Takin' it easy on Pulau Tioman

  Pulau Tioman, Malaysia
Monday, February 19, 2007

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The boat ride to Tioman was pretty awesome. We all jammed in to this tiny little rickety boat and it taxied us to the bigger boat waiting in the harbor. Lot of old westerners w/ kids freaking out on the tiny boat- but we thought it was cool. On the way to Tioman, we cruised by all of these tiny islands on the 2 hour journey. They were mounds maybe 100 to 1000 meters long, swooping up at crazy angles and totally covered in lush jungle, besides the deserted, pristine beaches. Then Pulau Tioman loomed on the horizon....

It's actually a pretty big island, maybe 20k in diameter. The ferry circles around the whole island before returning to mainland, and you have to choose which beach you want to get off at. There's one with a tiny airport runway, one with just a single, posh resort (with a one hole golf course) and some other quaint little villages full of locals. We chose the little backpacker hovel thats supposed to be very quiet, secluded and peaceful.

The guidebook calls Tioman "the best tropical beach destination without a beach!" The beach is mostly rocky, but an enormous coral reef extends around the whole island; great for scuba diving and snorkeling. The island is just stunning. On one side there's a decent sized mountain with rocky spires, and the whole island is very hilly. Every inch of land that doesn't have a bungalow built on it (and there are very few man made buildings here), is covered in jungle. Not like dense vegetation, but JUNGLE. You can't get from one little town to another except by jumping back on the thrice-a-day ferry, or by trekking through the jungle. There's not even a path to the next villiage over. You have to follow the electric wire strung up in the canopy. We arrived around noon, found a little bungalow on the beach with a view of the ocean (22 ringet- about 3.5 ringet to $1), and hired some snorkel gear for the afternoon. We cruised around a few dive sites and explored the underwater world. Snorkeling is Scuba's runt little sibling, but it was still very beautiful. There are tons of fish, especially so because there are SO few people out. I swear we saw no more than a dozen tourists in the entire village. Very few locals as well. This place is just empty. On the WAY to snorkel, we saw big monkeys running around in the jungle, a small lizard waddle across the road, then a GIANT lizard waddle across the road (like 6 feet long). Underwater, besides hordes of your run-of-the-mill fluorescent, multicolored, psychedelic looking fish and coral, we also spied a couple stingray, a giant eel, giant clams, a long barracuda and a fat puffer fish lookin thing with a face like a horse. There were tiny jelly fish everywhere that stung the hell out of us, and the salt water was burning my rash, but we stayed out for a pretty long time (and got subsequently sun burned, of course).

We made friends with some dudes at the local dive shop (including one who is the island queen- as in a dude who dresses in drag and demands to be called Divine) who told us about a bar opening that night on the strip. Mind you, there are no cars on the island, barely any motorbikes, only a walking path along the edge of the beach. There's maybe 10 different establishments (a cluster of bungalows counting as only one) in the whole village, so opening night at a bar was pretty big news and the whole town was going to be there.

We showed up at the bar early. Besides the little bar, there were 4 raised platforms with a roof but no walls, each with a small table to sit on the floor around with one's friends. We chose one closest to the bar. We ordered some delicious yellow curry, a round of drinks and sat down for a few games of chess. The crew from the dive shop (with the exception of the queen, who did not grace us with his/her presence) joined us as the sun was setting- it was a spectacular, fiery red sunset that lit up the whole sky- the first good one in weeks they said. We hooked my iPod up to the bar's speaker (yes, speaker in the singular) and people slowly started joining us and we made friends with everyone who showed up. By the end of the night, we had a cluster of about 12-15 people at our little mini bungalow. There were maybe a dozen other people standing around the bar, or milling about the other bungalows. This was probably about the population of the entire village. Everyone was from a different part of the world and had different stories to tell. Very, very fun night.

The next day we decided that an attempt to navigate through the jungle toward the other side of the island. Within 15 minutes we were wishing we had a machete. The jungle was dense and the non-existent path was treacherous at best. We found ourselves stopping on many occasions to listen for creatures in the foliage before crossing some of the more congested areas. We discovered bugs whose abnormal growth was most certainly the product of nuclear radiation, and those pesky giant lizards were never around to consume these beasts that barred our way. Dan's favorite were the marching ants that perfectly lined the hanging wire, our only friend and guide. Towards the end of our lengthy quest, we came to an insanely steep hill that stretched down for over a mile. We pulled up the anchor and let ourselves be taken by gravity. An afterthought, running faster than you can control yourself downhill in sandals is not always wise. The hill eventually tapered and we slowly cruised through the finishing line. We finally came upon our destination- the other side of the island! An enourmous expanse of pristine beach stretched before our eyes, with nary a soul basked on its golden sand. We jumped in to the ocean to dry off (we got a bit sweaty) and within an hour, and in great part due to the pesky sun and its preference to schedule, we realized that we had to return home soon. Traveling back in the dark would have been an impossibility.

Needless to say, upon our return we were in requirement of refreshment. It came in no better form, from a warm aluminum can, whose inscription happened to read Guinness (though it might be a sin that we poured its contents into a plastic bag filled with ice). Before venturing completely back to our shanty, we detoured to the airport where we, with no ticket or destination, merely walked into the duty free, large iron gate swinging in the wind. Said Guinness and a bottle of tequila were our marks and with duty free prices, and we did not ask questions. Strolling the beach for tonight's big adventure, we came across a party of three who we had previously seen on their entrance to the jungle trek. Two girls and a guy. We thought we had proven our valor and merit as men with the back-to-back trek in one day, but they requested of us a coconut to combine with their bottle of rum. Not to let down, we adorned ourselves with ammunition (rocks and other coconuts) and began perilously launching them at every fruit bearing tree in sight. More than a few bounced back at us, but eventually Daniel proved the victor with a near godlike catapult of a boulder. Then came the opening of the large nut. After a few stabs with Dan's trusty pocket knife, we broke down and asked a local. He produced a machete as if out of thin air, and with one fell swoop began the party. Rum flew like mosquitos, and between the five of us, we could barely put the entire thing down. Needless to say, the warm rum/coconut milk was kind of funky. We were exposed to local Karaoke, tobacco chewing goats, and schizophrenic bartenders before we mercifully ended the night early to avoid our heads splitting like our holy grail coconut.


ESCAPE FROM TIOMAN:

We woke up with the memories of the tabacco eating goat, rum filled coconuts, and giant hairy nordic woman still lingering in our thoughts, and somehow both knew we'd seen all there was to see on Tioman island, at least before it began to corrode and infect our perspective. We returned our underwater camera case to lil' boy tom, the 19 year old scuba wonder who complained anytime he had customers to appease. The laziness was more contagious than Dan's man eating bacteria, and we had to escape. We set up chess shop right by the dock as to not miss the ferry back to civilization, or arguably half way back. The battle became bloody, and in the midst of a bishop deadlocking queen and king, we soon heard the roar of the ferry pulling away. I had the best view of the dock, and soon a sturdy finger was pointed my way. Fisticuffs were unpacking their bags when a kindly old wrinkle of a woman informed us that the ferry would be coming back in less than fifteen minutes. We zipped up and zipped out and thus began our 31 hours of straight boating and busing to Bangkok.

The ferry was a choppy three hours, but an easy start in comparison to things to come. After emerging onto land, Dan and I trekked back about a km through the most vicious heat we've experienced so far to what we thought was the bus station. Countless taxi drivers whisked by offering us their air conditioned comforts for mere dollar or two, But Dan and I were men this morning, and walked those extra kilometers as if Helen of Troy herself awaited our arrival. Upon arriving, we soon discovered that where we were dropped off by the bus on our trip to Mersing was actually the local bus station. To reach KL, and eventually Bangkok, we needed the express bus station. This station was located right across the street from where our ferry had landed. The two dollars spent on a taxi ride back were the most dignity drowning notes ever ripped from my sweaty palms...even the pleasures of AC burned the skin and my pride. Helen had let us down.

We booked our express train, grabbed a local bite of fried rice, and continue our chess battle. Before Dan can finish me off, however, the spicy "special" burger I had the night before began to knock at my door. The back door. Thus ensued the worst bathroom experience of my entire trip. For starters, Maylasian bathrooms are more heavily guarded then their banks, and require a fee to enter. Coming from india, I could gladly accept (even appreciate) this new feature, if, you know, just for the hell of it, it went towards keeping the bathroom in a condition of functionality, maybe even clean. Alas, this was the dirtiest stinkpot I'd ever come across, and half way through my evacuation, it became apparent that the greenish liquid dripping on my head was not going to stop. I hosed my ass and took a shower in purell. The day was on its way.

We packed into our bus and were reminded that gentlemen of the over-six foot persuasion are not kept in mind during the construction of these death mobiles, these giant street torpedos. I don't mind the driving, I actually think it is one of the redeeming factors in Asia. Nothing takes your mind off of the cramping like watching your driver swerve back and forth as if he was trying to swat street flies. Anything to keep it interesting. The gentlemen in front of us were kind enough to lower their seat-backs to the near horizontal position- perhaps a better position to expel their audible flatulence. Five hours later we land in the middle of Kuala Lumpur's Chinatown, and are shuffled on to our next bus within five minutes. The hour was late, and through numbness we found sleep quickly. At four a.m. , however, we were abruptly awoken and removed from the bus and told to grab our bags and follow. We were lead to another bus, this one not so super vip, as our last had claimed. The night was cold, and the a/c was stuck on ice age. I don't know about daniel, but I was ready to discard my already withering dignity for a little cuddle and warmth. My words, however, were frozen in my throat.

We arrive in Hat Yai (glorious Thailand!) and decide that a train is the way to mercifully finish this adventure to Bangkok. We needed sleep badly and were sick of buses at this point. We spend twenty minutes in the blazing heat to attempt to knock down the taxi ride to the train station from 60 ringet, but to no avail. One gentlemen went down to 40 until he was accosted by fellow taxi drivers and thus black balled into removing his offer. Conceding, we hop on and make our way for the train station. There we learn that every sleeper class is booked, and that third class sitting is more expensive than a bus. We turn right around and hail the first taxi we see, who quickly offers us a ride to the bus station for 40. Back at the bus, we book our 14 hour "vip" ride and wait and wait and blister. Making sure we are first in line to guarantee a seat that will not buckle our knee joints, we stand in the sun. Once on, we are informed the seating is assigned and are shuffled to midget class z, where we become a tangled mess of limbs, further deprived of sleep. A loud thai movie begin to blare in the background, and we simultaneasouly look up to see a homeless man on the screen, shooting a squirt gun into what i could only guess to be the main character's ass. Dan did not look again, I was glued there after, as were the two monks sitting near by.

We arrived in Bangkok to find that ALL the guest hostels were full. We fell asleep on a bench in a restaurant and passed out. We are still recovering.