Oh My Pii Mai!

Nong Kiau was our next stop in Laos. We’d decided to take a local bus, shunning the luxury of the VIP minivan in search of a more authentic experience of how people normally get around in this country and save a few kip in the process. This usually means forgoing a bit of personal space and comfort but we’re somewhat used to it. That said our definition “no room left” always falls short. In this particular case we hadn’t figured on a stack of plastic stools appearing to create makeshift seats in the aisles. Another novelty for this particular journey was the plastic bags that were handed out to everyone before we set off. We had a good idea what these were for given the nature of the roads in this part of the world and a young guy who was already had to endure being on an aisle seat was soon filling up his bag. It was slow going along the winding roads though we were glad of the regular stops to stretch our legs. Vincent, our new acquaintance who we’d met in Luang Nam Tha, nearly ended up stopping a little too long at lunch and if Maren hadn’t repeatedly asked the bus to wait he’d have surely been left behind.

Nong Kiau didn’t prove to be a particularly notable stop. I’d picked up a cold, the first I’d had since being away (no doubt down to the fact my immune system had taken a bit of kicking a few days earlier) and Maren had found little to do whilst I rested up. Nong Kiau is a very small town which offered similar trekking and outdoor activities to that in Luang Nam Tha. With Pii Mai (Laos New Year) just a couple of days away most of the people we met seemed to be leaving for Luang Prabang. However the boat we hoped to take us there would only be running if there was enough people to make it worthwhile. It was looking doubtful, so we joined Vincent in the minibus he’d booked.

Pii Mai is a three day festival, marking the beginning of the new Lunar Year. Traditionally, people take time to wash images of the Buddha in special purified water, especially around the Wats (temples). Monks and other people taking part in Pii Mai processions are also splashed with purified water from people lining the streets. However these traditions are now also used as an excuse for a country wide water fight, as well as street parties happening on every corner over the three days.

Luang Prabang was clearly the place to be for New Year. We’d struggled to find a room in town, before following Vincent to the hostel he was going to be staying at with his friends. Whilst we ended up moving from the dorm the following day to find a double room on the other side of the river the hostel was our base for the Pii Mai celebrations run by a Laos family and headed by “Mr. Shampoo” who planned an itinerary each day for guests to join in the fun. Having already made several new friends at the hostel, especially Vincent’s friends Marc and Emily everything was in place to have a great time.

Getting a good soaking was to become a routine event over the next few days. Even as we arrived kids on the street had thrown water at us as our Sawngthaew had taken us across town. We were keen to get in on the action and an arms race began, as battles on the street escalated. We’d all bought small water pistols the day we arrived and it wasn’t long before we were upgrading to heavier weaponry the next day. All over town people were having parties on the street which consisted of three main elements; A make shift sound system comprised of a couple of huge speakers; A never ending supply of water with which to refill guns, bowls and bottles used to soak passersby; and crates and crates of Beer Lao. By the time the festival officially began it was virtually impossible to walk around town without getting seriously wet. So as the saying goes, “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”, which we gladly did.

The most craziness however was to be found on the river. On the first official day of Pii Mai, Mr. Shampoo led us across the streets to river bank to board boats that would take us to an island where thousands of people had gathered for one big party which followed much the format as those on the street, except everything had been taken up a notch. Bags of flour had been introduced to the water warfare, which we were duly covered in as we got off the boat, just as everyone else had. There were several makeshift stages hosting different parties where people were dancing away to various kinds of music, mostly Asian pop music, a noisy blend of high pitched vocals and R’n’B beats. To keep the party going, food vendors were rustling up snacks from grilled fish and to chicken feet , as well making sure there was plenty of (warm) Beer Lao. The atmosphere, as with all the celebrations, was one of pure fun and I found myself comparing the Laos New Year favourably to a typically New Year back in London.

On the second official day of celebrations, Maren and I decided to take a break from the street parties in Luang Prabang and head to one of the most popular tourist attractions in the area, Tat Kuang Si, which features a wide multi-tiered waterfall. Unsurprisingly we were regularly soaked on the Sawngthaew we’d chartered to take us there, however it was welcome relief from the heat, not to mention a good opportunity to commit drive-by shooting on unsuspecting victims. Tat Kuang Si itself is also another popular destination at this time of year and the waterfall were heaving with families who had come here for the day to have a picnic. The waterfall themselves were, as we’d been told, well worth seeing, with pool after pool of turquoise water until finally culminating in huge water fall several storeys high.

On the last day of celebrations we opted for a more reserved and traditional start to the day by walking up the slopes of the Phu Si, an natural hill where paths take up you up to the That Chomsi stupa, the starting point for Pii Mai processions. As we walked around we saw evidence of all the fresh offerings that had been left to mark the start of the New Year. We spent the rest of the morning making our way round the other remaining town sights we had yet to visit. Finally we stopped for a coffee and pastry at one of the many French restaurants in Luang Prabang whilst waiting for today’s procession to begin. Here we saw the orange robe monks being rather more gently splashed with water as they filed past.

Once again the streets of Luang Prabang were alive to the sound of music and people playing in the hot afternoon sun. Trucks were also roaming streets conducting unofficially processions of their own. These were loaded with people along with dustbins full of water to battle those on the pavement. Many of the combatants had also upped the ante, with coloured water and hands covered in paint or worse still black shoe polish which we’d been a victims of previously. Again we were forced to run the gauntlet back home and once we’d made it back even I was beginning to suffer battle fatigue after over 4 days of fighting. It was a higher power that was to have the final word however as it began to rain heavily late in the afternoon bringing the last day to a somewhat early close as people were forced to retreat indoors.

Our stay in Luang Prabang was almost over and we were booked to take a minibus out of town the following morning along with some of our new friends, who were also heading in the same direction. It was in the end the people we’d shared the New Year with that had made it so great. The hostel (The Luang Prabang Backpacker’s Hostel if you should ever be there) run by Mr. Shampoo had been brilliant in organising everything allowing us to full experience the celebrations and making us feel like part of the family. Then there were our fellow backpackers who we’d made friends with, largely thanks to our luck in meeting Vincent, who along with Emily and Marc were such great company. After all, it is family and friends that make such times special, something I have missed more than anything else during my time away from home. With Maren’s birthday just a few days away with several of our new friends coming with us to Vang Vieng, the backpacker party capital of Laos we were hopeful that more good times lay ahead.

Before I go I just like to briefly say thanks for all the messages, emails and comments I’ve had about the blog since I’ve been writing. As you can imagine it does take some time and effort especially since writing isn’t something that comes naturally to me. This the guy that got a D in GSCE English first time round! I’m sure the pedants among you are having a field day with my mistakes and typos. ;-) Also, it doesn’t help that I have the habit of writing at length which will come as no surprise to those that know what I’m like when I get talking. Unfortunately I don’t always have the time to reply personally, so I just like to say a big thanks to everyone for the support, it really helps in keeping me motivated.

All the pictures on the links below ....

http://picasaweb.google.com/kris.lander/NongKiau

http://picasaweb.google.com/kris.lander/LuangPrabang

http://picasaweb.google.com/kris.lander/TatKuangSi

Tough Trekking

We woke up early in Chiang Khong, the border town on the Thai side of the Mekong ready to cross into Laos. We’d had another roller-coaster minivan ride to get here, this time in darkness, which had not only upset stomachs but shredded nerves. After a short sleep in a rather shabby guest house and equally shabby breakfast we were shuttled to the border crossing in a pick-up truck. Amusingly the guest house owner’s dog also came along for the ride in already overcrowded truck seemly just to goad the local dogs by barking as we headed through the streets. The guest house owner brought us to his shop a minute’s walk from the border ready take advantage and make a few more Baht out of us before we left the country by providing us with anything we didn’t have to get our Laos visa on the other side. We’d already had our passport photos but apparently we needed US dollars, the only currency accepted to pay for our visa once on the other side of the Mekong. At a less than favourable rate we changed some money and made our way to the river bank through a very casual passport control area. As we climbed on board the small boat that would take us across into Laos we noted this was the fourth mode of transport we’d used to cross into another country having gone by plane, bus and foot.

We weren’t sure what to expect on the other side, with Laos being a new country to both of us. As soon as we got our visa and through passport control our first sight was a restaurant with bottles of Beer Lao adorning the tables. As we’d soon discover, Beer Lao is everywhere and sometime you wonder if it’s the only commercial brand in the country. A friendly passenger on the boat, who turned out to be touting for bus tickets, helped us arrange a “VIP” minibus to our first destination, Luang Nam Tha. This is one of the most northern destinations on the backpacker circuit in Laos. The town is a base for exploring the Nam Ha NPA (National Protected Area) which has become a popular destination for trekking, something we were keen to do more of having not made the most of the opportunities in Pai. The minibus ride there was much the same as the winding roller-coasters trips in Thailand, however here the roads were like Laos itself, much poorer. The difference in wealth to its neighbour Thailand is immediately evident and as we made our way along the roads everything felt much more rural and basic. Despite an economy that has been rapidly growing over the last few years, it is still one of the poorest countries in the world.

After several hours in the minivan we were dumped on the side of the road after our driver had flagged down a Sawngthaew to take us the last few miles into Luang Nam Tha. Sawngthaews are small flat bed trucks with narrow benches for seats covered by a canopy. We were dropped off in the middle of town in front of one of the hotels featured in the Lonely Planet. With little energy to look around which we prompted checked. Fortunately the rates were low, the room clean and we enjoyed decent meal in the restaurant. After being bombarded with Beer Lao advertising all day on the road it wasn’t surprising that we also started on the beers. After just 3 pints (far more than we usually drink on our travels) we were rather worse for wear and we retired to our room for an early night.

After sleeping off the drinks from the night before we made it down for breakfast where we enjoyed fresh baguettes with our eggs, butter and jam. This is one of little the cultural influences left by the French when it was once under their rule. We decided that we’d spend our first day taking a look around town and the nearby area by renting a couple of mountain bikes and we were also keen to find somewhere to book up a trek. Trekking is the main tourist attraction here with several companies offering 1-4 day treks in the hills featuring visits to hill tribe villages, kayaking and rafting. What is interesting about the tourism industry here is the efforts made to promote its eco credentials. Tourism in Laos, until the last ten or so years was not common and it would seem that after seeing what has happened with its neighbours, especially Thailand, efforts have been made to make sure that tourism has as positive effect for all. With foreign help, much of which has come from New Zealand and Australia, Laos has established tourism businesses which care for the environment and redistribute the money made all those involved, including the people of the hill tribe villages whom they take people to. In fact every tour normally lists exactly where your money goes with percentages towards costs, wages and money to the villages. It’s a positive story and good to see when so much damage has been done by tourism elsewhere. Not everything is perfect however in this part of the world, with tourism not the only industry bringing change to the area in recent years. I overheard a conversation by an American who seemed to be in town to helping with one particularly problem. He was talking on a table next to us one evening talking people who seemed to be Laos academics or officials about the effect of Chinese businesses that were growing rubber trees. This has had a very detrimental effects to the environment and the local people employed who he said had ended up virtually enslaved on very low wages and had lost control of their land. That said it seems that as Laos opens up its economy and its borders it is not making many of the mistakes that other countries have in the past.

During our cycle around town there wasn’t too much to see either in the new or old part of town. However after tasty noodle soup for lunch we headed off down a dirt road to see what we could find. After a couple of kilometres we found ourselves in a quiet little village of traditional Laos style huts. We stopped to take a look at a woman who was working on a traditional scarf using silk. This is something neither of us had seen before. Several cocoons of silk were sitting in a pot of hot water as threads were being spooled off each one to sew into the scarf. As we watched the lady she showed us the silk worm larvae, which is at the core each ball of silk and offered one to us to eat! We both politely declined. One scarf took four days to make and we were told we could buy one for 100,000 Kip (about 8 pounds) but we weren’t carrying much money. We continued further along the road coming across another village and spent the rest of the hot afternoon cycling around a long loop back to town. Despite the heat, it was relatively easy going along the flat roads with rice paddies either side, however we were glad to stop along the way for drink at a restaurant before finally making back into town.

In the evening we headed back to the trekking tour operator we’d signed up with in the morning to give them the rest of our details. We were hoping that some other people had signed up to share the cost of taking a trek, so we were happy to see 4 more people had joined us on the two day trek we’d selected. We’d be taking a 5 hour trek up into the hills and down into an isolated valley to spend the night as guests in a hill tribe village. Knowing that we’d need to be on good form the following evening, we had a big meal (sans beer) and we in bed early. We felt certain that this was going to be an adventure worth talking (and writing) about.

The following day we gathered at the trekking operator’s office where we met our fellow trekkers and our guide for the first time. We’d already noticed some names and nationalities on the register the night before. Lisa from Finland, Chau from China, and Hans and Ulla a couple from Germany. It was interesting group of people with far more varied backgrounds and ages than the usual mob of twenty to thirty something backpackers. We knew we’d be in safe hands with our guide who was a well spoken young Luang Nam Tha local called Hong who’d been helping run tours here for the last five years. After checking in our backpacks and sorting out the remaining paperwork we all jumped in the back of a Sawngthaew which after stopping to get provisions took us three-quarters of an hour out of town to the start of our trail. The morning, we’d been told, would be hardest with a walk up hill into the bamboo forests to reach the top of a ridge around 1000 metres up where we’d stop and have lunch. After lunch we’d descend down the other side into the valley where we’d eventually get to a river which we’d follow upstream to the hill tribe villages.

The morning did indeed prove to be the hardest going. The trails are nothing more than dirt tracks, often very steep, dusty, covered in dry leaves or left uneven and awkward by the heavy rains that fall here during the monsoon. It was within our physical limits, but we were quickly going through our water supplies and stopping for regular breaks to catch our breath. The hot season had just started here in Laos, so by lunch temperatures were certainly 30C or more and we were glad when we were walking under the canopy of the trees which provided shade from the heat. The landscape itself mainly consisted of bamboo trees which sprouted out of the ground everywhere in clusters of wild growth. Much of the hillside on this side of ridge however had been cut down and flattened ready to be burnt in a controlled fire, the traditional way for preparing the land to grow rice. In fact as we neared the top of ridge we could hear and later see a fire in progress on a neighbouring hill. Bamboo makes a lot of noise when it’s burnt since its hollow structure snaps and pops as the heat causes the wood to warp and buckle. It also fills the air with a lot of smoke and makes the atmosphere very hazy something we’d noticed the day before on our bike ride. This makes the sky turn orange much like it does at sunset which can be somewhat confusing at 1pm in the afternoon. We encountered different people along the path. Two women were also making their way to the villages with tobacco to sell which they were busying bagging up whilst having a rest. Another was a man struggling to hauling two large planks of wood down the path. The only way to transport anything around here is by foot. We also saw groups of people combing the forests to harvest bamboo shoots to eat.

At the top of the ridge our guide led us to a shelter where we’d be having lunch. This had been carried up the hill by a young local porter who had outpaced us all morning. This was unpacked and laid out on a table by our cook who was accompanying us. He was responsible for preparing traditional food for next couple of days during our trek. Parcels of sticky rice, cooked vegetables and meats wrapped up in leaves put on the table and we gladly tucked in. After resting to let our food go down we were back on the move. Despite it being down hill, it was no less easy going, as the often steep decent was hard on the knees and the loose leaves slipped under foot. However most of us were now armed with a walking stick our chef had knocked up for us with his knife at lunchtime which came in handy. As a result Maren and I eventually settled on the “Walking Stick Posse” as a name for our group. After a couple of hours we’d made it down into the valleys and came across the first signs of human inhabitants in the form of old rice paddies along the river. After another half an hour along the river we’d made it to the first hill tribe village. This was truly a remote place. The only way to get here is by foot or by river and neither of those options is guaranteed. During the dry season the river level is too low for any boat to travel along it and even when full it is not capable of carrying big vessels. During the rainy season the foot paths become extremely treacherous and are certainly off limits to trekkers like us. As a result everything in the village is constructed from the materials close to hand, such as wood (especially bamboo) and leaves. As we made our way around we were warmly welcomed by the head of the village. This however was not our final stop, so after being given a tour we headed another half an hour further upstream to make it to our final destination for the day.

The village where we were staying for the night was similar if not a little more attractive. There were roughly ten to twelve huts, including a big hut by the river that would accommodate ourselves for the night, along with our guide and cook. One of the first things that struck me were the other animals that were present, with chicken, pigs and dogs all roaming freely around the village. The pigs were the garbage men cleaning up any waste lying around, the dogs patrolled the perimeter and the roosters where responsible for waking everyone up very early in the morning. The village, despite being very basic was well organised and tidy. It seems like everything was naturally integrated into the environment and had its place and purpose. There was a very relaxed and peaceful atmosphere and time just seemed to slow right down as soon as we arrived. Children were playing in the river, cooling off from the warm afternoon sun and the sounds of their laughter echoed around the village. Maren commented that she thought it very unlikely that anyone had stress related problems here. We were quite literally far away from it all.

The women of the village were soon on hand to provide us with refreshment and to show us their handicrafts that were for sale; another way in which visitors generate income for the village. However, it was never a pushy affair with their things left at our door for us to look at and purchase in our own time. In fact during our whole stay we never felt awkward or uncomfortable despite the extreme differences in our backgrounds, wealth and cultures. Whilst we were outsiders, we were more than just a money making opportunity and they understand that we are interested to learn and experience their lifestyle and culture. Our favourite moment was joining the children in the river to have a swim and wash off the sweat and dirt from the long walk to get here. It was a magical experience in this place so far away from everything back home and just for a few minutes I felt like we part of the village. As things were getting dark our cook had prepared another feast for us, this time over a fire in our hut and we were joined by one of the members of the village who seemed to be the appointed host. As we ate he was pouring shots of rice spirit and was clearly not going to be happy until the whole bottle he had brought had been shared amongst us. It was a good end to an amazing day. As we all prepared for bed the only thing that spoiled this picture of simple village life was the sound of television from the one hut in the village that has a TV. However, as I attempted to drift off to sleep things were about to take a turn for the worse. I’d already had been suffering with a slightly upset stomach, but things were deteriorating rapidly. Incredibly painful stomach cramps were soon followed by severe diarrhoea and eventually vomiting. When Maren and Hong came out to find me after being woken by my retching, it was clear that was very ill.

As morning dawned and people began to get up, I began to contemplate my situation. I felt like death warmed up and under normal circumstances I wouldn’t be moving from my bed let alone trekking 5 hours across a jungle to get back to Luang Nam Tha. I talked through the options with Maren. We quickly aborted an attempt to leave early via a short cut Hong had suggest we take with a local guide, barely making it to the other side of the village before giving up. The other option was to stay in the village, perhaps for another night. Whilst not moving anywhere was appealing this also was a worry. Hong would soon be leaving with the rest of the group and once they had been left they’d be nobody that we could easily communicate with, since nobody else spoke a word of English. I was not feeling any better and had no idea what exactly was wrong with me. If I deteriorated further what would happen? Hans (being a doctor) was concerned that I might need treatment at a hospital for dehydration and told the group he thought it best we stick together. I’d already come to a similar conclusion myself not wanting to be left behind, so I was relieved that everyone had agreed that we should delay our departure and take the shorter route back together. I attempted to prepare myself as best I could for the journey back. A drink had been prepared by the cook after advice one of the village elders. This was a very bitter tea with loaded with chopped garlic and some opium. I was happy to try anything at this point and drank the foul concoction down. Hans also provided me with some more conventional medicine in the form of Imodium.

After another hour and half in bed I began to feel a little better and I was anxious to leave. It wasn’t going to be easy though. I’d already lost a lot of water and could not bear to eat anything. I felt weak to say the least as we set off mid morning. The two and half hour walk out of the valley to the top of ridge was physically one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Dehydration was the biggest worry as I started vomiting again as the steep slopes took their toll on me. I wasn’t alone however with everyone giving me their support. Maren was touched in particular by Hong who really showed genuine compassion and concern for my welfare as we made our way up the ridge. Maren also later commented it was physically demanding for her, never mind me, but somehow I hauled my way up to the top.

The worse was over. In fact as we stopped for lunch I was beginning to feel much better. I was now able to hold down liquids again and was happy to drink down the green tea we’d filled our water bottles with before we’d left the village. I couldn’t wait to get down the hill and on to the truck that would be waiting for us at the bottom. We left after lunch we made quick progress and my spirits were now high. However about half way down there was one last bit of drama. A woman warned us that we couldn’t go down the path as they had started burning the bamboo forests on one side! The prospect of having to go back up hill to take an alternative route filled me with dread, but Hong decided to see if there was still time to make it past. As we walked further down the path the sound of crackling bamboo got louder and louder, until we could see huge flames up on the side of the hill quickly advancing towards the path. Hong and our cook took no time in scouting ahead and decided it was safe to make a run for it. Thankfully we had time, though if we’d been much later we wouldn’t have been able to make through. Once safely on the other side of the fire it was less than an hour before we were sitting in the back of the truck that would take us home. I was absolutely shattered. I was however on the way to recovery and once back at the hotel I even hoped that I still might be able to enjoy a cold beer on my birthday the following day.

Back at the hotel I was already reflecting on the experience. Despite the nightmare of the second day it was still a highlight of our travels so far and was certainly more adventurous than anything we’d done previously. This was a place that was truly a world away from home, so much so you felt like you could physically feel the difference. Being ill was a small price to pay for the experience and privilege of having the opportunity to spend a little time there.

Not to mention the fact that we’d made some new friends, especially Hans and Ulla who we invited to have dinner with us on my birthday. It was great spending some time with them and as a couple we found ourselves looking up to them as we talked to them. Hans is a gynaecologist and having recently retired he has written a book on gynaecology to help in educating and training Laos doctors. Gynaecology is a specialisation which is a rarity in Laos with just a dozen or so currently practicing. Hans and Ulla had just spent the last few weeks living in the capital, Vientiane, to get firsthand experience what can help the people of Laos most in educating their doctors. He has done something that I really respect and admire spending his time after a successful career giving something back. It is type of thing that I would love to do myself in the future given the opportunity. Ulla is no less impressive as a successful female lawyer. Maren (who had once studied to be a lawyer) has a close friend who has faced a lot of difficultly in a profession that is still dominated by men. Ulla must have been somewhat of a trail blazer in her time. With Hans having finished his work in Vientiane they were now making their way back home to Germany and were taking time to see more of Laos before they left. We found ourselves wondering whether we’d be still be taking treks into the jungle to see remote parts of the world when we are a similar age. Just another reason we liked them so much.

So having almost completely recovered the following day I was able to enjoy my birthday by having a lovely meal with Hans, Ulla and of course Maren. Not to mention the little presents that Maren had impossibly managed to rustle up from the extremely sparse local shops; good quality 100% plastic playing cards; a birthday card (a modified Laos New Year card); candles that I could blow out and make a wish with; and some love heart biscuits. Certainly a birthday to remember!

After taking an extra day to recover from the trekking ordeal it was time to make a move. We were making our way towards Luang Prabang which was said to be one of the highlights of Laos and where we looking forward to enjoying the Laos New Year in a few days time. We were hoping to get there by boat, however with the river levels being low it was not possible directly from Luang Nam Tha. So after taking the advice of a fellow traveller, a French guy called Vincent (who we’d soon be getting to know a lot better) we were taking a local bus to Nong Kiau where he’d been told river levels were still high enough to make the second half of the journey by boat.

All the pictures at http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/kris.lander/LuangNamTha

and http://picasaweb.google.com/kris.lander/ChiangKhong

Passing time in Pai

After our short stay in Chang Mai we were on our way again, this time by minibus (a mode of transport we’d get very familiar with over the next few weeks) to Pai, a small town in an isolated valley in the hills of northern Thailand. We were ready to get away from it all again, knowing that we were weary from being on the move and spending time in cities. As we’ve discovered travelling for this long becomes more than just a holiday; it’s a lifestyle. You have to keep a balance between being on the move, seeing new places and having a little time to catch your breath and relax. Since we’d crossed the border by foot we’d only been given a 15 day visa, so our time in Thailand was limited. Having come from the Perhentian Islands we decided to ignore the commercial islands off the west coast of Thailand and head straight to Bangkok and then travel to the north. We’d had our sights on Pai since our arrival in Thailand with it being described as “a flash-back to the stories from the 70’s and counterculture colonies in Kabul and Kathmandu” and hoped that it would be a nice place to spend some time and perhaps take a trek to visit the hill-tribe villages, the ethnic minorities who migrated here from Tibet, Myanmar, China and Laos.

The minibus ride there took about four hours. With driver seemingly determined to get there in record time along the twisting mountain roads only the most hardened stomach could avoid feelings of travel sickness. Thankfully though the minibus was modern, air-condition and relatively comfortable so despite having to hold on something most of the way it wasn’t a bad journey. Things weren’t quite as we expected however, with the landscape far drier and less green than the Cameron Highlands back in Malaysia. We were arriving at the start of the hot season, with little or no rain having fallen for weeks. In fact, this was really the end of the season for this part of Thailand but that wasn’t a worry as we had no desire to be anywhere busy. Pai wasn’t really as we expected either though. We’d both imagined a smaller town, with the population given as 3000 people. However it was clear that this was a major resort for tourists and not just the backpacker variety. When we were dropped off by our mini-van we were a little disappointed by how built up it was. However, when we made our way down the road, over a bamboo bridge, to the other side of the river, we quickly found ourselves in a village of more traditional huts. For a very reasonable price we managed to get ourselves rather luxurious accommodation with a nice view of the hills. We felt at home straight away. Later on, after a good meal at one of the local restaurants, where I had a beautiful red chicken curry served in a huge coconut we realised that despite our initial misgivings passing time here would be very pleasant indeed.

During our first couple of days we did very little other than relax and we quickly established some routine to our day, especially mornings. We’d discovered a great, and probably the best, breakfast in town at Good Life a product of the hippie culture that subtly permeates much of Pai. Along with beautiful food, the Good Life specialises in Tea from all over the world. In fact their menu has several pages of tea and a description of their benefits to the drinker, from a pick me up after a heavy night, to immortality! As well as tea, they also sold a nutritional supplement called 3-G, which is made up of Wheatgrass, Spirulina and the immortiality herb Jiaogulan. I’d come across wheat grass shots at home, but I’d never heard about Spirulina, an algae with some very interesting properties, notably being nearly 70 percent protein and apparently one of the foods selected for cultivation in long term space missions. Along with the tea and the great organic food, there was also a half decent collection of second hand books and often some easy Jazz playing on the stereo. It was easy to lose the entire morning here and after first visit we never went anywhere else for breakfast.

After mastering the art of lazing about in Pai we decided hire a couple of scooters to see more of the surrounding area. There were a few places that looked of of interest, notably a couple of waterfalls and canyon, along with some small villages. However most proved to be a bit of a let down and unremarkable, especially the waterfalls. We’d already been told not to bother with one, since at this time of year there wasn’t much water, but “big” waterfall was still less than impressive and had litter strewn about from careless tourists. As we explored the rest of the area, it became increasingly clear just how commercialised Pai had become over the years as we passed resort after resort on the road. To be fair though, many of them looked like beautiful places to stay with the usual Thai standards of aesthetics and the natural countryside creating quite a picture.

However, just as we were about to head home for the day we’d noticed another sign to a waterfall along a dirt road. After following the road to the end we came to what was a small farm, run by a Thai called Joey who provided information about the getting to the waterfall. He and his girlfriend, a Swiss girl told us that it would take a good couple of hours to walk upstream and it was too late to set off now. So we hung out for a while, while they made us a fresh coffee and listened to their story. Joey had spent the last ten years working in the islands of Thailand and after slowing seeing them increasingly commercialised and wrecked by rampant expansion had decided to embark on a project he called “Pai Land” here in the hills. He’d taken a lease on a plot of land for the next 10 years and wanted to turn it into a self-sufficient farm, where he could live off the land. His offer, to anyone that passes by, is a place to stay in return for helping out on the farm. Anyone passing through just to see the waterfall can stop by for a coffee and ask for information. Everything was free, with donations to the farm made on a voluntary basis. I was impressed with what Joey had already achieved having constructed accommodation, a “bar” and was successfully growing a wide range of vegetables. He already had some guests, including his girlfriend, Janine, who he met just as he’d started out. This was exactly the sort of counter-culture that I hoped might still be alive in Pai. There was a good vibe about the place, especially from Joey himself who was so friendly, perhaps to a fault, even if he was perpetually stoned every time we ran into him. And this is much like the rest of Pai. Whilst it is somewhat commercial you always get a good feeling about the place and the people here, with its mix of influences from the hippy westerners that originally came here and the best elements of Thai hospitality.

The next day we were up at a decent time so we could return to Pai Land and take the path along the river to the waterfall which we’d been assured by Janine was worth seeing. After another big breakfast at Good Life we jumped on our scooters and drove back to the start of the path and began our walk upstream. Whilst it was a fairly easy walk, with no steep hills to climb the path kiss-crossed the river requiring us find stepping stones to cross the river each time. As we got closer to the water fall the path disappeared completely requiring us to just follow the river bed. Fortunately this was easy since the level of the river was low. After about two and a half hours the waterfall finally came into view and this time, as we’d been promised, we weren’t disappointed. Whilst it’s by no means a natural wonder of the world, it’s a beautiful spot and we were quick to take a dip in the pool at the bottom of the fall. We would have stayed longer, but as we ate the lunch we’d brought with us we were quickly surrounded by insects which literally crawl and fly everywhere. Not a problem when you are on the move, but not so pleasant when you try to have a picnic. As a result it wasn’t too long before we packed up and decided to head off. By mid afternoon we’d successfully made it back down the down river. It was a fun day and reminded us of the fun we’d had trekking in the Cameron Highlands.

However, with it now being low season in Pai with few guided treks on offer and our time in Thailand running out it was going to be difficult to have anymore adventures in the hills. We decided that we’d spend our last couple of days at the leisurely pace we’d enjoyed when we’d arrived and start planning the next part of our trip. Laos was now in our sights. In a couple of days we’d be making taking another mini-bus to the border town of Chiang Khong where our next adventure would begin.

Link to all the images from Pai http://picasaweb.google.com/kris.lander/Pai

Wat is Chiang Mai all about?

We’d made it to Chiang Mai the largest city in northern Thailand. Having had a good sleep on the train we were ready to see the sights as soon as we’d checked into a guest house. We weren’t planning on staying too long, so we were keen to start exploring the city. Chiang Mai is a more cultured kind of place, with less of the commercialism that you’ll find in the south and the islands and is regarded highly by Thais themselves. One of the main reasons is the 300 odd Buddhist temples that are dotted around the city, the same number as Bangkok which is several times bigger. We set about with a map to find the best examples, but need not have bothered since it was hard to wander in any direction for more than a few metres without coming across one. Whilst few were on the scale of anything that we saw in Bangkok, there were many impressive and beautiful examples. What had already been clear in Bangkok was re-enforced even more so in Chiang Mai; Buddhism is big here. All men are still expected to spend at least 3 months as a monk at some point in their lives, the Thai equivalent to national service. You’ll regularly encounter young monks, not only around the temples but wherever you go about town. I particularly liked the fact that seats at the back of the bus are always reserved for monks.

There are several aspects that make Buddhism interesting. Buddhism rejects the existence of a creator God (or Gods). It sees the actions of one’s life as contributing to one’s karma and the cycle of rebirth. It also promotes the practice of non-extremism: a path of moderation away from the extremes of self-indulgence and self-mortification. Lastly, of particularly interest to myself is the practice of mediation and the path to enlightenment. For these reasons it was particularly interesting for me to see a society where Buddhism is the dominant religion. In fact, until being in Thailand I’d often thought of Buddhism as a minor religion but with 60 million odd Thais and 400-500 million followers worldwide Buddhism is the fourth largest religion in the world. Having visited many temples and having felt the sincerity and serenity that seems to be present here it’s not hard to understand why many people in the west have adopted Buddhism.

The highlight of all the temples was Wat Chedi Luang. Dating back 600 years, it was first constructed in 1391 during the reign of King Saenmuangma and was an important part of the history of the area. Most notably, it was once the home of the Emerald Buddha, which now resides in Bangkok, spending almost 80 years there occupying the eastern niche. In 1545 an earthquake caused the pagoda to topple and the damage was irreparable and left that way for the next 400 years. However, in the early nineties the Thai government provided a grant for its partial restoration which was completed in 1992 and is how it stands today.

After our whirlwind tour of the temples in Chiang Mai during the day, we made plans to visit the night bazaar, the other big attraction here. As with the rest of the city, there is more focus on tradition than in Bangkok with many stalls selling local handicrafts and produce from the surrounding hill tribes. However, we were soon focused on finding somewhere to eat with Chiang Mai apparently one of the best places to eat in a country that already has such a high standard of food. We managed to find a great restaurant on the other side of the night market where we enjoyed what ended up being our best dinner in Thailand. A special dinner was made even more special by a passing baby elephant which we got to feed a few snacks to as he and his owner passed by. Perhaps not the most socially responsible thing to do, since it encourages people to use animals in this way to make money, but it was hard to resist stroking the long hair on his head and let him take the snacks out of my hand with his trunk. After another wander round the market we made our way home and we’d decided that as much as we liked Chiang Mai we didn’t want to hang around for long so made plans to escape the city to Pai for a period of rest and relaxation in the hills of Northern Thailand.

All the pictures from Chang Mai at http://picasaweb.google.com/kris.lander/ChiangMai

Bangkok Surprises

It took 16 hours on the bus to get to Bangkok from the border town of Rantau Panjang and was not an experience I care to repeat. Despite a luxurious bus, which was air-conditioned and had comfortable reclining seats it was still about 8 hours past my endurance limit. We are determined not to fly needlessly, but perhaps it might have been a better idea. In fact on further reflection a couple of days later we realised that it wasn’t the safest way to go either. Before we left Malaysia we’d already heard that there had been some trouble in Bangkok as supporters of ousted former leader Thaksin Shinawatra were staging demonstrations against the current government. We’d also read that in recent times there has been trouble in the south with Islamic separatists who had, among other things been blamed for derailing trains and disrupting bus services. With political unrest stirring in the capital it was possible the paramilitaries in the south might take advantage. Fortunately for us that wasn’t the case and other than have to slow down every few kilometres for the first few hours of our journey as we passed through army check points our journey was uneventful. In fact the only thing violent we saw was the first film that was shown on the bus, a badly made Thai equivalent to a Tarantino movie. Within the first 15 minutes we’d witnessed several acts of violent murder, a rape and some paedophilia. Certainly an interesting choice for the passengers made up of all ages.

We arrived in Bangkok in the small hours of Monday morning at one of the main bus terminals. We were both exhausted, so after a light breakfast we jumped in a taxi which took us to Banglamphu an area of Bangkok where you’ll find the majority of visiting backpackers, especially in and around Khaosan Road. On the ride over I got my first impressions of the city, just as it was beginning to get light. I was slightly worried about being back in a big hot humid city with thoughts of our stay in KL coming back into my mind and I already had other negative preconceptions about Bangkok, mainly due to its infamous reputation for sex tourism. In fact before I saw it with my own eyes I found it difficult to visualise the city in daylight, with images of shady clubs and red light districts popping into my mind. But obviously there was going to be more to this place than middle-age tourists cruising bars trying to pick up young local girls (and boys).

Initially I found myself constantly surprised by the reality of the place. Banglamphu is certainly nothing like China Town in KL. As we walked past restaurants and guest house just opening for the day after being dropped off by our taxi there was something much more aesthetically pleasing and as a result more inviting about the place. It is easy find places to kick back and relax with a beer at one of the many cafes, bars and restaurants. And then there is the food. We’d already had a brunch of scrambled eggs on brown bread that was better than any breakfast we’d had in Malaysia, but it was our first dinner where we really appreciated the change in both skill and love that Thais put into their cooking. Whether it’s a simple pad thai whipped up at a street stall, a spicy glass noodle salad or a rich creamy red curry it rarely fails to be anything other than delicious. In fact, in a complete contrast to Malaysia where we laboured to find the good places or good dishes to eat it seemed that we couldn’t go wrong. The quality and freshness of the ingredients here seem to go a long way in guaranteeing this, but Thais truly seem to have a deep understanding of what makes good food. I couldn’t wait to be hungry again after eating. What’s more, especially in a city setting, it’s all good value with the portions generous and prices cheap. A chicken pad thai served up by a street stall is as good as anything you get served up at home and costs less than a pound. And to wash all that great food down, we could now get a bottle of beer for a third of the price they charged in KL. Happy days.

Our first task though in Bangkok before sight-seeing was to get some practical things out of the way. With Vietnam one of the countries now on our itinerary we needed to visit the Vietnamese embassy to apply for a visa. Also, with my camera’s touch screen proving to be too fragile to withstand even a couple of months of backpacking (not my most sensible purchase I’ll admit) I had decided to treat Maren to an early birthday present. With her own camera having broken sometime ago she was missing having the artistic license to take snaps and I was only too happy to hand over reigns.

To get across town to the embassy, we made use of Bangkok’s river ferries harking back to a time where Bangkok was known as the “Vience of the East”. Again this confounded my expectations having never imagined the large river which runs through the city. As we cruised along in the morning sunshine passing beautiful wats (temples) and seeing the modern skyscrapers in the distance I realised that Bangkok had much to offer with a contrast of modernity and ancient traditional as extreme as anywhere we’d been to so far. After dealing with some rude staff at the Vietnamese embassy, we made our way back to Siam Square to witness the modern side of Bangkok, with its glistening malls and shopping centres that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in Singapore. It wasn’t long however before we were leaving again having quickly picked up a camera at a reasonable price. We did however stop at a nearby restaurant thoroughly enjoying our meal, especially a starter which involved wrapping fresh crispy green leaves around an assortment of fillings and dipping them in sweet chilli sauce. By the time we got back to our hotel we had just about enough energy to organise our train tickets to our next destination and we had an early night so we were ready to see ancient side of the city the following day.

After a good night’s sleep we were up early for breakfast and we made our way by foot to Wat Phra Kaew, also known as the Temple of the Emerald Buddha one of the country’s holiest sites for its Buddists who account for nearly 95% of the population. Maren had already spoken highly of the temple and the Grand Place located on the same grounds. Having got a glimpse of golden temple roofs gleaming in the late afternoon sun on the river boat home the day before I had high expectations. On entering the complex visitors are first checked to see they are dressed appropriately, which of course many of westerners are not. Fortunately you can rent clothes for a few baht, along with a deposit which makes for a comical scene of men and women disappearing inside the gate office wearing their shorts and sleeveless tops and reappearing in whatever trousers and shirts they could find in their size. Maren and I had made efforts to be dressed correctly having had plenty of experience with this sort of thing, however Maren’s shawl which would normally made the grade when entering a temple in India was not accepted. Forced to hire something else, she also disappeared into the office and reappeared a few minutes later in a very fetching purple shirt. Once past the stewards we began to make our way around the grounds. It’s a stunning place, not only because of the temples, but also because of the ornamental guardian statues, mosaic encrusted walls, the galleries of wall paintings and the manicured trees and gardens. It’s a sensory overload of glimmering colour and beauty and a worth home to one of the most famous Buddha images in the world, the Emerald Buddha. Later in the morning we visited Wat Pho where, among the largest collection of Buddha images in the country the equally famous giant reclining Buddha is housed. At 46m long and 15m high it makes for a good photo and I took the opportunity drop a coin into each one of the donation pots that run the entire length of the Buddha. The temple complex itself is also equally impressive and the temple that houses the reclining Buddha is the largest and oldest in Bangkok.

After a morning of tradition and temples we stopped for lunch and decided to head over to China Town in the afternoon to see if we could find some bargains at the Thieves Market and Sampeng Lane. We soon found ourselves spending money freely on a number of small items that we didn’t really need, but would be useful all the same. Among other things we bought a lock, a torch, a decent pack of cards, headphones (amazingly cheap - £3 for a pair of Sehnhizers buds!), pens and socks. However it wasn’t long before we were exhausted and ready to head back home to relax with a beer back near our guest house. We were soon comfortably sat at a table on the street back in Banglamphu enjoying a couple of large bottles of Chang and taking a look at our haul of goods from the market. In particularly, I was busy inspecting the quality of my new plastic playing cards when a guy a table next to us asked me if I was going to do any tricks, so I happily showed him an old favourite of mine that never fails to impress and we got talking. Tommy was in Bangkok having been forced to leave India due to the same Indian visa rule changes that had affected our own plans. Unlike us however, he lives there for the majority of the year with his other half Damitar who soon joined us having spent the day trying to get a new passport and also struggling to get a new visa. She described them (and her mother) as “visa refugees” having been forced to leave their home in India for at least 2 months and travel elsewhere until they could reapply. They aren’t the only ones in Bangkok, with Damitar amusingly pointing out the Sardhu like “Baba” walking by who whilst looking like an Indian holy man was clearly Western in origin and most likely had been forced to take a holiday from roaming India. It’s hard to say just how many others are in this situation, but clearly the visa rules are causing a considerable inconvenience to people like Damitar and Tommy.

After been invited come along to dinner at one of their favourite places to eat in Bangkok, we had the opportunity to pick their brains for information on how to spend our own 2 month exile in South East Asia before we could return to the north of India. So, at a huge Korean restaurant on the river, where we cooked our own food over hot coals we got to know them a little better and get a few ideas on where we might go over the next few weeks. Co-incidentally, they also happened to live near one of places we’d be going to first when we came back to India, Manali. This seemed funny to us, since we don’t tend to actively strike up conversations with every fellow traveller we meet and so took it as another little sign that we have to go back. Regardless, it was a pleasure get to know Tommy, Damitar and her mother. It was interesting listening to their story having spent the last twenty years living in Asia and about their lifestyle. Back in India, they get by on just a £100 a month, which is a modest budget, but they do have a house in the country with a big garden in one of the most beautiful areas in the world. The most work they choose to do is growing vegetables, some of which they sell at the local market to make a little extra money. It’s a far cry from the squat in Hackney (London) where Damitar used to live before she went to find her mother in India.

Having personally consumed enough for at least two people my stomach was feeling a little tender the next morning, so we decided to take it easy on our final day in Bangkok. We were now thinking about how we were going to spend the rest of our time in Thailand. We already booked our train to Chang Mai in the north and then we were looking to get away from streets and back to the countryside, hoping to find somewhere in hills and valleys that would be a good place to relax for a while. Later, in the evening we met up with Damitar and Tommy again where we drank more beer than we had done in weeks (about 3 pints each) and they took us to a street stall for dinner that served a great, but very spicy, noodle soup. We now have a few more people to try and meet up with in India when we return.

The next day we were up early, taking a taxi across town to pick up our passports from the Vietnamese embassy and after another inexpensive pad thai we headed off to catch our train. We were both very curious about what the train journey. The classes of ticket offered were much the same as the Indian railways, and the journey would involve travelling overnight on a sleeper, something that we’d always thought had been a civilised way to travel in India. Our experience on the Thai train compared favourably with little stress and being well looked after. Staff were regularly doing the round serving drinks (as in India) with even the option of a cold beer (not in India!). We had a nice meal brought to us at dinner time and when bed time approached our bed was even made for us by the train staff. Overall, a very pleasant experience and a far superior option to another long bus journey, so unlike our arrival in Bangkok we were leaving in comfort and would arrive in good shape once we got to Chang Mai.

All the images from Bangkok at http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/kris.lander/Bangkok

Halfway to somewhere

Now that I’m roughly half way through my trip I’ve decided to write something a little different in this post. When I originally planned to go away at the beginning of last summer I had few expectations. I was simply in need of a long holiday from work to re-energise myself. I had few aspirations beyond parking myself up on a beach somewhere, perhaps in Thailand and doing very little for as long as I felt I needed to and then come back to London to pick up my career from where I’d left off. I didn’t even have much of a desire to experience new countries and cultures, as much as I normally find this interesting. It wasn’t meant to be a journey of personal discovery either. I didn’t feel like I needed to “find myself”. I just needed a break.

It did however always feel like this was somehow the right time to take such a break. A number of external factors had neatly aligned themselves to make this trip as easy as possible. There always seemed to be little pieces of luck when arranging my affairs for example. Also when I spoke to friends and family, I rarely had any other reaction other than extremely positive. Even my Mum was overwhelming enthusiastic despite, like all mums, sad that she wouldn’t see her son for some time. It’s always felt like this trip was meant to be and that feeling only grew stronger as I got closer to my leaving date.

However by the time I left the UK the trip had already morphed into something quite different. I certainly didn’t expect to be in a relationship by the time I left and that obviously led to some dramatic changes in my plans. India wasn’t even on my radar, until I started seeing Maren in the middle of July last year. She was leaving in October to take 6 months out from work as well and it wasn’t long before we were talking about how we were going to meet up. However both of us had made commitments to work and I’d already booked my flight to Australia in December. Whilst neither of us wanted to be apart for a couple of months, it again felt like the right thing to stick to our own plans and we planned to meet in India just before the New Year. The trip was now going to be a shared experience with someone who I’d quickly fallen in love with.

This alone has made the trip a truly amazing experience. Despite my best efforts it always seems impossible to prevent my posts turning into some melodramatic cheese-fest because of the way I’ve been feeling. That is what love does to you. I’d not normally consider myself a romantic, but so much of our time together has been so perfect it’s hard not to get carried away. However primarily this blog is for me. I wanted to capture my thoughts and feelings so I don’t want to censor what I write. All I can say is that if you were witness actual events and conversations I can assure you that you’d be reaching for your sick bucket even more regularly!

Besides, one of the things that I have realised whilst I’ve been away is that I am cheesy and that’s not the only thing I have realised. Whilst I said this wasn’t meant to be a journey of personal discovery it has been one all the same. I’ve learnt a surprising amount about myself, and that is in no small part thanks to Maren. I’ve never been more myself as I am around her. The other big factor is simply the sheer amount of time I’ve had to reflect. Initially when I left the UK I was happy to do nothing more than chill out and during the first few weeks of my trip on the beaches of Goa I did exactly that.

But increasingly as weeks have become months I’ve found myself reflecting on all sorts of aspects of my life and the life I want to make with Maren when I get back to UK. Before I left the UK one of the things that I said repeatedly was that I was already excited about coming home because break would enforce a change in job and I’d also decided that I wouldn’t move back into my flat on returning. However, inspired by our experiences and our conversations we both have started to think bigger about what we might be able to do when we return. To be truly happy with my life I know that I need to do something that I believe has a real benefit to people for it to be truly rewarding. Whilst I’ve never taken jobs purely for their financial reward, I also never worried too much about the product or service I’m helping to create. In the past my reward has been professional, measuring my achievement personally or in relation to the expectations those I have worked with and for. But I’ve taken professional passion as far as I can, so I’m looking for something more meaningful than building websites for companies that sell holidays, mobile phones or TV subscriptions. That might be easier said than done when the realities of having to pay the bills hit home on my return, but right now I am excited. I am a bundle of energy, almost unable to relax as I think of what might be possible. I am anxious to get started on whatever it is we will end up doing. I can’t wait to start bouncing ideas off all the talented we know.

However, it’s not time to return just yet. We both still feel we have a date with destiny in the north of India. Something is calling to us there. Perhaps it’s just to make good on our promise to see Sky and his visit him in his new restaurant or maybe it’s something deeper. Either way we are determined to go back so during our last few days in the Perhentians we put together the last part of our plans. We planned to make an arc around countries north of Malaysia, starting with Thailand. Once over the border we planned to take a bus straight to the capital, Bangkok.

One last thing before I go, it will soon be my birthday and some of you would normally be buying me a present or a drink at the bar. However, since I won’t be around this year I’d like to ask you to consider sponsoring my good friend Damo in his attempt to run the London marathon. Check out the link below for details about the cause and to make a donation. Anything you can give will be gratefully received.

http://www.justgiving.com/damian-saunders

The Perhentian Paradise

After thoroughly enjoying ourselves in the Cameron Highlands, we were really beginning to enjoy Malaysia, so we had high expectations for our next stop the Perhentian Islands. With the east coast monsoon just finishing, we were going to be amongst the first visitors of the new season. In fact when, Jay, one of the ladies who worked at our guest house in the Cameron Highlands had made reservations at a guest house they recommended, she revealed that that we’d be arriving on their opening day.

To get there involved a six hour journey by minibus to take a “ferry” that ran to the “big” and “small” island. Our guest house, D’Lagoon, was located by itself on a small beach cove of the small island and the only access was by boat. When we arrived at docks on the mainland around 6pm there were a couple of surprises waiting for us. The first surprise was our mode of transport. As we were ushered towards the jetty, the large ferry we might have imagined turned out to be a number of small 12 seater speed boats waiting to whisk us across the sea. The second surprise was the weather, more specifically the stiff sea breeze that was blowing. As a result the boat men were saying they wouldn’t be making any drops through the choppy waters between the two islands. Whilst the main beach affected by this, Long Beach, could be reached by taking a 10 minute walk along a jungle path from Coral Bay on the other side of the island, D’Lagoon was an hour’s walk across the length of the island and not practical with heavy back packs. After pleading with the boat men to take us to D’Lagoon they directed us to board one of the boats and instructed us to put our belongings in bin liners before stowing them towards the front of the boat. As we departed the harbour we soon understood why as our driver struggled to negotiate a path through the swell that I would guess was well over a meter. The front of the boat rose high into the air and the propellers of the outboard motors struggled to stay in the water as we rode over the top of the large waves at speed. The hull of the boat slapped the water hard again and again with salty spray constantly washing over us. With the sun low in the sky, the wind in our hair I felt like I was in a scene from Miami Vice as we raced across the water to the islands and was thoroughly enjoying the joy ride. The same could not be said for the little boy being clutched in the arms of his dad, who was screaming in fear until he was finally so exhausted he fell asleep, with his mother fretting the entire journey. As we approached our first stop, hugging the coastline of the small island the waters were far calmer and we arrived at an oasis of tranquillity and stunning beauty, Coral Bay. At this point our driver informed us that he wouldn’t be going to D’Lagoon after all and we’d have to get off here. After being dumped, we phoned through to D’Lagoon who told us our driver was being lazy and advised us to walk over to Long Beach to find a water taxi to complete our journey. We made the final part of our journey in an even smaller boat and as I held on to either side of the boat I thought there was a high chance of being thrown overboard if we caught a wave the wrong way. By the time we arrived at D’Lagoon we were drenched, so it didn’t matter much when both of us fell over into water getting off the boat at the shore. Our spirits were far from dampened though as we looked at where we’d be staying for the next couple of days. It was a stunning location, and once we got the key to our room Maren had a grin on her face from one ear to the other as she opened our window looking right onto the beach.

The weather however was still an issue. Whilst it was warm and sunny, the blustery conditions continued to whip up the surf and the snorkelling we hoped to do during our stay was impossible here. As a result on our first day we took a short walk to a beach on the calmer side of the island. It was even more beautiful here and we found ourselves alone as we dived of the rocks and watched the sunset. Unfortunately, back at D’Lagoon things were not getting any better, in fact the wind had strengthened and the sea seemed even rougher. The staff, whom had just finished fixing up all the damage done during the monsoon, were having to batten down the hatches to stop all their repairs being undone. At night it was far from peaceful with the wind howling through the huts so we made plans to go back to the two beaches we’d passed through on arrival to see if things were any better.

The following day we set off early to make the hour walk south through the jungle. We struggled to follow the trail but eventually made it back to Coral Bay where we’d first been dropped off by the ferry. The conditions here were in complete contrast to D’Lagoon, with little wind and small waves lapping the shore. We quickly went about securing a good room at a guest house before the start of the holiday weekend and then found what looked to be diving school to get our diving license. Unfortunately, this would involve another wet boat ride to transport us and our belonging. It was worth it though. We had a lovely room a stone’s throw from the beach, a choice of new places to eat at night and we’d be starting our diving course in two days.

After moving and settling in it was time to start our course. Predictably, the first day began with a lot of theory, involving watching naff instructional videos that mirrored the material in our new diving manuals which we’d been given on signing up. Scuba diving certainly has plenty of technical aspects most of which are vitally important to be able to dive safely. Pressure, nitrogen absorption, scuba equipment and buoyancy control are just some of the subjects that you need to learn about to minimise the dangers of diving. Our instructor, Simon (surely not his real name being Chinese-Malay) was keen to get the theory out of the way as quickly as possible and I feared that we wouldn’t even get in the water on the first day. However, after lunch it was time to assemble our scuba equipment (air regulator, air cylinder and BCD - Buoyancy Control Device), and suit up (wetsuit, weight belt, mask and flippers) to do our first confined water dive and breath under water for the very first time.

Despite how comfortable I am in the water and having done plenty of snorkelling in the past my first dive was still a completely new and alien experience. Diving, as I quickly found out, is all about breathing. The first aspect of breathing is learning to breathe in long, slow deep breaths, since breathing in a normal way is neither efficient nor effective, especially once your air begins to compress under pressure. It’s harder than it sounds. Breathing is something that you normally do so subconsciously. It’s hard to override your natural instincts and when you start becoming breathless, even under just a couple of metres of water it’s easy to start panicking. The second aspect is breathing is your primary way making yourself go up or down, something I hadn’t really considered before. In a nutshell, you will go up as you your lungs fill with air and down as they empty. By biasing the length of time you spend breathing in or out allows you to go up or down respectively. Again, this is not as easy as it sounds, especially if you are struggling to get your head around the first aspect to breathing. For Maren this was her biggest challenge (I’d soon be struggling with other skills), but it wasn’t too long though before both of us were sitting on the sea bed and we could start to take in our new underwater world.

Diving is something I’ve dreamed about doing since I’ve been swimming in the sea and it was everything I imagined and more. Just being able to hang out underwater knowing that you don’t have to worry about getting back to the surface anytime soon is cool enough, but it’s a more than that as it transforms your physical world. You are now for all intents weightless and your motion is slowed down by the all the water you are surrounded by. Your eyes see the world differently with colours changed by the effect of water absorbing different spectrums of light at different rates and object appearing a third bigger than their usual size. Your ears hear strange new sounds, the loudest generally being that of the bubbles being constantly released by your breathing equipment and with sound travelling several times faster underwater it’s very difficult to determine the direction any sound is coming from.

All of this takes a little getting used to and as we swam to a deeper location to continue our exercises we could spare little time to look around though I still managed to spot a Barracuda cruising nearby. Having completely some basic skills, like clearing our mask of water whilst submerged, we headed back to shore. After disassembling our equipment (something we’d be very familiar with doing over the next few days) Simon told us to take a break and surprisingly told us we’d be doing our first open water dive later that afternoon. Aside from going over procedures before descent and ascent, this would primarily be a recreational dive and our first chance to look around our new underwater world. It wasn’t long before we were kitted up again and back in the water. We’d not be going far. With our control of buoyancy just developing we’d be staying away from the big coral reefs that could easily be damaged by our clumsiness so we’d just be making our way out to deeper waters near the jetty. They’d still be plenty to keep us occupied though.

Our first challenge was to simply descend around 8 metres to the sea bed where we’d have our first real experience of pressure. In a reverse of the effect of flying at altitude, the air in your lungs, sinuses and ears is compressed as you descend leading to what diver call a “pinch” which can be very painful and cause physical damage. The key to prevent a pinch is to keep equalising the pressure of the air in your cavities to that of the surrounding water. The air in your lungs takes care of itself as you breathe in air from your tank which is always at the correct pressure, however getting more air into your ears and sinuses doesn’t always happen naturally. Instead the most common way to do this is by holding your nose and attempting to blow through it every few metres as you make your way down to the bottom.

I was first to descend whilst Maren waited on the surface. As I went down I struggled to equalise and experienced horrible pain across one side of my face. It’s a bit like having sinus cold headache, only much worse. After repeatedly having problems as I went deeper, I gave up and let Maren have a go whilst I waited on the surface. As she disappeared below me, I worried that I might have some sort of problem with my sinuses, but thankfully on my second attempt I realised that a little more brute force was required to equalise all of my sinus cavities.

Once we were both safely down we began to explore. Despite being one of the more lifeless areas being close to the jetty there was still plenty to see, from a variety of fish, sea slugs and clams. The highlight for me was to see a family of Clown fish (made famous by the film Finding Nemo) who initially disappeared into safety of their seaweed home as we approached. They soon reappeared however, seemingly as interested in looking at us as we were them. They would become a common sight during our dives but their behaviour never ceased to raise a smile which surely is how they got their name and why the animators at Pixar made them the stars of their underwater film. We looked forward to what else we might see during our dives, with any kind of shark high on my wish list and Maren hoping to see a string ray in the wild after touching one at the Underwater World in Singapore.

The next four days passed quickly. The theory felt like being back at school, but fortunately there wasn’t too much to stress over and we both made the pass mark on the final exam. The dives were more challenging. It was on my third confined water dive that I realised just how important our training was. One exercise involved taking off our masks and continuing to breathe underwater for a minute. I found this difficult, being somewhat sensitive about my eyes and I struggled to deal having to open them underwater whilst the bubbles from my respirator went over my face and up my nose. One trick is to breath out through your nose whilst breathing in through your mouth to avoid water going up your nose. However as natural instincts kicked in I ended up trying to breathe in through my nose resulting in dose sea water going down my throat. Coughing up sea water whilst trying to catch your breath with a respirator in your mouth isn’t easy and I found myself panicking. When this happens it’s difficult to control your urge to head straight back to the surface which is exactly what I ended up doing the first couple of times. This isn’t a problem when you are just under the surface, but swimming straight up to the surface when diving at depth can be extremely dangerous. It was a sobering lesson and I realised how important it was to be become comfortable and familiar with being under the water so that you react in the right way to common accidents like your mask being knocked off.

On my next open water dive I had a renewed respect for what we were doing, however our confidence was also growing. I was happy when I had no problems swimming in tandem with Simon without my mask and opening my eyes to see where I was going. I’d overcome my problems the previous day. Maren was also finding it easier and easier to control her depth through breathing and quickly got rid of the extra weighting she’d required on the first day. All that now remained was our final open water dive which promised to be the best yet, requiring a ride in boat round the island to a coral reef in War Bay. It would also be our deepest dive which would be in excess of 15 metres. Visibility had been disappointing on our previous dive around coral, but conditions were improving all the time and hoped we’d see something special.

We weren’t disappointed. Seeing the landscape of coral formations alone is magical, with all varieties of colours, shapes and structures. Massive, bulbous coral some as big as a small car with a surface etched in fluorescent green which made it look like a giant brain. Tree like coral, with branch after branch of rich reds and oranges. Huge disc like coral, stacked on top of each other like floors in some futuristic multi-levelled building. But these corals also team with life with all sorts of fish to be found swimming in and around taking advantage of the shelter they provide. The most common, were often the most colourful, such as parrot which display a rainbow of colours. We also saw a couple of much bigger and rarer fish. The weirdest was a puffer fish, with their strange box like bodies and their odd propelling fins which were arranged vertically, rather than at the side like the vast majority of the fish we saw. However it was right at the end of the dive when Maren had her wish come true as she spotted String Ray flapping its “wings” gliding effortlessly through the waters. With that final sight it was time to make our way up to the surface and once we were safely floating on top of the water again Simon congratulated us. We had completed our course and we were qualified divers.

I felt like a diver now as well. As we waited for the boat to pick us up I was unconcerned when one of the tubes on my regulator burst open and started venting out air. I knew exactly what I would have done had it happened underwater just a few minutes earlier. I’d experienced what it was like to run out of air under the water, having being through a simulation earlier in the course where our tanks were shut off. Even as the air rapidly left my tank I’d probably be able to breathe for a couple of minutes anyway. This would give me plenty of time to get attention and use signals to tell my “dive buddy” that I needed to share air. I would have then made my way over to Maren to breathe from her alternate air source and we would have made a slow controlled ascent to the surface just as we had practiced during the last few days. This is exactly what we had trained for.

Back at shore we logged our dive and reflected what had been the best dive yet. It’s hard not to be moved when visiting this underwater world. Your breath is taken away as you marvel at sheer variety, density and beauty of the life that has evolved here. There seems to be so much going on in these colourful, inventive and complex eco-systems. The pace at which you explore though is a gentle one, as you take care to not to disturb the inhabitants whilst also saving energy and air allowing you to extend your stay. It’s this combination that makes diving relaxing and exhilarating at the same time and is truly unique experience. What’s more, you are truly a guest, just a temporary visitor to this otherworld with your time limited by the air you carry. Even when we’ve trekked through what is largely pristine jungle, the well worn trails scar the forest floor and clearly mark where others have gone before. This human presence is much harder to detect when diving which makes it even more special.

That’s not to say humanity is not having its impact on the sea world, in fact it is perhaps here that it is at its worst. As we walked along the beach that night we could see the lights from the large fleet of fishing boats on the horizon plundering the ocean, as they do every night, and it was almost uncomfortable to see String Ray amongst the display of freshly caught sea food on offer at one of the restaurants along the beach. Anyone that knows me well knows how much I love eating seafood, especially sushi. I’ve been trying to ignore some uncomfortable facts about my favourite food for a while now but with this experience it’s now impossible. I sure that Maren and I will be trying to reform many of our eating habits when we return home (Maren has already felt the need to stop eating meat) and our sea food consumption will definitely be scrutinised. Fishing however is just one aspect of the damage being done to the oceans. We’ve been using it as one massive dumping ground for some time. Whether it be the poisonous metals from industrial processes, our own effluence or simply rubbish we can’t be bothered to depose of correctly we seem to think that the oceans also have an infinite capacity to absorb our waste, along with providing a never ending supply of food. If I had a symbol of this disregard for the sea or perhaps the environment as a whole then it would be the humble plastic bottle something that is sadly an all too common sight along the beaches I have visited during my trip. Some of the most beautiful places I have seen have been have been spoiled with bottles washed up along the shore, but that is almost literally the tip of the iceberg. When I see these bottles I always think about a story I saw on the news at home about the vast floating islands that you can find in the Pacific Ocean. These huge floating masses can be several kilometres across and are primarily made of plastic bottles that have been gathered by ocean currents. It will be just one of the many reasons that I’ll be re-doubling my efforts to live in a more environmentally friendly way when I get home.

Fortunately there are still places in the world that are as beautiful and as unspoilt as the Perhentians to remind us of our relationship with the environment and the way it should be. The Malaysian government has committed many crimes against its environment in the past, but its acting with more wisdom these days and it looks like the Perhentians will be afforded its protection. It was nice to see that a wind turbine (which we saw as we trekked across the island) will one day provide some of the electricity here. It’s also nice to be somewhere where the only mode of transport on land is by foot. So after completing our diving course there was nothing else to do but continue to appreciate where we were and decide where to go next. We did this by spending most of our time lazing around on the beach with a good book and breaking up the day with an hour or two snorkelling around the reefs (where I got to see some sharks!). It was a perfect end to our last few days in Malaysia.

All the pictures at http://picasaweb.google.co.uk/kris.lander/ThePerhentianIslands