Sun Beach Resort shirt greeted us and once he found out who we were offered to take our bags and was all smiles. We later found out his name is Kholis, he is one of Azman’s assistants, is from Indonesia, and is an all around great person and student. Azman is the owner/operator of the Sun Beach Resort here in Genting. It is by far the nicest “resort” in this village and makes up about 80% of the village. He seems to be a rather wealthy man for the island, and he also has “two families”, meaning two wives, one here on Tioman and one on the mainland in Mersing. At first it was a bit intimidating meeting him as his demeanor takes some getting used too, however now we understand his reserved manner to be nerves rather than sternness. Yeen speaks with him in Malay and translates for us what he cannot say in English. This would have been an awkward situation in and of itself if both Yeen and Azman were devout Muslims, since men interacting with women in this type of business role would be rare. However we think that Azman, if he is Muslim is not of the strictest variety and we are pretty sure that Yeen is not.
After the introductions and discussions of class times, which are Sunday through Wednesday nights 8:30-11pm, Kholis takes us up to our chalet. From the beach where we were talking with Azman we walk up the hillside for about 200ft, passing other chalets, the open air dining room / karaoke bar, and every kind of plant you can imagine. We couldn’t have asked for a better spot to call home. Our chalet sits above the rest of the Sun Beach resort and has a commanding view of the village below and the horizon out on the South China Sea. I’m not going to spend time describing the physical attributes of the place, hopefully you will be able to see the pictures and video. The inside has two queen beds, a ceiling fan that reminds us a bit too much of the fan that haunts a young Martin Sheen in the opening of Apocalypse Now, a western style toilet, a hot water heater that seems to be on permanent vacation, a desk/dresser, a great breeze that blows all day, and a few geckos to keep us company and the bugs out. After we empty out our wet packs we hit the bed, around 10am feeling like midnight and sleep until about 6pm. When we wake up we make our way down to the BBQ area that sits on the beach. Still in my adventurous I can eat anything mindset I take everything that is offered, unlike Jen who is wiser and takes only the rice and noodles. The barbeque options were chicken (don’t think Perdue oven stuffer here), squid, some sort of sausage/hot dog, and fish. By fish I mean a whole fish; head, tail, eyes, scales, everything. This I would bet was the key ingredient to the following three days of misery. For that evening however everything was fine. We went to the little mini market to get some water and headed back to bed.
The next day we headed out to make our way to a village called Paya that is about 2km north of Genting. The trail leads you along the coast of the island but inland far enough to where you are surrounded by jungle. Enormous trees, vines, and green are everywhere and through them you see the bright blue of the water to the west. The trek took about an hour and a half but we did take time to stop and take pictures and watch the monkeys. Paya is a very nice little village. The resorts in Paya seem to cater to a slightly higher income level / more international tourist where as the resorts on Genting have been so far populated by mainly Asians (this assumption could be totally wrong too, since we have only been here for about 5 days). The entire village of Paya is fronted by an uninterrupted beach and at it’s northernmost end has a postcard perfect little atoll that you can walk to during low tide. We spent some time here, stopped in a store to buy some towels, walked on the beach, and then headed back.
After getting into Genting we sat down at a little café to have some dinner. This would be my last meal for 2 days. We had our first class that night which is held in the upstairs of one of the first buildings you come into off of the jetty. We had about 25-30 students, both men and women, adults and teenagers alike. In this culture women and men do not sit with one another, which made the horseshoe type business office table setup work well. The students were very enthusiastic and we didn’t really run into any problems in terms of people not wanting to speak to us due to our age, ethnicity, gender, etc… Towards the end of class I started to feel cold, which isn’t such a far flung idea seeing how our classroom is right on the water and gets a nice nightly breeze. But as we were walking back to our chalet I started to shiver and shake, and it was all downhill from there. That night my fever spiked to 103 degrees and my stomach felt awful. Jen was amazing through all of my sickness, the first sign of this was her staying up with me all night making sure my fever didn’t go any higher. Luckily we packed a decent supply of medicine and, obviously, a thermometer.
The next day the fever persisted around 101-102 and my bodily fluids turned a color I have never seen come out of my body before nor would I ever like to see again. It was when I began throwing up that I realized I had food poisoning, as the bathroom reeked of fish. The entire day was spent in bed and in the bathroom, using up more than my fare share of the island’s water supply. Jen planned out and taught class herself that night and the next as I was still feverish and in the bathroom the next day. It wasn’t until Wednesday that I finally got out of the room but by that time I had lost a lot of weight and also my appetite. At a time when it was imperative for me to get food into my system it was the last thing my body wanted to do. To make matters worse it seemed as though everything here is cooked with some sort of fish and chili. Breakfast has squid and anchovies in it. Lunch dishes are cooked with fish oil. Dinner is fish. The smell of cooking food turned my stomach and I was very picky about what I would eat. I forced down bread with margarine, white rice, cucumber, nuts, and the occasional peanut butter cracker.
The people here in Genting, like I assume you would find in any small isolated community, are extremely caring towards others in their community. Our class is comprised of students from all walks of life: Resort owners, resort staff, dive operators, house wives, restaurant owners and staff, and nurses. When I was not in class that first night Jen said that everyone was asking after me and that when the nurses heard what my symptoms were that they went back to the clinic and fetched me some medicine. It continued like that until I was better. People asking how I was, if I was better, if they could do things for me, etc… With Jen leading the way I made my way back to feeling “normal” to where I am eating again and not spending my days on the toilet.
On Thursday, the first day I was feeling better, two of our students who run a boat that operates with about 5 others in a snorkeling tour business invited us to go with them, free of charge. At 9am we made our way down to the jetty and met up with Zam and ???? on their 3 cylinder, hand-crank started, diesel powered wooden boat. The pictures will do a better job of describing the boat but it is rare to see a fleet of wooden boats these days. With a top speed of no more than 7 knots we made it out to Coral Island, which lies off of the extreme northwest coast of Tioman, in about an hour and twenty minutes. The six boats were populated with about 60 Singaporean high-school students and a couple from Germany and Scandinavia who made even me look tan. The coral was nothing that we had seen in the Caribbean while the fish are pretty much uniform. The size of the brain coral and sea fans were unreal. After snorkeling we went to the northern most village of Salang which, with its modern and well kept food court area and restaurants is probably the most “westernized”, to that term loosely, of the villages. To our delight we found pizza! After days of fearing nothing but fish oil for the next month you can imagine my delight. We inhaled every last bit of it and probably could have eaten three more.
Finally we made our way to the Marine Park in the Village of Tekek, supposedly the most developed of all the villages and the place to go if you needed something you couldn’t get in your village. We were to find out later that this is not the case and aside from a few large corporate resorts, Tekek is rather crummy. Tekek is a large cove in the island and it has four jetty’s where as most villages have only one. The marine park jetty is the farthest north and so kept us from seeing the rest of the village. The marine park consists of a cordoned off swimming area where artificial reefs are being started and it is stocked with fish. Tourists can come here and swim with the fishes without having to leave the island or damage the other coral. Ironically enough however part of the marine park was built on top of preexisting coral. The dilemma of the Malaysian Nature Society is now realized within us. We got back to Genting around dusk and had a relaxing evening, recovering from all the activity.
Friday, which is like the islands weekend or day off where everything pretty much closes, we decided to go to Tekek to see what we could find in the way of western food / supermarket type things. Asking three different people what time a ferry that could take us to Tekek comes resulted in three different answers. The ferry situation: Tioman is settled so that the villages all sit on the west coast of the island and are not connected by roads. There is not a large enough population of people / tourists to facilitate a ferry that runs between the villages. Some of the larger villages have water taxis that usually charge inflated prices. To get from continental Malaysia to the island you can either fly into Tekek or take a ferry from Mersing, the nearest coastal town. These are the ferries which facilitate transport between the villages if you don’t own a boat. Coming from Mersing the ferry will only go to the villages for which it has passengers. On the return trip they “usually” make a pass by each jetty to see if there are any people waiting. I have never seen a printed version of a ferry schedule on the island so it is kind of a hit or miss deal.
On this day after waiting for about two hours we hit and made our way to Tekek. Hot. Dusty. Crowded. Malodorous. That about sums up Tekek. Now we weren’t expecting Bali or anything but from the way people talked it seemed it would have been a lot nicer than this. I came to the conclusion that Salang village was taking their growth a bit better than Tekek did, and that Tekek was probably the first go around in terms of growth for the island and the growing pains showed. We made our way back to Genting and had a fabulous dinner of white rice with a Soy Sauce type seasoning, French fries, and ice cream and chocolate for desert. That leads us up to today, which so far has been low key since Jen is now feeling under the weather with a low grade fever. So that is that thus far. There is plenty that was left out but that’s ok. From here on out I’ll hopefully do a better job of keeping a day to day journal.
Tuesday March 14, 2006 1:57pm
Keeping a daily journal, I have found, no matter where I am is one of those things that you want to do, say you are going to do, and never do. Since I finished the lengthy write up of our first week here in Malaysia days have gone by with not a single phrase typed. This is not to say that there has been nothing to write about, quite the contrary in fact, since the reason behind the lack of writing is that there are other things more interesting at the time to do. Today however I have found a window of time in which I can sit down and flesh out a few lines of what we have been up to.
The reason for the available time today is that it is now, unfortunately, Jen’s turn to be sick. It seems that since we have arrived here on Tioman the pair of us have been running low grade fevers 24/7. During my bout with the bad fish my fever spiked a bit higher but has since never made it back to the esteemed 98.7*F that our bodies usually run at. Jen has been the same way, with her body maintaining a steady 99.7*F. Common medical knowledge and a little more common sense about where exactly we are should provide some useful explanations for the elevated blood temperatures. The lack of sleep, one hundred and eighty degree swing of our circadian rhythms, the new proximity to our solar system’s brightest star, the lack of or change of available foods and consequently nutrients here, and finally all of those little bacteria that you find in the jungle which our bodies have never before been exposed. So while it may be obvious why fever has been prevalent with us, it is still something we are not enjoying and yesterday, after another walk to the Kampung of Paya and a “lazy” day at the beach hunting hermit crabs in the tide pools, Jen’s fever caught the best of her.
Since my food sickness the both of us have shifted to a vegetarian diet, and I am not ashamed to admit how much I miss meat. While everyone else here has no problem eating the ayam (chicken), they are used to eating this type of chicken. Beef is of the Indian and Indonesian varieties, which is a far cry from the Kobe, Hereford, or Black Angus we cowboys are used to in the states. Pork is a no-no in the Muslim religion and thus can be found no where in the country while mutton is last on the list. Seafood is the main staple of “meat”. Anyone who knows me knows that I love seafood, but also knows that the seafood I have consumed my whole life has been kept at a bacteria inhibiting temperature until cooking, a luxury we take for granted and one that our bodies have gotten used to. A few restaurants here have refrigerators, even fewer have freezers, and nowhere are there ice machines. I’m sure this is making many of you wonder how then they can keep fish fresh. The answer: Catch it everyday. Certain things like cuttlefish and squid are kept in refrigerators, anchovies seem to go on a personal preference basis, and regular old smelly fish well, I don’t really know, which is why I no longer eat it.
With good intentions we altered to the “Little Amanda” diet but it has not come without it’s own set of complications. Here on the island it is very hard to grow vegetables and to some extent fruits as well. The soil is poor for cultivation for a few reasons, the most noteworthy being the proximity to the ocean with its high salt content, the fact that there are dramatic tides here that flood the low land rivers with said salt content, and finally the source of freshwater for the island comes from the continuous rains up high in the hills that run down the island in what can be impressive waterfalls that leech all the nutrients out of the soil and deposit them into the South China Sea. Without good soil, few vegetables will grow. Last night in class the lesson was based around food and I learned a lot about what kinds of fruits and vegetables are found here on Tioman and what kinds are not. A majority of the items I had never heard of until last night, for example four sided beans. So going vegetarian isn’t as easy as it seems to be in the states, unless you consider tempting meat dishes to be something hard to resist.
Finally, the point of all this rambling is that we have been eating a lot less than our bodies are used to and we thus have had fewer resources for our bodies to utilize when it needs to provide us energy to walk through the equatorial heat to a pristine beach or to fight off infection. The 45 minute trek to Paya was nothing to complain about as our bodies were able to use what little they had in them. Walking north along the beach and at the same time through the village of Paya you will eventually reach an atoll that lies 50 yards off of the coast but at low tide is connected to the coast and provides an easy passage, much the same as the land bridge in the Aleutian Islands that the first communists used to reach America. The layout of Tioman, as I have described before, has evolved so that all but one village is on the west coast of an island that runs long north to south. With nothing but sea to the West, come noon the sun is relentless until it sets in its spectacular colors of fury. Relaxing on the flour-fine sand of this little atoll we were graced with UVA’s and UVB’s that the sun god was dishing out, causing us to use up all of our available water to keep our bodies cool and also food to run the cooling machines inside all of us. After stopping for a bottle of Air Minuman (Translates into water drink) and two Nestea Iced Teas we head back onto the path towards Genting. Luckily, being in the jungle, there is much shade but nonetheless our bodies are tired and running on empty.
All of the above combined to make Jen have one unpleasant evening that has spilled over into today, as she is napping while I type this. There was no way I was letting her go to class last night seeing how she couldn’t keep food down and it just made sense to rest. So that’s where we’re at for the moment: Taking it easy, letting our bodies rejuvenate, and getting our appetites back. This morning after visiting the clinic for some (Free) medications we went to one of the cafés that we frequent (there are about 4 in Genting) and noticed for what seemed like the first time that they had other things on the menu that would taste good on our pallets. Vegetable soup with carrots, tomatoes, cabbage, spring onion sprouts, spinach, and fried onions, some fried eggs, and Jen’s favorite Cheese Roti Canai (pronounced Roti Chan-eye), topped off with some iced lemon tea made for a wonderful breakfast and one that we will happily return to in the future. Azman, the owner of the resort and our host/sponsor, has told us time and time again if there is anything we need or want to let him know and he will be glad to acquire it for us. This is the type of man Azman is, the man who can get things, for which he has acquired the title King of Siam. Most of our meals come from his resort, for free, and they are geared toward the Malay crowd for which his resort is usually frequented. We have been hesitant to ask for anything special in terms of food as we think that it would be a bit rude, but if we are to keep healthy while eating vegetarian something will have to give. So hopefully in the next few days we’ll see if he can’t get us a head of lettuce from Mersing.
In other news, classes are going very well. Last nights attendance jumped as all the tourists have gone home and the villagers have free time again. I have never seen a more enthusiastic, energetic, and friendly group of people in a classroom setting before. Ages range from Natasha, one of our student’s (Teeny) daughter who writes out sentences in English at an age of about 5 who is usually joined by at least 3 other “children” to Mohammed who has trouble writing due to a hand injury at age 50 something, but who is no less eager to learn. Making fun of people in class is unheard of and the caring and helpful nature of the students with one another, those helping Mohammed for example, is refreshing. They are shy when it comes to talking in front of the class and usually will not talk loudly unless others are. The men and women sit on opposite sides of the class but neither the men nor women hesitate to communicate with either Jen or I. When 11 o’clock rolls around you have to practically tell them to go home. Best of all, for me at least, is the appreciation for getting the opportunity to better their English.
In the coming weeks we will be placing more of an environmental emphasis on the class since that is the reason we are here. Most of them really don’t have any concept of conservation or the effects that poor environmental management can have on an ecosystem and therefore a community since they live in a relative eco-utopia. Like all utopias however it is not real and the longer it is ignored the less nirvana-ish it will be. But this will come with time as does all things as will my next motivating force to write some more.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006 7:20pm
Yesterday was spent relaxing about the chalet after we went into “town” to go to the clinic, where Jen had a few simple blood tests done, and was given some more medicine which she took while we brunched on some vegetable soup, fried eggs, and cheese roti canai. It’s comforting to know that her appetite has come back, even though it can’t be satiated with the food it probably craves.
Today was much the same, very relaxing and enjoyable, with some food that I actually enjoyed and movies that reminded me of home. We had three different knocks at the door today: First was Anaur, another Sun Beach staff member who like the rest are full of smiles, who brought us a pitcher of iced orange juice; Second was Kholis who was informing us that we had a phone call in the office, which turned out to be Serina calling from KL inquiring as how we were doing; Then, surprisingly enough there was a third knock at the door, which was the only the fourth visitor since we arrived two weeks ago, which happened to be Kholis with a plate of cornmeal pudding, with a texture that fell somewhere between jello and cheesecake and a flavor that was both harmoniously sweet and bland. These three “interruptions” are indicative of the nature of the people on this island towards those whom they respect for respecting them, or at least as it goes in my opinion.
The sun has just set over the western horizon, leaving the evening sky 7 shades of purple, pink, and orange, a perfect backdrop for the silhouette of the island that lies just to our west. Fruit bats are fluttering about and the mosquitoes are biting and I need to get into the freezing cold shower to get ready for this evenings class.
Friday, March 17, 2006 5:30pm
“Rainy day, rain all day, no use in gettin up tight, just let it groove it’s own way…”
On a day like today, on an island like Tioman, without even a single drop of precipitation falling from the sky, the words of Jimi Hendrix ring true. Today we found ourselves physically exhausted (well I did at least), free of classroom duties, and with not much else we needed to do. When a day like this occurs one simple solution pops into the head: Hit the beach! However, sitting on the beach soaking up the sun and playing in the South China Sea tends to lose the appeal it garners in ones mind when you find yourself feeling uncomfortable once it is time to bare the bikini.
The beaches here in Kampung Genting are not of the secluded variety, save for a few swaths of sand that become inhabitable only at low tide, which today is coming in the late afternoon. Furthermore, the tourists that have been flocking to the Sun Beach Resort and its sister resorts here in our village have been of the Asian and usually Muslim varieties, and not so much of the white westerner. What issue does this pose to us in terms of sunbathing you may ask? I shall tell you: While the customs and traditions of the cultures we have been experiencing on this island have swayed from the most devout of followers, they still uphold the conservative nature of their bathing attire, in that there is almost always much attire.
Walking onto a hot and sunny beach pretty much anywhere in America while wearing long pants, long sleeves, and even headdresses would arouse the suspicions and whispers of those beach goers not used to seeing such behavior. Walking onto a hot and sunny beach here in Malaysia, wearing a string bikini and nothing else would have somewhat the same effect to the locals that live here, with the exception of the fact that they have probably by now become accustomed to the sight and have made their own assumptions about the bikini-clad person in question. Whether these assumptions are negative or not is unknown, but really do not matter to the culture conscience person who is here, and has become part of their home, even if for a brief time. Such is the case with Jen and myself, but more-so for the former due to the traditionally more conservative appearance of women in this culture.
So unless we hike 20 minutes to the secluded, low-tide formed beach, we are on display for the whole of the Kampung. Being that the people here have graciously welcomed us into their everyday lives, and that we have been trying to follow along with their customs, stripping down to western beach wear has been scrapped for the time being. After trying out the “lying on the beach with clothes on”, we found it rather uncomfortable and retreated back to our chateau for what turned out to be a restless afternoon. As mentioned earlier however, the best way to swallow a day that leaves you with little to do, whether it be because of rain or cultural differences, is to, “let it groove it’s own way”. A load of laundry, some reading, a mid-day nap, and the promise to ourselves to get out and go fishing tonight, grooved just fine.
Skin-bearing customs will be more lax, even to the point of being westernized, after we move on from this green jewel of the South China Sea, to destinations just as foreign to us in Thailand, Cambodia, and hopefully even Laos and Vietnam. So for now we deal, and I reflect on what Jen had said regarding the issue that is “plaguing” (to use the harshest term possible) her more than me: “Just think about the women who have to wear sari’s and headscarves their entire life, whether in the mosque, at a restaurant, or on the beach.”
Hi all,
It's 11:20pm here and I'm still trying to figure out whether its 11:20am there or 10:20am, either way its dark here and light where ... 
Globalksp