Bird’s Nest Bevarage – 25% bird’s nest

Sunset over Byron Bay – from the lighthouse after a killer trek.

Byron Bay beach – always something magical about the place.

Full of hippies, surfers and new age therapists!

There will be no pictures of the infamous Cheeky Monkeys club. All the photos are too horrendous to be shown in public.

Rainforest trekking…

That’s not a pixie next to an ordinary tree, thats Mirthe and one big mo fo of a plant.

Cultural Surfers Paradise. Great beach and fab weather.

Surf dudes with attitude, kind of groovy, laid back moves”. Who remembers California Dreams? Saved by the Bell at the seaside basically.

Drinks by Sydney Harbour Bridge – Becky, Lucy and Fay (who had an illicit affair with a kurdish kebab shop worker).

Iconic!

On the boat tour having an “I’m in Sydney moment”

The bridge i climbed over – right on the top rungs.

Just before we went on the Birdge Climb – brave souls! Lucy, Fay or Becky, send me the pictures you got on cd so i can put them up! I’m sorry about your chin in this one Becky, I’m not sure what happened there. Lighting i suspect. *cough* too many burger kings *cough*.

That bridge again, i couldn’t stop taking pictures of it, i think it looks so classic. Last one though. I promise.

Krabi was merely a stop off before we hit the first of the thai islands. I wish we had stayed longer as around the actual town are many beautiful waterfalls and beaches.

We contented ourselves with a boat trip. The four of us (Myself, Lisa, Jon and Mark) hired a traditional, wooden, thai longboat. Tied to the bow of the boat (which is a strip of wood that juts out and up) were ribbons, strips of cloth and flowers, all different shades of colour and which purportedly bring luck. Large or ancient trees also have such colourful adornments strung around them.

Our guide took us along the winding, narrow and overgrown waterways of the river Krabi, past mangroves and large limestone monoliths stretching up from the water. He pointed out monitor lizards in the water or birds in the trees and answered any questions we had in his broken english (far better than my broken thai – i can say thankyou and hello however) after which he would say “Me good eh?” or “Manchester United” with two thumbs up, clearly with no eye on a tip at the end of the journey of course!

Then we stopped off at some limestone rock formations where we climbed up a rickety wooden staircase to a set of caves.

Afterwards, in the evening we sat on the waterfront along which a number of hawker stalls had set up shop. These are small food stalls where thai people cook the most amazing food within about a square metre. We ate deep fried whole crab, tiger prawns drizzled in sweet chilli sauce, pork sticks, pad thai (a noodle dish) all washed down with some thai beer. All for about one or two pounds! Forget the cafes here, no one but westerners eat in those places, follow the local population and invariably you will end up at a hawker stall; definitely the place to eat.

We did not explore Krabi much…at all. We were all eager to get to Ko Phi Phi. You can’t do everything while travelling and Krabi was one of those places that got struck off the list. Phi Phi more than made up for it though and that would be my next stop.

Me holding a koala!

Crocs away.

“What’s that skip?? Mineshaft? Workers? Trapped?!”

And finally! Don’t ask….i don’t remember. Where it came from, why it was on my head, why i have got photographic evidence of me wearing it. I simply don’t know. All i remember – it was another good night out in Brisbane.

Okay everyone, i realise my blog is now missing lots of posts and comments. There was a server crash at the site the blog is kept on. I’m working on getting the other posts back. I realise this is all highly distressing but i have a beach to attend to and so i will rectify the problem later!

I’m in Bangkok now and still have a number of posts before i finally write about this place but i had to post on this.

Last night i went for a walk along the Khao San road in BK. Returning to my hostel i was approached by a lady and the owner of the hostel who explained that the young women wanted me to go to the cinema? “What?” i think i mumbled. In broken english she kept saying the words: cinema, 800 baht (a steep price for the cinema!), woman, supermarket (“What?” i mumbled again), movie. She also kep saying “Farang, they want farang”. Farang means foreigner in thai. It can be a derogatory term, a neutral one or quite a positive term. Why on earth do they want foreigners to go see thai movies i thought to myself. Then she tried to explain the supermarket bit again, “You go in, look, buy, movie, you go!”. “What?” i think i asked yet again.

Confusion. So i made a hasty exit and me, Hannah and Zoe who i’ve been travelling around with for a few weeks went to get some drinks.

Just as i was telling them about the experience the lady pops up again, so Hannah being Hannah asks them what on earth they are talking about and then gets one of the bar owners to translate.

Turns out they didn’t want us to watch a movie, but rather needed two goodlooking westerners (flattery will get someone anywhere with me)to star (well, appear…) in the film! “What?” She went back to check. They wanted me and her to be extras in a scene of a thai movie they were shooting. It all seemed very legit and there was two of us and the women we got in the taxi with were both small (I sized them up in case it came to fisticuffs!). Later on we arrived in a carpark with a security guard and supermarket but noticeably lacking cameras, make-up, the frantic scurrying to and fro of engineers, lighting technicians and all those other workers necessary for a movie. This was no such hub of activity but Toptap (Ting Tong anyone?) and Lin both bought us lots of food and drink and asked us to wait. So we did.

And hour later what was a quite car park suddenly became abuzz with vans, lights, microphones, cameras, and people hurrying back and forth setting up the scene we would be in.

Very surreal.

I was wearing clothes that were too trendy and which showed up the male star (or thats what i like to think) so i was taken to wardrobe and placed in board shorts and a california t-shirt to make it look like i was a farang in Phuket (where the scene was meant to be based).

The white shirt didn’t look good on set so it had to be changed to a blue (“I can’t work like this!” i think i screamed, “where is my bowl of M and M’s………i said pick out the orange ones you inept plebian!”).

Then the director came over to us and gave us a rundown of the movie and what we were required to do. Let me set the scene. We were asked to sit in the supermarket window at a small ledge drinking beer and coke, chatting, laughing and exaggerating our hand gestures. I didn’t just act, i became my character, plunging myself head-first into my debut movie role. I flung my head back into deep guffaws and hearty chuckles, i waved my arms every which way in wide circles of emotion and expression, and then i slurped greedily from my beer, emitting an audible “Ahhhhhh” when i put it down and wiped my mouth with my sleeve, shaking the supermarket produce on the shelves as i belched. Ian McKellen eat your heart out!

Basically there were three people in the scene, the main star, me and Hannah. I tried to give Alan Da (not sure how to spell his name) some acting tips as i was once the High Priest in Jesus Christ Superstar at junior school but i don’t think he was listening.

Between you and me, Hannah was a bit wooden, but bless her, she is not a veteran performer like me.

After a couple of takes we called it a rap and were taken by chauffer driven limo (taxi) back to our hostel where we received the princely sum of 800 baht for our services. Thats about a days money so i was highly pleased with myself.

The movie is released in cinemas (and even in some western cinemas apparently) in late December so keep your eyes peeled. Am not sure if i will be on the movie poster just yet, my people have to speak to theirs.

For my next movie i want to star in a thriller/biography of Mel B’s life (from the spice girls), but i will only do it if Steve (Spielberg to the common folk) is involved.

I had to have a full post on this. Jenn from Canada who i met in Oz left me a message on my last post with a gloriously ridiculous, racist and innaccurate headline from the Australian media (that bastion of good journalism – the international sections of their newspapers? Pathetic!)

Headline: “Terror’s new ‘white recruits.’

Oh right, terror is the preserve of the non-white races is it? Whoever wrote this headline should get try internalising some basic knowledge of history. Russian 19th century terrorists, French revolutionary terror, where the term and concept were originally conceived (supposedly), U.S state terror (terror is not the preserve of non-state actors), Ku Klux Klan, Irish terrorism of both republican and loyalist varieties, Basque terrorism et cetera, et cetera. The author would do well to take just a cursory glance at historical realities. He/she may learn something.

I could go on about the number of false assumptions in the headline but this is a travel blog, i will say one thing, the headline assumes terror is a unitary force, that terror is the same issue throughout the globe, supported by the same underlining factors and issues. A similar concept of terror was put forward by Haim Ramon, the Israeli Justice Minister when he stated that “Everyone understands that a victory for Hezbollah is a victory for world terror”. This is simply not true, how is a victory for Hezbollah a victory for ‘terrorists’ in say the Phillipines, or for ‘terrorists’ in Thailand or South America. Roger Cohen agrees in an article in the International Herald Tribune but alas its not available on the web.

Anyway, enough of that, i had to to comment on it, after all that was part of my masters course.

Jenn, thanks for reinforcing a somewhat derogatory view of much of the Australian news media.

What is it with Malaysian drivers? It seems to be a national pastime out here to see how close one can get to the car in front and then on a blind corner (and only then) to try and overtake. For miles of straight road on my three bus journeys from Taman Negara to the Perhentian Islands we would sit right up the arse of some lorry, the moment we approached a bend the driver would make the highly rational decision to pull out in tyhe face of oncoming vehicles. A relaxing seven hour journey!

From there i hopped onto yet another form of transportation, this time a boat. Instead of the large boat i was supposed to get some of our group were herded onto a small speedboat and set off at high speed to my next stop; nervous at how high we were speeding over the waves and being gradually drenched by the resulting sea spray, but this troubled us not as we spotted our destination and saw the beauty.

The Perhentian are two islands off the East coast of Malaysia. Paradise is a term used too liberally nowadays but i can say with no hesitation that it is an apt description of the place i found myself in. (A quick thanks to Chris and Emma for recommending the place). Approaching the islands on the boat the water soon became incredibly clear. Usually on a speedboat the water appears to have an opaque film on its surface, but this water was so clean and unpolluted that it was possible to see the coral and seabed below, sort of like x-ray vision. It was amazing! I’ve never seen seawater like it.

Stayed on Long Beach on the smaller island which is the younger, less family orientated of the two. First impressions were very favourable. The beach is a slight curve between two headlands covered in palm tress and large granite boulders above which is more dense rainforest. The sand was golden white, the sea warm and sparkling. The smaller island is undeveloped. There are no high rises on the island, long beach is just a row of small huts, a few basic shops and some rustic wooden restaurants. The other main beach is even less spoilt. The island has no roads and so no cars or traffic. It was bliss.

Most of my days were spent on the beach with Mark and Jon (from Taman Negara), Brechia from Holland, Lisa from England and Andy from England. We snorkelled in the waters (saw barracudda, fish from Finding Nemo, coral and, unfortunately a shark! Only about a foot long but that was enough to send me into panic and back to shore) had sand fights on the beach, played cards (i am now a pro at Shithead, Cheat and some form of Poker), sunbathed and chilled. One of the days was the scene of the Beach Olympics 2006 which involved numerous events; sandcastle skyscraper (i won!), breath-holding (Mark one) and the highly contentious water running (scandalous – repeat of the 1986 fiasco). Mark won gold, i won silver (i know – shocking considering my athletic abilities) and Jon won bronze.

In the evening we went for meals at various restaurants all serving barbecued fish, caught fresh that day and then later headed to the only bar where we drank, met even more people and danced the night away to bad pop music.

Total and utter contentment.

We did make it one evening to Coral Bay on the other side of the island. Bit of a trek through the forest but me, Mark and Jon thought we could handle it (Torch? Forget it! Shoes? Flip-flops are fine! Bug repellant? For wimps!). Lisa and Claudin decided to tag along and after a farcical dinner in which we had to ask 6 times for some roti channai, where three people ordered different fish and all got the same and it lasted nearly 4 hours we began the journey home…in the dark. Thank god the girls came with provisions. Apparently they only came to see my reaction to the walk home. I didn’t think i was that bad. I only screamed a few times when i thought a monkey was behind me and when i mistook fireflies for the eyes of large feline prey crounching in the bushes. Enough of that though.

The Perhentians mark my four month mark! It’s gone so fast.

Favourite food of the moment:

Roti Chanai. Can be had for breakfast, lunch, a side order or just a snack. A bit like Naan bread but flaky and buttery. Totally addicated to this stuff. If you go to a good restaurant they cook the dough right in front of you on a sizzling, metal, flat wok. I know this is highly uninteresting but food is a big part of travelling!

Book i’ve just finished reading:

I love travelling but because of the tight budget you have to swap books or buy them second hand from book-stalls. I have never seen (and never want to see) so many Dan Brown novels! Or books by McNab, Forsyth (not Bruce), Cookson and Mills and Boon.

Luckily i managed to procur a Bill Bryson title i haven’t read – ‘A Walk in the Woods’ – during which he explains how he stumbled across an article in a local American paper explainig how the Tennessee state legislature was about to bring back the law banning the teaching of evolution in schools (which was only overturned in 1967!), which in his opinion (and mine) proves “conclusively that the danger for Tennesseans isn’t so much that they may be descended from apes as that they may be overtaken by them.” Here here! What a strange place the bible belt is.

My next stop in Malaysia was Jarentut where i would spend one night sorting out my trip to Taman Negara, the oldest rainforest in the world!

Jarentut is small, boring and uninteresting. No other reason to go there other than it is the last point one can resupply on essentials before heading to Taman Negara. Essentials being socks for leeches (to prevent them, not for them as such), uber-strength mozzie repellant, jungle boots (bah – decided my flip flops would be fine) et cetera.

Got a minibus to the boat departure point where we jumped into a small, traditional Malaysian long boat and set off on a three hour journey up a wide, brown river flanked on both sides by ever deepening jungle filled with monkeys, yaks, and numerous types of birds.
A number of boat wrecks littered the banks, which i tried my hardest to ignore…

Felt rather like i was in Apocalypse Now.

Stayed in a small hut in the middle of a tiny village perched on the banks of the river, with the national park on the other side. Met three english guys (Mark, John and Andy) and we all spent most nights playing cards due to the exhorbitant cost of alcohol (as a result of prudish Malaysian taxes and the cost of transport to this remote village) and the lack of any bars.

Could only afford two activities in the park. The first was a trip to an Orang Asli (one of the indigenous tribes of Malaysia) village. Small, dirty and spartan, the camp consisted of a half dozen bamboo huts with fern leaf roofs covered in blue plastic sheets (slightly tarnished the feel of authenticity). They were raised a foot or so off the ground and were no bigger than two metres square and…well thats it.

In one corner sat a group of women making useful implemets like combs out of bamboo and tending to the youngest children. Apparently the men only go hunting, the reason being they argue they do not have the patience for domestic chores. Amazing how one will accept almost anything if a back handed compliment is offered. So the men generally sat on the bare ground of the camp smoking and idley passing the time. The children provided most of the movement, noise and spectacle, laughing and giggling, jumping and playing (with nothing to amuse themselves except each other and their imaginations). They have nothing material, but that does not matter. We could learn alot!

I felt very intrusive. Our guide, who called himself the Dragon (i have no idea…) told us to explore the camp so we tentatively strolled around, looking mainly at the floor through fear of being disrespectful.

Unfortunately rubbish was strewn all over the floor of the houses. Crisp packets, coca cola bottles, plastic bags et cetera. Testament i think to the arrangement the tribe has to the national park and state authorities which is supposed to be beneficial to both (the park does not want to constantly keep finding the tribe moving on and therefore losing a source of tourist revenue) but appeared to erode the lifestyle of the Orang Asli somewhat, not least by ‘inhibiting’ their nomadic lifestlye.

One of the tribesmen demonstrated to us how they make fire. I had a go as no one else would but with no luck and to much amusement from the onlooking men. They also showed us their hunting weapons, a blow pipe and poison darts, how these are made and then each of us had a go at hitting a target. Was surprisingly good. Didn’t hit it of course, but at last i managed to hit the surrounding area rather than a child.

Afterwards, the Dragon urged us to take alook in their houses. Too much for me. If i felt intrusive before i found this offer downright rude; we were not in a fake, living museum where we could peruse and pry at will. This was a village, people’s homes, and lifestyle. It’s one thing to be invited to see how they hunt, another to walk into their houses and start inspecting their beds! Very uncomfortable.

It was illuminating to see the tribe and village, how authentic it was i do not know.

Next day woke up early to enter the National park and go on a jungle trek. The Dragon lectured me strongly on my choice of fashion and footwear. Jeans, a studded belt and flip-flops just don’t cut it like a safari outfit and a sturdy pair of trekking boots. I could see his point, i didn’t exactly look like Livingstone but I dismissed his concerns like an annoying fly. “How hard can it be?!” i smugly asked the person next to me.

The intial hour and half were fine. Dragon led us deeper into the forest, stopping at times to explain some interesting plant or tree, or informing us of the history of this forest. 130 million years old! Felt very exotic. Tunnels made of dense foliage, 3000 year old giant trees draped with ancient vines, towering palms and the constant hum and commotion of thousands upon thousands of insects and birds. At night the noise can be deafening.

We arrived in a clearing for the canopy walk. I did one of these in SW Australia, but this was different. Not only was it measurably higher (over 40 metres high) but also provided an added experience: fearing for ones life. Strap a few rotting, broken planks of wood together, throw some creaking, mouldy rope and moth eaten chicken rope mesh which in places had split and then been knotted back together rather haphazardly and you have one very wobbly and unstable attraction. But an attraction nonetheless. Stunning views of the upper canopy which stretched even higher in places and when i could see the jungle floor (which, due to the rainforest density weas not much) it was enough to induce wild panic, especially when it was through the holes in the planks of wood. suffice it to say, i crawled along and held the whole 2 hour queue up.

After this we undertook some savage ranforest/mountain trekking up steep hills consisting of stepped tree roots, muddy paths through dense thickets and rocky passes until eventually we arrived at the lookout onto the surrounding misty hills and mountains. My companions were gracious enough not to mention my fashion choices once we had returned to base camp, sweaty, muddy and exhausted. That night i gorged myself on a meal in one of the floating restaurants on the river.

Despised bug of the week: Bed Bugs!!!
Woke up early the morning i was heading to Taman Negara (TN). Felt slightly itchy. Looked down to see my bed covered in the tiny (and some not so tiny!) critters. Absolutely disgusting. They bite in a row and i was literally covered in them. I counted a hundred on each arm, many more on my legs and my back looked like red paint had been splattted over it. I had become an overnight bed-bug cafe! Really dispiriting. They itch far more than mozzie bites and last longer as well. They are a constant, irrepresible nuisance that cannot be satisfied. Itching them merely inflames the problem. Lowest point of my trip so far (which has been generally free from low points). Still they are transient and so was this low point.

Despised hostel of the week: Hotel Sri Emas.
Scene of the crime!

From Kuala Lumpur i headed to Penang which is an island off the West coast of Malaysia. Arrived in Georgetown, didn’t like it, so decided i would stay in a place called Batu Ferringhi as in the Lonely Planet it suggested it was a small, quaint fishing village. Not what i expected so, with uncharacteristic ants in my pants i hopped back on the bus (a local one which threatened to fall apart whenever the accelerator peddle was pressed) to Georgetown and decided the next day i would travel to the Cameron Highlands to escape the oppressive heat.

The rest of this post can be found at the following page – eight wonders of the world?