We are now travelling at the speed of light and having loitered for months and slurped machiato capos for hours we now don't have time to lose. There is the rest of the world to see in 6 weeks...now money is no object and we book flights like a deranged Howard Hughes! The next leg of our journey takes us to Hanoi via Manila and Kuala Lumpur with one night at the posh stop airport hotel KL - The Pan Pacific hotel and resort. Lush, deep pile carpets usher you to delicious food outlets desirous of your complete satisfaction...and they have our undivided attention.
Next morning to Hanoi, we arrive late in the evening minus one visa that didn't arrive on the web. Fantastic levels of beaurocracy not witnessed for a while ending with a large bung to a spotty official to secure Fo's visa...great fun and bunging officialdom in frightening green army uniforms in the full glare of security cameras...a real treat!
Our first alloted hotel, whilst charming turns out to be cut with infestations of bed bugs and also the things three up in the food chain that eat the things that eat the things that eat bed bugs. They are big, red, like aphids and impossible to crush
so we move to another hotel after Fo has given the VERY young manager a total ear lashing.
Hanoi is full of charm, oozes character from every shop to street vendor but they don't overly bother you. I don't know what I expected but the million smiling faces atop a million (4 actually) scooters zipping along streets and across junctions with no rational order is just exciting in itself. The Old town of Hanoi is where it all happens and food is eaten all day, everywhere and out of everything that holds noodles in liquid, down to a plastic bag if you are on the scooter, farming a mobile call, talking to the next person with a 10 foot high stack on the back with the rest of the family! There is not an angry face and no disputes in the scooter circus, a slight misunderstanding is cause for a smile and a swerve, not a whiff of road rage.
It is difficult not to fall in love with the town and the people. They have endured a lot in their recent history (not least of all having the French all over them like a rash telling them how to run their country - tres amusant) but all this is forgotten by the incredibly young population who are part of the massive post war baby boom encouraged by the all knowing ones to up the population. And so they have. Up from 50 million or so after WWII to 90 million now...OMG!
Day trips: Earth dwellers are randomly picked by some heavenly force and thrown together in the back of a mini-bus early in the morning, blearily acknowledging that somehow fate has brought them together....and it must be for a purpose. The magnanimous company of the beautiful Swathee and her multi-talented husband Shyam was made even more exciting and fascinating by Barcelona's jewelry design guru and general whirlwind, the fabulous Isabel.
We set off for Nihn Binh and eventually the temples in Hu Lua, the old capital of Vietnam before it was transferred in 1010 to its present spot. From here Mark, Swathee, Shyam and the guide trundled off on inadequate bikes (no brakes), lifted from their owners 10 seconds earlier and set off through the gorges in the midday sun whilst the cool gang tootled off in the mini-bus, the disparate groups rendezvousing in Tam Coc later. A memory from Tam Coc will stick in the mind for a good while. Being rowed through the mistyly mysterious limestone gorge of Tam Coc by the friendliest couple from a riverside stilt house, without falter, and then swapping national songs in a chorus heard right through the gorgeous gorge was a wonderful experience, even if I did subject them to a wobbly version of Streets of London (remember Bayreuth 1973 older chums?). We exchanged photographs of children and they rowed us overweight Europeans 8kms through the vast gorge and sold us hand woven and embroidered linen for sale from a freezer box on board the floating half melon. A wonderful moment was shared between the four of us, and friends and family will be able to share this moment through their Christmas gifts made by the couple's own fair hands.
Worlds, both earthly and celestial were put to rights and an appreciation of each others company extended to Van Minhs Jazz Club later in the evening where cocktails and dinner were consumed with fun and verve, to the accompliment of fine sax tones.
Halong bay is to the north of Hanoi and a good three hours by mini bus. Large limestone columns thrust to the heavens from the bay and there are many of them covering 200km2. We have tree days and two nights (on a junk in the bay followed by a hotel on Cat Ba island} and our shipmates turn out to be an incredible group consisting of:
Grupo Australiano - Neha, Sejal, Shefali (3 sisters) and Lizzie (sister incluido)
Grupo Malaysiano - three sisters and a daughter to one of the ladies
Grupo Croatiano - Senad (olive oil wrestler), Isa, Helena and Mum (unpronouncable name)
Grupo Ingles - Mark and Fo
Guide - very randy (girl in every junk) - Ho An
'One big happy family' was Ho An's adage although I think this referred mainly to his desire for concubines from wherever they may fall from the heavens. The scenery was heavenly although my image of a small fleet of junks pootling around the dramatic scene turned out to be the biggest flotilla to gather in a small bay since the D-Day landings. It was also misty which added to the mystique of the area. Kayaking, swimming and cycling around Cat Ba island with a trip to a typical Vietnamese village felt as carefree as Swallows and Amazons but the highlight of the trip was sitting with a tea in the old village whilst Ho An gave us a brief history and personal diatribe on Vietnam, past and present...all tinged with such a sense of humour that it was charming in the extreme, where tragedy was humour and struggle honourable. A sense of pride in the struggle (against allcomers) is probably the best way to describe it.
Well after this trip we found ourselves marvellously entangled with Grupo Croat and Grupo Aus. Two more trips to the Jazz club and then a trip to Hoi An where we spent a great few days with the gorgeous Neha, Sejal, Shefali and Lizzie. Hoi An is the centre of all things tailored; suits, shirts, silk dresses all hand made in 24 hours or less. A World heritage site, due to the stunning old quarter, which actually was under about two feet of water until the day before we left. The rains were interminable but the fun incessant. A great spot to stay and chill, charming people with infinite patience in the face of ludicrous deadlines...
Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC) bought us together again with the Grupo Aus and we had a really stupendous last day of wanton pleasures (food and the finest wines available to man) in the New World Hotel, Executive Suite, which will never quite be the same quiet refuge that it previously was.
We finally say goodbye and leave HCMC for Siem Reap and Angkor Wat. Vietnam is a fabulous country and peoples...it is sad to leave with so much still to be revealed by the Viet people
Sunday 28 October 2007
Monday 22 October 2007
Manila and the Palau Archipeligo
Air Asia is the Ryan Air of the East and the youth culture airline. It seems to be primarily for transporting labour between the phillipines and other countries in the region. There is a real party atmosphere as people are travelling home after long periods of work in Kota Kinabalu. We arrive in Clark Airbase which is still used as a military base and runs a few airline charters through it. There area around is littered with the remains of the American part of the airbase, hundreds of bunkers and camoflagued underground stores are strewn around, but no Americans.
We pass one of the many volcanos that dominate the skyline along a smart highway south to Metro Manila. Manila was quite a small town and then ballooned after WWII as people arrived on the promise of wealth and glitter in the metropolis, engulfing many of the surrounding towns like Quezon City to form the Metro Manila. It is clogged with traffic, confusing concrete structures meet in multilevelled transport hell and at night it is 'Bladerunner' city. The bus terminal has a gaggle of taxi drivers who loiter waiting for the gravy train, and we are it! the taxi is f*£%ed but the fellow is charming and well, he can't afford a merc with a back axle.
We are slumming it in the Hyatt Hotel and Casino which is surprisingly cheap and a very welcome sight in this traffic and vendor swill! Unfortunately our plane for Palau doesn't leave until Wednesday and Manila's sights are out there waiting to surprise and astound us.
Intramuros really turns out to be interesting. The old centre of the capital, Spanish of course, a great fort, an old prison, a visitor centre and a strange mercury like river running past the forts battlements. There were a few seminal moments in Manilas history and now it stands as a constantly teetering democracy. It is incredible that a country so near to Malaysia, Japan and other countries that show a propensity to honesty in the highest ranks (relative of course) is so steeped in corruption. It runs rampant through every level where the currency is hard cash, dollars. Payoffs, bribes, handouts so that consequently you never get anything at face value. If you spend $10 on a window, the money that reaches the budget for the window is $2.20 after you have 'dashed' the principles and the middlemen that make, sell, market or deliver the window not forgeting the officials that sanction it! Incredible. So a small elite group pocket millions while the average person in the street sees none of the benefits that should be heaped onto them from development...its mindboggling!! But despite all this the people are resigned to their world and are cheerful through it all...i think i would have shot up at least five Mcdonalds outlets in frustration by this stage.
Continental airlines take us to Palau. The security in the airport is multilayered, even down to checking my lucky stone and the crack in my flip flop. We leave at 11 and arrive to an island welcome at 1.30am. It was dark so we couldn't see the famous island chain shots and had to settle for a tropical rain storm arrival at Koror, the capital.
Whisked to the Waterfront Villas by our 'Betel nut' chewing chauffeur, a welcome bed and our first meeting with our host and personal safety executive, Arnold. He and his lovely Palau-en wife, Jamie, run the hotel which is on the south east of the island with a picture book view and a wealth of fascination in its pivotal position to the lives of many people who make it their home here, be it a holiday or a years working on the island.
Palau is a soup of fascinating people thrown together in a large broth of intrigue which is the local politics, people, extranejos who work here, visitors and people who came and never left. Everyone has a story and most of them would do justice to a W.S. Maughan short story collection which a slither of Hemingway. There are too many stories to tell and too many fascinating people who we are lucky enough to spend a little time with.
Needless to say that the main attraction, the outrageous scenery and totally breathtaking diving live up to the bang they are given in the marketing tosh. Each Island is a piece of sea floor lifted up to the surface of the sea and then sprinkled with vegetation. The sides of the islands are generally shear with small occasional inlets with tiny beaches where you really have to have a picnic for 10 years and grow a beard! We venture out each day in the dive boat, dive another incomparable dive site, loll in awe at the scenery on the way home and pinch yourself that you are in the film.
Downtown Koror is fascinating and gives up few secrets until you visit the museum or get to talk to some of the locals one the dive boats or when they give you a guide of the island. Even then the underlying fabric of the island and the people who populate it is never really exposed. There is a recent history of population and inter island fighting at the private museum which is a great feature, the variety of the peoples looks is amazing within such close proximity. There was terrible battles here during WWII as well and hideous losses on the American and Japanese sides. Both cultures leave their marks here in different ways.
A mixture of the fascinating, the macabre, the tragic, coupled with the undeniably unique scenery makes Palau a great spot for a dive in to the unknown...now back to the known in Manila and our shrine to Western Fascism...the Hyatt Casino and hotel...ciao Palau
We pass one of the many volcanos that dominate the skyline along a smart highway south to Metro Manila. Manila was quite a small town and then ballooned after WWII as people arrived on the promise of wealth and glitter in the metropolis, engulfing many of the surrounding towns like Quezon City to form the Metro Manila. It is clogged with traffic, confusing concrete structures meet in multilevelled transport hell and at night it is 'Bladerunner' city. The bus terminal has a gaggle of taxi drivers who loiter waiting for the gravy train, and we are it! the taxi is f*£%ed but the fellow is charming and well, he can't afford a merc with a back axle.
We are slumming it in the Hyatt Hotel and Casino which is surprisingly cheap and a very welcome sight in this traffic and vendor swill! Unfortunately our plane for Palau doesn't leave until Wednesday and Manila's sights are out there waiting to surprise and astound us.
Intramuros really turns out to be interesting. The old centre of the capital, Spanish of course, a great fort, an old prison, a visitor centre and a strange mercury like river running past the forts battlements. There were a few seminal moments in Manilas history and now it stands as a constantly teetering democracy. It is incredible that a country so near to Malaysia, Japan and other countries that show a propensity to honesty in the highest ranks (relative of course) is so steeped in corruption. It runs rampant through every level where the currency is hard cash, dollars. Payoffs, bribes, handouts so that consequently you never get anything at face value. If you spend $10 on a window, the money that reaches the budget for the window is $2.20 after you have 'dashed' the principles and the middlemen that make, sell, market or deliver the window not forgeting the officials that sanction it! Incredible. So a small elite group pocket millions while the average person in the street sees none of the benefits that should be heaped onto them from development...its mindboggling!! But despite all this the people are resigned to their world and are cheerful through it all...i think i would have shot up at least five Mcdonalds outlets in frustration by this stage.
Continental airlines take us to Palau. The security in the airport is multilayered, even down to checking my lucky stone and the crack in my flip flop. We leave at 11 and arrive to an island welcome at 1.30am. It was dark so we couldn't see the famous island chain shots and had to settle for a tropical rain storm arrival at Koror, the capital.
Whisked to the Waterfront Villas by our 'Betel nut' chewing chauffeur, a welcome bed and our first meeting with our host and personal safety executive, Arnold. He and his lovely Palau-en wife, Jamie, run the hotel which is on the south east of the island with a picture book view and a wealth of fascination in its pivotal position to the lives of many people who make it their home here, be it a holiday or a years working on the island.
Palau is a soup of fascinating people thrown together in a large broth of intrigue which is the local politics, people, extranejos who work here, visitors and people who came and never left. Everyone has a story and most of them would do justice to a W.S. Maughan short story collection which a slither of Hemingway. There are too many stories to tell and too many fascinating people who we are lucky enough to spend a little time with.
Needless to say that the main attraction, the outrageous scenery and totally breathtaking diving live up to the bang they are given in the marketing tosh. Each Island is a piece of sea floor lifted up to the surface of the sea and then sprinkled with vegetation. The sides of the islands are generally shear with small occasional inlets with tiny beaches where you really have to have a picnic for 10 years and grow a beard! We venture out each day in the dive boat, dive another incomparable dive site, loll in awe at the scenery on the way home and pinch yourself that you are in the film.
Downtown Koror is fascinating and gives up few secrets until you visit the museum or get to talk to some of the locals one the dive boats or when they give you a guide of the island. Even then the underlying fabric of the island and the people who populate it is never really exposed. There is a recent history of population and inter island fighting at the private museum which is a great feature, the variety of the peoples looks is amazing within such close proximity. There was terrible battles here during WWII as well and hideous losses on the American and Japanese sides. Both cultures leave their marks here in different ways.
A mixture of the fascinating, the macabre, the tragic, coupled with the undeniably unique scenery makes Palau a great spot for a dive in to the unknown...now back to the known in Manila and our shrine to Western Fascism...the Hyatt Casino and hotel...ciao Palau
Friday 12 October 2007
Sabah: Sipidan and the Paradise Isles
Groundhog day, only this time we are going to Tawau on the way to Palau Sipadan, the centre of diving in the known world and of Malaysia. The plane is full of business types wending their merry way to Tawau, a port on the south east side of Sabah for trading and crossing over to the Indonesian province of Kalimantan or onwards to the Phillipines via Zamboanga. The bumpy road trip from Tawau to Semporna passes through acre upon acre of Palm oil plantations and scattered villages. Palm oil is the main business in these parts, harvesting and processing is a gruelling job in tropical heat for little money, except for the plantation companies etc
Wooden shacks and shops on stilts line the lively waterfront of Semporna and we boarded our speedy transport across the Celebes sea (a certain W. Dampier has sailed here before) to the cluster of small dive islands 36km off shore. Our paradise castaway island for the week was Mabul where we stayed on the everso smart SMART resort, populated and staffed with an eclectic mixture of Malaysian, Philippine, Indonesian, Japanese and European folk. There was enough food on continuous loop to supply the Russian army and a few seemingly recent conscripts of the same consuming as much of it as possible along with their erm, nubile female companions!
The island is run like a very slick thing and the diving is in waves all day so there is no let up for the fish and turtles. Boat after boat leaves the dock until the late afternoon and night dives are also available if you haven't had enough by then. The sun sinks over the island and the heat rises momentarily before settling back down to very hot. There is the Mabul Sipidan resort that we are on and just across the island is the Water Bungalows which is very posh and involves some diving, a lot of massage, honey treatments and lying on ergo chairs looking out to sea from your private balcony. The resort on Sipidan itself was closed down in 2003 to try and effect some rest for the island. It is now populated by probably the luckiest army in the world that keeps an eye out for illegal fishermen, dive boats and other types...in between a little diving themelves and lolling on pristine beaches in full fatigues! Although it has many dive sites it is much smaller than a lot of the islands and a lot of people visit these sites from above and below the water. All the people involved in the diving are the 'Big smile brigade' and clearly enjoy their role of toru guides and boat marshallers in this azure paradise. They are all very potective of this jewel they have and proud of the area and of the traditions that have seen people living and harvesting from the long boats in the Sulu and Celebes Sea for generations past and hopefully into the future. There are fishing boats around and you see them stalking the horizon but this is true of all fishing grounds everywhere.
It takes all sorts to enjoy and appreciate the wonders of the deep blue sea and one of the great things about visiting the splendid dive spots in the world is the weird and wonderful flora and fauna you encounter– and that includes homo sapien! You can always rely on sharing a tiger shark experience or manta sighting with nervous novices, excitable risk-takers, irascible mid Europeans and the folk with all the gadgets. At supper after 3 dives a day you can find yourself sitting next to the dive geek whose topic of conversation concerns how many bar was left in his tank after his Noxis ran out, or a heated debate on present euro politics, football, obesity, or how many of the world class sites you have dived from the Cousteau top ten. Whatever the discussion, nationality, politics or wealth you can only wonder at the sight of a zillion colours and sizes of fish lazily dancing in the azure shimmer of the reef and experience the wonderful curtain of calm and tranquillity as you float and ripple among them.
We see many sharks and there is an over abundance of turtles but this is a small island and there are many turtle hatcheries.
The great shoals of reef fish seem to have disappeared but this is also seasonal so it may be just that. Still the diving is very special along with the resort and the island people.
We leave Sipidan and make our way back via a smart hotel and another flight to Kota Kinabalu. The band doesn't come out to the airport for a second time and there is no Rolls again. It is nice to be home in the Jesselton and we have a grand night with Ivor, a local fellow, who takes us for dinner, to the fish market and the Phillipino night market which is ablaze with colour in fish, vegetable, spice and a thousand other stalls and small hawkers stations cooking the food fresh on barbies. Kota Kinabalu and Bahia is a treasure and one could get lost here and enjoy every moment but Manila calls, with a very throaty cough!
Wooden shacks and shops on stilts line the lively waterfront of Semporna and we boarded our speedy transport across the Celebes sea (a certain W. Dampier has sailed here before) to the cluster of small dive islands 36km off shore. Our paradise castaway island for the week was Mabul where we stayed on the everso smart SMART resort, populated and staffed with an eclectic mixture of Malaysian, Philippine, Indonesian, Japanese and European folk. There was enough food on continuous loop to supply the Russian army and a few seemingly recent conscripts of the same consuming as much of it as possible along with their erm, nubile female companions!
The island is run like a very slick thing and the diving is in waves all day so there is no let up for the fish and turtles. Boat after boat leaves the dock until the late afternoon and night dives are also available if you haven't had enough by then. The sun sinks over the island and the heat rises momentarily before settling back down to very hot. There is the Mabul Sipidan resort that we are on and just across the island is the Water Bungalows which is very posh and involves some diving, a lot of massage, honey treatments and lying on ergo chairs looking out to sea from your private balcony. The resort on Sipidan itself was closed down in 2003 to try and effect some rest for the island. It is now populated by probably the luckiest army in the world that keeps an eye out for illegal fishermen, dive boats and other types...in between a little diving themelves and lolling on pristine beaches in full fatigues! Although it has many dive sites it is much smaller than a lot of the islands and a lot of people visit these sites from above and below the water. All the people involved in the diving are the 'Big smile brigade' and clearly enjoy their role of toru guides and boat marshallers in this azure paradise. They are all very potective of this jewel they have and proud of the area and of the traditions that have seen people living and harvesting from the long boats in the Sulu and Celebes Sea for generations past and hopefully into the future. There are fishing boats around and you see them stalking the horizon but this is true of all fishing grounds everywhere.
It takes all sorts to enjoy and appreciate the wonders of the deep blue sea and one of the great things about visiting the splendid dive spots in the world is the weird and wonderful flora and fauna you encounter– and that includes homo sapien! You can always rely on sharing a tiger shark experience or manta sighting with nervous novices, excitable risk-takers, irascible mid Europeans and the folk with all the gadgets. At supper after 3 dives a day you can find yourself sitting next to the dive geek whose topic of conversation concerns how many bar was left in his tank after his Noxis ran out, or a heated debate on present euro politics, football, obesity, or how many of the world class sites you have dived from the Cousteau top ten. Whatever the discussion, nationality, politics or wealth you can only wonder at the sight of a zillion colours and sizes of fish lazily dancing in the azure shimmer of the reef and experience the wonderful curtain of calm and tranquillity as you float and ripple among them.
We see many sharks and there is an over abundance of turtles but this is a small island and there are many turtle hatcheries.
The great shoals of reef fish seem to have disappeared but this is also seasonal so it may be just that. Still the diving is very special along with the resort and the island people.
We leave Sipidan and make our way back via a smart hotel and another flight to Kota Kinabalu. The band doesn't come out to the airport for a second time and there is no Rolls again. It is nice to be home in the Jesselton and we have a grand night with Ivor, a local fellow, who takes us for dinner, to the fish market and the Phillipino night market which is ablaze with colour in fish, vegetable, spice and a thousand other stalls and small hawkers stations cooking the food fresh on barbies. Kota Kinabalu and Bahia is a treasure and one could get lost here and enjoy every moment but Manila calls, with a very throaty cough!
Tuesday 2 October 2007
Sabah: Kota Kinabalu, Sandakan and Sepilok
There is an amazing number of people flying to Kota Kinabalu (KK) and we are aboard a 737 with a feast of nations. This is one of three flights a day so KK is seemingly the hub and true centre of activity for Sabah. Malaysian Air Services (MAS) are also upgrading all the flight schedules and taking over from all the regional networks to provide aa slicker and more regular service. Sabah is the Eastern portion of Malaysian Borneo and i guess we can thank our lucky's that Malaysia has a portion of Borneo which they may look after with more zest than the 'Logging loonies' of Indonesian Borneo who are whittling the once great forests of IB down faster than you can say 'Suharto'.
At KK we arrive and immediately ring the 'Jesselton Hotel' to find out why the band isn't playing on our arrival and the 'Rolls' isn't here to meet us:
http://www.jesseltonhotel.com/
worth a quick perusal of the website...smacks of colonialism.
We get a taxi and the band must have given up at the hotel as well so we have an unheralded welcome and we are alloted room 203. Later in the stay it turns out the place is cut with history. For a start KK was originally called Jesselton, further reading:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kota_Kinabalu
The Jesselton Hotel was then founded in 1954 and was the only hotel in town...until now that is. Famous people to have graced the Hotel (although perhaps not Room 203) include; Lady Mountbatten, Prince Phillip, Muhammed Ali and Fiona Dampier (room 203 has now been renamed 'The Damp Suite'). It is a great establishment and there is a waiter by the name of 'Chai yu Sin' who has worked here since 1960 and is completely charming...along with a waitress by the name of 'Trai nee' but we call her Vera!
KK is a fantastic border town. 300k people now but growing to 500k in the next 4 years or so and the gateway to Sabah.
We check in for the flight to Sandakan in the north of Sabah and the link town to Sepilok, our destination, and the most famous of the 'Orang Utan' rehabilitation centres. The forest is being cut down so fast the O-U have no time to react and are slaughtered or taken as pets. Our destination first is the 'Gomantong Caves', the bird spit production centre of the world, the source of a fair proportion of the birds nests eaten in the east. We go with our guide Maria to the park and happen upon a wild Orang Utan at the entrance. He lolls around in the tree above us shaking it periodically in a show of defiance. He is a large male and when he hangs you can see that his arms are incredibly long, typically twice as long as the body. They are also twice as strong as humans by body weight and so dextrous for a large mammal up a tree, thinking back to the tree climbing adventures of the formative years!
We move onto the Gomantong caves and enter them through some pristine jungle. the caves are enormous and the roof is a good 75-100m above us. The men use bamboo ladders to climb to the roof to harvest and it does look ridiculously precarious. This is the cave where David Attenborough climbed on the large pile of Guano whilst urine and poo rained down on him from above...it is just like that. Maria does a remake of this famous walk and it is soft and gooey under foot. The smell of urinary ammonia is ovewhelming and the mounds of poo are continuously moving due to the attention of dung beetles and a million cockroaches...your average nightmare on poo-street.
A memory forged on my brain forever.
The caves are dramatic and the sun pours in through the many entrances in the junglescape.
We leave the cave for the Sukau River Lodge we are staying in. It is up the tributory of the river and reminds you of 'Carry on up the Jungle' We check in to our cabin, complete with mossie nets and get some jungle tucker. Full of great food we set of in the river boat with our able boatmen in Man Utd shirts and Maria, our tireless guide. This area is famous for the Plebosus monkeys and we see many along with cheeky packs of monkeys who are clearly unafraid of our precense if not a little pleased to show off in front of us. The Plebosus monkeys tolerate us but make no effort to chat. In fact on of the large males sits in the tree like Cyrano de Bergerac with his tail hanging and his 'red Chilli' afront (Plebosus cod piece) in the words of Maria. There are jungle sounds all around and we get a great feeling for the forest, snakes, monitor lizards and all manner of cicadas.
A great dinner in the evening and some great people staying at the lodge...we all venture out for a night walk - with leech sock leggings - and again get a great feeling for the vibrancy of the forest and the animals which make it their realm, we celebrate with much vodka and beer...such brave young things.
In the morning we catch the jungle sunrise and set off for Sepilok..the Orang utan sanctuary. It was set up in part by Dian Fossey's boyfriend-of 'Gorillas in the mist' - (need to check this) and houses Orang Utans from just born to 4 years and older if they have difficulty being released into the wild, the ultimate aim of the project.
After a short AV show to explain the centre, we observe the OU's from a boardwalk some ten feet from their feeding platform. They are the most loveable animals and move in such a graceful, meaningful way along the ropewalks provided. Of course it does help if you have hands on your feet and a disproportionate body weight to strength ratio!
One of the females has a baby and behaves in such a human female way towards the 'child' it is a toal tear jerking moment of total requited love. We watch the OU's eating and fending off the other monkey tribes from the feeding platform and then we have to leave. It has been a moment to really savour and it is sad that the forests of both Borneos, the O-U's home, are being swallowed up at such a rate and a situation thats only going to accelerate.
If you want to read more about this and sepilok via a UK charity:
http://www.orangutan-appeal.org.uk/
We fly back to KK and it is encouraging that a lot of the flight is over cloud drenched virgin mountain forest which looks so stunning from the plane at 22000 feet.
Back to the Jesselton Hotel and Room 203, The Dampier Suite.
At KK we arrive and immediately ring the 'Jesselton Hotel' to find out why the band isn't playing on our arrival and the 'Rolls' isn't here to meet us:
http://www.jesseltonhotel.com/
worth a quick perusal of the website...smacks of colonialism.
We get a taxi and the band must have given up at the hotel as well so we have an unheralded welcome and we are alloted room 203. Later in the stay it turns out the place is cut with history. For a start KK was originally called Jesselton, further reading:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kota_Kinabalu
The Jesselton Hotel was then founded in 1954 and was the only hotel in town...until now that is. Famous people to have graced the Hotel (although perhaps not Room 203) include; Lady Mountbatten, Prince Phillip, Muhammed Ali and Fiona Dampier (room 203 has now been renamed 'The Damp Suite'). It is a great establishment and there is a waiter by the name of 'Chai yu Sin' who has worked here since 1960 and is completely charming...along with a waitress by the name of 'Trai nee' but we call her Vera!
KK is a fantastic border town. 300k people now but growing to 500k in the next 4 years or so and the gateway to Sabah.
We check in for the flight to Sandakan in the north of Sabah and the link town to Sepilok, our destination, and the most famous of the 'Orang Utan' rehabilitation centres. The forest is being cut down so fast the O-U have no time to react and are slaughtered or taken as pets. Our destination first is the 'Gomantong Caves', the bird spit production centre of the world, the source of a fair proportion of the birds nests eaten in the east. We go with our guide Maria to the park and happen upon a wild Orang Utan at the entrance. He lolls around in the tree above us shaking it periodically in a show of defiance. He is a large male and when he hangs you can see that his arms are incredibly long, typically twice as long as the body. They are also twice as strong as humans by body weight and so dextrous for a large mammal up a tree, thinking back to the tree climbing adventures of the formative years!
We move onto the Gomantong caves and enter them through some pristine jungle. the caves are enormous and the roof is a good 75-100m above us. The men use bamboo ladders to climb to the roof to harvest and it does look ridiculously precarious. This is the cave where David Attenborough climbed on the large pile of Guano whilst urine and poo rained down on him from above...it is just like that. Maria does a remake of this famous walk and it is soft and gooey under foot. The smell of urinary ammonia is ovewhelming and the mounds of poo are continuously moving due to the attention of dung beetles and a million cockroaches...your average nightmare on poo-street.
A memory forged on my brain forever.
The caves are dramatic and the sun pours in through the many entrances in the junglescape.
We leave the cave for the Sukau River Lodge we are staying in. It is up the tributory of the river and reminds you of 'Carry on up the Jungle' We check in to our cabin, complete with mossie nets and get some jungle tucker. Full of great food we set of in the river boat with our able boatmen in Man Utd shirts and Maria, our tireless guide. This area is famous for the Plebosus monkeys and we see many along with cheeky packs of monkeys who are clearly unafraid of our precense if not a little pleased to show off in front of us. The Plebosus monkeys tolerate us but make no effort to chat. In fact on of the large males sits in the tree like Cyrano de Bergerac with his tail hanging and his 'red Chilli' afront (Plebosus cod piece) in the words of Maria. There are jungle sounds all around and we get a great feeling for the forest, snakes, monitor lizards and all manner of cicadas.
A great dinner in the evening and some great people staying at the lodge...we all venture out for a night walk - with leech sock leggings - and again get a great feeling for the vibrancy of the forest and the animals which make it their realm, we celebrate with much vodka and beer...such brave young things.
In the morning we catch the jungle sunrise and set off for Sepilok..the Orang utan sanctuary. It was set up in part by Dian Fossey's boyfriend-of 'Gorillas in the mist' - (need to check this) and houses Orang Utans from just born to 4 years and older if they have difficulty being released into the wild, the ultimate aim of the project.
After a short AV show to explain the centre, we observe the OU's from a boardwalk some ten feet from their feeding platform. They are the most loveable animals and move in such a graceful, meaningful way along the ropewalks provided. Of course it does help if you have hands on your feet and a disproportionate body weight to strength ratio!
One of the females has a baby and behaves in such a human female way towards the 'child' it is a toal tear jerking moment of total requited love. We watch the OU's eating and fending off the other monkey tribes from the feeding platform and then we have to leave. It has been a moment to really savour and it is sad that the forests of both Borneos, the O-U's home, are being swallowed up at such a rate and a situation thats only going to accelerate.
If you want to read more about this and sepilok via a UK charity:
http://www.orangutan-appeal.org.uk/
We fly back to KK and it is encouraging that a lot of the flight is over cloud drenched virgin mountain forest which looks so stunning from the plane at 22000 feet.
Back to the Jesselton Hotel and Room 203, The Dampier Suite.
Malacca and Kuala Lumpur
It is sad to leave Matty and the gang but we have to move or the moss gathers! A short trip to Johor, the Malaysian border town, Passport control and we are in Malaysia. Its a 4 hour trip to Malacca. The land is generally forested although it has the scourge of the Palm Oil plantations that have hit this part of the world.
Vast plantations cover Malaysia and Indonesia to produce Bio-diesels and edible palm oil.
Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palm_oil#Environmental_and_cultural_impact
The journey is pleasant and there we travel through small towns on the way to Malacca. Itis evident that we are now in a muslim country as the precense of mosques has increased, thankyou James! We are due in Malacca at noon and the heat is overwhelming. we pass the new large city mosque which is only rivalled in size by the new Tescos built right next to the bus station.
We taxi to the Puri Hotel, a boutique style chinese establishment in the old quarter of Malacca, one street from Jonker street, the cultural and market centre of 'Old Malacca'. Just by the entrance to Jonker street, from the old bridge you can see the remains of the portuguese fort that once made up an enclosing wall which protected Malacca. This has all gone but the foundations of the fort remains and there are people 'panning' the silt under the fort in the river for old Portuguese and British currency. The Puri hotel has been renovated and is really comfortable with a cool central courtyard where the restaurant and bars are all found with service from the 'hoard of a thousand' smiling waiters (Indonesian).
Malacca was the thriving central port of the area until the Portuguese rocked up in 1511 and spoiled the party. The usual change of hands ensued: the Dutch in 1611, English in the 1780's and Malaysian Independence was declared, again in Malacca, in 1957 or so.
The town has a rich history of immigration from all areas of SE Asia, Javanese, Sudanese, Burmese, Sulus, Khmers, Thais etc but the chinese immigrants imposed themselves on the trade to Malacca. A lot of the houses on the hotels street and the parallel Jonker street are old Peranakan houses of wealthy 'Baba' (chinese immigrant) merchants and their wives, the Nyonya (the names of the Straits born descendants of the original Chinese immigrants). They are shoulder to shoulder with classic chinese shop houses and restaurants in the old quarter. As in Singapore a lot of destruction of the old quarter has taken place in the modernisation of the town. Despite that there are some marvellous examples of the old houses which are mostley shops and bars now. The Geographer bar is a great central meeting place on Jonker street doing delicious Lhaksa or pie and chips. They also have a veritable fayre of music for the delictation. He plays a Moog organ and various drum and beat boxes and knocks out 'Feelings', rcok classics and is periodically joined by a 'Sheila' who does a throaty Tina Turner impression while her husband undresses her with his eyes from the ringside table...whatever turns you on! In the bar opposite there is the Malysian Cat Stevens who does a remarkable 'Here coms the sun' and 'Wild World' allbeit with a 'comedy chinese' overvoice and the battle of the 'one man bands' ensues.
It is hotter in Malacca than it was in Singapore and it is difficlut to stay out in the midday sun without being drenched in sweat and anyway if you venture out the locals are all relaxing in the shade. Transport around the old town is in Malacca tuk-tuk which are decorated to the extreme with silk flowers and lights all washed along with a thumping bass box under each seat pumping out rock anthems. The owners congregate in the old town square waiting for rides. They are the equivalent of the Gondaliers of Venice, great at a quick town tour and a serenade, but pirates of the backtreets with fares in the Rm10 for a stealthy 100m.
We don't spend enough time here and miss a lot of the sites. a week would do it justice. Unfortunately we have a 'one pound', two hour busride to Kuala Lumpur (KL)and we mean to be on it.
The bus takes us to Central KL and we get an equally long taxi ride to KL airport which costs '20 pounds' and parks us at the Concorde Airport Hotel which must be a converted barracks. We leave for Kota Kinabalu, Sabah in the morning. We booked this on a whim but this is the great advantage of having no plan (serious for a virgo), you can book great places at the drop of. The plane fairs are very cheap as well although this does not ease the 'green footprint' which is embarrasingly monstrous at the mo..sorry Polar Bears, but it may be too late already.
Vast plantations cover Malaysia and Indonesia to produce Bio-diesels and edible palm oil.
Reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palm_oil#Environmental_and_cultural_impact
The journey is pleasant and there we travel through small towns on the way to Malacca. Itis evident that we are now in a muslim country as the precense of mosques has increased, thankyou James! We are due in Malacca at noon and the heat is overwhelming. we pass the new large city mosque which is only rivalled in size by the new Tescos built right next to the bus station.
We taxi to the Puri Hotel, a boutique style chinese establishment in the old quarter of Malacca, one street from Jonker street, the cultural and market centre of 'Old Malacca'. Just by the entrance to Jonker street, from the old bridge you can see the remains of the portuguese fort that once made up an enclosing wall which protected Malacca. This has all gone but the foundations of the fort remains and there are people 'panning' the silt under the fort in the river for old Portuguese and British currency. The Puri hotel has been renovated and is really comfortable with a cool central courtyard where the restaurant and bars are all found with service from the 'hoard of a thousand' smiling waiters (Indonesian).
Malacca was the thriving central port of the area until the Portuguese rocked up in 1511 and spoiled the party. The usual change of hands ensued: the Dutch in 1611, English in the 1780's and Malaysian Independence was declared, again in Malacca, in 1957 or so.
The town has a rich history of immigration from all areas of SE Asia, Javanese, Sudanese, Burmese, Sulus, Khmers, Thais etc but the chinese immigrants imposed themselves on the trade to Malacca. A lot of the houses on the hotels street and the parallel Jonker street are old Peranakan houses of wealthy 'Baba' (chinese immigrant) merchants and their wives, the Nyonya (the names of the Straits born descendants of the original Chinese immigrants). They are shoulder to shoulder with classic chinese shop houses and restaurants in the old quarter. As in Singapore a lot of destruction of the old quarter has taken place in the modernisation of the town. Despite that there are some marvellous examples of the old houses which are mostley shops and bars now. The Geographer bar is a great central meeting place on Jonker street doing delicious Lhaksa or pie and chips. They also have a veritable fayre of music for the delictation. He plays a Moog organ and various drum and beat boxes and knocks out 'Feelings', rcok classics and is periodically joined by a 'Sheila' who does a throaty Tina Turner impression while her husband undresses her with his eyes from the ringside table...whatever turns you on! In the bar opposite there is the Malysian Cat Stevens who does a remarkable 'Here coms the sun' and 'Wild World' allbeit with a 'comedy chinese' overvoice and the battle of the 'one man bands' ensues.
It is hotter in Malacca than it was in Singapore and it is difficlut to stay out in the midday sun without being drenched in sweat and anyway if you venture out the locals are all relaxing in the shade. Transport around the old town is in Malacca tuk-tuk which are decorated to the extreme with silk flowers and lights all washed along with a thumping bass box under each seat pumping out rock anthems. The owners congregate in the old town square waiting for rides. They are the equivalent of the Gondaliers of Venice, great at a quick town tour and a serenade, but pirates of the backtreets with fares in the Rm10 for a stealthy 100m.
We don't spend enough time here and miss a lot of the sites. a week would do it justice. Unfortunately we have a 'one pound', two hour busride to Kuala Lumpur (KL)and we mean to be on it.
The bus takes us to Central KL and we get an equally long taxi ride to KL airport which costs '20 pounds' and parks us at the Concorde Airport Hotel which must be a converted barracks. We leave for Kota Kinabalu, Sabah in the morning. We booked this on a whim but this is the great advantage of having no plan (serious for a virgo), you can book great places at the drop of. The plane fairs are very cheap as well although this does not ease the 'green footprint' which is embarrasingly monstrous at the mo..sorry Polar Bears, but it may be too late already.
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