Langkawi & Krabi: Swaffling of a Drunk Man, Fuck You Sambucca, You Had Sex Next to Me?

8:11 AM Saturday September 22^nd, 2012 On the train near Jaisalmer, India

When Mariska and I departed for Langkawi from Penang it was early in the morning and our minds were set on one thing, catching the morning ferry and getting out to a new island home as soon as possible.  A quick trip to the wrong pier and we managed to find our point of departure and snag our tickets.  The ferry embarked and began to slowly list from side to side, swaying as a pendulum.  The forward rocking and slamming as the ferry’s bow launched out of the water and impacted the following swell frightened some passengers and added to the already nauseating journey.  Those of us who don’t get motion sickness were in the clear, but anyone with a predisposition to feeling queasy I’m sure felt awful.  With no windows to calm many people’s minds and an ever increasing amplitude of the rocking the first cry of the sea sick rang out.  A loud, rumbling, gargling, and sickening sound that we all know signifies someone just vomited.  This was the trigger that caused the inevitable chain reaction of vomiting to be set in motion.  In droves people came up to the front of the seating, where we were placed, and grabbed empty vomit bags.  The sounds of wrenching stomachs emanated all around me.  People came back up to deposit their used bags in the trash can nearby as I recoiled at the smell.  One man was in terrible pain as he moaned endlessly in between spasms of dry heaving, making the trip impossible without the headphones I had deeply embedded in my ears to drown out the sounds.  When I finally made my way up to the top of the boat I had to step over piles of drying vomit and people lying down or with their heads in loved ones’ laps actively throwing up into their bags.  It was a war-zone that not even Mariska escaped.  All in all at least a third of the boat passengers threw up, and those of us lucky enough to avoid the act had to experience the aftermath.  The sight of Langkawi off in the distance sure was a sight for sore eyes when it finally appeared three hours after embarking from Penang.  Langkawi was a much larger island than I was used to, and circumnavigating it by scooter took multiple hours.  

Our home beach on Langkawi.

Pascal, Mariska, and I.

Riding scooters around the island.

It was a very pleasant island, and I finally got my fix for waves that I’d been searching for, well at least for the first day when they were big enough to bodysurf.  They were the size that started me buzzing and left me wishing and wanting something larger and more exciting.  This is to say they were only about a few feet at maximum, and about half of what I’d really wanted.  Needless to say my addiction to bodysurfing brought me back the next couple of days to the same spot hoping to surf, but the winds had died and there was little to nothing to speak of in terms of surf.  The days were relaxed, and there was nothing to hinder my mind from emptiness, a feeling I was glad to receive.  

Getting in the way of Mariska's hammock picture.

Climbing palm trees for fun.

It was in Langkawi that I witnessed some of the worst treatment of a passed out individual that I’ve ever seen.  Our dorm friend, whom I’ll call Bill for anonymity’s sake, had drank far too much and had proceeded to fall asleep on the floor in the middle of the dorm after a night out.  Bill had thrown up in a pile around himself on the floor, and upon someone checking for his breathing and a pulse, that kind person had mostly cleaned up Bill’s sick and provided him with water to drink.  Again Bill fell back asleep on the floor into a slumber that was extremely deep.  As some friends and I arrived back from a small club around five  they came up with the idea to swaffle Bill.  Swaffling, named by the Dutch, is the act of a man utilizing his penis as a slapping tool.  The two men in the group went in to the dorm and each swaffled Bill on his legs, shoulder, and face.  They laughed about it, recognizing Bill would never know what had happened to him in his sleep.  Luckily for Bill he never found out, but was greeted with an even worse consequence, an inescapable and immovable hangover that lingered over him the whole day.  After a five day stop in Langkawi I left Mariska and picked up a new companion, Loz, to join me up to Thailand.  We boarded the ferry and got into Thailand at the port of entry.  A night spent in Trang led us to Koh Lanta and then off to Krabi all in one day when we realized that Koh Lanta was deserted.  

My companion Loz and I hitched on Koh Lanta to get back to the ferry station.

Holding onto my hat so it didn't blow away.

Baby monkey at a guesthouse on Koh Lanta.

We spent one night in Krabi before heading off to Koh Phi Phi.  On that night Loz and I decided to have a few celebratory drinks.  Once we’d had a few drinks in our guest house room we headed out to meander in Krabi for a short bit.  After getting convinced to come into a bar for a bucket we started conversation with a couple in the bar and the cocktail waitresses, playing connect 4 over and over again.  

Wristbands for sale.  I hope you can't read these.

Connect 4 action with the waitress and Loz.

Loz decided we should get another bucket each, after I was set and needed no more.  I ended up not finishing mine.  He also gave me my first ‘Flaming Lamborghini’ also known as a ‘Gas Chamber.’  Here Sambucca is lit on fire, poured into a glass, poured back into the shot glass and the big glass placed upside down over the shot glass.  The vapors are then inhaled, hitting you very hard and very quickly.  This put me over my comfortable limit, and I stumbled off to Loz’s disappointment to grab some food around two in the morning.  I was extremely happy that I entered into a very deep sleep as Loz came back with a Thai girl around 4 or 5 and proceeded to have sex with her in the bed right next to me and then in the bathroom.  After she had left Loz woke me to tell me what he had done, though I don’t think it really registered in my head.  Loz asked if we needed an alarm set, and since I had forgotten in my drunken state I was extremely happy he had.  When the alarm rang out at seven in the morning Loz could barely make it to his phone to turn out the alarm, and he slightly threw his iPhone at the ground in an attempt to turn it off.  I was forced to throw his clothing at him to get him to start packing as the only ferry to Koh Phi Phi that day left around 8:30.  We snagged a ticket at a travel agency that was open at that hour, barely able to fetch money out of his wallet to throw at the girl booking our tickets.  The next moment Loz laid down and passed out on the sidewalk outside the travel agency.  Loz ‘played through’ (continued drinking) that morning and pretty much the remaining three days I’d spend with him.  I don’t think he was sober at all, and managed to get himself two tattoos, two days in a row while he was completely smashed.  So began my nine days on Koh Phi Phi, staying in the best dorm on the island, and meeting some extremely quality people.

Views on the way out to Koh Phi Phi.

Perhentian Islands: The Sounds of Sex on the Beach, Late Nights, and Snorkeling

4:56 PM Thursday September 13^th, 2012 Nyaungshwe, Myanmar

On my way out to the Perhentian Islands I stupidly thought I’d keep my fedora on my head on the speed boat, but of course lost it in the wind overboard.  It was still useful at the time for covering my mismatched hair lengths as a result of my healing scars, but I’d just have to go sans fedora until I left the islands.  Once I arrived on the smaller of the two Perhentian Islands, walked off the boat and onto the beach I knew I’d made a great decision coming there.  Island time was just what I wanted.  

Long Beach from the boat.  Our dorm was the building with the four peaks.  Walking out onto the beach.

Long Beach was pretty nice.

I got my things into one of the only dorms on the island and started the now familiar process of immediately attempting to meet whoever was around at the hostel.  My time on the Perhentian Islands was primarily spent snorkeling and relaxing on the beach right in front of my hostel.  In my five nights on the island I think I stayed out until about 4:30 almost every night.  As the air conditioning in our room was broken we were all usually awoken around 9:30 by the overwhelming heat.  The beach where all of the accommodation was located was known as Long Beach, though it’s not that long, but it is beautiful.  There were enough backpackers on this beach to make every night an interesting time, but few enough that you actually recognized faces each night.  The island was small enough that you’d normally run into someone you knew even if you weren’t looking for anyone.  It was pleasantly tiny.  

A massive monitor lizard that just patrolled around and under the hotels and guesthouses.

Here's the monitor lizard swimming through some disgusting trash water.

My first morning on the island left me with no sandals.  That was two times in three days that my sandals had been stolen.  Between getting stolen, lost, engulfed and abandoned in mud pits, and worn through I had already gone through five or six pairs of sandals in just two months.  This left me with no sandals to wear for a trek to a beach about 45 minutes away to go snorkeling.  I was told it was through jungle, so I assumed that meant a smooth dirt path and some roots and vines to avoid.  After refusing sandals from a friend I decided to walk there without footwear.  It turned out that the path was at least half rocky, mostly painful and tortuous.  That first day snorkeling I managed to see a blue spotted ray and a tiny black tip reef shark swimming around in the shallows by the beach.  The return journey on the devilish path was equally shitty.  After a night of Chinese alcohol and intense dancing I awoke to two feral cats inside the dorm room playing on my bed.  I went out snorkeling again the next day, July 29^th, and decided to do some free diving to test myself.  I can’t say that I really had a personal best in terms of depth as my attempts in Hawaii a few years prior resulted in problems equalizing my ears and nothing more than 15 feet.  This time I started off slow, going down 5 feet, staying there for 15-20 seconds then coming back up.  I went to a deeper area, 10 feet or so, doing the same.  I worked my way progressively deeper and deeper, exploring the sea life underneath until I was at the edge of the snorkeling area, and was nearby some scuba divers surfacing.  I asked the dive master how deep the area was beneath us.  As the bottom wasn’t really visible from the surface I couldn’t get a good grasp of how deep it was, but the dive master informed me that it was 12 meters.  I took some slow deep breaths to prepare for the dive down, and managed to make it all the way to the bottom, about 40 feet down, hang out for about 15 seconds, and then slowly ascend to the surface.  I definitely gave my risky side a little pat on the back as I smiled on the surface.  Now of course I’ll have to beat that record sometime in the future.  

Doing a flip from the dock.

I switched to the other side of the island and again found some reef sharks and some more blue spotted rays.  That night as I walked to go swim in the ocean at around 4 in the morning I passed by a couple having sex on the beach in a mostly darkened area, but was alerted to their presence by the sound of skin smacking skin.  I went into the ocean about 100 feet down the beach, where the couple was completely invisible, giving them their privacy, and enjoying the phosphorescent algae in the ocean that was visible as I waved my arms about.  When I finally walked back towards the hostel the couple had just finished and the guy performed what all guys understand is the naked side to side shake, making an audible sound.  I calmly said, “Good show,” to the patch of darkness as I walked past, clapped a couple times, and heard both parties laughing behind me as I continued on.  

I guess I wound up with a party hat one night.

The result of one of my friends swimming in the ocean at 3 in the morning and not removing his clothes before going to bed.

Another day of snorkeling left me seeking some excitement, so while I was far away from other people I decided to snorkel in the nude.  Sadly some other snorkeler kept getting closer to me so I had to seek shelter in further away places until my follower turned back towards the beach.  I went out to watch the sunset with some of my friends from the hostel on the other side of the island, grabbed some fish barbecue and headed back for another night out.

Again I found myself swimming in the ocean around 4 AM.  I guess that sort of became my thing.  The next day I went on a boat trip and stopped at four different snorkeling locations (that was sort of all I did), getting to see a large turtle, many black tips, and a large hump head parrotfish.  

Look mom a snorkeling boat.

That last night I had told myself I was going to climb the radio tower for sunrise, but after I finished off about 200 mL of Chinese medicine and Mariska, a Dutch girl who I’d be travelling with for the next week or so, and I shared a couple smaller bottles of rum I’d consumed around half a liter or more and was in no state to climb anything.  Although I tried to keep myself awake for the climb, I succumbed at 5 to exhaustion and woke up at 10 to get ready to leave the Perhentian Islands.  A large group from the hostel left on the same boat back to the mainland, leaving behind the beauty of the islands.  Mariska and my sandal-less ass headed in the same direction, Penang.  Once we arrived we got settled in a dorm room and ventured out into the mecca of food that is Penang.  Without hesitating I can say that I could spend at least a week in that city and do nothing but eat and be extremely content with everything.  After exploring the largest Chinese style Buddhist temple in South East Asia I sat down at a street food stall serving laksa, a spicy fish soup.

This statue was easily 80 feet tall.

For some reason these little critters were at the Buddhist temple.

I had on my Buffs t-shirt, and one of the food stall attendants came up to me and asked me if I was from Colorado and then explained that he had studied chemical engineering at Kansas State University before he had returned to Penang to work at his father’s food stall.  He explained that Anthony Bourdain, host of the Travel Channel’s No Reservations, had sat right where I was sitting five months prior at that very food stall.  If you know anything about No Reservations you know that Anthony Bourdain never eats anything but the most spectacular food.   So I was treated with that brilliant meal and many others in Penang.

The laksa was amazing.

Tasty black egg.

Street food at its best.

In heaven.

Sadly my time there was cut short, as I wanted to spend more time eating my way through the city while Mariska wanted to get on to Langkawi and back to island life.  So after only a two day visit to food heaven and the acquisition of a laptop I was convinced to head off.

Bat Shit, Breaking and Entering, and Alcohol with Semen? (Malaysia)

12:47 PM Thursday September 13th, 2012 Nyaungshwe, Myanmar
Before I had even arrived at Taman Negara National Park I had booked a 3 day/2 night trek in the jungle during a transfer in transportation from the Cameron Highlands to the national park.  Since I happened to be in Malaysia, an Islamic nation, during Ramadan most of the restaurants that were run by Muslim people were closed or extremely slow around sundown when they were able to eat and drink again after their day’s fasting.  So when a group of people from the hostel I was staying at that first night wanted to snag some food, the couple restaurants that were open were packed to the brim, and were moving painfully slowly such that prospects of food seemed at least a couple hours out.  When most of the group gave up on food to make it to their night safari on time, I snagged a seat by myself at the only open small table at one of the couple operations without closed doors that evening.  Random people ended up joining me as I neared the end of my meal just to find a place where they could get served within the next hour.  The next day my trekking began with a fun ride upstream in the long, skinny wooden speed boats, passing up the river through rapids to the start of my hike.  I quickly determined that while I was surrounded by people who could speak English none of them spoke it as their first language, and most spoke German, French, or Dutch.  As groups were shaped by language I quickly felt exiled, and also extremely pissed at the shitty language education we get in the U.S.  I will grant that English may be the world’s language so other nationalities sort of have to learn it to travel.  It’s nonetheless limiting being monolingual while most other people are bilingual and even trilingual in many cases.  What I mean to say though is that I felt lonely.  In all actuality I felt really lonely.  This seemed to be a continuation of the loneliness I’d felt throughout all of Malaysia up until that point.  The trekking itself was interesting and enjoyable with many tricky stream crossings to avoid slipping and getting wet.  When we finally arrived, after 8 km of hiking, at the cave we’d be spending the night in it was nearing dusk, and most people were ready to call it a day.  On top of this many people had gotten leeches, and I had gotten one as well.  They were surprisingly hard to avoid and impossible to feel as they sucked away.  Around dinner the other tour members, about 25 of them, continued to interact within their own groups leaving me isolated.  

Our setup in the cave in Taman Negara National Park.

Cave in Taman Negara National Park

That night we didn’t recognize what sleeping in a cave of this kind meant.  As I awoke the next morning around 8 I noticed a slightly audible pitter patter as something fell from the ceiling of the cave onto the tarp we were sleeping on, onto my sleeping bag, onto my face.  It wasn’t until it annoyed me enough to actually arise, earlier than most everyone, that I realized what was falling from the ceiling.  I had assumed it was water, but as I looked around I saw a LOT of bat shit.  Little pellets covered the tarp, our sleeping bags, and everything else.  I looked up to see the little bastards hanging right above us.  Their shit and piss had been landing on our heads and faces, and even onto our lips (mine included) as we’d tried to sleep in that morning.  I moved out of the area, clearing my things from the splash zone, letting all the other pour souls continue to sleep.  Although it wasn’t extremely noticeable, not enough to wake most people, I didn’t want to be shit on any more so I evacuated the area to take some pictures.  That day we trekked to the exit point, during which time I managed to get some time to swim/float in a stream as lunch was prepared and many of us got soaked shoes and clothing as the weather turned the rainforest into an actual ‘rain’ forest.  At the jetty I met up with some acquaintances I’d met earlier at the hostel and they had managed to get at least seven or eight leeches in their two day trek.  After most of the people were transported back to the hostels three Swiss guys and myself went to spend a night at a local village.  Our guide sped along in the river speed boat without a light, a thrilling and exciting prospect for me, though a slightly sketchy experience.  That next morning was spent trying to get a feel for the local, tribal people.  Our guide fetched us some sugar cane to chew on, and we got to try our hand with a blow gun, and trying to make fire without a lighter or match.  They used an interesting method with a vine that was surprisingly easy, and I was very close to getting it after about five minutes of trying.  

Blow gun from the tribal village.

Fresh sugar cane

That afternoon after I had checked back into my hostel I decided to go to the rainforest canopy walkway, suspended about 100 feet or more over the jungle floor.  I crossed the river to get to the national park, and was told that the canopy walkway was closed at 3:30.  It was already 4, but I figured I’d give it a try anyway.  Thoughts started to creep into my mind, mischievous, clandestine, sneaky thoughts.  As I approached the start of the walkway I noticed some other people at the entranceway complaining about it being closed.  I searched around the platform; there had to be a way to climb up the 15 feet to the beginning.  Indeed someone had done this before, that or they were covering their bases, because the tree nearby the platform had barbed wire wrapped around it.  I managed to snake my way up a sign and the tree getting myself onto the platform.  Applause from the on-looking people only served to fan the raging flames of vanity inside me and reassure my foolishness.  Once up there on my own I got an intense burst of that forbidden sensation, that feeling that pulses strongly as you go somewhere you’re not supposed to.  It always makes me feel extremely alive, and this breaking and entering was special compared to other times I’d entered forbidden areas.  I had the whole lengths of the creaking walkways, rope bridges, all to myself.  I was at first very tense, and I worried about the sounds of the walkway under my feet alerting someone to my presence though I quickly became comfortable and trudged along without a care in the world.  The rainforest canopy was breathtaking in the late afternoon sunlight, and I had all the time I wanted to linger on the bridges and meander as I pleased.  I got to explore a roped off section of walkways.  No one there to tell me NO was to me an open invitation to explore.  I jumped over the red, plastic tape and continued on my way.  Although the bridges were littered with leaves and small branches, indicating how long it had been since they’d been last used, they seemed structurally sound.  I went along to the end of the walkways, then instead of exiting out the door at the end of the last platform I decided to go back and climb back down the way I’d come.  After spending some beautiful moments on one of the last bridges at the beginning of the walkways I sidled my way down the wavering sign and tree, extremely content with myself and my forbidden act.  After a quick trip up the slope I determined that the reason for the sectioned off bridges was a pathway to the final platform that was under renovation.  

The sign post and tree I used to climb up.

Canopy walkway in Taman Negara park

Blocked off walkway

Unused walkway

The next day was spent getting from the national park to Jerantut and riding the ‘Jungle Train’ to Kota Bahru.  This happened to be my first train trip on this journey, getting me to ponder all the modes of transport I’d utilized already on my trip: planes, cars, tuk tuks, boats, buses, and motorbikes.  Kota Bahru turned out to be nothing special, except a taste of true Malay culture.  Almost all of the people were Muslim, making the Ramadan market a must see.  Ramadan markets are food markets that provide food for Islamic people to eat when the call to evening prayer rings out and they can finally eat and drink.  The cheap, delicious dishes were a treat, though the two girls, who I went with, and I were too hungry to wait until dusk like the rest of the people.  One lady very kindly explained the reasons for fasting every day for a month, and was very open with her religion.  As the call to evening prayer rang out all of the people around us began sipping their drinks seemingly in a perfectly synchronized act.

Market in Kota Bahru

The kind lady that persuaded me to buy a sarong.

Ramadan market selection.

The next destination on my journey came from a spontaneous decision to head off to the Perhentian Islands.  Once I had made up my mind and booked my ticket I realized that alcohol would likely be expensive on the islands as it tends to be on most islands, plus the conservative nature of the Malaysian people could only drive up the cost, or so I thought.  In an attempt to alleviate some of the financial strain I expected from alcohol purchases I began a quick search around Kota Bahru for alcohol.  Finding alcohol in an Islamic community I quickly realized is a tricky and almost impossible task.  I couldn’t find it in any large grocery shops or 7 Eleven’s, which highly surprised me.  I asked around, but to no avail, everyone seemed to say there was no alcohol in town, but that just couldn’t be true.  I was on a mission, and I wouldn’t stop until I had found what I was looking for.  Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I saw Chinese characters on the front of a building.  I knew the Chinese had to have alcohol of some sort.  They may not drink much, but surely they’d have something for me.  As it turned out I found some in a Chinese trading post.  The whiskey they had earlier was gone, but they did still have some Chinese alcohol.  This was some Chinese ‘medicine.’  The shop owner said it was sweet, but couldn’t compare it to anything, so I did what any man with a need and very little discerning tastes would do and bought some Chinese medicinal alcohol.  I had stooped to the lowest of lows.  Chinese alcohol, especially used for medicine would without a doubt be terrible.  As I would find out later on the Perhentian Islands it was extremely sweet with a flavor all its own and contained 35 different ingredients including of all things ANIMAL PARTS.  My mind couldn’t wrap around it, but it had listed in the ingredients gecko, ginseng, semen (still not certain about this one, but it was on there), etc.  Even this revelation couldn’t stop me from wasting this bottle.  I shared it with other brave souls willing to try it and finished most of it myself.  I made possibly the worst mixed drink ever apart from the tequila and grenadine I had a couple years ago, a Chinese medicinal alcohol and coke drink.  Sadly I probably stuck close to the recommended dosage of about 6 drinks a day.

The box that contained the terrible, terrible alcohol.

Awkward Bed Experience, A Slight Robbery, Some Cool Malaysian Places, and The Beginning of Solo Travel (Malaysia)

7:47 PM Monday September 10th, 2012 Monywa, Myanmar
I began what would turn in to almost a month's worth of time in Malaysia with the plan to stay only 5 days.  For now I'll just discuss the first few destinations.  My trip in Malaysia started with a couple thoughts.  I guess I felt the need to be contemplative since it was my first day, July 13th, of traveling completely on my own. There were other backpackers around, but it was just me and the road, or so I thought.  I wrote down two things in my journal.  One: Traveling is a pretty selfish endeavor (looking at this now I'm not sure this is completely true as long as no one depends on you).  Two: I must spend a longer time in a country to get a feel for the true culture.  I guess starting my time in Malaysia with this on my mind led me to stay so much longer than I had first planned, but with nothing set in stone this is the joy of traveling solo.  Regardless of this I arrived in Penang on a stop on my way to Kuala Lumpur and tried to withdraw money, but found out my debit card had been blocked by my bank, so I was forced to change some of my Thai Baht to Malaysian Ringgit even though I knew I was heading back to Thailand.  When I finally arrived in Kuala Lumpur around 10 PM I had been traveling for 25 hours, starting all the way back at the night ferry leaving Koh Tao.  My taxi to my hostel dropped me off on a bustling street filled with upper class bars.  Serenity Hostel would turn out to be a poor choice for me, but I didn't know that yet.  After staying out at an Indian buffet until 3 playing cards with some Westerners who were students in KL I retired for the night determined to get a good day of sightseeing in the next day.  I managed to walk around much of central KL in one day, taking in many sights.  

Petronas Towers

Batu Caves, touristic and dirty, but still cool.

Masjid Jamek (Jamek Mosque)

Sultan Abdul Samad Building

That night I met some other students in KL and after a couple drinks they were invited to get into a club for free.  I jumped at their offer to join, and managed to get myself into one of the top clubs in KL wearing flip flops, shorts, and a t-shirt and with no accompanying girls for free.  Luckily for me it was a beach themed night, so my attire worked.  The next morning I had to switch hostels because Serenity Hostel was fully booked for that night, and it wasn't until I checked my bag at the guest house next door for my passport photos that I found out I had been robbed.  My bag had been locked up, though it was easily broken into.  Missing was $340, though seeing it the way I did they didn't take my passport, iPod, or camera so I was pretty happy.  It could have been so much worse.  The next day I explored more of KL, going to the top of the KL Tower.  In my new guest house I met a cool Czech girl and a kind, effeminate Philippino guy.  I attempted to get a Thai visa the next day, but the embassy didn't accept visa applications in the afternoon so I ended up running through the rain, without my umbrella, for a mile or so having been completely unsuccessful in applying for my visa.  So it was determined that I needed to get up relatively early the following day to go apply.  My new Philippino friend woke me at 6:30 or so to help me get to the embassy on time.  I told him I wanted to sleep some more, but that I was cold because the air con was really strong.  He asked to lie down, which I figured was harmless, albeit abnormal.  So I scooted over really far and let him have his space.  Before I could say anything he had lifted up the sheet, gotten under, and wrapped an arm around me.  I could tell he was simply trying to warm me up, but it was affection that I didn't want.  Caught in a position that left me very uncomfortable, but not wanting to upset him in case this was just a form of Philippino kindness, I laid on my stomach, pulled my arms completely in under myself, and faced away from him hoping that this was just some kind of shitty dream.  Eventually he pulled his arm back away from my shoulder, and I drifted off to sleep confining myself to the far side of the bed, unmoving and cloistered from my bed companion.  While my Thai visa got processed I headed down to Melaka to see an antiquated marine trading town, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  Two nights there was more than enough, and I started to realize how lonely traveling solo can be.  I found myself fairly upset that I had no friends to talk to, no shooting the shit, no joking, no physical contact, except the unwanted kind.  I was missing something.  Despite getting to talk about indoor skydiving with a Dutch marketer for the only indoor skydiving facility in the Netherlands I was without conversation in Melaka.  

Rickshaws vibrantly decorated in Melaka

The canal at night

I left early the next day to get back to KL and pick up my visa before heading to the Cameron Highlands.  This is where my 5 day plan for Malaysia failed.  The Cameron Highlands allowed me a much needed respite from the heat of the lowlands.  Finally I had a use for my fleece jacket.  I left KL at 5:40 and got in to the Cameron Highlands at 10:30 at night.  I went around searching for hostels, and got turned away from at least three because they were full until I found the only hostel with availability in town around 11 PM.  That next day, July 20th, I took an extremely scenic hike through the jungle and mud to the top of the highest mountain around.  The top of the mountain was host to the most perfect weather ever.  A slightly chilled mountain breeze and the heat of the tropical sun made for the most ideal temperature ever, and the scenery from a viewing tower made it all the better.  I was very comfortable as I walked down a steep and winding road from the top towards a large tea plantation.  Once I finally made it down to the plantation I was a fiend for pictures.  I was amazed, and my finger carelessly pressed the shutter button.  After exploring for awhile, and snagging a cup of tea at the tea processing facility my camera decided to corrupt my memory card, deleting my photos (I was able to recover them later).  

Boh Tea Plantation

It was getting on toward 3 in the afternoon and rain clouds were menacing in the distance.  I decided to hitch my way back to town, and before I'd even left the tea plantation, having walked no more than 100 meters, a pickup truck stopped to take me in to town.  I hopped off halfway back to the hostel to see a butterfly garden and strawberry farm, and then after snagging some dried fruit and passion fruit juice concentrate I again stuck out my thumb and was very quickly picked up by a Chinese-Malaysian couple.  They were extremely kind, and shared information with me about Malaysian people as they transported me to my hostel.  This was just part of the welcoming nature of Malaysia; people would ride by on motorbikes and offer a warm 'hello' as they passed.  I went out to eat with some people at my new hostel, trying a Cameron apple which is a small, soft fruit resembling and tasting like a small melon of sorts.  Supposedly they're only grown in that region of the world.  That night I booked a ticket to Taman Negara National Park instead of heading back to Thailand thus continuing my travels in Malaysia.