Paradise, Malaysian style

We headed out of KL at 11:30pm, expecting to arrive in Kuala Terengganu the next morning. Andy and I had a date for paradise. We had made reservations to go to an island off the East Coasts of Malaysia called Palau Redang, as recommended by Alvin’s little sister. It was supposed to be a really good diving site, according to Alvin’s sister as well as a couple books on diving we had checked out from the library.

After a last minute run to KL’s Chinatown to buy some more really, really cheap DVDs and software (and Andy picked up a Casio Baby-G for under $10!), I found myself sitting on a freezing cold bus with a T-shirt drenched with sweat. All that from walking around late at night, without the sun! I pulled on a long sleeve shirt, but poor Andy hadn’t prepared and was sitting with a T-shirt. We both fell asleep pretty quickly, to be woken up around 2:30am for a pit stop. I ran to the bathroom, since I always get paranoid about peeing on these long distance bus rides. Well, more accurately, whenever peeing is NOT always up to me. Went back to sleep content, since my bladder was thoroughly emptied.

Was rudely awakened around 4:45am to find myself dripping with sweat. What the heck?!?!?! Why was the door open? Why wasn’t the air conditioning blasting?? I heard some voices outside. Then I realized we were stopped. I looked around, and it was dark outside. No street lights. I heard the crickets chirping. I know the East Coast is less developed than the West Coast, so I wasn’t surprised that there were no lights outside. But then I panicked. Why were we sitting there on the side of the road? Images of guerillas running onto the bus and robbing us flooded into my head. Nooooooooo, don’t take my DVDs! Our new software! Please! They’re so cheap in KL, but I won’t be headed back that way. PLEASE at least leave me my DVDS!!!

Then I heard the driver turn the ignition. The bus went forward a few hundred yards so that we were in the parking lot of some rest stop. Along the way, I saw other vehicles parked on the side of the road and abandoned. I was NOT comforted. By this time, I was wide awake.

Anyway, drifted off to sleep a few times, but not before I watched a few of the passengers hail a cab or a passing bus and taking off. A new bus arrived at 7am, but not before the majority of the passengers found another way out. Andy and I were so adventurous we barely ventured out of the bus. I was so relieved, and dozed off almost immediately, expecting to wake in about 4 hours in Kuala Terengganu.

I was wrong. Of courses. Found myself in a bus station an hour later. Andy and I were herded off the bus, and I left Andy to guard the bus (since our packs were in the bus) while I went upstairs to try to find out what was going on. Departure 2.5 hours later. So I went back down, expecting to crawl back on the bus and sleep. But as I was descending the steps to the platform, I saw Andy step off the bus. And we watched it drive away. With our packs and all.

Well, with no further mishaps (although by 9am, Andy and I were sitting in the hot, humid bus station, sweating, with our day packs in our laps, and our heads on our day packs as we were snoozing) we found ourselves in Kuala Terengganu at 2pm. Only 6 hours later than we expected.

We bummed around Kuala Terengganu, tried some exotic fruit, washed some clothes. The next morning, the only thing standing between us and Paradise was . . . a 30 minute car ride and a 40 minute boat ride.

After the 30 minute car ride, we found ourself at Merang jetty. Merang is a small fishing village up the coast. And the jetty – well, it didn’t look like much. Clearly a transport hub for visitors to Redang. The area was cluttered with stalls selling sarongs and tourist T-shirts. And the dock – a few wooden planks slapped together and a few boats big enough to hold 20 or so people packed as sardines, with 2 motors thrown on the back. I was really worried about getting sea-sick. And to make matters worse, it was cloudy, and the sea was choppy. Everytime we flew over the crest of a wave and found our stomachs dropping as the boat free-fell to the water, some other passengers were screaming. The whole way there. Hmm, not a very good start to Paradise.

And then we arrived at the island, to see beautiful white sand, tall palm trees, and . . . rain. It was completely overcast. And the bay, though beautiful, was cluttered with swimmers and snorklers in bright orange lifejackets and tons of other boats similar to the one we were in.

I quickly scanned the beach and didn’t see any sort of dock. Uh, this is paradise? I found myself wading through water with the waves splashing at my waist as I held my bag, with my precious and fragile camera in it. As the rain started to pour down on us.

Andy and I, unsure of where to go, followed everyone else to our resort, Redang Lagoon. We checked in, and found ourselves in room in a flimsy-looking building. With a sad looking monkey tied-up outside. And a bathroom that had built-in vents in the concrete walls, meaning there was no way we could keep the mosquito outside the bathroom. And a shower head that provide meager dribble of water. I found myself showering, instead, with the little hose attached to the water faucet at calf-level. All bathrooms have that, I suppose to flush toilets if need, wash sand off feet, and wash the floor as well. So for the 3 days I was to spend in Paradise, I would be taking cold showers by spraying water from a hose that only reached eye-level.

Paradise, Malaysian style.

We quickly realized that Redang is a popular spot for locals. Only a couple other Westerners were there. The majority of the guests at our resort were Chinese-Malays. The people in Malaysia that have money to burn. Because as in any other nation, it’s the “intruders” that are wealthy, and the “aboriginees” that tend to be less well-off. Though the government has created many pro-Malay-Malaysian laws in an attempt to equalize the situation . . .

Andy and I ended up foregoing all the included snorkelling trip, and instead, paid the resort next door for a 5-dive Advanced Diver course. Relatively inexpensive. In spite of being ripped off in Australia, Andy and I calculated that both dive courses were cheaper than anything we could find locally in California. Woo-pee!

So over the course of the next 3 days, diving became our life. Andy said he felt like he was at CYS (California Youth Symphony) camp. We ate the most disgusting food I’ve ever had, worse even than Outdoor Ed. and those summer camps in the States that are notorious for bad food. Half the bowls had a sheet of grease from not being cleaned well enough. And getting food, especially that first lunch, was an ordeal, fighting other Asians who don’t seem to grasp the Western concept of a line (or queue). I was so excited to see the “open-heart spinach, (kong-shin tsai), but even that was disgusting. Not just bland. Gross. How in the world could they screw that up?

In addition to the bad food, so typical of CYS camp, or whatever sort of camp, all we had time for was diving and eating. And doing our homework. The Advanced course didn’t entail quizzes or tests. Instead, Andy and I found ourselves in Junior High, reading a textbook and completing Knowledge Reviews that basically called for regurgitation of the material we had read. Busy work.

And I learned something very important about me and Andy. I would have hated him had we gone to the same elementary school. He was SO competitive. He fell asleep at one point, while I read a couple chapters of the textbook. A chapter that wasn’t assigned, but contained information we both wanted to know. After dinner, when we both sat down to do our Knowledge Reviews, Andy was quite perturbed to find out I had read more than him. And after I finished my Knowledge Review before him, he looked very unhappy and made a foo-chee face. I tried reassuring him, telling that he was probably reading the material more carefully, and he responded, “Not any more. I’m rushing since you’re ahead of me!”

Our Dive Instructor was a guy named Cheng, at Redang Bay. He was the best instructor we’ve had, by far. We were a little nervous about diving in SE Asia, since some of the Australian dive people had told us to beware of bad quality air and whatnot. But the dive center at Redang Bay was the best laid out, with showers and all, and hangars that were well designed to hold lots of equipment. It’s the little things. And maybe it was because Andy and I had personal attention since we were the only two taking the course (Cheng seemed stoked that we decided to take the course). But Cheng was very conscientious and attentive, complemented us on our skills, and explained everything to us without glossing over anything (complete opposite of our experience with PACIFIC BLUE in Coffs Harbor). And he even bought us refreshments.

Over the course of 5 dives, we saw some pretty cool animals, thanks to Cheng’s experience. We saw a sea turtle swimming toward us. We saw two lion fish. We saw a Moray Eel, and a school of baraccudas. And corals releasing their eggs. Ooh-la-la! (in the words of Cheng). And two fish that were bigger than me (according to Andy, but he always exaggerates size. You can ask Rachel, our dive buddy from Australia). Sigh. So sad to think that once I begin school, go into debt, etc, diving may never be possible again.

Overall, Redang was a good place to go diving, but the visibility was not great. Probably because of the weather. The first dive, it was pouring rain out. So ironic. Pacific Blue in Coffs Harbor in Australia said we couldn’t dive when it was a bit cloudy out. Hmmmm . . . something fishy going on??

The boat ride back was worse. This time, we had to wade through the water to get to the boat, so that we were wet from the beginning, and not just the end. And this time, Andy and I were in the back. Andy in the very back. And the water splashing against the sides got him drenched. He pulled out his dive mask (that he bought in Singapore) since the salt water was stinging his eyes.

Paradise, Malaysian style.

When we got back to Merang Jetty, we had some time to kill before our ride back to Kuala Terengganu. So I shopped for some souvenirs while Andy bought a Coconut Kool. They cut open a coconut, and he followed me around drinking the juice from a straw directly from the coconut, and then cutting the flesh with his Swiss Army Knife. I asked 4 or 5 stalls for the price of an item (all in English) and each time, they told me 50 RM. Just before we were to leave, I asked in Bahasa Malay for the price (learned from Alvin), and this lady told me 18 RM. I bargained her down to 15 RM. I wonder what the difference was. Was this lady honest? Was I perceived as a rich Japanese or Westerner when I asked in English? Did this lady perceive me as Chinese-Malay because I used Bahasa? Or maybe just that I had been in Malaysia for a while and would be able to recognize an outrageous price? Who knows . . .

But I defintely plan on putting more of an effort in learning the local language. Andy and I, though not as bad as some cocky Westerners (such as the guy who interrupted when Andy was learning how to tie a knot from Cheng – this guy jumped in and did it FOR Andy because he thought Andy was doing it wrong, even though he was doing it right. The guy had simply learned a different method. And he was loud on the dive trip, and complained loudly when he couldn’t have everything his way – he stood out since everyone else was Asian), Andy and I have been a bit insensitive in that we’ve expected most people to speak English. I do know that many Malaysians learn English as a second language in school, but we still need to make the effort . . .