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Shibuya Crossing

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Japanese gaming

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Shwe Dagon Pagoda video

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Who needs arms?

It seemed a shame to come to somewhere this nice and not see the lake, so I opted to join Mark and the Poles (and the other Polish couple who I’d shared the bus to Kalaw with – they were in the same guest house) on a day trip. They’d haggled a price of 15000K for a boat for the day, which is – from what I gather – the upper end of reasonable.

Of course, it meant a moderately early rise. I got up and had breakfast which was plentiful and delicious – possibly the best scrambled eggs I’ve had in a long time. As I was getting ready to head out, the guest house owner knocked on my door and offered to move me upstairs to a nicer room at no extra charge – en-suite and so forth. Sadly, I only had five minutes to make my way to my meeting point and my stuff was all over the room as I was doing a major re-pack, so I had to turn him down.

Boat gridlock

As it turned out, I may well have had time as the Poles were still eating breakfast (and continued to do so) for about ten minutes after I met them! Shortly, we all walked down to the riverside and tentatively stepped on board the narrow boat that we knew wouldn’t tip over… but didn’t trust nevertheless.

The first stage of the journey was a long one down towards the southern end of the lake. As we travelled, we saw quite a few fisherman with the unique leg-rowing action and conical fishing net/cage structures. We asked about these cones with nets inside and they’re dropped onto fish which the fisherman sees. As the water is quite shallow, this traps the fish and he can then spear it from above more easily.

No blood was shed

There is a market which changes location from day to day and this was our first port of call. Boats were berthed three or four deep and traders were rowing speedily towards arriving tourists so they could get the first sale in before the foreigners even found land. On shore, the nearest stalls were all selling much the same tourist tat as we’d come to expect, but further in was a lot more interesting – and photogenic.

Silk from flowers

Small children ran round as their mothers shopped in the fresh fruit “department”, and a whole “aisle” was made up of shops selling nothing but 1-foot-diameter rice cakes of various types. Household goods were elsewhere, small restaurants dotted about and one lone hardware shop was located more or less in the centre. Fresh fish was, unsurprisingly, near the water’s edge and very crowded.

At the far end, the market ended and a small village began. At this edge, a row of barber shops was resident and I saw people with scissors eyeing up my beard. I moved swiftly on with Mark in tow and located a cock fight. Bizarrely, no money was changing hands, and – fortunately – the birds hadn’t been fitted with any weaponry as I believe is the case in some places. Instead, the birds were squared up to each other – much as they would do in a farmyard – until their feathers stood on end. I’ve never seen an angry cockerel (Mark would call them “roosters”) before. They’re every impressive.

Guns in a temple?

The birds would then circle and flap at each other a lot for a couple of minutes until one had an obvious advantage over the other. At this point, before either animal was hurt, the fight was ended. And no money continued to not change hands. It all just seemed a matter of pride for the owners.

I did pick up a couple of souvenirs. Some old cash (an enormous 100 Kyat note and a Japanese Rupee note from WWII) and some trinkets for the family back home. I spread my spending over a few retailers, who needed the “lucky money” as their first sales of the day. I’m keeping my eye out for some 45- and 90-Kyat notes at a reasonable price. No reason other than they’d make nice keepsakes. Name me another country with currency issued in 45- and 90-unit denominations!

Melting silver

Stop number two was a silkworks, where imported silkworm silk and loaclly-gathered lotus flower silk is woven to make various products. The lotus variety is very expensive as the flowers aren’t exactly common. The end products are also more rough-looking than their worm-born equivalent, but that’s just my opinion. As well as a look at the gathering, weaving and dying procedures we ended up in a showroom for a while. Some pieces were around $200, others a very reasonable $5 or $7. Regardless, clothing isn’t something I’m after so – along with the rest of the group – I left without buying anything.

Next up, after a sail around some villages on stilts with gorgeous kids waving at us, was lunch. I think we spent most of the morning in the boat, but there’s still a lot to see without stepping ashore anywhere.

View from above

After lunch we were taken to a rather large and glitzy pagoda, and were beaten there by a bunch of very self-important oiks in uniforms who paraded ashore in their finery, likely paid for by drug money from China. I don’t think they noticed that when I was waving at them, I was only using one finger. Actually, this was quite good as half of the entourage were armed with machine guns and bandoliers of what looked like grenades. You’d almost think they were unpopular.

The pagoda was nice, but we spent most of our time trying to get photos of the men in uniform precisely because this was something we weren’t supposed to do.

No irrigation needed

Back on board, we went past the floating gardens (why irrigate when you can plant your tomato crop on the lake?) and pulled into a silversmith’s workshop. Again, we got a quick look at the manufacturing process from smelting (or the silver equivalent) to filing and carving. And then into a shop. I popped outside and stood on a lovely wooden bridge instead. Well, I don’t “do” jewellery and if I did they don’t take Visa here anyway.

Boat-bound again we drifted past a large collection of stupas and into the umbrella factory. I guess we’d call them parasols as they’re designed to keep the sun off rather than the rain. The construction process is pretty impresive – even the paper is hand-made from tree bark before being spread and dried, then fitted to the framework. The end result is hefty and not too expensive.

They're cute everywhere

Oh, we visited a tobacco / cheroot manufacturer as well but I didn’t bother taking pictures and stayed outside while everyone else puffed on free samples. Traditional or not, smoking still stinks.

Our final stop was the Nga Phe Kyaung, more commonly called the “Jumping Cat Monastery” in the tour books. As a monastery, it’s pretty standard. But they have cats. That jump. Through hoops vertically placed above their heads. Which is pretty cool, really.

Cats. Hoops. Bounce.

One of the monks got talking to Mark after the usual “where you come from?” questions. It then got al political as we met about the only person outside of the US Bible Belt who actually likes George Bush and McCain. And he’s a monk. Well, they do say that the news coverage in this country is skewed somewhat. I still find it bonkers that a person who lives a life of peace and non-violence with no luxury can side with a greedy war-monger.

On the way back, we made one final stop in the middle of the lake so that four numpties could jump out of the boat and swim around for a bit. I was not one of those numpties! To be honest, I was more bothered about getting back into the boat than jumping out and it was a little hairy as three Poles and an American heaved themselves back about. And I panicked about my passport being in my pocket.

Dry-weather umbrellas

Half an hour later and we heaved back to “port” without paying the $3 levy that we’re supposed to simply for being in the area. It’s not well checked around Inle Lake and I didn’t even see where you’re supposed to buy the things. Regardless, the locals won’t see a penny of it anyway so if you are in the area do your best to avoid it. You’re only buying caviar for a drug baron.

Dinner that evening was really enjoyable. We picked a restaurant – Miss Nyaung Shwe on Phaung Daw Seiq Road – and they agreed to make some dishes that weren’t on their actual menu, in particular a peanut curry. We ordered and then headed to our hotels to get ready.

Back at Gypsy, I met the smiling owner again at reception as I organised my bus ticket for the nexy day. He quoted me 12,500K which was lowest price I’d been given so far and I opted for it. Roughly 1000K an hour is what you get to expect for bus trips. However, he couldn’t help with a motorbike to the junction 10km away where the bus stops – only with a taxi which was 2-3 times the cost. However, he did tell me to use the shower in his house as it had hot water. Star.

Very cheap!

After wandering the streets round the market trying to find someone with a motorbike who’d give me a lift in the morning (it was too late and most people had gone home), I used a travel shop near Mister Cook on Phaung Daw Pyan who charged me a hefty 4500K. I’d expected to pay no more than 3000K even given the 4:30am start, but I guess if you go through a third party then they’ll want their percentage.

Dinner was great. I had a very nice chicken curry and a banana/chocolate pancake. Including a beer it came to 7000K – on the upper side of reasonable, but there’s no denying the quality of both the food and service. It was a good night, and a parting of the ways for most of us as we’d be heading different directions over the coming days.

I headed “home” to pack and put my head down for a few hours with my alarm set for 4:15am. Argh.

[The following video can be viewed in hi-def by going here]

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Boat trip on Inle Lake

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Around Battambang – the video

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Reykjavik video

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First up, a huge “thank you” to Nick and Linda who I met for dinner on Sunday night. Well, I’d eaten by then but I munched on some chicken wings and had a beer while they ate. We chatted for ages about where I’ve been and about KL and Malaysia. They then drove me around for well over an hour so I got to see a lot of the city after dark – not too easy using public transport, especially some areas which are a hike away from the MRT and LRT.

After hardly seeing any of the city on my last visit, I made a bit of effort this time and opted to do both the Chinatown and Little India / Colonial walks from Lonely Planet. Wow. Even looking at the names makes this place sound more like Singapore. Despite the guy in the hostel telling some other guests they’d need to take a taxi or walk to Chinatown, I jumped on the nearby MRT and went three stops west to Maharajalela. This cost about 20p and took less than five minutes.

The walk around is pleasant enough and I was lucky with the weather – hot, but not too sunny. There’s not a huge amount to see, but I can definitely recommend the Central Market if you’re after knick-knacks and souvenirs. It also has a great food court. I got a huge bowl of rice with black pepper chicken for around MR5. A wedding was taking place in the Sri Mahamariamman Temple, so I couldn’t go in. Coincidentally, we’d seen the wedding cars in town the night before.

Nick and Linda had taken me to Merdeka Square the evening before, but it was good to see it in daylight as well. Unfortunately, it seems most government-run things are closed on a Monday so I didn’t get to visit the History Museum. However, I saw plenty of other stuff and the walk did me good!

I lucked out a the rain started just as I returned to the hostel, but didn’t get too heavy. Much better than the downpours when I was here before.

Today was an early rise as I wanted to get onto the sky bridge connecting the Petronas Towers. I couldn’t do this last time as I was only in town on a Monday when it’s closed. The recommendation is to get there early as “only” 1400 tickets are issued. Groups go through in 15-minute segments, but it costs nothing at all. It’s pretty good, too.

An exhibition in the basement tells you a lot about the building with some hands-on gizmos to get some points across. At the appointed time, you’re ushered into a small room and shown a 7-minute advert for how great Petronas is, with a few bits about the towers thrown in for good measure. After this, you head into the lift which whizzes you to the 41st floor where you have 8 minutes to spend on the bridge itself.

The view’s nice but not as impressive as I’m sure it is from the 88th floor. As a tourist, though, this is as high as you can get. It is the highest double-decker span bridge in the world – but I reckon it’s probably also the only one given the obscure description.

I do still think these are pretty cool structures, and even more so now that I’ve been there and read all the bumph about them. They’re certainly one of the more attractive “tallest buildings” I’ve seen. Given the price of the visit (naff all), I’d definitely recommend it. I don’t think you need to get there ridiculously early, but on the other hand I do believe it’s a fairly quiet time now which could have accounted for  the moderately small queue I waited in.

After this, I walked through the park backing onto the KLCC centre and checked out the cinema times at the nearby mall. Despite the poor reviews, I bought a ticket for Babylon A.D. and endured ninety-or-so minutes of complete cinematic tedium. I didn’t even get a salty popcorn – they only do “caramel” and “sweet” here!

Another chilled day, nattering to other people in the hostel then I popped out to a nearby cheap Chinese place for dinner with Alex, a fellow traveller from Switzerland. I patiently walked around with her afterwards as she checked out shoes and dresses – to be honest it made a pleasant change to be out of the hostel and in the fresh(ish) air for the evening.

And that’s KL for this stay. I’ll keep an eye on the Thai situation. If it stays the same I may just head back to KL and fly to Bangkok, or even go to HCM City and leave Thailand for later on. We shall see!

Oh, and as I sit here, Jenny (the Swedish girl I dived with at Sipadan) has just walked into the hostel! Small world…

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Dotting around KL

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Still, nobody goes to Sipadan to trek in the jungle. The 45-minute boat ride takes you to what is reckoned as being one of the world’s best dive sites. And having done three dives there, I can see why. The sheer volume and variety of creatures there is breathtaking, though be prepared for a few currents. At times it’s fun to just make yourself buoyant, curl up and let the waters push you past the coral. It’s like watching a film float past your eyes.

Barracuda spiral in a tornado. Turtles can be found in almost every rock crevice and eye you wisely before gliding gracefully past. Shark appear as a shadow above or below you – annoyingly very rarely at the same depth as if they just want some privacy. The number of fish species is too numerous to count and they’re all very blase about swimming around you. They see enough divers that you’re not going to upset them.

One word of warning, though – and this holds for every dive site – don’t touch the wildlife. Any of it. Coral, turtles, fish, nudibranches. Unless you’re trained, know what you’re doing and know for certain you won’t harm anything, keep your damn hands off. If I see anyone tugging on a turtle‘s flippers (and I’ve heard of this happening too many times) I’ll happily pull their dive mask off with no warning. Think yourself lucky I don’t rip out a regulator or turn off their air.

I know I’ve not written much about Sipadan, but you really have to go there to experience it. Even with poor visibility on the second dive due partly to rain, it was a hell of an experience.

Back at Semporna, I met up with Michael (my dive buddy from Switzerland) and Jenny (a Swedish student) for dinner while I also said goodbye to Mel and John. I really hope I get a chance to catch up with them again somewhere, though they’re working homeward now.

After walking Jenny back to her place (Semporna gets dark afetr sunset – not too many street lights) I popped into Scuba Junkie for a beer as I’d been told it was rocking on a Friday night. Well, not this Friday as they’d postponed things to the next evening for some reason. I had a couple of bevvies with some people I got talking to then walked back to the Dragon Inn around 11-ish. In truth, I was knackered. A good day and sadly my last here, but diving’s not the cheapest hobby and if I didn’t leave I’d spend far too much money!

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Sipadan

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They quoted me MR281 for 3 dives including kit hire, which isn’t too bad. The girls got theirs for 250, but a fiver extra for a walk-in is fine. My dive master was Russel, and there were a few others in the group including a young guy from Singapore doing the last day of his Open Water course.

We boated out to one of the nearby islands in the Tunku Abdul Rahman Park where there are many reefs around. All three dives were in excess of 40 minutes, visibility was superb in the morning (first two) and a little more limited in the afternoon as a storm closed in overhead and took away some sunlight.

Still, we saw some pretty good stuff and I managed to get my camera down there on the third dive. Dive 1: tested the casing. Dive 2: took camera, spotted case leaking at 6m and the other dive master took it back to the boat for the. Dive 3: all OK and I’ve got what I hope is some good video of a cuttlefish.

Russel certainly knows his stuff and where to find it. Sadly we didn’t spot the hairy frog fish which has been lurking around recently, but plenty of other things from starfish to octopi and the now-mandatory “Nemo”.

Between dives we retired to a resort on the island for drinks and food and chat. The staff and other divers were a good bunch and the lengthy surface time breaks seemed to fly by.

Oh, and I got my foot licked by a 2m long monitor lizard, which was cool.

Not a bad day considering it was all decided on at the last minute. The guy who runs the hostel took five of the guests to another tiny island, so had I not managed to get a dive I’d still have had a good time by the sound of it.

I caught up with the girls again later and it turned out they were the only two on their boat apart from the dive master and the boat operator. They had a great time, and they had lunch included. I should have found out what company they went with. However, they didn’t land on the island – they stayed on the boat all day. We’d intended to go out for dinner, but by the time we met we’d all eaten. Diving does make you hungry! Plus, we were all exhausted after too little sleep and too much exercise!

Kota Kinabalu is shaping up as a town which in itself isn’t really spectacular, but which has a lot going on around it. And at £3.20 per night for accommodation, I can handle staying here for a night or two more.

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Back in the water

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At Daniel’s, we juggled luggage around and filled daybags with waterproofs, bottled water and the like. The day was to involve looping back to Belaga so we didn’t need to worry about nightwear. We’d pick that up afterwards, and before heading to our hosts’ for the evening.

We had two guides – one a bearded guy with a huge grin and big machete, the other an older-looking chap who walked barefoot. The former was our primary guide, the latter our boat captain who would pick us up from the far end of our trek. The path we were taking was over a mountain (not a huge one) and onto a track used by the British to escape the Japanese in WWII.

A short boat ride up the river took us to a small village with several piles of ash. They’d had a serious fire very recently and lost three quarters of their housing. Through the village, the guide took us into the jungle. Then around in circles for ten minutes until he spotted the right trail.

It was a fairly uneventful if enjoyable hike. The canopy blocked a lot of the sun out, but it was still a very hot day and our guide made sure we stopped for water at regular intervals. It seems a lot of other people had done the same judging by the number of plastic bottles scattered around. So here’s a warning:

If you’re on a hike with me – anywhere: the wilds of Borneo or the chilly Lakes in Cumbria – and you chuck a plastic bottle, or a crisp packet wrapper, or whatever onto the ground I will make you eat it. Shove it back in your rucksack – it weighs less than it did when it was full.

It took us around three hours to get to where we met our second guide and lunch was cooked up for us. A healthy mix of rice, chicken (some seasoned, some plain), fish (ick), something “from bull” (very gristly – not sure what part of the bull it was from) and pineapple. We enjoyed the food then walked across a small beach to our boat.

Another small trip took us to a muddly landing site. Ten minutes or so of squelching through sucking muck and trying not to slip into creeks and we arrived at a small but secluded waterfall. Clothes were swapped for swimming togs and in we jumped/slipped/tenderly stepped. There were many small fish in there with us and it’s the first time I think I’ve had my toes munched on by one. Well, several, in fact. Gents, do ensure you’re not swimming au naturale as it could get very uncomfortable.

We cooled off in here for the best part of an hour before packing up and squelching back to the boat and sailing to Belaga. At Daniel’s we met up with some more incoming tourists, changed into slightly less smelly clothing, picked up some gifts and were driven to our accommodation for the night. The longhouse we visited was owned and populated by Kayan people. There are many different “tribes” inhabiting Sarawak of which the Kayan are just one. They have their own language, clothing, customs and so on. The clothing has become more of a tradition, and used for ceremonies and celebrations. Everyone we met was dressed in t-shirts and shorts.

The houses themselves are simple affairs, electricity provided by a generator and generally a whole family lives inside. The houses are like a terraced row back in the UK – many individual houses joined together. Small family units will be in each one, but everyone from end to end will be related by birth or marriage to everyone else. It does make for a very close-knit and friendly community.

Our hostess was Rini (I think I spelled that correctly) who spoke some English, though her sister next door was much more fluent and helped out a lot. She herself was hosting Chrystelle and Jean, though we spent most of the evening as a group of four outside chatting to the children and to the elders.

Ah, the children. Wide-eyed and shy except for one little monster called Cecelia who was constantly the centre of attention. Great fun! They loved the things we’d brought – colouring books, coloured pencils, exercise books and the like. The coloured pencils in particular were greated with huge smiles and a small scramble. I ended up being used as a pencil-holder as we tried to find out how many I could stick into my beard before they fell out. I think we peaked on five.

Dinner was lovely, and enough food for four – but it was only Anthony and I eating as the others were being fed by their host. We ate as much as we could so as not to apear rude (and because it was good!) then rejoined the crowd. The children had gone to bed (except Cecelia who had rules of her own, it seemed) and chewed the cud with the older folk – all of them women. I’d say the men were down the pub, but there aren’t any in Belaga!

Traditional head-dresses were brought out for us to wear; one old lady did a traditional dance to music blaring from a traditional Sony mobile phone/walkman/camera; the French couple decided to try some of the “tobacco” that was produced. One of our hosts mimed that it “makes your head go a little strange” and asked if she could send some to them. She was somewhat puzzled as to why the police on the border may not be too happy about it, but I think Anthony did a decent job of explaining!

Other “local” things were tried out. Chewing leaves, some very hard nut (I think betel, but I’m not sure) and then some men came in with a nest. The bees inside are very dangerous and apparently the sting can be fatal. These adults were plucked out (unconscious – I guess they’d been “smoked”) and held in a flame tail-first to destroy the sting and kill them. Obviously, we were thinking “honey”. Not “larvae”.

Hum.

It was gone midnight when we retired. Thin mattresses had been put down for us, and sheets provided. Enough for a night’s sleep. Our “room” was cavernous, taking up the entire upper floor, and the aircon consisted of permanently open windows at either end. Bats used it as a short cut. Really rather cool.

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Hot in the hills and a visit to a longhouse

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