Unlucky 3rd
I had a beastly few days, but it’s therapeutic to write about it 😉
Plenty of good times ahead!
That evening at the bar, we had a discussion about auspicious and unlucky numbers.
“The Chinese believe eight is a bad number…” Lisa began.
“No, no,” I said, remembering a recent TV commercial: “Eight is supposed to bring prosperity. But four—four is bad…”
“Yeah; four signifies death,” she agreed.
“So; there is no fourth floor in buildings and no groundfloor either because the ground floor is the first floor. And in Hong Kong, they don’t have a 13th floor—so let me see…” I began counting on my fingers.
“No 13th?” Ansil looked doubtful.
“Many Westerners believe it’s unlucky. Don’t you, here in Malaysia?”
He shook his head.
“It’s just superstition. Personally, I don’t believe it—but many people believe the number 13 brings bad luck; especially on a Friday the 13th.”
“Like in the horror movie!”
And so on. Personally, I don’t have a problem with 13— after all, there are people who think it lucky, like those who were born on a 13th, but I have never liked the number 3, ever since I was a kid. I have always wished for a fairy tale where the protagonist had just one wish,or two or four, but not three. Always three.
So perhaps it’s not surprising that December 3rd was not my lucky day.
It started at 2 a.m. when my sleep was interrupted as the German couple put on a two-hour-light-show while they rummaged through their toiletries and sauntered off to have a shower. I growled at them to turn off the light when coming late into the dorm (everybody else did —the prepared take their toothbrushes to the bar) and they said: “Wir können ja auch Deutsch sprechen”
“Not at this time of the night, you can’t,” I snapped back.
Not a good start to relations. And it meant that my sleep was ruined. When the English girl came in at 3:30 a.m (in the dark), I head her through my earplugs and even though the bunk beds were solid, she managed to sway the bed every time she moved, rocking me awake. I don’t think I did the same to her; being on the top bunk, she had the leverage, even though she’s considerably lighter than me. But it meant that I did not manage to drift off properly until it was light outside. I didn’t even dare go to the toilet—astute reades may have noticed that this was the night of the Bug Attacks. There were beetles in one of the loos and a moth in the other. In fact, the ‘moth’ was more of a large butterfly and it hadn’t changed positions in all the time until I finally went at first light. Told you: I’m getting better with bugs.
When I finally woke up, I was so crankly that I decided to leave Lankawi there and then and packed up all my things before I realised that it was still the weekend (Fri/Sat in Lankawi and Kedah State) plus it was late. Travel, I thought, would be easier on Sunday when a lot of people would be leaving. I did not put 2 and 2 together.
Besides, it was the night of Miguel’s BBQ and I needed to plan my intinerary as well.
So I unpacked all my stuff and sat down in the bar area with the two guide books from the shelves. That was when the monkey stole my glasses.
The monkey is one of the rescued animals which make up the Gecko’s menagerie. Still a juvenile, it had been tied up from when it was a tiny baby until it’s rescue. It still wears a collar around its waist, but otherwise it runs wild. Stealing people’s cigarettes (and eating them) is its favourite past time. Stealing people”s glasses runs a close second. By the time the clatter alerted me, the darned monkey was already half-way up a palm tree, but jumped back onto the bannister. I snarled at him while the surrounding staff cut off his escape back up the tree. Cornered, he dropped the glasses, jumped to the ground and made good his escape. Nothing seemed amiss, but I was shaking. It was one of those moments when you kid yourself that it will work out, even though you have no way of knowing the outcome.
I put the glasses back on, but they kept falling off my nose. In the two seconds that the monkey had them, he had contrived to remove both nose-pads. Hence I’m wearing my spares which are very fragile and the wrong prescripton—and I spent the rest of the day being paranoid about the monkey getting at them too.
After that, things improved a little. I went for a walk on the pristine beach—and nearly suffered heatstroke when the sun came out without warning. I dived into the nearest shade and sipped iced coffee while the sweat ran down me in rivulets for a good half hour. One thing about the grey weather: it’s great for acclimatisation.
In that quiet, shady bar I had enough peace to spend a few hours studying Bahasa with the LP phrasebook and a fw booklets Rebecca had lent me. I might have learned 3 new words. It’s a start.
Then I had the idea to get a CD burnt (which the computers couldn’t, or wouldn’t read) and while I was waiting, returned to the ‘Gecko’ guest house nearby to resume my studies, putting the glasses in my bag. Naturally, the monkey returned, trying to grab the booklets (it was tricky to hold on to all three at the same time as trying to look things up). When I snarled at him, he climbed up my arm and bit my thumb—not hard enough to break the skin, just holding tight for a good pinch. I had the distinct feeling that he was trying to discipline me.
I went through my list of vowels: “Oi! Eeek! Ouch! Ow,” and finally: “Aick!!” which sent him scurying off, leaving two distinct rows of blue dots on my skin.
He returned after a while, walking under my legs, touching my bag (but not trying to take anything); constantly looking at me. I sat there until he finally got bored and went away. We have issues, me and that monkey.
I had tears running down my face. I was too tired and too upset, surprising myself.
I got the CD and went to the internet café where I spent two hours trying to send one email and save a 3k word file which I had stupidly written straight onto the computer because trying to learn Bahasa didn’t leave enough time to keep my journal as usual. I left the place exasperated and on an extremely sour note, telling the guy that his machines didn’t work (they didn’t; they were heavily compromised. That joint is at a prime beach-front location yet completely run down. They should sell it or modernise it and get somebody in who understands computers like in the place I went to next—they are not short of business).
Back at the Gecko, I showered just before dark set in (before the bugs come out) and changed, only to receive an angry knock on the door and find the German girl standing there, giving me a withering look. Excuse me, it had been all of one minute. I should have taken my mosquito coils and left that morning.
But I’m glad that I didn’t, because the BBQ was ace: great food, great atmosphere, great music. Everyone slept soundly that night, as it should be and I was determined to leave Langkawi on a high.
Tags: SE Asia, Tag Index
Denni