First of all, let me reassure you that my gran’s ideas about what visiting a country like Malaysia would be like turned out to be entirely unfounded.
Admittedly, upon arrival luck was on my side and I was greeted at the airport by an old friend, Nic. He saw I was in serious danger of developing a hangover and immediately took me to a physician who specialised in such problems, (locally known as a ‘bartender’). Whilst partaking in the cure, we resolved to take a cheap flight north to the Perhentian islands. We made several other resolutions that evening as well, many of them clearly revolutionary, but lamentably these were stolen by the Ideas Police during the night, along with much of our money, dignity, and capacity for logical thought.
Fortunately, as is the case with most things in Malaysia, passage to the Perhentian islands was easily negotiated. It wasn’t, however, so easy to find a resort that wasn’t flooded with backpackers without spending more than Bill Gates earns in a second. Still, listening to people talk for a week about what the nightlife is like in Bristol, is a small price to pay for stunning beaches betwixt rainforests and frighteningly clear turquoise water, dedicated to the business of enticing you in to provide the fishes with entertainment.
The danger of losing my ghostly pallor quickly became a bit too clear and present, and so we were forced to return to Kuala Lumpur to continue our important work of ensuring the bars in Bangsar were up to government standards. Coincidentally, this sort of work tends to coincide with Happy Hour.
We were up again at the first light of dawn (six days later), this time to head for Tioman Island, a day’s travel almost due east from Kuala Lumpur by bus (you might like to try the boat as well for the last stretch of the journey, which can get a bit watery). This time, finding deserted beaches was spectacularly easy, specifically in Juara on the eastern side of the island. In fact, I’d say it was a bit too remote and idyllic; Nic’s girlfriend was accompanying us and I had to keep going on spectacular dives with the local unqualified lunatic in order to find respite from the sight of them nibbling on each other’s earlobes. They spent the evenings locked in their wooden hut. I think they were playing very noisy chess, but it was hard to tell for sure – like I say, they kept locking the door.
And so my gran’s ideas about my trip turned out to be quite far off the mark as well. Mind you, I did tell her I was going to Leeds.
You can’t go far wrong with the Malaysia, Singapore & Brunei Rough Guide, and of course Lonely Planet’s South-East Asia on a Shoestring set the precedent for backpacker’s guides. For mapping, the Rough Guide Map to Malaysia is, as ever, excellent.
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Author: Rob Hunt